goorgeousz

[goorgeousz]

hotch has feelings for you and decides to deal with it (going to a psychiatrist)

drabble

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader

content/tw: none i think?

a/n: a drabble no one asked for… yet, here i am. idek what is this… anyways… THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS 😭❤️ i’m soooo happy sending much love to each and every one of you MWAH MWAH MWAH

dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist

“What brings you here today, Mr. Hotchner?” the psychiatrist asks, adjusting her large glasses up on her nose.

Hotch shifts on his seat, a frown forming on his features. The first thing that comes to his mind at that question is you. Your laugh, your glistening eyes, your smart mouth, your legs…

“I’m having a… problem. And I need it fixed.” his mouth barely moved. The psychiatrist stifled a sigh. He’s that kind of patient. Those who want instant solutions to many-decades old problems without giving a hint of what it’s about. Every professional’s personal favorite.

“Okay, then.” she hoped she sounded more excited than she felt “Why don’t we start with symptoms?” he nodded – yes, he could do that – “Are you having trouble breathing?”

“Sometimes.” she nodded, writing it down. It was a start, since there was nothing on his physical exams – which he brought on a fold, all labeled and laminated.

“How is your sleep schedule?”

“Not ideal.”

“Is this a regular thing or do you think your… problem… is causing that?”

“Both.”

The woman nodded, pressing her lips together and scribbling harder on her paper. Aaron fought the urge to ask what she was writing.

“How are your eating habits?”

“Fine. I’m eating less. I'm getting nauseous often.”

“Really?” she leans in, trying to hold onto every piece of information. He scratched the back of his head, not enjoying the attention.

“Yes. It’s affecting my work.”

“Why do you feel that?” she tilts her head to her side, and it takes all of his strength not to snap at her.

“Because it is. I’m getting slower. She’s frequently on my way.”

“She?”

“My coworker. She’s the problem.”

The woman nodded, trying not to sound too relieved to finally get some advance.

“So you’re having problems with a coworker.”

“That’s what I said, yes.” he muttered, trying once again not to be rude.

“Do you feel threatened by her?”

“No.”

“Does she disrespect you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you feel angry at her?”

“I’m stressed.”

“Do you feel like getting violent towards her?”

“No, what do you think…” 

She raises a hand, interrupting him “Mr. Hotchner, I’m just trying to understand the root of the problem. I’m not her to judge you, I just need to get you diagnosed.”

He nodded, sighing loudly.

“So, you feel stressed, you don’t feel angry or violent. Can you specify the problem you’re having with her?”

“I’m having work-inappropriate problems.” he manages, his voice barely hearable.

“Mhm.” the psychiatrist hums “And she’s your subordinate?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think about being inappropriate with her?”

He keeps silent, looking everywhere but the woman before him “Yes.”

“Do you feel like using your position as her superior to get her to perform those inappropriate scenarios?”

Hotch frowns “Absolutely not. Everything we ever did was completely consensual.”

“Oh.” her eyes widened at that “So you have a relationship with your coworker. Are you having relationship problems?” “No. We’re not in a relationship, and I’m having problems.”

“You’re having problems with not being in a relationship with her?”

“No. We can’t have a relationship, that’s inappropriate.”

“So what happened between you…”

“It never happened in a work scenario.”

“It happened more than once?”

“Many times. Never in front of other people, especially at work.”

“So you have a casual relationship with her, and no one in your work knows.”

“Again, not a relationship,” he pointed out.

“Understood. So back to those problems you’re having. Trouble sleeping and eating, sometimes breathing. Do you get any other physical symptoms?”

“Sometimes trembling, heart palpitations and occasionally gastrointestinal distress.”

“And tell me, Mr. Hotchner, do any situations trigger those symptoms?”

His mind instantly flooded with images of you.

“She does.”

“She makes you feel like that? She’s causing all of those problems?”

“Exactly.”

The psychiatrist started to smile, her posture more easy going now, which didn’t sit right with Hotch.

“Do you feel stressed when she’s not around?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And nauseous when thinking about or seeing her interacting with any other men?”

“Yes.”

“Does the trouble sleeping have anything to do with you thinking about her?”

“Yes, doctor. That’s exactly what I said.” he sounded incredibly impatient.

She laughed, the sound making him want to stand up and walk out without looking back.

“Something funny?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. Can we talk more about those feelings?”

“Doctor, with all due respect.” he started, buttoning up his suit as if he was ready to stand. “I’m not here to talk about my feelings. I’m currently under a lot of stress, which is leading to a mental disorientation and it’s causing me physical symptoms. And I came here because I need something to help me.”

“I’m afraid no medicine will help you with that, Mr. Hotchner.” and before his already blushed face could explode like a cartoon scene, the professional explained with a large smile and glistening eyes “You’re in love with her.”

[goorgeousz]

summer flame | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader summary: you develop a crush on the middle aged dad during your summer trip.  content/tw: nearly drowning on a swimming pool (it wasn’t more than 30 seconds but you get it), panic, objectification of hotch’s body (oh well), reader wears a bikini, protective!hotch, hotch saves the day once again, lmk if i missed anything! word count: 3.2k a/n: requested by the gorgeous @deceasedream69 , thank you so much for the idea!!! it was such a fun one to write, i truly hope you like it! also, i do have a spicy part two in mind if you guys are interested... 💗🪽 dividers @uzmacchiato

masterlist

part two

You were so entertained by your book that you didn’t even notice when the fine man you’ve been stalking walked in with his son, at 2:20 sharp and settled on the table on the corner of the community pool, like he’s been doing every day for the past week.

During summer, you liked to get away and rent a place by the beach to spend your days worrying about nothing but your tan and catching up with your books. Which was exactly what you were doing now, adding ‘hooking up with the middle-aged fine ass man without a ring’ to the list.

This time you chose a house complex a couple blocks from the beach with a community pool. You didn’t really care about the pool, since you never really learnt how to swim, but it was nice to have a place to cool down after burning under the sun – without letting go of the border goes without saying. It was a nice setting, and since you were on your own, safety was more important than extra space.

Five days ago, when you first saw him, you were on the exact same spot: tanning by the pool, deeply invested in the sugary romance you picked up on your way here. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment they walked  in the community pool, not really paying attention to the background movement, but you know exactly how your eyes first laid on him.

Just when the main couple were about to sleep together for the first time – after exactly 231 pages, mind you –, you felt cold. With a squealed yelp, you jumped on your sunlounger, more startled by the droplets of water on your body than actually cold.

“Jack, come on. This is not nice.” you hear a rough voice scold. Even though it was loud, since the kid – Jack, you assumed – was laughing uncontrollably on the water, the man sounded incredibly soft. Before you could turn around to explain you were just fine, you were startled – again – by the person kneeling beside you.

You widened your eyes at the proximity, and then widened even harder when you saw his face. He was gorgeous. His jaw was sharp, clean, his lips pressed tight as if he was reprimanding himself for something. You couldn’t see his eyes since the man wore a pair of sunglasses, but you could tell his eyebrows were pinched together by the way his forehead creased. You wondered why he was so worried. 

Just then it hit you: he was worried about you.

And this wasn't you being cocky, it was you realizing he was speaking to you, repeating the same question for the second time, at least.

“Are you okay?” You nodded fiercely, overcompensating for the time you spent ignoring him – his words, actually. All of your attention was turned to him.

“I’m good, yeah.” you assured, and he nodded once, composed, and stood back up, going back to the border of the pool to wait for his kid to get out.

The little blond boy walked over to you, his hair wet and messy from the pool. You tried not to smile at the squelchy noises of his float as he walked.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized, his big doe eyes watching you expectantly, his lashes long as he battled them in your direction like a little angel. You smiled at him.

“It’s okay. How’s the water?” At that he smiled back, his eyes shining excitedly at his new friend.

“It’s cold. But you just have to swim a little.” he explained, moving his arms up and down at a poor mimic of a swim. “I’m Jack, what’s your name?” When you answered, he walked away repeating your name to himself afterwards. You smiled at his dad, who stood awkwardly by the pool, waiting for his son to come back and trying to not look like a creep staring while making sure little Jack wasn’t dealing with a predator. As soon as his kid was back on his arms, he nodded at you, the tight line of his lips twitching at the corners as an attempt of a smile.

What an odd man. You wanted him, bad.

The following days were pretty much the same: right after lunch you were quick to change into bikinis and grab your stuff: snack, sunscreen and a book, and made your way towards the pool. You made sure to get the exact same sunlounger, look effortlessly beautiful and not check the time too much – you wouldn’t want to be caught on your phone just as he walked in, it would ruin your image. 

It was a challenge: you wanted to look sexy, not enough for him to stop bringing his kid around, but enough for his eyes to dart towards you. Just like the script you wrote in your mind, everyday just half an hour after you, he and his son arrived at the community pool. The little blond boy skipping excitedly with his swimming UV clothes and the two little floats wrapped around his arms. Grabbing his hands, his – delicious – father walked with swimming shorts – that never got wet, unfortunately – and a plain shirt, usually neutral colors. In his free hand, he carried one of those neon-colored reusable supermarket bags full of supplies.

You usually didn’t acknowledge them at first, seeming too focused on your book, and them being on the opposite side of the space. Eventually, you would close the book to grab your bottle of water or change positions, and you would face each other and exchange a polite nod. Jack, on the other hand, always ended up running to your side of the pool to chitchat, sometimes asking about what you were reading, sometimes to talk about the water, sometimes he just sing-songed your name while he marched around the perimeter.

Because he was always wearing sunglasses you weren’t completely sure, but you were positive you once caught him staring at you – Jack having to yell an annoyed ‘Dad!’ from the pool to get his attention while you reapplied sunscreen on your thighs.

Today was another one of these days, everything was just the same but every time more exciting than the last time. Even though you literally didn’t have eyes for anyone else beside that man and his kid, the pool was never empty. It wasn’t too crowded either, but at least four other tables were occupied.

In fact, you were so oblivious to the other people around you, it took one of them literally stepping in front of you and blocking the sunlight for you to notice their presence.

“Hi!” the elder woman said, her smile bright as she held a puppy in her arms.

“Hey…” you smiled confused, not knowing if you were supposed to know her. You sat up and pulled your glasses down to your nose, hoping that looking directly at her would help you figure it out. It didn’t. 

Exchanging your names, she started to explain “I was just wondering, since you always stay here for hours,” you try not to blush from realizing your activities were so noticeable to others “you wouldn’t mind watching over Prince for me, right?” you started to open your mouth to explain you had absolutely no idea what to do with a dog, when she raised one of her hands to stop you “I have to run to the drugstore, I ran out of my medicine and I have no one to leave him with.” as if on cue, the little dog in her arms tilted his head, his bulged eyes blinking up at you “It will be quick.” she said, approaching you and dropping the animal to the ground.

“...Sure.” you agreed unnecessarily – the woman was already handing you his leash, a bottle of water and a package of treats.

“Thank you, dearie.” she said, pinching your cheek and walking away. You sat there watching her go, blinking slowly and trying to breathe the situation in. To his defense, Prince sat obediently by your side, watching you with his tail wagging. You scratched the back of his ear, warming up to him.

At first, you just sat still, not knowing what you were supposed to do with him. But he just stayed there, laying on the ground enjoying the sun and watching the pool, so you just relaxed again, putting your sunglasses back on and resumed your reading – sight-seeing the man play with his kid.

The day was a little emptier than the rest, the only sound being small chattering from the other occupied tables. So, when that gorgeous man of yours leaned down to the cooler to pick up a beer, you could hear the sound of the can being opened. Your mouth watered, and it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

Drinking a single can of beer by the pool wasn’t exactly an announcement that you were single and ready to mingle, but it did make you look approachable – at least more than if you spend your entire summer babysitting your kid without even flirting with the young woman tanning across from you.

You wondered if he wanted company, and how would you approach him. Should you pop open a beer too? Or would it be too obvious? You didn’t bring any, so going back to the rental just to get one would be a little ridiculous.

Completely oblivious to your intern plotting, Prince felt the moment you loosened your grip on the leash, and took it as a once in a lifetime opportunity, and ran fast like a lightning away from you. You were standing faster than your mind processed the situation, but before you could get a hold of him he jumped right into the water.

Without a second thought, you threw your book on the ground and jumped head first into the swimming pool. It was deeper than you thought, but you were focused on getting the dog. Prince, you noticed, didn’t need your help. As soon as you clumsily made yourself close to him, he patted his paws perfectly away from you, getting to the border like a professional dog swimmer and got off without any help.

Before you could feel any betrayal towards the little cute bastard, chlorine water filled your nose and mouth, and you were harshly reminded that you couldn’t swim. Letting yourself sink for a moment, thinking that you could at least get an impulse from the ground. Realizing that even then you couldn’t touch your feet on the bottom, you started to full-on panic.

You swayed your arms up and down, trying to breathe, but doing that you couldn’t move further, so you stayed struggling on the same spot in the middle of the swimming pool. People tried to teach you how to swim over the years, but you never really got it. There was a time you managed to move a little, but the lack of practice got the best of you, and your mind blanked every movement you learnt.

At that point, your lungs were starting to hurt, and your arms and legs started to ache with the effort, so you tried to float. The problem was, the first step to float on the water is to relax, which in the moment that word meant nothing but a mix of letters, and you started to make peace with the fact that you were going to die (sad) saving a dog (heroic) that knew how to swim all along (embarassing).

When your legs started to give out, and your body was fully under the water, you weren’t seeing nor hearing anything. Your eyes were shut close, the only sound being the strong, erratic and maybe last beats of your heart.

Surprisingly, only a second past before two strong arms surrounded you, holding you close and pulling you up to the surface. As soon as you reached fresh air, you inhaled deeply, followed by a fit of coughing. The two strong arms carried you to the coping, lifting you with ease and placing you seated on the ground. Only then you rubbed your eyes open, your lungs burning as you coughed up all the water you managed to swallow.

Behind you, your saviour quickly followed you, lifting himself out of the pool and settling by your side, gently brushing your damp hair from your face and holding it for you in a makeshift ponytail, while his other hand rubbed circles on your back.

The chlorine scratched your throat unpleasantly, your eyes burning as tears streaked out of them. The man on your side kept whispering praises and instructions, patiently helping you. You heard him talking to the few other people there, ordering them around like a boss, his tone completely different from when he was directing to you. They grabbed fresh water, held the dog, and got her a towel.

When breathing finally stopped feeling like a knife to your lungs, you sat properly, wiping your tears and your mouth as you faced the man who helped you.

“Are you good?” he asked, his chocolate brown eyes scanning your entire face worriedly. For the first time he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and you immediately understood: they were hypnotizing. You just stared at his figure. His hair, usually gelled up like he was ready to be called in for work, was damp, messy and glued to his forehead, so rumbled it made him look boy-ish. His cheeks were red, and you didn’t know if it was from the sun or from the moment.

He had a very subtle stubble on his sharp jaw, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand on it to see if it would spike. His white shirt was your personal hell. The water made it look transparent, and you could see almost perfectly his entire torso underneath it. The muscles on his shoulders, his biceps clinging and flexing from holding his weight. His chest was broad and strong, you caught yourself licking your lips as you watched it moving up and down as he breathed, your eyes shifting to the softness on his stomach before it reached lower. That day, his swimming shorts were black, and cling to his hips and his thighs like you would if given the chance, and only then you realized you straight up eyed the man up and down, and there was no way he missed that.

As if answering your thoughts, as soon as your eyes were back on his face you caught the twitch on the corner of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically “Are you good?” You finally snapped back to reality, sitting up in a swift movement and accidently moving even closer to him.

“Prince?”

“Huh?”

“Prince, the dog. Where is he?” you asked, panicking. He just nodded to your side, and you turned to look for it just to find Prince just a couple feet beside you, his leash wrapped around the foot of your chair, laying down on his back, his eyes closed and his tongue darting out as he napped under the sunlight. “You traitor.” you muttered, reaching closer to scratch his belly.

You heard the man clearing his throat behind you, and you turned back to him. “Thank you…”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron.” you said his name tasting like candy on your tongue “Thank you, Aaron.” he nodded again. You told him your name, and he repeated it just like his son.

“Are you feeling better? Do you need anything?” he asked, still worried.

“I’m good, thank you.” you smile weakly “How embarrassing was it, on a scale from one to ten?”

He ignored your question, shaking his head once like it was a ridiculous question “You don’t know how to swim?” you sighed, not loving how he didn’t want to lighten the mood.

“I tried, but I never really learnt. Now I think it’s time.” you try to joke again, but he just nods in agreement.

Aaron – and how delicious it was to finally know his name – ran his hand through his hair, tousled it even more and looked over to Jack, just to guarantee he was safe, before turning back to you “Are you staying here all summer?”

“Yeah. I’m on 103-A.” you explain, trying not to read too much in his question. “You?”

“We’re on 110-A. I’m staying too, but Jack’s leaving for summer camp next week.” he says, and you swear you can see his lips twitching just a little bit. You feel your cheeks warming, but since you were already sunburnt it wouldn’t be too visible.

“Oh, I loved summer camp when I was his age.” you beam, looking at the kid “Waited all year for it. Me and my parents, actually.” you leaned closer to him, using your hand to cover your mouth like you were telling him a secret “I was a bit of a troublemaker.”

He chuckled, his dimples showing and knocking the air out of your lungs at how beautiful he looked “I can tell.” he gave you a knowing look, and while your mouth still hang opened in surprise, he kept talking like nothing happened “I will miss him but I definitely can use the rest.” he confides, looking over at the boy who now laid side by side with Prince, giggling and talking to him like they were best friends. You swoon at how soft his expression is while watching his kid, and you can tell he’s Aaron’s whole life. “Jack is  a full time job.”

You laugh, watching amused at the scene “Jack is an amazing kid, you’re doing an amazing job. But it’s understandable. Especially being a single parent and all.” you stop abruptly, only then noticing what you just said. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you looked back at Aaron, who had one of his eyebrows raised and a teasing smirk, and if it wasn’t noticeable before, now the blush on your face and neck was definitely full-on display. 

Clearing your throat, you shake your head as if erasing your last words “Shit– Sorry, I didn’t want to assume.” you ramble “Is it just that you don’t wear a ring, so…”

Again, it took you hearing the words that left your mouth for you to realize how bad it sounded. “Oh fuck.” you muttered under your breath, grimacing. Aaron, on the other hand, looked absolutely way too pleased with himself, his smirk turned into a whole grin, dimples on display, and the twinkle in his eyes making you want to crawl under your own skin. “You should’ve just let me drown.”

He laughed — fully, heartily laughed — and the sound made your embarrassment soften slightly. “Listen. You do need to learn how to swim. If you want to, I can teach you.” he offered, shrugging.

You bit your lower lip, eager to spend more time with him — shirtless and wet, especially — but you didn’t trust yourself enough to guarantee you’d behave in that scenario. Nonetheless, that was his problem alone, so you tilted your head to the side, batting your eyelashes at him “For free?”

“Absolutely not.” he said, his tone sarcastic. “In return, you can let me take you out for dinner.”

“I might need lots of lessons, then." you offered, joking along. He smiled easily, his tone always soft but laced with something else.

“Lucky for you, I have a list of restaurants I want to visit.” he confided and you giggled, the butterflies in your stomach throwing a fit. Later, after he asked you to join them on their table, carrying all your belongings in one hand, you made sure to give Prince an extra treat.

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

part two

[goorgeousz]

(un)requited | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader summary: spencer confesses his love for you, but you don’t say it back (because he walked away before you get to do so). content/tw: idiots in love, fluff!!!!!!, friends to lovers, early seasons spencer  word count: 1.5k a/n: based of this request! I was so inspired I wrote this in an hour (which might not sound a lot, but english is not my first language so sometimes i have to stop to search things up… anyway, proud of myself)!!! i pictured early season’s Spence on that one, i feel like it fits so much… absolutely love him!!! dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist

“Don’t you worry, mama. Pretty boy here will walk you home.” Morgan said, wrapping an arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

“I will?” Spencer asks, whisper-shouting at his friend, who just jabs him on the rib. Clearing his throat and trying not to wince too loudly, he turned to you “I will!”

You grimace, fidgeting with your fingers and hating that walking you home is being a debate.

"It's really not necessary. I know my way around here, and it’s just a few blocks away. I’ll be fine!” you dismissed them, smiling reassuringly.

Across from you Spencer frowned, scratching the back of his head “No, please. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn't sure you got home safe.” he tried, lips twitching in an awkward smile “So actually you’d be doing me a favor.”

Just like everyone else, you weren’t immune to his puppy brown eyes and angelic face, so you had no other option than to blush furiously and nod in agreement.

“We should be going, then.” you offered, and he promptly stood on his food and waited for you to say your goodbyes.

The night was windy, the moon was shining and the floor was wet from the rain earlier. You and Spencer chatted all the way home, laughing loudly and replaying funny moments of the evening. The BAU helped you build a strong friendship, and being the two youngest members of the team approached you both in and out of work.

What also helped was the fact that since you first opened your mouth, Spencer was head over heels in love with you.

He loved to hear you laughing, telling dumb jokes and making witty comments only for him to hear. His eyes brighten when you’d direct a question at him, or rely on his opinion about something. He’d hear you talk about the dream you had the other night like he was having a lecture from Einstein himself. He memorized your clothes, your first conversation, every text you ever sent him. He knew what every hairstyle said about your mood and the exact words that could make you laugh when you are feeling down.

And obviously his completely unabashed passion towards you was no secret to anyone on the team. Especially not to Morgan, who ever since found out about his ‘crush’ kept bugging him to confess his feelings to you.

Spencer didn’t particularly like all the teasing he got from Morgan, but god it felt nice to tell someone about it. So much that he barely cared about the five minutes call that were ⅘ of the time only mockery but ⅕ actual advice about what you meant when you texted him you needed a massage in the middle of the night.

Derek had so much fun watching the two idiots completely and blindly in love with each other, that he always made sure to pair them together and make everyone painfully aware to not intervene on the so-called ‘greatest love story of all time’. That was, until he noticed that Spencer was actually feeling sad about his unrequired love for you, because for some reason the child prodigy of the FBI with an IQ of 187 could put two and two together and realize that his love wasn’t unrequited at all.

So that was the only reason – okay, 25% was out of fun – why he decided to terrorize Reid saying that if he didn’t make a move, someone else would, and that the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

And since his wheel had to be the one getting the grease, the last couple steps before you got to your place were the most unsettling minutes of Reid year until now. His stomach was in such a twist that he had to remember himself he shot a guy once and it didn’t feel that frightening in the slightest.

“Hey, Reid.” you called him, snapping your fingers in his direction. He blinked, only then realizing the two of you were already at your place. “Are you constipated or something?”

He squealed, and you realized, surprised he meant to laugh “No, not really. It feels like it, though.”

“What is it?” you asked, starting to get worried about his health, because he kept squealing and giggling to himself like a madman.

“It’s love, actually. I’m completely in love with you.” your eyes were blown wide, and you felt like your whole body was in shock “Yeah, I know. Since the moment we met. I love everything about you, and it’s killing me to be so close to you without you knowing the truth, so there it is.” he chuckled again, now finally starting to sober up. “Aaaanyway. You’re home and safe. Yay!” he cringed at his words, his entire face reddening immediately. “Gotta go, goodnight.” he said, leaning in as awkwardly as possible to leave an even more awkward kiss on your cheek, before turning away and speed walking away from your place.

He was so dumb. So dumb. It was all Morgan’s fault. Morgan wasn’t his friend, no. He was an enemy. The worst kind of enemy: the one to pretend to be your friend and give you shitty advice just to laugh about it later. Like he was Morgan’s personal comedy show. No, but he was going to hear it. Next week, he would set up the world’s most venomous prank that the fbi had…

“Spencer Reid! Stop right now!” he heard a voice yelling, and stopped at his feet. He was so trapped in his own mind and his humiliation he didn’t even notice you chasing after him for almost three blocks, calling his name like a curse.

“Oh, you’re here…” he said, surprised, watching as you finally caught up to him and blocked his path, completely out of breath with your hair disheveled and face flushed. You probably never looked prettier. He should tell you that, since he was already fucked.

“You look really pretty like that.” he said dreamingly, with a tiny smile. The complement earned him a smack on the chest. A hard one. Two palms flat on his chest. “Ouch! What are you…”

“No, what are you doing? Think you can say that and… and… just leave? Who do you think you are?” you yelled, still out of breath, pointing your finger to his face. Spencer backed away, just partially scared that the next slap would be to his face.

“I know, I know. Sorry, let me explain!” he said, raising his hand for mercy. You stopped talking, but just because your lungs were burning so much you were close to throwing up. “It’s Morgan’s fault. He convinced me to say it to you.”

“Wait, what? Is that what you…” but he didn’t listen, and just kept rambling and explaining himself.

“But I know it’s a violation of fraternization rules, and it might even feel like harassment but if that’s the case please know I would do nothing to hurt you or to make you uncomfortable. I’d rip my head off before doing something like that…”

“Spencer, what the actual fuck?”

“Point is,” he kept going, not even slowing his speech “I’m sorry to put you in that position. Nothing has to change between us, I love your friendship as much as I fell in love with you. And I know this is completely platonic and even though I’m dumb enough to fall for my best friend, I’m not stupid enough to think that I’d ever have a chance with a girl like you, but the first step to deal with a problem is to acknowledge it, so that’s why I’m…”

That’s when you interrupted him again. But this time, not with words.

Pulling him by the lapels of his jacket, you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him. For a second, you felt him stiffen, and you wondered if you were the one crossing a line. But before the thought could duel on you any further, his hands found your face and he kissed you back gently, sweetly and lovingly.

He kissed exactly like he felt: like a man in love. His hands roamed on your face, pulling you closer and nested on your hair. His tongue was warm and his lips were soft, and it was like he wanted to devour you but also for it never to end. It was overwhelming. It was perfect.

When you two pull apart, for a second you stand there: forehead resting on each other, breaths ragged and uncontrolled, just taking it all in.

“Now, are you going to let me speak?” you asked, a smirk dancing on your lips. He chuckled, blushing and nodding expectantly.

“You can do anything you want.” he breathed out, and you knew he was telling the truth. The passion shining in his doe eyes showed you that.

Wrapping your hands around his neck and feeling his arms find their rightful place on your waist, you smiled sweetly at him.

“I love you too, Spence. Always have.”

The smile he gave you in return could light the entire city.

taglist: all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife

[goorgeousz]

she’s so real for wanting her last meal to be him

[goorgeousz]

you love emily’s grey hair | emily prentiss

drabble

grey haired emily prentiss x younger gf!reader fluff, age gap, alc consumption a/n: ik most of my followers like my hotch fics better, but i missed writing for emily and that thought have been on my mind for a while 🤍just thought i posted something short and silly while i work on my requests <3 i've seen them all, thank you so much to everyone who sent me! ily all

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“You’re home!” you squeak as you open the door and spot Emily standing in the middle of the living room, a hand on her hip and the other holding her phone.

She looks at you both annoyed and relieved, and you stumble on your way towards her, wrapping your arms around her neck and peppering her face with kisses.

“How did you get home? I’ve been worried sick! Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

“We split a cab. I was taking a lot of pictures so my phone died.” you explained, shifting your weight onto her until she sat on the couch with you safely sat on her lap “I’ve missed you, Em.”

You caught the subtle flush on her cheeks and neck, but she doesn’t bulge.

“You can’t do that, baby. It’s dangerous.”

“Take pictures?” you frown “But I looked so pretty tonight…”

“You always do, angel. I meant let your phone die. I was about to call Garcia to track you down.” she warned, showing her phone with Penelope’s number typed, before settling it on the couch. “I would’ve picked you up. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is? I swear to god if something happens to you…”

“I know, right?” you mumbled lazily, caressing her hair and her face, completely bewitched by her beauty.

Unfortunately, she was not amused by your distraction, and pinch your sides gently to get your attention back.

“Hey, are you listening? I’m being serious right now.”

You grimaced, feeling guilty for not paying attention. Emily was a worried person by nature, combined with the horrors she has to face on a daily basis and how protective she is over your wellbeing, there was no doubt: you screwed up.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful. But I can’t help but get distracted by your hair, it looks stunning like this. I love it so much.” you confide, brushing your fingers through the messy strands.

Ever since she started to use her hair naturally and stopped covering the grey strands that consistently showed, you’ve been completely obsessed. Even though she usually got shy over your overwhelming compliments, seeing how much you loved her new look only helped to grow her confidence, and she couldn’t be more grateful to you.

But since she decided you were still on thin ice with her, she wasn’t going to crack just yet. So Emily just sighed, hoping the heat on her face wasn’t too noticeable for you — it definitely was.

“You better. Ever since I met you I think I’ve earned 50 grey hairs per day.” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

Much to her dismay, you cooed loudly, hugging her tightly and kissing her over and over.

“Oh, Em. Thank you so much, you’re so sweet to me.”

She frowned, fighting a little harder to keep from smiling 

“That clearly wasn’t a compliment.” she mumbled, holding back a smile as you kissed her.

“Everything sounds like a compliment coming from that pretty mouth of yours.” you purr, winking at her.

After hearing that, her lips crack into a smirk, and she smacks your backside twice to urge you off of her.

“Alright, Don Juan. Let’s get you to clean up, you have tequila breath.” she teased, and you yelped as you jumped off her lap, clasping your hands over your mouth.

Then, you finally hear her delicious laugh, that one where her eyes shut tightly and her head is thrown back. You roll your eyes, stomping your feet toward your shared bathroom.

Even all the way to the bathroom you still hear her laughter, and your heart beats with overwhelming love.

taglist: all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife all emily @piiinco

[goorgeousz]

you love emily’s grey hair | emily prentiss

drabble

grey haired emily prentiss x younger gf!reader fluff, age gap, alc consumption a/n: ik most of my followers like my hotch fics better, but i missed writing for emily and that thought have been on my mind for a while 🤍just thought i posted something short and silly while i work on my requests <3 i've seen them all, thank you so much to everyone who sent me! ily all

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“You’re home!” you squeak as you open the door and spot Emily standing in the middle of the living room, a hand on her hip and the other holding her phone.

She looks at you both annoyed and relieved, and you stumble on your way towards her, wrapping your arms around her neck and peppering her face with kisses.

“How did you get home? I’ve been worried sick! Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

“We split a cab. I was taking a lot of pictures so my phone died.” you explained, shifting your weight onto her until she sat on the couch with you safely sat on her lap “I’ve missed you, Em.”

You caught the subtle flush on her cheeks and neck, but she doesn’t bulge.

“You can’t do that, baby. It’s dangerous.”

“Take pictures?” you frown “But I looked so pretty tonight…”

“You always do, angel. I meant let your phone die. I was about to call Garcia to track you down.” she warned, showing her phone with Penelope’s number typed, before settling it on the couch. “I would’ve picked you up. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is? I swear to god if something happens to you…”

“I know, right?” you mumbled lazily, caressing her hair and her face, completely bewitched by her beauty.

Unfortunately, she was not amused by your distraction, and pinch your sides gently to get your attention back.

“Hey, are you listening? I’m being serious right now.”

You grimaced, feeling guilty for not paying attention. Emily was a worried person by nature, combined with the horrors she has to face on a daily basis and how protective she is over your wellbeing, there was no doubt: you screwed up.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful. But I can’t help but get distracted by your hair, it looks stunning like this. I love it so much.” you confide, brushing your fingers through the messy strands.

Ever since she started to use her hair naturally and stopped covering the grey strands that consistently showed, you’ve been completely obsessed. Even though she usually got shy over your overwhelming compliments, seeing how much you loved her new look only helped to grow her confidence, and she couldn’t be more grateful to you.

But since she decided you were still on thin ice with her, she wasn’t going to crack just yet. So Emily just sighed, hoping the heat on her face wasn’t too noticeable for you — it definitely was.

“You better. Ever since I met you I think I’ve earned 50 grey hairs per day.” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

Much to her dismay, you cooed loudly, hugging her tightly and kissing her over and over.

“Oh, Em. Thank you so much, you’re so sweet to me.”

She frowned, fighting a little harder to keep from smiling 

“That clearly wasn’t a compliment.” she mumbled, holding back a smile as you kissed her.

“Everything sounds like a compliment coming from that pretty mouth of yours.” you purr, winking at her.

After hearing that, her lips crack into a smirk, and she smacks your backside twice to urge you off of her.

“Alright, Don Juan. Let’s get you to clean up, you have tequila breath.” she teased, and you yelped as you jumped off her lap, clasping your hands over your mouth.

Then, you finally hear her delicious laugh, that one where her eyes shut tightly and her head is thrown back. You roll your eyes, stomping your feet toward your shared bathroom.

Even all the way to the bathroom you still hear her laughter, and your heart beats with overwhelming love.

taglist: all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife all emily @piiinco

[goorgeousz]

thank you so muchhh!!!!! 💗💗

(un)requited | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader summary: spencer confesses his love for you, but you don’t say it back (because he walked away before you get to do so). content/tw: idiots in love, fluff!!!!!!, friends to lovers, early seasons spencer  word count: 1.5k a/n: based of this request! I was so inspired I wrote this in an hour (which might not sound a lot, but english is not my first language so sometimes i have to stop to search things up… anyway, proud of myself)!!! i pictured early season’s Spence on that one, i feel like it fits so much… absolutely love him!!! dividers by @uzmacchiato

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“Don’t you worry, mama. Pretty boy here will walk you home.” Morgan said, wrapping an arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

“I will?” Spencer asks, whisper-shouting at his friend, who just jabs him on the rib. Clearing his throat and trying not to wince too loudly, he turned to you “I will!”

You grimace, fidgeting with your fingers and hating that walking you home is being a debate.

"It's really not necessary. I know my way around here, and it’s just a few blocks away. I’ll be fine!” you dismissed them, smiling reassuringly.

Across from you Spencer frowned, scratching the back of his head “No, please. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn't sure you got home safe.” he tried, lips twitching in an awkward smile “So actually you’d be doing me a favor.”

Just like everyone else, you weren’t immune to his puppy brown eyes and angelic face, so you had no other option than to blush furiously and nod in agreement.

“We should be going, then.” you offered, and he promptly stood on his food and waited for you to say your goodbyes.

The night was windy, the moon was shining and the floor was wet from the rain earlier. You and Spencer chatted all the way home, laughing loudly and replaying funny moments of the evening. The BAU helped you build a strong friendship, and being the two youngest members of the team approached you both in and out of work.

What also helped was the fact that since you first opened your mouth, Spencer was head over heels in love with you.

He loved to hear you laughing, telling dumb jokes and making witty comments only for him to hear. His eyes brighten when you’d direct a question at him, or rely on his opinion about something. He’d hear you talk about the dream you had the other night like he was having a lecture from Einstein himself. He memorized your clothes, your first conversation, every text you ever sent him. He knew what every hairstyle said about your mood and the exact words that could make you laugh when you are feeling down.

And obviously his completely unabashed passion towards you was no secret to anyone on the team. Especially not to Morgan, who ever since found out about his ‘crush’ kept bugging him to confess his feelings to you.

Spencer didn’t particularly like all the teasing he got from Morgan, but god it felt nice to tell someone about it. So much that he barely cared about the five minutes call that were ⅘ of the time only mockery but ⅕ actual advice about what you meant when you texted him you needed a massage in the middle of the night.

Derek had so much fun watching the two idiots completely and blindly in love with each other, that he always made sure to pair them together and make everyone painfully aware to not intervene on the so-called ‘greatest love story of all time’. That was, until he noticed that Spencer was actually feeling sad about his unrequired love for you, because for some reason the child prodigy of the FBI with an IQ of 187 could put two and two together and realize that his love wasn’t unrequited at all.

So that was the only reason – okay, 25% was out of fun – why he decided to terrorize Reid saying that if he didn’t make a move, someone else would, and that the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

And since his wheel had to be the one getting the grease, the last couple steps before you got to your place were the most unsettling minutes of Reid year until now. His stomach was in such a twist that he had to remember himself he shot a guy once and it didn’t feel that frightening in the slightest.

“Hey, Reid.” you called him, snapping your fingers in his direction. He blinked, only then realizing the two of you were already at your place. “Are you constipated or something?”

He squealed, and you realized, surprised he meant to laugh “No, not really. It feels like it, though.”

“What is it?” you asked, starting to get worried about his health, because he kept squealing and giggling to himself like a madman.

“It’s love, actually. I’m completely in love with you.” your eyes were blown wide, and you felt like your whole body was in shock “Yeah, I know. Since the moment we met. I love everything about you, and it’s killing me to be so close to you without you knowing the truth, so there it is.” he chuckled again, now finally starting to sober up. “Aaaanyway. You’re home and safe. Yay!” he cringed at his words, his entire face reddening immediately. “Gotta go, goodnight.” he said, leaning in as awkwardly as possible to leave an even more awkward kiss on your cheek, before turning away and speed walking away from your place.

He was so dumb. So dumb. It was all Morgan’s fault. Morgan wasn’t his friend, no. He was an enemy. The worst kind of enemy: the one to pretend to be your friend and give you shitty advice just to laugh about it later. Like he was Morgan’s personal comedy show. No, but he was going to hear it. Next week, he would set up the world’s most venomous prank that the fbi had…

“Spencer Reid! Stop right now!” he heard a voice yelling, and stopped at his feet. He was so trapped in his own mind and his humiliation he didn’t even notice you chasing after him for almost three blocks, calling his name like a curse.

“Oh, you’re here…” he said, surprised, watching as you finally caught up to him and blocked his path, completely out of breath with your hair disheveled and face flushed. You probably never looked prettier. He should tell you that, since he was already fucked.

“You look really pretty like that.” he said dreamingly, with a tiny smile. The complement earned him a smack on the chest. A hard one. Two palms flat on his chest. “Ouch! What are you…”

“No, what are you doing? Think you can say that and… and… just leave? Who do you think you are?” you yelled, still out of breath, pointing your finger to his face. Spencer backed away, just partially scared that the next slap would be to his face.

“I know, I know. Sorry, let me explain!” he said, raising his hand for mercy. You stopped talking, but just because your lungs were burning so much you were close to throwing up. “It’s Morgan’s fault. He convinced me to say it to you.”

“Wait, what? Is that what you…” but he didn’t listen, and just kept rambling and explaining himself.

“But I know it’s a violation of fraternization rules, and it might even feel like harassment but if that’s the case please know I would do nothing to hurt you or to make you uncomfortable. I’d rip my head off before doing something like that…”

“Spencer, what the actual fuck?”

“Point is,” he kept going, not even slowing his speech “I’m sorry to put you in that position. Nothing has to change between us, I love your friendship as much as I fell in love with you. And I know this is completely platonic and even though I’m dumb enough to fall for my best friend, I’m not stupid enough to think that I’d ever have a chance with a girl like you, but the first step to deal with a problem is to acknowledge it, so that’s why I’m…”

That’s when you interrupted him again. But this time, not with words.

Pulling him by the lapels of his jacket, you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him. For a second, you felt him stiffen, and you wondered if you were the one crossing a line. But before the thought could duel on you any further, his hands found your face and he kissed you back gently, sweetly and lovingly.

He kissed exactly like he felt: like a man in love. His hands roamed on your face, pulling you closer and nested on your hair. His tongue was warm and his lips were soft, and it was like he wanted to devour you but also for it never to end. It was overwhelming. It was perfect.

When you two pull apart, for a second you stand there: forehead resting on each other, breaths ragged and uncontrolled, just taking it all in.

“Now, are you going to let me speak?” you asked, a smirk dancing on your lips. He chuckled, blushing and nodding expectantly.

“You can do anything you want.” he breathed out, and you knew he was telling the truth. The passion shining in his doe eyes showed you that.

Wrapping your hands around his neck and feeling his arms find their rightful place on your waist, you smiled sweetly at him.

“I love you too, Spence. Always have.”

The smile he gave you in return could light the entire city.

taglist: all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife

[goorgeousz]

absolutely!!!!

aaron would never let you ruin your dress

drabble

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: suggestive ending, age gap (reader teasing him as always), aaron picking you up with one (!!!) arm to prevent your dress from getting dirty a/n: based on this request! as you all know, my mission in life is to spread the “yes ma’am” aaron agenda! giggled so much picturing this, hope you enjoy it <3 also: 800 followers? are you fucking serious??? i LOVE you all so much!!!!! should i do an event? i have some ideas but i'm scared it will flop BAD... also i really want to join kinkotober... idk yall please let me know, jut want to make you beautiful people happy! thank you thank you thank you💗🪽

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“Just one more,” Aaron said, holding the phone awkwardly between his chubby fingers as he took probably the tenth picture of you at the reception of the restaurant you picked for your date night.

Your cheeks were aching from smiling so hard, both for the picture and because there’s no way you wouldn’t be grinning like an idiot when your husband insists on making an entire album of your pictures whenever he felt like you looked ‘too pretty for him not to’.

Hotch was a “register every moment” kind of man through and through, but ever since you taught him to change his lockscreen, it was so much worse. Almost every week his phone showcased a different picture of you, Jack and Hotchelle. Sometimes the three of you are together (those lasted longer on his phone).

“Alright, now we can go.” he concluded, looking proudly at his phone before shoving it into the pocket of his suit. Looking back at you, he smiled fondly and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead “Thanks, honey.”

You just chuckled, blushing while he helped you put your jacket back on. He shook hands with the waiter standing at the door, and the two of you stepped out of the restaurant.

“There’s no way we didn’t hear it.” you mumbled, shocked at how much it rained since you walked in. Hotch’s hand found his way to your lower back, pulling you closer to him, in an unconscious move.

“The acoustics must be really good.” he added, quickly scanning towards the street, searching for the less flooded path. You saw him stressed, and probably beating himself up for not bringing the car — even though it was your suggestion —, so you took the lead, stepping outside carefully to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. He followed right after you, as if it physically hurt him to not be touching you.

“Wait, honey. Your shoes…” he started, walking beside you carefully not to slash water into your dress.

“This is what they’re made for.” you add, holding the skirt of your dress by the sides to keep it from touching the ground. He huffed behind you, clearly not convinced. “Besides, I can’t wait to show you what I have under that dress.” you turned to face him, smirking suggestively.

Stopping mid track, he looked hungrily at you, his eyes scanning yours to check if you were telling the truth or just trying to distract him. Being apparently pleased with what he saw on your face, his eyebrows shot up expectantly.

“What is it?” he mumbled, his voice dropping an octave.

Waiting for him to step closer, you leaned backwards until his chest was almost pressed to your back, whispering back “Nothing.” and walked away, slowly and steadily stepping on only the dry spots of the street.

The next thing you felt was his hand finding your waist and quickly sliding all the way down to the back of your knees. Your giggle immediately turned into a high pitched scream when he, using only one arm, picked you up with ease.

Smiling wildly, you wrapped your arms around his neck to find balance, throwing your head back with laughter “Aaron, put me down.”

“And ruin your new heels and dress? Absolutely not.” he said seriously, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Seriously, baby. You don’t have to.” you say, but shift in his arm to lay more comfortably. Hearing his chest rumble in a chuckle, you smile too.

“It’s faster this way. And now you put me in a hurry.” he smirked suggestively at you, manhandling you in a way that made your stomach flutter.

You sighed loudly, visibly pretending to be annoyed “Alright, alright! I just didn’t want you to end up hurting your back. You know how it gets…” you tease, trying and failing miserably to fight back a fit of laughter.

Aaron just looked pointedly at you, shaking his head in fake disappointment “You already know where this kind of behavior will get you…”

With a bright smile and the excitedly quickened beat of your heart, you look back at him.

“I can’t wait.”

[goorgeousz]

Omfg i need that

suckable

summary: a routine fire alarm inspection leads into you proving to clark that he does have a suckable dick (kinda.)

tags: 18+, smut, roommate!clark, established friendship, f!reader, i broke clois up (sorry,) clark is older than reader (non-specific,) reader doesn't know clark is superman, fire alarm inspections, clark kent is a DORK, reader just barely realizes she has a crush on clark, blowjob, messy blowjob, big dick!clark, big boobs!clark, big arms!clark, sub!clark, size difference (sorta?), m!nipple play, reader swallows but there's also kind of a facial, begging for like two seconds, sweet!clark, aaannd he picks reader up one time.

a/n: yayy my first clark fic !!! (facedown drooling twitching)

wc: 4.5k, reread once by my eyes

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You’ve been roommates with Clark for approximately… seven months. 

It’s been great really. No complaints, especially since he’s never home long enough to be annoying. He does the dishes, he takes the trash and recycling down every Thursday, and he usually makes enough food that there’s leftovers for your lunches the next day. The friendship between you two is easy, but not intimate. Clark, to you, is personable, but not personal.

You do know that he moved in with you after moving out with his ex girlfriend, and that the relationship ended as amicably as possible for “professional reasons.” Clark also works at the Daily Planet and being a writer may or may not be why he needs a roommate in his thirties. He grew up somewhere not Metropolis to your knowledge and he goes back home usually one weekend a month. 

And that’s it. That’s all you know about your roommate of seven months. It’s kind of nice to live with a dependable man, especially when he’s not just kind but also sort of intimidating. Your last roommate was a young woman around your age, and though she was fun, you were always a little worried about the weird neighbor down the hall. He really liked talking to you when you’d take the recycling down, or god forbid, when you’d have to do your laundry in the basement of your building. As soon as Clark found out about that he made a point to start taking the trash down for you and coming with you to do your laundry. The weirdo neighbor backed off pretty quickly when you began walking around with a 6’4 grown man who gave him the stink eye any chance he got. 

Obviously you’d rather be living alone, or with a romantic partner, but neither of those things seem like they’re in your cards at this point. Clark is a good alternative. You get plenty of alone time when you have a day off since Clark is at work until five most days, and on top of that sometimes he goes out with his friends. Alternatively to the time you get to spend alone, you also get to feel just a smidge safer at night. Metropolis is nowhere near as dangerous as Gotham is, at least not at night, but you can never be totally sure. Superman can handle whatever huge creature is toppling buildings over, but you can’t really call Superman if there’s someone trying to break into your apartment. You can call Clark though, or rather, knock on his door. Usually.

Tonight Clark is out. He’s actually out a lot later than usual, which is strange. He said something vague this morning about having to go to a meeting later tonight with his friends after work and he’d “be back aroumd smghmsgh.” His voice muffled at the end of his sentence because he had stuffed a cinnamon swirl eggo in his mouth. Helpful! 

Around ten you finally peel yourself off the couch. It feels strange to get ready for bed without Clark being around. You aren’t dependent on him, but like, it’s routine by now. You brush your teeth, he brushes his teeth, and then you both go to bed. Sometimes he showers, but that’s not your business to think about. At all. Clark is your friend and roommate. Your kind, dependable, tall, handsome, buff, protective, roommate. You walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water, telling yourself you aren’t prolonging the time before you get ready for bed sans-Clark.

The water pools in the sink as you run the tap for a moment before sticking your glass under. It fills a little too quickly. You chug it, pour more water in the glass, then let your eyes flit to the overhead cupboards. A notice is taped to one of them, one which you taped up. 

NOTICE: Fire alarm inspection

Dear valued tenants,

This coming Saturday the MFD (Metropolis Fire Department) will be entering your apartments to test your fire alarms. These tests will happen between 8am-11am. If you are unable to be present this Saturday please let me know by e-mail so we can rearrange a time. 

Thanks.

Ugh. Your landlord is a nice person but is it necessary to start fire alarm testing at 8am on a Saturday? You were kind of hoping Clark would get home early tonight so he could be the one to let the fire department in tomorrow morning, but you guess not. He’s going to end up sleeping in late if he’s not home soon, so you better set your alarm. 

— 

It’s 7:59am. And they’re already here. 

You had woken up to a strong knock on the door of your apartment that had you gasping for breath as you stumbled out of bed, throwing a more presentable shirt on. Thank God the fireman that you opened the door to looked worse for wear than you did. If you had opened the door to a sexy fireman while wearing your somewhat holey Snoopy sleepshirt, which you’ve had since middle school, you might have lit yourself on fire to test the alarm.

Now you’re sitting on the couch backwards, staring at the fireman as he stands on a ladder in the kitchen. You’re kind of wondering if the fire department needs to do this. You’re pretty sure Clark could check the fire alarm without using a ladder, which you’re tempted to tell the fireman, but he seems nice enough. It’s just early, you’re grumpy. 

“I’ve been doing this for almost a decade now,” the fireman says. You hum in an interested tone, watching as he uses a screwdriver to unscrew the panel of the fire alarm. It falls down into his other palm and he checks the batteries.

“Expired,” he says disapprovingly.

Okay fire alarm guy. 

He takes a couple batteries out of his shirt pocket and replaces the old batteries. Then he screws the panel back on. It kind of feels like watching you dad or uncle fix something, which would be sweet if you weren’t sleep deprived and annoyed that somehow this guy made his way to your fourth floor apartment before these tests were even supposed to start. 

The fireman puts his screwdriver back into his toolbelt and then looks back at you from where he’s standing on the ladder. 

“Might be loud,” is the only warning you get.

A shrill beep screeches through the apartment as he presses the “test” button on the alarm. It wakes you up all over again, making you jolt upwards. You’re close to cussing, but then you hear a different loud noise. Two loud thuds echo from behind Clark’s bedroom door.

Oh shit, he was still sleeping.

A couple more thuds sound out before Clark’s door is ripped open. There’s a wild look to him as his chest puffs anxiously.

“Fire?” He asks at the same time the fireman says “alarm works now!” Proud as ever.

No, there’s no fire. But it’s starting to get warm. 

You’ve never seen Clark straight out of bed. Typically he showers at night, after you go to bed, so that you can have the bathroom in the mornings. That means that by the time you see him each morning he’s already dressed for work, curls tamed, and he’s all put together. Right now though, he’s the least put together you’ve ever seen him.

His hair is somewhat screwed up, the curls flat on one side of his head from how he sleeps, and his glasses are a little crooked from how hastily he must have shoved them on. Clark is also shirtless, which is surprising. You kind of took Clark as the kind of man who has old fashioned cotton pajama sets considering he wears a suit to work everyday. You very much wish he was right now.

Clark is obviously a strong guy. He’s got great arms that you’ve been able to admire multiple times over the last seven months, and sometimes you’re able to see how big his chest is when his dress shirts strain just right. But right now, you’re getting a full view of everything, and he’s so, terribly, attractively, big. Clark’s arms are much bigger than you thought they were, but so is everything else. His stomach pushes against the stretchband of his pajama pants just right, making you think of the time that he had shared the fact that “Ma fed me well,” over dinner. Fuck yes she did. Thanks Ma. His stomach looks dense with strength, like he’s been bulking his whole life, and his tits… Lord. Never in your life have you ever thought that a man having tits could be attractive, but Clark Kent doesn’t seem to be able to be unattractive. They look heavy and the skin looks soft and for a split second you think about what it would be like to run your hands up his body and cup them. 

You notice that you’re staring at him, but he doesn’t. Instead, Clark seems to realize that the guy in your apartment isn’t an intruder, but is actually checking the fire alarm. He walks over quickly, and in typical Clark fashion, strikes up a conversation with this guy. He’s distracted fully, giving you more time to kind of drool over the new angle you’re getting of his arms.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. You’ve purposefully been avoiding being attracted or generally objectifying Clark no matter what because when he moved in with you he was sorely broken up over his last relationship ending. Clark was much too sweet for you to think about in that way, no matter how delicious he is to stare at. But it’s been months now, and he seems more okay, and damn it he’s shirtless and it’s 7:30 in the morning and you’re pissed! You deserve a little eye candy, no? 

You let your eyes drop back to his stomach as he stands while talking to the fireman. The profile of his tummy almost hanging over the waistband is making your whole body heat up, but then your eyes drop lower and it gets worse.

He’s not wearing underwear.

There’s literally no possible way that he’s wearing anything beneath the pajama pants. You can see the outline of what you think is morning wood, but you aren’t entirely sure. If he had a boner that big right now he wouldn’t just be casually talking to a stranger in your apartment, right? But then again, there’s no way he’s packing something that much. It wouldn’t be human to be that big soft. He must just be oblivious. Fuck, you’re perving out right now.

It’s pressing against the plaid pattern of his pants in a way that maybe is camouflaged to the poor fireman who now looks like he’s trapped in a conversation with Clark. You watch as the fireman slowly packs up his ladder and moves unsubtly toward the door in an attempt to drop a hint that Clark isn’t picking up. It, yes it, isn’t camouflaged to you though. You watch from the couch as his pants tent around it, the thickness of it pressing against his leg as he moves toward the door with the fireman. Sweat starts to form at your brow as you swallow dryly. 

Maybe his last girlfriend just couldn’t stand the hospital trips after they had sex? That’s the only plausible reason you can see someone dumping Clark. He’s suffering from the success of all those inches. 

The fireman finally shuts down the conversation Clark had started with a gentle “I have to go test other alarms now,” and slips out the door. Clark turns to you now, still clearly oblivious to the third leg he seems to be showing off.

“I totally forgot about that inspection, geez.”

You are braindead. His words don’t even seem like words anymore as you get another full frontal view of his less-than-normally-clothed body and the inside of your skull feels fuzzy. It’s too early for all of these emotions of frustration and then sudden insatiable heat. Maybe you’re getting close to ovulating or something, but Clark is triggering you badly.

“Are you hard?” You ask.

Clark instantly reaches his hands down, covering his crotch.

“What? No, I just– I just threw these on. They must be too small.” He sputters. 

Just threw those on? Your brows scrunch together in confusion. If he just threw those on before coming out of his room and he’s not wearing anything else (other than his glasses…)

“I sleep naked,” Clark admits flusteredly. Your eyes widen just as your mouth hangs slightly open in surprise. This is not something that you thought Clark would ever say, nor admit if it was the case. His ears are turning pink as his hands cover his crotch area still, though you doubt he’s actually covering all the square footage of his downstairs property. 

“I started sleeping naked when I moved away from home. It was like a freedom thing, I think.”

Oookay. Coolio. Packing that tidbit of info into your brain and saving it for later when Clark isn’t home and you have a certain something charged. You nod with your mouth still open, then swallow back the dryness on your tongue before speaking again.

“Why do you…” you start speaking but then he moves toward the couch and your voice trails off. He sits opposite you, looking a little ashamed as he shoves a pillow over his lap. “Why do you still sleep naked?”

He can’t make eye contact with you now, he’s too embarrassed. It almost seems like he never really thought about the fact it might be strange to still sleep naked, and now he has to face the music. 

“Clothes just… restrain stuff,” he admits quietly. 

Stuff.

“Stuff?” You reply. “What stuff?

He shakes his head, says your name quietly like he wishes you’d forget this. “You know what stuff. My stuff.”

This is insane. There’s no way he’s that big all the time. That’s not something you believe. 

“You’re seriously not… that’s not just morning wood or something?” 

Clark shakes his head again and seems even more embarrassed now. His fists push into the throw pillow on his lap nervously. “I’m sorry,” he says weakly. “I know it’s strange. Or scary, I’ve been called scary.”

Aw. You feel kind of bad for him amidst all your curiosity about this newfound limb on your roommate. The best comfort you can offer in this awkwardness is a shrug.

“It’s okay, Clark,” you attempt a normal voice, “it’s just a surprise.” 

He laughs quietly, thank goodness. His smile is always a ray of sunshine but right now it breaks up the insanity of the situation. “Golly, it’s a surprise to you? Imagine growing this thing,” he chuckles. Like it’s normal.

The honesty is somehow scarier than the fact that his dick is really that big. That’s just Clark’s life, he has to have that in his pants all the time, and now you have to know that he has that in his pants all the time too. What the fuck? What is this morning?

Clark finally works up the courage to look at you again, though you can still see the remnants of his flustered expression from moments before. His eyes stroll over your face and he seems to realize your befuddlement. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. You raise your head to nod, but then feel the tug of a question caught in your throat. 

“How big is it?” You ask. The tables turn again and Clark is back to being the one caught off guard. He sputters some breaths and attempts words but you shrug. “I’ve already basically seen it, Clark. I’m just curious.”

The last thing you say seems to ease him some more, as silly as it is. It’s true, you’ve basically seen the outline of the whole thing now, so he has less reason to be shy. Clark, again, nods. Then he picks the pillow up off his lap and places it on the ground beside his feet. This gives you a chance to see the way his stomach pouts out from his body while he sits, and the way his tits sit. They still look so soft, but you can’t make Clark any more uncomfortable than he already is, so you try your best to maintain eye contact.

“Eight and a half inches,” he manages to spit out. God, he sounds ashamed of it. Why is he ashamed? 

You gawk at him. “I don’t even think I could fit half of you in my mouth.”

Why did you say that? Oh my god, why did you say that? 

“That’s… fair. Nobody ever has,” Clark admits shyly. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

It sounds like a challenge. Your eyes drop back to his lap, searching for a moment until you can finally focus on the visible outline against the worn fabric of his pajamas. 

“I could try,” you suggest. Clark’s head tilts down a little as he tries to meet your eyes that are currently feasting on the sight of his lap. He starts to say “what” but you stumble out more words. “Like just to see. Not in a sex way, but in an experimental way. Just to see.”

He seems a little speechless, his mouth forming the shapes of words that don’t come out, seldom for a shocked whisper of your name. Clark swallows the saliva in his mouth and then  leans back against the couch, nodding.

“Not in a sex way,” he repeats as you slide off the couch and maneuver yourself between his legs. “Aw geez.”

Stupid cute man with a stupidly big cock. You aren’t technically breaking the “roommate rule” of don’t-fuck-your-roommate at least. You’re not fucking him, you are both just trying to see how much of Clark’s dick is humanly possible to suck. 

He lifts his hips for you as your hands reach up and slide his pants down his legs, pulling them off with little struggle. It exposes his thighs to you, the hair that feathers out from his pubic area into a softer dusting around the outer area where his dick lays. It’s too heavy to even stand up on its own, it just lays against his thigh. He’s uncut but the foreskin is pulled back slightly, exposing the deep pink of his tip and how it’s starting to drool pre-come. 

“Sorry, it’s um, been a bit. I’m a shower so don’t worry about,” he swallows nervously again, “about it getting any bigger than this.”

It is a little comforting to know you won’t have to deal with any more than you signed up for, but mostly you just want to soothe him. Clark seems so ashamed of how big he is, which isn’t totally unfamiliar. He always seems awkward in social situations, like a mega block in a world of lego bricks, but this is something you can help. You’ll prove to him that he is suckable.

But you’ll prove it in a moment. First you focus on what your mind, what’s left of it, wants to do.

You lean down and nudge your nose against the side of his cock, inhaling a little bit. He smells clean, just like the rest of him, but also a little different, a little more Clark than everywhere else. Your eyes meet his as you let your tongue loll out of your mouth and drag up his shaft, then lap at his tip as his head falls backward.

“Y-you said it wasn’t a sex thing,” he protests weakly. 

“It isn’t,” you protest. It’s not a total lie. “I’m making sure you’re as hard as possible. You have to be fully hard for me to–” “Please just put your mouth on me,” he blurts out. “Please? You wanna figure this out too, right?”

Holy needy. You weren’t really expecting Clark to be this submissive. He’s probably just desperate because, as he said, it’s been a little while, but he’s already begging. 

“Yeah,” you mumble against his tip, “yeah okay.”

He’s so much more than a mouthful. You were expecting it to be a lot, but you can’t breathe at all once his tip is fully in his mouth. Clark isn’t just long, but he’s thick too. It feels like you bit off more than you could chew, literally, and you’re just desperately swallowing around him. It’s especially hard to focus on not choking because he keeps making these little sounds and grasping at the arm of the couch. Clark clearly doesn’t want to push you at all. The hand that isn’t on the arm of the couch is gripping the couch cushion ferociously and his hips keep trying to buck up but he resists it, though just barely.

It isn’t a sex thing, it’s an experiment, you need to focus.

Your eyes slide shut as you decide to lock in, tuning out the noises and movements he’s making. Most of your focus goes into relaxing your jaw to fit more of him in. You know you’ll ache later, but it’s worth it. He’s so heavy in your mouth and in your hands as you hold him. The wetness of your mouth doesn’t seem to be enough and so you keep drooling out more and more saliva, trying to lube your throat so he’ll slide in easier, with less resistance. It doesn’t feel humanly possible, he’s completely right.

You attempt to say his name, but just gargle around his cock. He struggles back a “yeah?” and that’s when your eyes open again.

You’re far enough down on his dick now that when you open your eyes and look up at him, you’re met with a slight underside view of his stomach and tits. Clark looks back down at you with clouded eyes and a sweaty brow, meeting your own accidental doe eyes. It’s hard not to look pathetic and needy when you have a dick in your mouth, it’s just what happens. You maintain eye contact as you work your throat, attempting to open it up more to take him further and he whines while looking into your eyes. 

Clark breathes your name once, then shuts his eyes tight as his chest heaves.

“Are you trying t-to make me come?” He asks. His voice sounds pained, but his cock throbs in your mouth as he asks the question.

Well, are you?

He looks close already, even more wrecked than five minutes ago when this “experiment” began. Obviously you want him to come, you’re sucking his dick for gods sake, but he’s just making sure. He’s just being good and making sure that he’s allowed to come. The two of you are losing any inhibitions about this pretense of an experiment and you’re ready to fully let loose.

You can’t respond to his question without pulling off his cock, and you sure as hell don’t want to lose the progress you’ve made on his length, so instead you give in. Reaching up from the floor with your hand, you trail your fingers up his body and then cup his left tit in your hand. His breath catches as he looks down at what you’re doing, and that’s when you rub your thumb over his nipple. It hardens immediately and he lets out a rough moan as you nod, resuming bobbing your head up and down his cock. 

Yes you’re going to make Clark come. You want to make this big, delicious, kind, man come his brains out, either in your mouth or on you, or both.

Whatever efforts you were making previously tenfold as you start to start to jerk off whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your free hand, the other one still entirely focused on groping the soft fat of his breast and toying with his nipple. Clark starts to let his hips buck up more as he begins to repeat your name, whining each time you stimulate his nipple just right. Drool leaks out of your mouth and onto your balls as you let the back of your throat get pummelled relentlessly. It feels like your brains are melting in your head each time you feel him throb or taste him leaking a little more pre-come. “I’m gonna come,” Clark warns. He says it again, but makes no move to pull you off him. 

Your eyes meet his with some sense of determination, and you hope the bob of your head and the nod of your head don’t look too similar as you try to reply with a nod of “yes, yes, come.” The message, thankfully, is received. Your hands work relentlessly to stimulate him fully through his orgasm as he spills down your throat. You try to keep up with swallowing but it starts to feel like if you don’t pull off of him you’re going to have come drip out of your nose. Finally you jerk back, watching as his cock doesn’t slow down at all, shooting ropes not just on your face and neck, but dripping onto his own thighs too. He’s so noisy as he comes, on top of all the things in motion he’s moaning your name and thanking you.

“Thank you, thank you,” he whimpers, “m sorry it’s such a mess.”

It is such a mess. You didn’t take into account that him having a big dick might mean him having bigger balls, which you certainly won’t neglect if the two of you ever do this again, but now he’s coming so much. Some of it is already half dried on your sleepshirt by the time he’s finished.

Clark’s head rolls back again, his legs falling even further apart, as he catches his breath. He has half a mind to hand you the pants you peeled off him earlier, apologizing for not being able to clean you up properly. It’s a sweet gesture, and you’ll excuse his lack of aftercare since it seems like he just emptied his entire bloodline down your face and shirt. After somewhat cleaning the come off you, you’re surprised as he lifts you up onto the couch, moving his spent cock out of the way so you can sit on him. 

“Thank you,” he says again, pushing his nose against your shoulder, “sorry I ruined your experiment.”

It seems that despite what just happened, Clark will always be the considerate, sweet, guy that he’s always been during his time as your roommate. His breath is soft against your shoulder as his eyes flutter and look down.

“And sorry for ruining your shirt.” 

A giggle pushes its way through your chest and past your aching jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll just take off my shirt next time we try.”

Clark’s posture goes a little rigid at the mention of a next time. He pulls his nose away from your shoulder and looks at you a little curiously. “Next time?” 

You’re quick to respond, shrugging it off casually to avoid the many questions and considerations you’re sure Clark will chatter away at you once his brain rebuilds itself from his orgasm.

“Yeah, next time. I only fit like… half of you in my throat. I think I can do better than that,” you say defiantly. Clark huffs a laugh of disbelief out. “I just need more practice.”

“More practice. Sure,” he agrees softly.

>///<

thank you for reading ! please leave your thoughts in the replies or tags of your reblog, or leave them anonymously in my askbox !!

no pressure tags for my friends who may be interested... @joeloverture @pascalssbabyy @cosmickid-inmotion @mochamadeleines

[goorgeousz]

aaron would never let you ruin your dress

drabble

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: suggestive ending, age gap (reader teasing him as always), aaron picking you up with one (!!!) arm to prevent your dress from getting dirty a/n: based on this request! as you all know, my mission in life is to spread the “yes ma’am” aaron agenda! giggled so much picturing this, hope you enjoy it <3 also: 800 followers? are you fucking serious??? i LOVE you all so much!!!!! should i do an event? i have some ideas but i'm scared it will flop BAD... also i really want to join kinkotober... idk yall please let me know, jut want to make you beautiful people happy! thank you thank you thank you💗🪽

drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

“Just one more,” Aaron said, holding the phone awkwardly between his chubby fingers as he took probably the tenth picture of you at the reception of the restaurant you picked for your date night.

Your cheeks were aching from smiling so hard, both for the picture and because there’s no way you wouldn’t be grinning like an idiot when your husband insists on making an entire album of your pictures whenever he felt like you looked ‘too pretty for him not to’.

Hotch was a “register every moment” kind of man through and through, but ever since you taught him to change his lockscreen, it was so much worse. Almost every week his phone showcased a different picture of you, Jack and Hotchelle. Sometimes the three of you are together (those lasted longer on his phone).

“Alright, now we can go.” he concluded, looking proudly at his phone before shoving it into the pocket of his suit. Looking back at you, he smiled fondly and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead “Thanks, honey.”

You just chuckled, blushing while he helped you put your jacket back on. He shook hands with the waiter standing at the door, and the two of you stepped out of the restaurant.

“There’s no way we didn’t hear it.” you mumbled, shocked at how much it rained since you walked in. Hotch’s hand found his way to your lower back, pulling you closer to him, in an unconscious move.

“The acoustics must be really good.” he added, quickly scanning towards the street, searching for the less flooded path. You saw him stressed, and probably beating himself up for not bringing the car — even though it was your suggestion —, so you took the lead, stepping outside carefully to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. He followed right after you, as if it physically hurt him to not be touching you.

“Wait, honey. Your shoes…” he started, walking beside you carefully not to slash water into your dress.

“This is what they’re made for.” you add, holding the skirt of your dress by the sides to keep it from touching the ground. He huffed behind you, clearly not convinced. “Besides, I can’t wait to show you what I have under that dress.” you turned to face him, smirking suggestively.

Stopping mid track, he looked hungrily at you, his eyes scanning yours to check if you were telling the truth or just trying to distract him. Being apparently pleased with what he saw on your face, his eyebrows shot up expectantly.

“What is it?” he mumbled, his voice dropping an octave.

Waiting for him to step closer, you leaned backwards until his chest was almost pressed to your back, whispering back “Nothing.” and walked away, slowly and steadily stepping on only the dry spots of the street.

The next thing you felt was his hand finding your waist and quickly sliding all the way down to the back of your knees. Your giggle immediately turned into a high pitched scream when he, using only one arm, picked you up with ease.

Smiling wildly, you wrapped your arms around his neck to find balance, throwing your head back with laughter “Aaron, put me down.”

“And ruin your new heels and dress? Absolutely not.” he said seriously, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Seriously, baby. You don’t have to.” you say, but shift in his arm to lay more comfortably. Hearing his chest rumble in a chuckle, you smile too.

“It’s faster this way. And now you put me in a hurry.” he smirked suggestively at you, manhandling you in a way that made your stomach flutter.

You sighed loudly, visibly pretending to be annoyed “Alright, alright! I just didn’t want you to end up hurting your back. You know how it gets…” you tease, trying and failing miserably to fight back a fit of laughter.

Aaron just looked pointedly at you, shaking his head in fake disappointment “You already know where this kind of behavior will get you…”

With a bright smile and the excitedly quickened beat of your heart, you look back at him.

“I can’t wait.”

[goorgeousz]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DMy22tOI3qo/?igsh=emc1bmNrbWh3YXVw

LISTEN TO ME LOVE WE NEED YOU BEAUTIFUL GODDESS TO WRITE THIS WITH HOTCH 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻♥️♥️♥️

That man would hold his wife like this just so she wouldn't ruin her pretty dress and tire her beautiful feet with cute but uncomfortable heels.🤓☝🏻🫦

Also, I love you, you're a genius at writing🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

HELLO YOU GORGEOUS!!!!

Oh FUCK yeah!!!! absolutely loved this request, ‘yes ma’am’ aaron???? count me tf IN!!!!

Hotch’s the type of guy to take of his shirt and lay it over a puddle of water so his girl wouldn’t mess her pretty feet😩 god i want him baaaaaaaad

I’m so sorry for how low it took me, istg i’m so embarrassed 😭 i was going through it but now I’m back and better than ever!!!!! let’s fucking gooooo

thank you SO much for those kind words babe😭😭 and for sending this delicious request that sure as hell put me in a good mood!!!

really hope you like this one, i know i did💗💗💗🪽🪽🪽

xxxxxxx

you can find your request here:

aaron would never let you ruin your dress | drabble

[goorgeousz]

aaron would never let you ruin your dress

drabble

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader content/tw: suggestive ending, age gap (reader teasing him as always), aaron picking you up with one (!!!) arm to prevent your dress from getting dirty a/n: based on this request! as you all know, my mission in life is to spread the “yes ma’am” aaron agenda! giggled so much picturing this, hope you enjoy it <3 also: 800 followers? are you fucking serious??? i LOVE you all so much!!!!! should i do an event? i have some ideas but i'm scared it will flop BAD... also i really want to join kinkotober... idk yall please let me know, jut want to make you beautiful people happy! thank you thank you thank you💗🪽

drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

“Just one more,” Aaron said, holding the phone awkwardly between his chubby fingers as he took probably the tenth picture of you at the reception of the restaurant you picked for your date night.

Your cheeks were aching from smiling so hard, both for the picture and because there’s no way you wouldn’t be grinning like an idiot when your husband insists on making an entire album of your pictures whenever he felt like you looked ‘too pretty for him not to’.

Hotch was a “register every moment” kind of man through and through, but ever since you taught him to change his lockscreen, it was so much worse. Almost every week his phone showcased a different picture of you, Jack and Hotchelle. Sometimes the three of you are together (those lasted longer on his phone).

“Alright, now we can go.” he concluded, looking proudly at his phone before shoving it into the pocket of his suit. Looking back at you, he smiled fondly and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead “Thanks, honey.”

You just chuckled, blushing while he helped you put your jacket back on. He shook hands with the waiter standing at the door, and the two of you stepped out of the restaurant.

“There’s no way we didn’t hear it.” you mumbled, shocked at how much it rained since you walked in. Hotch’s hand found his way to your lower back, pulling you closer to him, in an unconscious move.

“The acoustics must be really good.” he added, quickly scanning towards the street, searching for the less flooded path. You saw him stressed, and probably beating himself up for not bringing the car — even though it was your suggestion —, so you took the lead, stepping outside carefully to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. He followed right after you, as if it physically hurt him to not be touching you.

“Wait, honey. Your shoes…” he started, walking beside you carefully not to slash water into your dress.

“This is what they’re made for.” you add, holding the skirt of your dress by the sides to keep it from touching the ground. He huffed behind you, clearly not convinced. “Besides, I can’t wait to show you what I have under that dress.” you turned to face him, smirking suggestively.

Stopping mid track, he looked hungrily at you, his eyes scanning yours to check if you were telling the truth or just trying to distract him. Being apparently pleased with what he saw on your face, his eyebrows shot up expectantly.

“What is it?” he mumbled, his voice dropping an octave.

Waiting for him to step closer, you leaned backwards until his chest was almost pressed to your back, whispering back “Nothing.” and walked away, slowly and steadily stepping on only the dry spots of the street.

The next thing you felt was his hand finding your waist and quickly sliding all the way down to the back of your knees. Your giggle immediately turned into a high pitched scream when he, using only one arm, picked you up with ease.

Smiling wildly, you wrapped your arms around his neck to find balance, throwing your head back with laughter “Aaron, put me down.”

“And ruin your new heels and dress? Absolutely not.” he said seriously, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Seriously, baby. You don’t have to.” you say, but shift in his arm to lay more comfortably. Hearing his chest rumble in a chuckle, you smile too.

“It’s faster this way. And now you put me in a hurry.” he smirked suggestively at you, manhandling you in a way that made your stomach flutter.

You sighed loudly, visibly pretending to be annoyed “Alright, alright! I just didn’t want you to end up hurting your back. You know how it gets…” you tease, trying and failing miserably to fight back a fit of laughter.

Aaron just looked pointedly at you, shaking his head in fake disappointment “You already know where this kind of behavior will get you…”

With a bright smile and the excitedly quickened beat of your heart, you look back at him.

“I can’t wait.”

[goorgeousz]

hi my loveee💗💗

how are the allergies? and the sore throat? when my throat hurts, i always drink tea or lemon with honey (that's my dad's remedy) and i love it, but in general i loveeee teas,i hope u have recovered and i hope that someone close to u takes advantage and pampers you while you heal. 🥲🫂

i knew he'd be a fool!!! thank god he doesn't have me around, otherwise i'd make him regret hurting u😤 he absolutely never deserved u and i know that breaking up with someone is PAINFUL but you don't let it make u doubt ur magic and how loving u're✨ i swear u that u're AWESOME bordering on perfection 🤌🏻😚

my birthday is September 1st and i'm EXCITED because i love that on that day people focus on me and just me which is weird because i don't like the idea of being the center of attention lmao🫨

pls tell me when ur birthday is so i can celebrate it all week, because one day to celebrate you is not enough. 🙅🏻‍♀️

i don't have many updates these days because life suddenly became boring but it's still early in the week something will surely happen to me😂☹️

all those beautiful wishes fill my heart, i cry with love, u're the sweetest in the world and I am so so absolutely lucky to have u as my bestie 😚🥹✨💗

wait, i almost forgot, haha my sister is pregnant and i'm happy for her because she REALLY wanted to be a mother🥺

pls receive my unconditional love!💗💗💗💗 i love u to the moon and back 🌙 may all the bright things and grace of the universe shower upon u and may you be happy always my babyyyy boo🌌✨😚💗🫂

xoxoxo

hiii my perfection 💗💗💗💗💗💗

i'm feeling so much better!! thank you for the suggestion, that's my grandma's recipy too🥹 i do love tea (even though i'm more of a black coffee girly)! unfortunately no one pampered me but fortunately it was bc i got better really quickly! i don't usually get sick, but when i do it goes away pretty quickly 🤭

you're so kind to me😭 i confess i shed a tear reading that... in the beggining it was really hard, i completely forgot who i was and thought i was so unworthy of love and hapiness... i'm finally back to myself again, but ngl some days are harder than others... but thankfully i'm surrounded with so much love and amazing friends (like you) that always reminds me that if i have these kind of people around me, must mean i'm doing something right, right?🥹

september 1st is now highlighted in pink on my calendar with all my love!!!!! my birthday is on january 3rd, we still have plenty of time haha💗

i want to hear all about your birthday celebrations baby!!! also, you absolutely SHOULD feel excited, you're alive and lightning the world up with your beauty and your kindness! and i get you, i also love to feel loved and pampered, so i can't wait for my birthday every year lmao (i constantly have nightmares of me sleeping through my birthday and not celebrating it...🙄)

and omg congratulations for your sister, i'm happy for her🥹 and for you too, your becoming an auntieeeeeeeee💗💗 💗i just know this baby is going to be one of the luckiest people in the world to be able to grow up with such a loving and sweet person as an auntie as you💗

thank youuuu for those incredible wishes and those sweet words my gorgeous <3 as always i had such a blast hearing from you! i love you soooooooo freaking much my bestie! i hope your days are as good and beautiful as you deserve!!!!!! sending you all the love and hugs and kisses i can manage and many many more💗💗 💗💗💗 💗💗💗 💗

[goorgeousz]

summer flame | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader summary: you develop a crush on the middle aged dad during your summer trip.  content/tw: nearly drowning on a swimming pool (it wasn’t more than 30 seconds but you get it), panic, objectification of hotch’s body (oh well), reader wears a bikini, protective!hotch, hotch saves the day once again, lmk if i missed anything! word count: 3.2k a/n: requested by the gorgeous @deceasedream69 , thank you so much for the idea!!! it was such a fun one to write, i truly hope you like it! also, i do have a spicy part two in mind if you guys are interested... 💗🪽 dividers @uzmacchiato

masterlist

part two

You were so entertained by your book that you didn’t even notice when the fine man you’ve been stalking walked in with his son, at 2:20 sharp and settled on the table on the corner of the community pool, like he’s been doing every day for the past week.

During summer, you liked to get away and rent a place by the beach to spend your days worrying about nothing but your tan and catching up with your books. Which was exactly what you were doing now, adding ‘hooking up with the middle-aged fine ass man without a ring’ to the list.

This time you chose a house complex a couple blocks from the beach with a community pool. You didn’t really care about the pool, since you never really learnt how to swim, but it was nice to have a place to cool down after burning under the sun – without letting go of the border goes without saying. It was a nice setting, and since you were on your own, safety was more important than extra space.

Five days ago, when you first saw him, you were on the exact same spot: tanning by the pool, deeply invested in the sugary romance you picked up on your way here. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment they walked  in the community pool, not really paying attention to the background movement, but you know exactly how your eyes first laid on him.

Just when the main couple were about to sleep together for the first time – after exactly 231 pages, mind you –, you felt cold. With a squealed yelp, you jumped on your sunlounger, more startled by the droplets of water on your body than actually cold.

“Jack, come on. This is not nice.” you hear a rough voice scold. Even though it was loud, since the kid – Jack, you assumed – was laughing uncontrollably on the water, the man sounded incredibly soft. Before you could turn around to explain you were just fine, you were startled – again – by the person kneeling beside you.

You widened your eyes at the proximity, and then widened even harder when you saw his face. He was gorgeous. His jaw was sharp, clean, his lips pressed tight as if he was reprimanding himself for something. You couldn’t see his eyes since the man wore a pair of sunglasses, but you could tell his eyebrows were pinched together by the way his forehead creased. You wondered why he was so worried. 

Just then it hit you: he was worried about you.

And this wasn't you being cocky, it was you realizing he was speaking to you, repeating the same question for the second time, at least.

“Are you okay?” You nodded fiercely, overcompensating for the time you spent ignoring him – his words, actually. All of your attention was turned to him.

“I’m good, yeah.” you assured, and he nodded once, composed, and stood back up, going back to the border of the pool to wait for his kid to get out.

The little blond boy walked over to you, his hair wet and messy from the pool. You tried not to smile at the squelchy noises of his float as he walked.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized, his big doe eyes watching you expectantly, his lashes long as he battled them in your direction like a little angel. You smiled at him.

“It’s okay. How’s the water?” At that he smiled back, his eyes shining excitedly at his new friend.

“It’s cold. But you just have to swim a little.” he explained, moving his arms up and down at a poor mimic of a swim. “I’m Jack, what’s your name?” When you answered, he walked away repeating your name to himself afterwards. You smiled at his dad, who stood awkwardly by the pool, waiting for his son to come back and trying to not look like a creep staring while making sure little Jack wasn’t dealing with a predator. As soon as his kid was back on his arms, he nodded at you, the tight line of his lips twitching at the corners as an attempt of a smile.

What an odd man. You wanted him, bad.

The following days were pretty much the same: right after lunch you were quick to change into bikinis and grab your stuff: snack, sunscreen and a book, and made your way towards the pool. You made sure to get the exact same sunlounger, look effortlessly beautiful and not check the time too much – you wouldn’t want to be caught on your phone just as he walked in, it would ruin your image. 

It was a challenge: you wanted to look sexy, not enough for him to stop bringing his kid around, but enough for his eyes to dart towards you. Just like the script you wrote in your mind, everyday just half an hour after you, he and his son arrived at the community pool. The little blond boy skipping excitedly with his swimming UV clothes and the two little floats wrapped around his arms. Grabbing his hands, his – delicious – father walked with swimming shorts – that never got wet, unfortunately – and a plain shirt, usually neutral colors. In his free hand, he carried one of those neon-colored reusable supermarket bags full of supplies.

You usually didn’t acknowledge them at first, seeming too focused on your book, and them being on the opposite side of the space. Eventually, you would close the book to grab your bottle of water or change positions, and you would face each other and exchange a polite nod. Jack, on the other hand, always ended up running to your side of the pool to chitchat, sometimes asking about what you were reading, sometimes to talk about the water, sometimes he just sing-songed your name while he marched around the perimeter.

Because he was always wearing sunglasses you weren’t completely sure, but you were positive you once caught him staring at you – Jack having to yell an annoyed ‘Dad!’ from the pool to get his attention while you reapplied sunscreen on your thighs.

Today was another one of these days, everything was just the same but every time more exciting than the last time. Even though you literally didn’t have eyes for anyone else beside that man and his kid, the pool was never empty. It wasn’t too crowded either, but at least four other tables were occupied.

In fact, you were so oblivious to the other people around you, it took one of them literally stepping in front of you and blocking the sunlight for you to notice their presence.

“Hi!” the elder woman said, her smile bright as she held a puppy in her arms.

“Hey…” you smiled confused, not knowing if you were supposed to know her. You sat up and pulled your glasses down to your nose, hoping that looking directly at her would help you figure it out. It didn’t. 

Exchanging your names, she started to explain “I was just wondering, since you always stay here for hours,” you try not to blush from realizing your activities were so noticeable to others “you wouldn’t mind watching over Prince for me, right?” you started to open your mouth to explain you had absolutely no idea what to do with a dog, when she raised one of her hands to stop you “I have to run to the drugstore, I ran out of my medicine and I have no one to leave him with.” as if on cue, the little dog in her arms tilted his head, his bulged eyes blinking up at you “It will be quick.” she said, approaching you and dropping the animal to the ground.

“...Sure.” you agreed unnecessarily – the woman was already handing you his leash, a bottle of water and a package of treats.

“Thank you, dearie.” she said, pinching your cheek and walking away. You sat there watching her go, blinking slowly and trying to breathe the situation in. To his defense, Prince sat obediently by your side, watching you with his tail wagging. You scratched the back of his ear, warming up to him.

At first, you just sat still, not knowing what you were supposed to do with him. But he just stayed there, laying on the ground enjoying the sun and watching the pool, so you just relaxed again, putting your sunglasses back on and resumed your reading – sight-seeing the man play with his kid.

The day was a little emptier than the rest, the only sound being small chattering from the other occupied tables. So, when that gorgeous man of yours leaned down to the cooler to pick up a beer, you could hear the sound of the can being opened. Your mouth watered, and it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

Drinking a single can of beer by the pool wasn’t exactly an announcement that you were single and ready to mingle, but it did make you look approachable – at least more than if you spend your entire summer babysitting your kid without even flirting with the young woman tanning across from you.

You wondered if he wanted company, and how would you approach him. Should you pop open a beer too? Or would it be too obvious? You didn’t bring any, so going back to the rental just to get one would be a little ridiculous.

Completely oblivious to your intern plotting, Prince felt the moment you loosened your grip on the leash, and took it as a once in a lifetime opportunity, and ran fast like a lightning away from you. You were standing faster than your mind processed the situation, but before you could get a hold of him he jumped right into the water.

Without a second thought, you threw your book on the ground and jumped head first into the swimming pool. It was deeper than you thought, but you were focused on getting the dog. Prince, you noticed, didn’t need your help. As soon as you clumsily made yourself close to him, he patted his paws perfectly away from you, getting to the border like a professional dog swimmer and got off without any help.

Before you could feel any betrayal towards the little cute bastard, chlorine water filled your nose and mouth, and you were harshly reminded that you couldn’t swim. Letting yourself sink for a moment, thinking that you could at least get an impulse from the ground. Realizing that even then you couldn’t touch your feet on the bottom, you started to full-on panic.

You swayed your arms up and down, trying to breathe, but doing that you couldn’t move further, so you stayed struggling on the same spot in the middle of the swimming pool. People tried to teach you how to swim over the years, but you never really got it. There was a time you managed to move a little, but the lack of practice got the best of you, and your mind blanked every movement you learnt.

At that point, your lungs were starting to hurt, and your arms and legs started to ache with the effort, so you tried to float. The problem was, the first step to float on the water is to relax, which in the moment that word meant nothing but a mix of letters, and you started to make peace with the fact that you were going to die (sad) saving a dog (heroic) that knew how to swim all along (embarassing).

When your legs started to give out, and your body was fully under the water, you weren’t seeing nor hearing anything. Your eyes were shut close, the only sound being the strong, erratic and maybe last beats of your heart.

Surprisingly, only a second past before two strong arms surrounded you, holding you close and pulling you up to the surface. As soon as you reached fresh air, you inhaled deeply, followed by a fit of coughing. The two strong arms carried you to the coping, lifting you with ease and placing you seated on the ground. Only then you rubbed your eyes open, your lungs burning as you coughed up all the water you managed to swallow.

Behind you, your saviour quickly followed you, lifting himself out of the pool and settling by your side, gently brushing your damp hair from your face and holding it for you in a makeshift ponytail, while his other hand rubbed circles on your back.

The chlorine scratched your throat unpleasantly, your eyes burning as tears streaked out of them. The man on your side kept whispering praises and instructions, patiently helping you. You heard him talking to the few other people there, ordering them around like a boss, his tone completely different from when he was directing to you. They grabbed fresh water, held the dog, and got her a towel.

When breathing finally stopped feeling like a knife to your lungs, you sat properly, wiping your tears and your mouth as you faced the man who helped you.

“Are you good?” he asked, his chocolate brown eyes scanning your entire face worriedly. For the first time he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and you immediately understood: they were hypnotizing. You just stared at his figure. His hair, usually gelled up like he was ready to be called in for work, was damp, messy and glued to his forehead, so rumbled it made him look boy-ish. His cheeks were red, and you didn’t know if it was from the sun or from the moment.

He had a very subtle stubble on his sharp jaw, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand on it to see if it would spike. His white shirt was your personal hell. The water made it look transparent, and you could see almost perfectly his entire torso underneath it. The muscles on his shoulders, his biceps clinging and flexing from holding his weight. His chest was broad and strong, you caught yourself licking your lips as you watched it moving up and down as he breathed, your eyes shifting to the softness on his stomach before it reached lower. That day, his swimming shorts were black, and cling to his hips and his thighs like you would if given the chance, and only then you realized you straight up eyed the man up and down, and there was no way he missed that.

As if answering your thoughts, as soon as your eyes were back on his face you caught the twitch on the corner of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically “Are you good?” You finally snapped back to reality, sitting up in a swift movement and accidently moving even closer to him.

“Prince?”

“Huh?”

“Prince, the dog. Where is he?” you asked, panicking. He just nodded to your side, and you turned to look for it just to find Prince just a couple feet beside you, his leash wrapped around the foot of your chair, laying down on his back, his eyes closed and his tongue darting out as he napped under the sunlight. “You traitor.” you muttered, reaching closer to scratch his belly.

You heard the man clearing his throat behind you, and you turned back to him. “Thank you…”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron.” you said his name tasting like candy on your tongue “Thank you, Aaron.” he nodded again. You told him your name, and he repeated it just like his son.

“Are you feeling better? Do you need anything?” he asked, still worried.

“I’m good, thank you.” you smile weakly “How embarrassing was it, on a scale from one to ten?”

He ignored your question, shaking his head once like it was a ridiculous question “You don’t know how to swim?” you sighed, not loving how he didn’t want to lighten the mood.

“I tried, but I never really learnt. Now I think it’s time.” you try to joke again, but he just nods in agreement.

Aaron – and how delicious it was to finally know his name – ran his hand through his hair, tousled it even more and looked over to Jack, just to guarantee he was safe, before turning back to you “Are you staying here all summer?”

“Yeah. I’m on 103-A.” you explain, trying not to read too much in his question. “You?”

“We’re on 110-A. I’m staying too, but Jack’s leaving for summer camp next week.” he says, and you swear you can see his lips twitching just a little bit. You feel your cheeks warming, but since you were already sunburnt it wouldn’t be too visible.

“Oh, I loved summer camp when I was his age.” you beam, looking at the kid “Waited all year for it. Me and my parents, actually.” you leaned closer to him, using your hand to cover your mouth like you were telling him a secret “I was a bit of a troublemaker.”

He chuckled, his dimples showing and knocking the air out of your lungs at how beautiful he looked “I can tell.” he gave you a knowing look, and while your mouth still hang opened in surprise, he kept talking like nothing happened “I will miss him but I definitely can use the rest.” he confides, looking over at the boy who now laid side by side with Prince, giggling and talking to him like they were best friends. You swoon at how soft his expression is while watching his kid, and you can tell he’s Aaron’s whole life. “Jack is  a full time job.”

You laugh, watching amused at the scene “Jack is an amazing kid, you’re doing an amazing job. But it’s understandable. Especially being a single parent and all.” you stop abruptly, only then noticing what you just said. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you looked back at Aaron, who had one of his eyebrows raised and a teasing smirk, and if it wasn’t noticeable before, now the blush on your face and neck was definitely full-on display. 

Clearing your throat, you shake your head as if erasing your last words “Shit– Sorry, I didn’t want to assume.” you ramble “Is it just that you don’t wear a ring, so…”

Again, it took you hearing the words that left your mouth for you to realize how bad it sounded. “Oh fuck.” you muttered under your breath, grimacing. Aaron, on the other hand, looked absolutely way too pleased with himself, his smirk turned into a whole grin, dimples on display, and the twinkle in his eyes making you want to crawl under your own skin. “You should’ve just let me drown.”

He laughed — fully, heartily laughed — and the sound made your embarrassment soften slightly. “Listen. You do need to learn how to swim. If you want to, I can teach you.” he offered, shrugging.

You bit your lower lip, eager to spend more time with him — shirtless and wet, especially — but you didn’t trust yourself enough to guarantee you’d behave in that scenario. Nonetheless, that was his problem alone, so you tilted your head to the side, batting your eyelashes at him “For free?”

“Absolutely not.” he said, his tone sarcastic. “In return, you can let me take you out for dinner.”

“I might need lots of lessons, then." you offered, joking along. He smiled easily, his tone always soft but laced with something else.

“Lucky for you, I have a list of restaurants I want to visit.” he confided and you giggled, the butterflies in your stomach throwing a fit. Later, after he asked you to join them on their table, carrying all your belongings in one hand, you made sure to give Prince an extra treat.

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

part two

[goorgeousz]

2k!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! my post with the most notes😭 thank you so much, i feel so loved💗💗💗💗

girl crush | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader summary: beth is coming back from hong kong and you feel like hotch’s feelings are slipping away, so you decide to do it first. content/tw: brace yourself, it’s a long one! established relationship, beth’s coming back, jealous!reader, oblivious!hotch, dave being a father figure (love him), very angsty (at least my attempt), alcohol consuming (barely), lots of crying, happy ending, lmk if i missed something! word count: 7.3k (stfu challenge level impossible) a/n: based on this request! this one goes for my people who feel like they have to remove themselves from the situation for things to be okay. know that you are important, wanted and loved! if you ever had a girl crush, sending you an extra hug and much love! hope you like this one💗🪽 dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist

The smell of bacon and toast fills the air even before you step into the kitchen. 

Aaron is there, scrambling eggs with his shirt still unbuttoned and his hair damp from the shower. He glances up when you step in, already dressed up “Didn’t have time to make coffee.” he explains, nodding to the empty coffee pot plugged on the counter behind him. You shake your head, squinting your eyes at his face.

“Aren’t you at least a little bit embarrassed?” you tease, already starting to brew the coffee beans. It has been almost a year since he bought it – following your suggestion – and he never even cared to learn how to use it. Not that he needed to, really. You were always there to do it for him.

He pressed his lips together in a mocking reflective expression, just to shrug his shoulders “Not really, no.” you just chuckle as the two of you move in sync to finish preparing breakfast.

Just as the eggs were ready, his phone rang all the way to his bedroom. As an old man who still hadn’t created the urge to be glued to his phone 24/7, you took over the bacon pan as he faded into the hallway to pick up.

You were so focused on your task you didn’t realize he was taking too long. It wasn’t until you filled both of your plates and mugs that you noticed he didn’t come back. Your first reaction was too tense, to go after him and check what was wrong, but soon after you heard his laugh, loud and strong, making its way towards you. So, no emergencies.

Sensing it was probably Sean, your boyfriend’s brother, or maybe Rossi with a gossip – something you learnt after you started dating Hotch: the two older men at the BAU were gossipers. Penelope Garcia level gossiper – you stayed back, giving them privacy to chat. Ignoring all the etiquette lessons you had, you started eating alone. At least one of you should enjoy the warm food.

Just when you took the last bite you heard him stepping back into the kitchen, a ghost of a smile still present on his face “Hey, you chatty” you teased. He chuckled, sitting beside you on the stoll and drinking a sip of coffee “Who was it?” your curiosity got the best of you, even though you knew he was going to tell you either way.

“Beth!”

Oh.

“Oh”

“Yeah.” he agrees, taking a bite of the toast, completely oblivious to the gut wrenching feeling taking over your senses “She called me to say she’s coming back. From Hong Kong.”

Oh (but harder).

“That’s… good?”

“It’s great! She got to transfer back for a promotion, with a higher salary and getting to be close to her family.” he explains, sounding way too pleased with himself.

“She rocks.” you cringe immediately, not knowing what the hell you meant by that.

“Right?” fortunately – or not, that’s up to the eye of the beholder – he remained completely clueless to your awkwardness. “Jack’s going to lose it when he hears it.” he said, chuckling to himself.

You hate how hearing this makes you twice as jealous.

“Y’think Jack remembers her?” you wonder, pretending to be unbothered as you wash your dishes in a way to distract yourself. He stays silent for a second, and you hope he’s not picking up on your selfish rotting for the worse.

“He does. Last time she face-timed me, Jack took over half the call.” he says, his voice suddenly closer to you. He takes the dishes from your hand, gently pushing you to the side “That’s on me.” he points kindly, taking over the dishes. You step away, hoping he didn’t feel the sound of your heart breaking.

They face-time each other? Is Jack a part of this? By the way he said it, it seems like a frequent occurrence. Where were you all those times? How could you miss that?

Is this cheating? Objectively speaking, if it was cheating he probably wouldn’t be so blunt about it. And he’s probably the most loyal person you know.

So why does it feel like cheating? Why do you feel betrayed? Why do you feel so jealous?

Trying to take a hold of the situation, you fight to appear normal, trying your best to hide your anxiousness and all of self-doubt, at least while you figure your feelings out. Otherwise you’d probably end up locked in a mental asylum.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It turned out the mental asylum would probably be a nicer place to be than your own head right now.

As the day passed by, you started to notice how excited Aaron was for Beth’s arrival. If you missed their calls before, you definitely weren’t now. Every other day you stumbled on him somewhere in the house, his phone balanced between his shoulder and his ear while he finished a task.

When it wasn’t the calls, it was the texting. He would send her pictures about things she liked and places she missed. She would always send a picture of everything that was different over there, ask silly questions about the job or about Jack. 

And Jack was a whole other problem. Not a problem, actually. But his obvious adoration towards the woman made you bitter. You found yourself losing your appetite more often than not every time Jack asked about her in the middle of dinner or lunch. Which was a horror on its own, but it was even worse because every time he did it, soon after the meal ended Hotch would call her to tell her about it.

You felt like an outsider.

The worst part was that it wasn’t even their fault. Everytime you walked by him, he asked you to join the call, pulling you to sit with him and chat with the woman on the other side of the screen. She would ask about you, about your likes and dislikes. She would joke about Hotch, about his sleep myoclonus, about his ability to fall asleep in the first few minutes of a movie.  You laughed with her, making fun of his antic habits as if sharing that with her didn’t feel like a knife in your gut. 

When she finally came back, it was, somehow, worse.

Hotch insisted that you’d tag along on their catching ups, you hang with them as she went out with the team. You had playdates with her and Jack.

It was now safe to say: you hated Beth. And you were completely obsessed with her.

You watched the way she spoke, the way she dressed. How she smiled, how she laughed. The exact color of her lipstick, her haircut. 

When her nails were perfectly made. She was so elegant. You started doing your nails weekly.

Next time you saw her, her nails were chipped and two of them were broken. She was so carefree. You cancelled your membership at the nail salon.

One would think Beth was a frequent character in Hotch's life. She really wasn’t. With all the cases, Jack and his relationship with you, he barely had time to actually hang out with Beth. But there was no point, and the damage was made.

Ever since he took that call, she made her way into your head, building her own little house with a balcony and a white fence. Even if she wasn’t around, your mind made sure to think about her. You hated hearing her name, but you secretly hoped it would come up in the middle of the conversation.

When his phone rang, you braced yourself, preparing for that gut wrenching pain you were oh, so familiar with. 9 out of 10 times, it wasn’t her. But 1 out of ten times, it was. And when you hear him calling her name, smiling easily at the speaker like she was seeing him, you felt your world fall apart, and what a comforting sensation that was.

You had no idea how you could crave someone as much as you craved her.

You wanted her gone.

The thought came to you out of nowhere, in the middle of the night. You were sleeping on his bed – almost yours by now – and his body involuntarily jerked. And there it was: another sleepless night. You were reminded of her, and now you were cursed to spend the rest of the evening wondering if she slept on the same side of the bed you were in, on how she would react. Would she laugh? Would she wake him? Would she pretend she didn’t see it?

It was maddening. It had to stop.

It wasn’t going to stop. You had to get out of this.

When the thought came, it stayed. You haven’t thought about it before, but you knew it. It had to be done. There was no way you would survive this. There was no way you could compete with this, with her. They understood each other to a degree you could never. They were the same age, and had the same references. They were both divorced, they had experiences you still haven’t had. You hated being outside of their inside jokes, even if said jokes were whatever was fashion in the 70’s.

Truth to be told, you wouldn’t even be with him if she hadn’t moved out of the country. And now she was back, reclaiming her old apartment, her athletic habits and his heart.

You weren’t dumb. You could see he loved you. But he loved her too. And you wouldn’t settle for half. Even if it killed you inside.

Besides being younger than Aaron – and Beth – you were very mature. Mature enough to understand that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. You knew, usually, the right thing to do was to talk about your feelings. To explain where you were coming from and make changes in order to keep the relationship alive.

But how could you go to the man you loved and beg him to not fall back in love with his ex? What exactly do you want to achieve by talking to him about it? He wasn’t doing anything wrong, you know that much. He would probably just stop talking to her ‘if it meant not making you insecure’, but you know very well how that would turn out. You didn’t want it to end with a fight, and you didn’t want to feel like you had to put up a fight to keep the man you love. You didn’t deserve that, and neither did him.

So, piece by piece, you started to make your way out of Aaron’s life.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You usually spent the majority of your time in his place. And you started to change that, slowly starting to spend more time in your rented apartment than in his. Piece by piece, you started to move back your clothes. First a blouse, then a pajama. Evolving to your dresses, shoes, and your products.

It was going by unnoticed, until after you moved almost all the products on your side of his bathroom’s cabinet. A wednesday morning, while getting ready to work, you opened it to find everything back where they belonged.

You stayed there, shocked for a few seconds, your heart racing. The toothbrush inside your mouth is frozen, the minty foam starting to burn your gums. Aaron stepped on the bathroom behind you, fixing his cufflinks and looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh, I saw you ran out of them.” he explained, casually pointing at the new stack of products, completely unaware of your mind short circuiting “You didn’t restock, but I remembered them from last time. I had to go to the drugstore anyway.” he shrugged, reaching for his cologne and stepping out like he didn’t just shatter your whole world.

Later, when your tears smudged your mascara, you just said you choked with the mouthwash.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After a while, you’d spent so much time on your own place that Aaron started to miss you. Not only that, he questioned it. One specific morning, you were in the shared kitchen in the BAU mixing a bowl of yogurt with cereals and fruits when you felt a pair of large hands clinging to your hips. Yelping in surprise, you turned to face your boyfriend.

“Hey, you scared me.” you chuckled, picking up the bowl to put something between the two of you.

“I miss you.” he said, simply. He wasn’t whining, or complaining, or even trying to talk you out of your devious plan – not that he knew about it. He was just stating a fact, as clear as the day, the same way and tone he announced a profile or call a meeting.

Not knowing what to answer without breaking into tears, you stuffed a spoon full of greek yogurt, granola and strawberries into your mouth. While you did it, you mumbled something he couldn’t comprehend. Figuring you said you missed him too, he just moved on, leaning over your head to reach for the cabinet.

“Can I take you out for dinner tonight?” he asked, grabbing the freshly made coffee and filing his mug “It’s been a while since we left the house.”

You swoon at him, taking a deep breath before answering “It has. But I have plans.” you grimaced “Girls night.” you explained, chewing on the granola for longer than needed.

Aaron stopped for a second, his steaming mug already halfway to his lips. “Oh.” He wasn’t the kind of boyfriend to be in the way of your life, but he usually was aware of your plans. Not in a controlling way, but by knowing you, talking to you. And he was just realizing how it felt not knowing. He hated it. Not being a man to give up, he quickly came up with another idea “I can make you that BLT you like while you get ready.” not seeing you immediately jump with joy – as you usually do when BLT is mentioned – he suggested “Or we can stop at McDonalds drive-thru when I pick you up later.” 

Your heart did a backflip and shattered in a thousand pieces with the sight of his puppy eyes, expectantly looking at you.

“Oh that sounds lovely. But the bar we’re heading it’s the one across the street from my building. We’re walking there.” you explain, placing a hand on his chest gently, fixing the lapels of his suit. He looked down at your hands, fighting the urge to pull you by his arms and lock you in there. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but his gut knew something didn’t sit right.

“Text me when you get there. And when you get home.” he says, more a statement than a request. Your safety was not negotiable. You nodded, stepping closer to him and giving him a quick peck on the side of his jaw.

“I promise!” and you meant it, winking at him as you move to leave the kitchen.

Just as you step outside the perimeter, you almost bump into Rossi, who’s just standing there with his hands buried in his pockets and his eyebrow raised so high it was almost blending his hairline. Not ready to handle his piercing gaze – knowing you’d crumble at the first couple minutes –, you just nodded and gave him one of your best polite smiles, speeding your pace all the way to your desk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After you knocked twice on the office door, you stared at the words “David Rossi” engraved on the metal platter in its center as you waited for him to open.

When he did, you were surprised to see his office drowned in low light coming from the lamp on his desk and the moonlight peeking through the widow.

“You wanted to see me?” it meant as a statement: he did ask to see you. At first, you were sure it had something to do with the case you were consulting, the topic you and him were talking about during dinner. What confused you was that the setting looked anything but professional, if the expensive bourbon bottle and the two glasses sitting on the table wasn’t enough of a tell.

“Yes. Come in.” he said, waiting for you to walk into the office to close the door. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for him to take the lead. Unaware – or, most probably, choosing to ignore – your startled state, he slowly made his way to the couch on the back of the room, filling up both glasses before sitting comfortably.

Taking one of the glasses, you sat beside him, pressing your lips together and trying not to bounce your leg to ease the tension.

“How was girls night?” Rossi asks, raising his glass to his lips. He didn’t even look at you as he waited for your answer, his tone almost mocking you.

Having absolutely no idea what he was going with this, you decided to play along “It was fun.”

He nodded “I see.” You took a sip of your drink, trying to keep your posture. It didn’t work. As soon as the burning liquid settled in your stomach, you turned to face him. Terrible idea.

“Dave, what’s going on? What is this?”

“You know,” he started, completely ignoring your question “People may think about profiling as a criminal study. They think we have to learn about psychopaths, stressors, geography, and criminal patterns. That it’s about getting in the mind of crazy people and figuring them out.”

“And it isn’t?” you blinked, drowned by his speech.

“Oh, definitely. But it’s not just that. It’s about studying people. Feelings, motivations. Learning, understanding their behaviour and using it to figure out their intentions.”

And that’s when it hit you: he knew.

“We have an unspoken policy in the BAU: not profiling each other.” he began, turning his body to face you.

“So why are you profiling me?” you asked, voice edging and uneasy, desperately trying to stop him from putting into words. He ignored it.

“You’re breaking up with him.” Not a question, not a suggestion, and definitely not a doubt. “I know what this is about. Who this is about.” your chewed on your bottom lip, deciding on what to say.

“Please, don’t try to talk me out of it.” you beg, hating how weak your own voice sounds. He took another long and lazy sip, and you watched as the liquid clinged to his lips, the wet reflecting the low light of the lamp.

“I won’t.” he stared at you, his eyes squinting slightly “I’m here to encourage you.”

You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together “What?”

“Yes. You really should break up with him. You know, if you’re in such an unbearable relationship.” You roll your eyes, tilting your head back.

“Stop.”

“No, seriously. Do you think he’s what? Cheating on you with Beth?”

“What? That’s not what this is about. I know he’s not cheating.” you defend yourself, cringing at the topic of the discussion.

“Then what is it?”

“I’m just…” your eyes burn with tears harder than the liquid on your throat when you down the rest of the bourbon before continuing “I’m not her.”

“You sure? Under this specific light I could’ve swore…”

“Dave!” you whine, and he chuckles.

“Yes, you’re not Beth.” you grimace at her name, not bothering to hide your feelings anymore “Why are you saying this as a bad thing?”

“Because it is. She’s back now and…” you feel a tear striking down your cheek as you gesticulate “She just fits. She gets him.”

“And you don’t?”

You sigh “You must think I sound really stupid.”

“Oh, you sound absolutely ridiculous.” you look at him, looking at a smirk on his face. Before you realize it, you’re laughing as well, but in a weak and depressed way “Love does this to us. Make us blind to the obvious. Clouds our judgement and turns us into…” he gesticulates towards you. You roll your eyes, but you’re not crying anymore “I have three divorces, so you’d think I know one thing or two about failed relationships. And let me tell you: yours isn’t one of them.”

“You’re just saying this because you’re his best friend.”

“I’m saying this because I love you.” he stated bluntly, and you widened your eyes in surprise, not expecting this. “And it'll kill me to see you do something I know you’ll regret later.” he leaned closer, looking at you with a paternal love that made you uneasy “Hotch loves you, kid. Don’t try to assume things. Let him know.”

“It’s hard.”

“I know it is. It has to be, don’t you think?” he smiles, the wrinkle on the corner of his eyes enhancing his passion towards the subject “Or else is not worth it. But talk to him. You know him more than I do, but I’m pretty sure you’re seeing things out of a place of hurt, probably past experiences.” he nod his head in a knowing gesture “From what I see, you’re out of your mind if you think that Hotch would ever consider living his life away from you.”

You only notice the tear streaming down your cheeks like a waterfall when his fingers gently wipe them away.

“Sorry.” you mumble, and he shakes his head.

“Listen, if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t. It’ll be fine too. You’ll be fine. But just don’t let it all go to waste before at least giving him a chance.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It got to a point where you had to stop for a second to wipe the sweat out of your eyelids to see. By the time you reached your – Aaron’s – front door, your heartbeat had lowered to a normal rhythm and your skin was now cold rather than wet. You spent almost the entire night awake, tossing and turning on the bed. The night went so late it was almost morning, so you figured it made more sense to just get up and do something other than to lay in the dark with nothing but your loud and torturous mind.

Running, these past few weeks, were your loyal ally to your early mornings. That specific day, you just got back from an over two hour long run, finally feeling your limbs hurting more than your heart. As you walked in, you were surprised to find Aaron pacing around the living room, something crumpled up on one of his fist, a piece of paper in the other.

When he looked at you, his face was everything but stoic: he looked panicked, tortured, confused and, overall, hurting. “We need to talk” he said, quietly. If you listened closely, you could hear the way his voice wobbled in the middle of the sentence, like he didn’t actually want to talk. Like he wanted you to just be confused, and just ask what he meant by that, and that you weren’t being distant, he was just paranoid. Anything that could prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that you weren’t, in fact, leaving.

Despite all his silent wishes you just nodded, making your way to the couch “Yeah, we do.”

Hoping the sound of his heart shattering wasn't loud enough for you to hear, he made his way to the couch in front of you, distant enough for him to think clearly – as much as possible, under the circumstances. For a minute you just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid so heavy it could suffocate.

You glanced down at his hands, still not managing to understand what he was holding so tight on his fist. On the other hand, you could finally see what it was. Before you left the house that morning, already planning on staying out for long, you wrote him a note with the steps to use the coffee pot.

“Before we start,” he began, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat before continuing “I already know. So there’s no need to lie.” you gulp, shifting in your seat. You never lied to him before, but it was fair of him to point it  out. You weren’t being exactly honest. And even though you knew what he was talking about, it still surprised you when he finally said it out loud “When exactly you were planning on breaking up with me?”

Your breath hitched, panic rushing through your veins. It didn’t matter that you still weren't sure about what to do, there was no point in lying. Not anymore. It hurt you to think about it, but actually admitting to him was a whole other level of pain.

“I don’t know.” you answer weakly.

He blinks. And then chuckles.

When he dips his head down, you stare at him confused. The only thing you catch is the way his head shakes slightly, his fists flexing but never letting go of your note and the other white soft – looks fluffy? Is it a stress relief ball? – thing. Aaron tilts his head up and his eyes are full of tears. They are shiny and reddish, and you want nothing more than to make it all go away.

“Hotch,” you try, because just watching him crumble in front of you is not an option.

“Jesus! Stop calling me that.” he spat, frowning.

“Your name?”

“That’s not my name. Not to you. Not in here.” he adverts, the pain muffling the anger in his tone.

You chew on your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall from your eyes. Sniffing as quietly as possible, you look at him “Do you think this is easy for me?”

“It must be!” he says, barely containing himself, “You’re doing it all behind my back, vanishing from my life little by little, until all I have left is an empty drawer with nothing but this shirt and a coffee pot I don't know how to use.” and you finally understand what he was holding on so tightly. It’s a plain silky pajama shirt. It’s the only piece of clothing because it’s matching short you – he – ended up tearing it in half on the first night you wore it.

“I left you instructions.” you point to the paper in his other hand.

“I don’t want to learn.” he looks disgusted at the paper, like it personally offended him “I’m not learning how to use it.” he emphasizes.

You try again “It’s not that hard.”

“I won’t.” 

That discussion was pointless, anyway. It is something to cling onto while avoiding the main issue. Sighing deeply in order to avoid crying, you change the subject “Listen, it’s nothing with you. It’s me.” you snort at that, because it’s that old cheesy and shitty excuse. But it’s the truth. “I’m just…” it’s all you manage to say before the tears blur your vision and you have to dip your head down to try and wipe them away.

His voice filled your ears, making you glance up to face him again. “I noticed that you weren’t being yourself, but I figured you’d tell me. It was something from work, or your family. I didn’t think it was this. It was us.” his voice weakens, and he has to gulp before continuing “Aren’t you happy anymore?” 

“I… there’s a lot going on.”  you feel your nose burning, and you stop caring if he sees the tears streaming down your face.

“Tell me what I did.” his demeanor changes, and he doesn’t look sad and confused anymore. He sounds energetic, urgent, demanding and begging all together “Tell me where I got it wrong, i can change it. I’ll do it right. I’ll do it better.”

Hearing this, combined with the raw desperation on his voice, so opposite from his usual calm and steady behavior, only makes you cry harder, and you don’t even try to wipe them away.

“You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I don’t want you to change. I just…” a strangled hiccup interrupted your speech, and you feel ridiculous, weak, dramatic and lonely. You want this to end, but also you want this to have never happened. “I shouldn’t feel this way in a relationship.”

He nodded, thinking. When Aaron speaks again, his voice is much calmer. Resignated, even. “So that’s it, then? You have your mind made up? Nothing I say will change it.” and it’s not a question anymore.

“I’m doing this for you, I want nothing more than what’s best for you.”

“Bullshit.”  he snapped, his words startling you “Why are you doing this? Is it the job? You said it’s not me. Is it Jack? Is this life too much for you? The responsibility of…”

“What? Of course not!” your heart aches thinking about it. It hurts that he thinks this, but you have no one but yourself to blame “I love Jack. I love our… this life.” 

He stays silent for a second, as if analyzing your explanation — or lack thereof. “Is it someone else?” you stop, and blinks. This is it. You won’t lie straight to his face. He stiffens, and it doesn’t need another word from you to understand. “Who is him?”

“Him?” you frown in the middle of your tears, so confused you stopped crying. “What do you mean?” 

“You said there was someone else.” he squinted his eyes at you.

“I didn’t, you did.” 

“You didn’t deny it. Who is he?” he insisted, his jaw tensed.

“Who do you think I am?” you asked, actually aggravated at his accusations “I would  never…” 

“Who is he?” he interrupts you, his eyes burning holes in your head.

“There's no he. It’s Beth.” 

Hotch’s jaw is immediately unlocked at that, the anger and betrayal completely subsided by complete shock and confusion. “What? You and… Beth?”

“Huh?” you were the one left in confusion now. How did he get to that conclusion? For a second, you didn’t feel the excruciating pain and humiliation from admitting your feelings to him “No. You and Beth.”

“What do I have to do with this?” he asks, his confusion turning to aggravation once again “You don’t like our friendship? That’s why you're breaking up with me?”

Now, said excruciating pain and humiliation were back on its full force. You ignored the lump on your throat, taking a deep breath and explaining the situation in the most sober and objective way possible. “I realized you and her fit more together than me and you, and…” your voice faltered as you saw his outrageous expression “...the two of you only broke up because she moved away. You’re all happy that she’s coming back. I just figured…”

“What?” he interrupted, his voice sharp and edgy “That i’d break up with you to be with her?” asking like it was a ridiculous thought. You stayed silent, because that was exactly what you thought. He huffed an incredulous laugh through his nose “Jesus. Did I ever give you a reason to question me? Or my loyalty?” he accused, his voice showing more worry than anger.

“No. Actually I don't know if you’d break up with me. That’s why I saved you the trouble.” you shrugged, trying not to show how much it hurt you to say it.

“Jesus fucking christ.” he muttered, pintching the bridge of his noise “Are you even hearing yourself?”

“Stop talking like I'm insane.” you snapped, losing your patience “You’re the one making phone calls, facetiming and going on dates with your ex girlfriend. I saw you when the two of you broke up. I was there. You were in pain. How am I supposed to feel? How am I supposed to handle this? How am I supposed to compete with this? Explain to me, Aaron. Because I have no fucking clue.”

The moment you stopped speaking, you realized you were almost yelling. It was the first time you let out your anger, your hurt. All the time you kept saying you were doing the best: for Aaron, for Jack, for Beth… Not once you stopped to think how much it sucked to be you, to deal with all of that. Yes, you could’ve talked to him sooner. But you shouldn’t have felt like that. No one should. 

When you asked him to explain, to tell you what to do, it wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t sass. You were actually asking, begging for him, for someone, to tell you how to feel. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense to you. It was too overwhelming, and you just wanted it to be gone. You wanted to disappear.

You noticed too late you were crying, fully sobbing now, with one hand clutched to your chest, as if you tried to rip your heart out, and the other resting against your throat, trying to soothe the pain from talking so loud. You didn’t see how his expression softened, his anger melting into pure sorrow. He couldn’t believe he did that to you, that he, of all people, made you feel this way.

A few minutes had passed when he finally made a move. He got up from his couch and crossed the room, sitting right by your side. His knees were pressed against your thighs, his eyes filled with tears. His body and his soul were completely in surrender to yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, simply. “I should’ve seen it before. I shouldn't have acted like this. Or at least, talked to you about it. I’m not trying to make any excuses for the way I acted, but I need to explain.” he cleared, his eyes scanning your face every 10 seconds, trying to find any hint of chance in your stance “The thought of someone other than you, in a romantic way, is so out of my reality that I didn’t even considered her a ‘threat’. Not that she, or anyone, is a threat. But I really didn’t see the situation as something that could’ve hurt you. And that was my first mistake.”

“She knows you in a way that I can’t.”

“You know me in a way no one can.” he argued “You were my subordinate, then my work colleague, my friend. Now you’re my best friend and my family. You’re the woman I love.” he gulped, flinching at his own words and feeling the hot streak of a lonely tear falling from his eye. The one he couldn’t hold back. “I don’t want you going back to being less than that.”

Your posture didn’t show any kind of surrender. But he didn’t see resistance either, and when you turned to face him, he noticed that you didn’t keep arguing and just waited to listen. Taking it as a good (the best yet) sign, he pressed further.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Beth. She happened to be the first friend I’ve had outside of the job for a long time, that’s all. I don’t know if it will help to hear this,” he tried, hesitantly “...but her leaving wasn’t the only reason why we broke up.” seeing your questioning expression, he kept going “We came to the realization we worked better as friends anyway, and it was just a matter of time for us to end things. The moving just happened first.” he shrugged.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he anticipated your argument “Yes, I did suffer. It was a change in scenario, how could I not? But as I said, we knew it was happening. So what it hurt the most was actually Jack. I felt like the worst parent from giving another sort of mother figure just to take it away from his life. Again.”

Before you could think properly, your hand reached out to his, squeezing in a silent reassurance. He always doubted his parental skills, and you were always making sure to remind him how amazing he was. Even now, with your heart broken and your relationship hanging by a thread, you still found a way to comfort him. 

How could he lose something like this? Someone like this? How could he let you go? How could he make you feel that way? He had to press his lips together in a thin line to keep them from trembling, and to hold back the force of his grip when he squeezed your hand back, making sure he wasn’t hurting you as he not so subtly tried to hold on to you. To keep you from leaving.

“Honey,” he started, not even caring about his voice cracking. He couldn’t wait any longer, or lose any more chances. This was it. “I love you so much. I know this isn’t ideal, and I hate myself for ever making you feel this way. If not being with me will make you happier, then…” he gulped “...I’ll let you go. But if this situation is the only reason, please, don’t go. Please, give me a chance to show you how you’re the only one I want.”

You feel your tears running freely from your face, and you choke up a sob before speaking, your voice so weak it was barely hearable “I feel really immature.”

He laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. It sounds like he’s gone completely mad, like your admission was the water bottle after two days in the desert. It gave him hope.

“No.” he denied firmly, not letting go of your hand even for a second “Now that I think about it, if the tables were turned, I might’ve murdered your ex.” he whispered like a secret. It was so unexpected and so out of character of him that you laughed, surprising both you and him. He smiled from ear to ear at the sound of it. “I’m really sorry, I should’ve been more careful with the situation.”

“I should’ve just talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions.” you smiled apologetically. He ignores your attempt, looking deep into your eyes and calling your name with such a raw expectation that if you weren’t already seated, you would’ve fell.

“Did you change your mind?” you hesitate for a second, and he sees right through you “Tell me you have. I know you want to, I can feel it.” His voice is quiet, his words so soft spoken it feels like a spell. Only you know that you do want to be with him, now that is all cleared. “Please, give me a chance to make things right.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your eyes fill with tears again “I feel stupid.” you admit, and he wants nothing more than to cry his eyes out.

“Don’t say that ever again.” he leans in hesitantly, and when you don’t flinch or pull back, he wipes the tears from your face with the pad of his thumb. The other hand is still holding yours firmly “You were protecting yourself, as you should’ve. Thank you.”

“What for?” you snort between tears, not understanding what he could possibly be thankful for in this situation.

“Thank you for protecting and taking such good care of someone I love so much. Especially when I was too damn blind to see that she needed it.”

After that, there was no point of dragging this any further: you were completely and undeniably his.

He didn’t see it coming, his body jerking in surprise when you literally jumped to his lap, hugging him tightly and burying your face on his neck, sobbing and muttering apologies on repeat. His lips were glued to the crown of your head, kissing you repeatedly. His hands were all over you, touching from your feet to the strands of your hair, as if his body needed to feel you there, to make sure you were with him, for his mind to completely wrap up around the fact that you weren’t going anywhere.

Ignoring your words, he whispered his own, “Don’t you ever apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” and it’s the only moment his lips leave your skin “I’m sorry. I will never make you feel this way. If I ever hurt you like that again, and I won’t, I want you…”

“Don’t say it.” you cut him off. He ignores, once again.

“...to just shoot me in the face. Kill me.”

You chuckle weakly, lifting your head from his chest to face him properly “Dude, you gotta stop with the murder threats.” he arches his eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

“Dude? Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asks, and his finger tickles your sides as the stubble on his beard tickles your neck. Your body jerks and twitches on top of his while you laugh loudly, but never moving away from his.

When he finally feels you learned your lessons, his hands rested comfortably around your waist in its rightful place. You sigh, looking at him.

“Promise me that you will always talk to me, and be honest about your feelings. No matter how ugly you think they are.”

“I promise.” you say as you wipe the wet off his face, and it’s just then that he realizes he’d been crying all along “Promise me that if your feelings for me change, you’ll communicate.” he rolls his eyes so hard it feels like they’ll hit the back of his head “Promise.” you insist.

“I promise.” he says, seriously. When you relax, he starts again. “Matter of fact, my feelings just changed.” you squint your eyes at his playful tone “A few minutes ago I wanted to stop by your place to get back the clothes you took. But now, I’ve decided you’ll be spending the rest of the weekend with nothing to wear but that shirt.” he says, leaning – without moving you away from his lap – to grab the piece of fabric he left on the center table.

“I have to get at least underwear.” you argue.

“If you behave, I’ll let you borrow a couple boxers.”

“Jack will see it.”

“He’s a kid. And they’re the exact same size of what you call your casual shorts so I doubt he’ll notice the difference.” he points seriously and you squeal, slapping his chest slightly.

“That’s rude. And humiliating.”

“That’s what you get for stealing.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second “I didn’t steal! I didn’t take anything from your house but my clothes.”

“This house is ours.” he stares at you deeply, waiting for his statement to sink in before continuing “So is everything in it. From the bedroom to the coffee pot and, therefore, your clothes. So, basically, you stole from us.” he shrugged, like he made a perfect point. You just laugh, choosing to accept it.

“I’m sorry for stealing.” he nodded politely and you dive back into his embrace, sighing happily “Can we stay like this forever?” Aaron tight his arms around you, his whole body answering before any words came out.

“I’ll think about it. But before that, we have to eat. You're probably on the verge of dehydration right now.” he points, standing up with you still in his arms, and makes his way toward the kitchen. He settles you in one of the stools and hands you your shirt “Go change while I make us breakfast. Now that I’ve learnt how to use the coffee pot.”

You gasp, widening your eyes in a mock-threat. Jumping out of the stool with your shirt already crumpled on your hands, you stomp your way to where he stands behind the stove, pointing your finger to his chest. “You can cook whatever you want, but don't you dare touch the coffee pot, Aaron Hotchner.”

Aaron does just as you said, beaming while frying the bacon even when you’re upstairs in his shower. Your shower. And both of you know, somehow, you’ll be okay.

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

[goorgeousz]

(un)requited | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader summary: spencer confesses his love for you, but you don’t say it back (because he walked away before you get to do so). content/tw: idiots in love, fluff!!!!!!, friends to lovers, early seasons spencer  word count: 1.5k a/n: based of this request! I was so inspired I wrote this in an hour (which might not sound a lot, but english is not my first language so sometimes i have to stop to search things up… anyway, proud of myself)!!! i pictured early season’s Spence on that one, i feel like it fits so much… absolutely love him!!! dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist

“Don’t you worry, mama. Pretty boy here will walk you home.” Morgan said, wrapping an arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

“I will?” Spencer asks, whisper-shouting at his friend, who just jabs him on the rib. Clearing his throat and trying not to wince too loudly, he turned to you “I will!”

You grimace, fidgeting with your fingers and hating that walking you home is being a debate.

"It's really not necessary. I know my way around here, and it’s just a few blocks away. I’ll be fine!” you dismissed them, smiling reassuringly.

Across from you Spencer frowned, scratching the back of his head “No, please. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn't sure you got home safe.” he tried, lips twitching in an awkward smile “So actually you’d be doing me a favor.”

Just like everyone else, you weren’t immune to his puppy brown eyes and angelic face, so you had no other option than to blush furiously and nod in agreement.

“We should be going, then.” you offered, and he promptly stood on his food and waited for you to say your goodbyes.

The night was windy, the moon was shining and the floor was wet from the rain earlier. You and Spencer chatted all the way home, laughing loudly and replaying funny moments of the evening. The BAU helped you build a strong friendship, and being the two youngest members of the team approached you both in and out of work.

What also helped was the fact that since you first opened your mouth, Spencer was head over heels in love with you.

He loved to hear you laughing, telling dumb jokes and making witty comments only for him to hear. His eyes brighten when you’d direct a question at him, or rely on his opinion about something. He’d hear you talk about the dream you had the other night like he was having a lecture from Einstein himself. He memorized your clothes, your first conversation, every text you ever sent him. He knew what every hairstyle said about your mood and the exact words that could make you laugh when you are feeling down.

And obviously his completely unabashed passion towards you was no secret to anyone on the team. Especially not to Morgan, who ever since found out about his ‘crush’ kept bugging him to confess his feelings to you.

Spencer didn’t particularly like all the teasing he got from Morgan, but god it felt nice to tell someone about it. So much that he barely cared about the five minutes call that were ⅘ of the time only mockery but ⅕ actual advice about what you meant when you texted him you needed a massage in the middle of the night.

Derek had so much fun watching the two idiots completely and blindly in love with each other, that he always made sure to pair them together and make everyone painfully aware to not intervene on the so-called ‘greatest love story of all time’. That was, until he noticed that Spencer was actually feeling sad about his unrequired love for you, because for some reason the child prodigy of the FBI with an IQ of 187 could put two and two together and realize that his love wasn’t unrequited at all.

So that was the only reason – okay, 25% was out of fun – why he decided to terrorize Reid saying that if he didn’t make a move, someone else would, and that the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

And since his wheel had to be the one getting the grease, the last couple steps before you got to your place were the most unsettling minutes of Reid year until now. His stomach was in such a twist that he had to remember himself he shot a guy once and it didn’t feel that frightening in the slightest.

“Hey, Reid.” you called him, snapping your fingers in his direction. He blinked, only then realizing the two of you were already at your place. “Are you constipated or something?”

He squealed, and you realized, surprised he meant to laugh “No, not really. It feels like it, though.”

“What is it?” you asked, starting to get worried about his health, because he kept squealing and giggling to himself like a madman.

“It’s love, actually. I’m completely in love with you.” your eyes were blown wide, and you felt like your whole body was in shock “Yeah, I know. Since the moment we met. I love everything about you, and it’s killing me to be so close to you without you knowing the truth, so there it is.” he chuckled again, now finally starting to sober up. “Aaaanyway. You’re home and safe. Yay!” he cringed at his words, his entire face reddening immediately. “Gotta go, goodnight.” he said, leaning in as awkwardly as possible to leave an even more awkward kiss on your cheek, before turning away and speed walking away from your place.

He was so dumb. So dumb. It was all Morgan’s fault. Morgan wasn’t his friend, no. He was an enemy. The worst kind of enemy: the one to pretend to be your friend and give you shitty advice just to laugh about it later. Like he was Morgan’s personal comedy show. No, but he was going to hear it. Next week, he would set up the world’s most venomous prank that the fbi had…

“Spencer Reid! Stop right now!” he heard a voice yelling, and stopped at his feet. He was so trapped in his own mind and his humiliation he didn’t even notice you chasing after him for almost three blocks, calling his name like a curse.

“Oh, you’re here…” he said, surprised, watching as you finally caught up to him and blocked his path, completely out of breath with your hair disheveled and face flushed. You probably never looked prettier. He should tell you that, since he was already fucked.

“You look really pretty like that.” he said dreamingly, with a tiny smile. The complement earned him a smack on the chest. A hard one. Two palms flat on his chest. “Ouch! What are you…”

“No, what are you doing? Think you can say that and… and… just leave? Who do you think you are?” you yelled, still out of breath, pointing your finger to his face. Spencer backed away, just partially scared that the next slap would be to his face.

“I know, I know. Sorry, let me explain!” he said, raising his hand for mercy. You stopped talking, but just because your lungs were burning so much you were close to throwing up. “It’s Morgan’s fault. He convinced me to say it to you.”

“Wait, what? Is that what you…” but he didn’t listen, and just kept rambling and explaining himself.

“But I know it’s a violation of fraternization rules, and it might even feel like harassment but if that’s the case please know I would do nothing to hurt you or to make you uncomfortable. I’d rip my head off before doing something like that…”

“Spencer, what the actual fuck?”

“Point is,” he kept going, not even slowing his speech “I’m sorry to put you in that position. Nothing has to change between us, I love your friendship as much as I fell in love with you. And I know this is completely platonic and even though I’m dumb enough to fall for my best friend, I’m not stupid enough to think that I’d ever have a chance with a girl like you, but the first step to deal with a problem is to acknowledge it, so that’s why I’m…”

That’s when you interrupted him again. But this time, not with words.

Pulling him by the lapels of his jacket, you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him. For a second, you felt him stiffen, and you wondered if you were the one crossing a line. But before the thought could duel on you any further, his hands found your face and he kissed you back gently, sweetly and lovingly.

He kissed exactly like he felt: like a man in love. His hands roamed on your face, pulling you closer and nested on your hair. His tongue was warm and his lips were soft, and it was like he wanted to devour you but also for it never to end. It was overwhelming. It was perfect.

When you two pull apart, for a second you stand there: forehead resting on each other, breaths ragged and uncontrolled, just taking it all in.

“Now, are you going to let me speak?” you asked, a smirk dancing on your lips. He chuckled, blushing and nodding expectantly.

“You can do anything you want.” he breathed out, and you knew he was telling the truth. The passion shining in his doe eyes showed you that.

Wrapping your hands around his neck and feeling his arms find their rightful place on your waist, you smiled sweetly at him.

“I love you too, Spence. Always have.”

The smile he gave you in return could light the entire city.

taglist: all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife

[goorgeousz]

this had me giggling and twirling my hair!!!!!! i need more jj fics

⎯⎯ SUBURBAN LEGENDS

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem!BAU!reader

summary: the BAU’s elevator is temperamental, forcing you and jj to talk things out

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.5k

a/n: a stupidly cliche trope for ‘trapped together’ but it had to be done - enjoy!

This fic was requested through the Ice Cream Parlour. Why not take a look at the menu for yourself?

The ding of the BAU’s elevator echoed down the hall just as you rounded the corner, case file in one hand, go-bag in the other.

You hadn’t slept last night. In fact, you hadn’t really slept all week. Your mind was constantly whirring, turning the same thoughts over until you felt sick.

And, then you’d been late. Meaning you were now rushing to meet the team on the jet, to fly out to Iowa.

You spotted a familiar sweep of blonde hair disappear just before the elevator doors started to slide shut. You rushed forward.

“Hold it!” you called out, voice bouncing off the walls as your heels thumped frantically against the floor to make it in time.

JJ’s hand shot out, catching the door before it could shut.

Her smile when she looked up at you was polite. Guarded. The kind you gave to a waiter taking your order or a stranger holding the door for you.

It wasn’t the smile you’d grown up with. Certainly not the smile of a best friend of nearly two decades.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping inside and taking care to stand just far enough away that your arm wouldn’t brush against hers.

“No problem,” she replied, her tone breezy in that way she got when she was trying to pretend nothing was wrong. She was holding her clipboard coolly, as if nothing had truly happened.

The air between you wasn’t just awkward, it was suffocating. And you hated it more than anything.

Only a week ago, she’d have been the person you told everything to. JJ had been your person since you were twelve years old.

But things hadn’t been the same since that night, and you both knew it.

The bar was completely packed that night. People filled every corner, chatter and cheers surrounding you as you’d knocked back drink after drink.

JJ’s laugh rose above the thrum of music and chatter, bright and a little too loud. She was drunker than you - noticeably so - and leaning into you for balance as you guided her towards a booth.

She stretched herself out across the table once she sat down, wanting her knees to brush yours under the wood. She was far too stubborn to sit beside you and ask for the touch directly.

“Oh my God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk.” you laughed, watching her chase her straw around her glass, trying to grip it between her fingers.

“I’m not even that drunk!” she said, grinning like she didn’t believe your words for a second.

You looked at her pointedly and she gaped at you, smiling, “You’re the one who kept buying me drinks! If we’re pointing fingers, some of them are definitely coming your way.”

“You kept saying ‘just one more.’” you shot back, smirking and tilting your head from side to side as you mimicked her.

“Yeah, well,” she said, smiling amusedly and twirling the straw in her cocktail with lazy precision, “I could do with one more…”

“And I do not sound like that, thank you.”

“Sure you don’t, princess,” you smiled at her over the rim of your glass. She looked ridiculously pretty like this.

Her hair had lost its straightened finish, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy with laughter and alcohol. It was almost unfair.

“Look at those pink cheeks!” you teased, leaning forward to tap the side of her face.

Her brow furrowed and she batted your hand away, “Hey! No! I’m not even that-“

You pulled your compact mirror from your purse and flipped it open, holding it up to her flushed face.

“-pink.” she finished, lips parting as she took in her reflection for the first time since you’d arrived at the bar.

“Oh, wow, okay. I’m a little red,” she admitted, tentatively brushing her fingers over her cheek as she laughed.

“Must be all those drinks,” you said, snapping the compact shut and dropping it back into your purse with a teasing smile.

JJ tried not to think about the way her eyes had lingered on your fingers, and how they’d dwarfed the compact in your palm. Or how her heart had skipped a beat at the sound of the clasp clicking closed. Her cheeks grew brighter.

“Must be.”

JJ’s smile faltered for a moment, her gaze dropping to the table as if she could get courage from the grains of the wood.

“You know,” she began softly, sounding less and less certain by the second, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You raised your eyebrows at her, taking a sip of your drink as you smiled, “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m not sure I even like guys,” she confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

You nearly spat your drink over the table, “What?”

“I mean,” she rushed on, her cheeks growing a deeper shade of crimson, “I’m seeing this guy, but it’s not… right. Not like with you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way with anyone else.”

“I’m pretty sure that you’ve managed to ruin everybody else for me.”

You opened your lips to speak, then stopped, unsure of what to actually say. Everything inside you was spinning. You felt like you’d woken up in an alternate dimension.

JJ’s eyes searched yours, vulnerability shining through any haze the alcohol was providing.

She’d never admitted this to anyone. You were the first. She looked utterly terrified.

“Does that scare you?” JJ whispered.

You shook your head, letting out a small laugh, “No, it doesn’t scare me.”

Relief flooded her features. Slowly, she leaned in… and then she kissed you.

You’d replayed that moment constantly since it had happened. The feel of her lips. The hesitant hand that had grazed over your thigh. All of it.

And yet, here you were, standing awkwardly opposite JJ in the elevator like you had no idea what it felt like to hold her in your arms, or to have her kiss down the cavern of your breasts, in the middle of a bar.

The elevator jolted suddenly, the soft hum of the motor stuttering before everything went completely still between floors two and three.

A flicker of panic flashed across JJ’s face, like a rabbit caught in a cage. The lights dimmed.

“Great,” she huffed sarcastically, pressing the emergency button far more times than was necessary, “This is just what we needed.”

The elevator was silent, save for the occasional beep from the emergency panel and the hum of the stalled machinery’s emergency power.

You glanced over at JJ, noticing how her usual level-head had been replaced by tight shoulders and nervous foot-tapping.

“I hate this,” she sighed, her eyes darting towards the ceiling, like it might offer an escape.

“This, as in being stuck in an elevator or this, as in us?”

“Both,” JJ admitted, after a brief pause, “I hate being stuck here as much as I hate the fact that I don’t know how to deal with this.”

Your eyes softened at that.

Dealt with.

Trust JJ to be methodical and solution-focused, even when it came to love.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

JJ looked at you like you’d just handed her a lifeline, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction.

“We’ve known each other forever,” you added gently, “I’m not in a rush to start anything that isn’t ready. Are you?”

She shook her head, smiling softly at the way you threw her own logical way of thinking back at her to calm her nerves, “I guess not.”

“Exactly,” you smiled softly, your hand slipping down to squeeze hers, “We’ve waited this long, right?”

She nodded slowly, biting her lip as she tried not to smile. For the first time in days, the knot of anxiety in your own chest loosened slightly.

As if sensing the change in its dynamic, the elevator suddenly shuddered, a soft jolt signalling that it was coming back to life. The lights brightened, and the hum of the motor rose again.

JJ sighed, half relieved and half disappointed.

“Well, I guess that’s us unstuck,” she said, but her hand didn’t pull away from yours as the elevator started moving down.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the busy streets of D.C., a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the small space you’d just escaped.

You both paused for a moment, still connected by the lingering warmth of her hand in yours.

JJ glanced sideways at you, a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. “So… my press conference…” she said softly, nodding towards her clipboard.

You laughed quietly, “Yeah, I’ve got a case briefing waiting for me.”

“Looks like we both have work to do, then,” she gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “But maybe… we could go out later tonight? Drinks?”

“I’d like that,” you nodded as you stepped out onto the street.

With one last shared smile, you let go of her hand, walking ahead, but not without one final glance back at JJ.

Her eyes met yours as she moved towards the growing crowd outside of the Bureau.

And, in that silent exchange, everything that had previously been left unsaid suddenly felt beautifully understood.

tags: @decadentcatcrusade