#and watching stuff with haley

[d4isywhims]

first few days on the farm 🌱🚜

[xofemeraldstars]

i'm dean but here is my ID that says my name is samuel

[spill-that-anxietea]

So we’re all in agreement that little baby Dick Grayson is definitely watching Jimmy’s Flamebird videos on John and Mary’s phones?

[tkiire]

the regina george is a lesbian truthers to haley sdv romancers pipeline is way to real

[fazcinatingblog]

More like IF I come back amirite, also stop making me feel guilty, also learn to spell (paralegal? Parallel? ...never mind doesn't parramatta), also like it's my fault she hires 53 accountants that can only do accounting and 1 admin person to send out the tax returns and invoices and

[kimstills]

blame

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader, platonic!spencer x reader summary: in which your close relationship with spencer makes aaron wonder if there’s something going on between you and the young doctor. content warnings: mentions of kidnappings, torture, child abuse (typical cm case stuff), insecurities, age gap, and haley, jealous!aaron (hb is DOWN BAD), he kind of acts like a prick in the middle of this? but it’s v brief and he apologizes!! hints of autistic!spence, angst if u squint but mostly fluff, miscommunication, technically idiots to lovers but hotch is the only idiot <3 word count: 5.1k (this was NOT supposed to be this long omfg) a/n: this was inspired by a dream i had where i was besties w reid and everyone thought i liked him until i had to blurt out that i was into older men… enjoy!!

If looks could kill, Aaron was sure Spencer would be dead by now.

It was contradicting, in a way. How he thought of Spencer like the son that had come before his actual son, yet he was staring at him like a predator stalking their next victim.

You were standing next to the young genius, shoulders brushing against shoulders as you went back and forth with the geographical profile the two of you had been assigned to work on, something Aaron was really regretting having done.

The team had been called in to assist with a case in Portland, Maine, involving an abductor-type unsub. One who would stalk his victims and learn their routines before kidnapping them, torturing them for two to three days before disposing of them in forests and parks all throughout the city.

You and Reid were both tied when it came to your skills with geographical profiles, one of the many things that had blossomed your relationship with him. But with the way the unsub was beginning to rapidly devolve, the rush to develop said profile and figure out his next move had forced Aaron to assign you two together.

Deep down he knew that it had to be done for the sake of the case and all its victims, and that it was the best decision to make as leader of the team.

But, still, he couldn’t help the jealousy that was bubbling from within him, his gaze completely focused on the way you giggled and smiled, endeared, while watching Reid struggle to tape the map one of the sheriffs had supplied you with to a spare whiteboard in the office the team had been given to work in.

He hadn’t even noticed when JJ walked up to him, the blonde hair and white button up she was wearing apparently not enough to break him out of his trance until—

“Hotch.”

Aaron snaps his head towards her, blinking in bewilderment, “Sorry, what?”

JJ stares at him with a look of both concern and amusement, a smile tugging at her lips. Her hand is raised expectantly and her eyes flicker towards the case file in his hands.

He looks down at it, brows furrowing when he finally sees the death grip he was holding the paper with. It’s slightly crumpled from where his thumb had rested, the pages wrinkled.

He clears his throat, trying to soothe out the file as subtly and smoothly as he can before handing it to JJ, “Sorry,” he grumbled.

The blonde chuckles softly, taking it from him and doing her own best to bend it back into place. She begins to flip through the pages, though she can’t help but follow Aaron’s gaze back to you and Spencer.

You had finally gotten up to help him in taping up the map, taking it from his hands and effortlessly doing so before turning around and giving him a cheeky smile.

JJ turns her attention back to him, biting back a smug smile when she sees her boss practically glaring daggers at the two of you, “I assume you’re trying to figure them out, too?” She asks, looking down at the file.

Aaron blinks, this time slowly turning his head to gaze down at her, “What do you mean?”

Her eyes widen at the realization of what she just had insinuated about her co-workers to her boss. She shrugs coolly, trying to play it off, “Nothing. They’re just really close is all,” she gives him a tight-lipped smile before quickly walking away, leaving Aaron more confused than before.

He feels his fingers twitch by his side when he glances back at you. It’s cheesy, the way his heart skips a beat when you tuck the strands of hair that had made itself to the front of your face behind your ears. His hardened features soften at the sight of you laughing at something Reid’s said, something he’s sure only the two of you understand.

Aaron’s not sure what it was that had gotten him to stick out for you like a sore thumb or how his sudden infatuation with watching and admiring you and your every move had happened.

All he could recall was that it happened, and it had happened too fast for him to begin realizing how you had begun to overcome his every thought and consume him with feelings he hadn’t felt since Haley’s passing and his marriage with her.

A part of him had told himself that he wasn’t to blame; not only were you one of the best agents he had ever worked with, but you were the loveliest and wholesome of humans.

You had your rough days, everyone on the team understandably did, yet you never failed to meet people with kindness and patience, something else that Aaron wasn’t used to receiving when it came to his co-workers. And, as much as they loved him and he loved them, even his team members were prone to calling him ‘cold’ and ‘stoic.’

While you, on the other hand would always meet him with fond, bright smiles and greetings, never once avoiding his gaze or running the opposite direction as to ‘not get in his way’ like others did.

You were like the sun peeking out of the clouds after a dark and tremendous storm, shining on him with such warmth.

So, in the end, he couldn’t really help himself from falling for you. Or for even feeling childishly jealous when you were shining your warmth onto others.

Especially with someone who apparently the rest of the team suspected you of dating.

Perhaps he couldn’t blame Spencer for falling for you, too.

Everyone meant well, and Aaron knew he was also victim to cutting him off when the boy rambled, but you were the only one who truly listened to him. Who would interrupt him gently during urgent matters and let him continue after they were solved, and never made him feel inadequate.

He doesn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before now that JJ has mentioned it—too blindsided with his own feelings for you—but he begins to wonder, though, if there actually is something more between the two of you.

He likes to think that he begins playing close attention to your mannerism, body language, and shared interactions the two of you have throughout the entirety of the case because he has to. Now that it's been brought to his attention that two of his subordinates might be in a relationship, it's his job as Unit Chief to keep tabs.

So, he watches, when the whole team is sitting in the rectangular table, debriefing with one another and sharing ideas all whilst munching on take out food.

"So, we obviously know that the significance of the victim's being dumped in nature spots is important to this guy," Morgan explains, motioning his hand around the air as he goes on, "but could it be that he kidnaps and keeps his victims in similar spots, just somewhere more secluded?"

"Spencer and I were thinking that that could be a possibility," you say, stealing a fry off of said boy's take out plate, "Maybe he doesn't live in these same places, but he could be taking them to a hidden spot somewhere in the forests, something possibly hidden by debris, wood, or anything makeshift."

Spencer doesn't even blink as you continue to steal more neglected food off his plate, continuing to sort through pictures. Aaron could see Emily and Derek give each other a knowing, smug look through his peripheral.

He manages to swallow, the tip of his middle finger and thumb tapping against one another, "What else have you two come up with regarding the geographical profile?"

"Well, besides where he himself could be living or where he could keep his victims, the whole profile is scattered," Spencer answers this time, sliding the plate towards you as he sets down a picture of each victim with the name of the forests and parks they were found in written underneath. "The first two victims were dumped in a forest, the third in a park, and the fourth in another forest.."

As he goes on, you take advantage to continue eating, the way in which he had just let you eat off his plate despite his known phobia of germs not going unnoticed by everyone else.

If that one wasn't a sign, Aaron didn't know what else was.

*

With the geographical profile being all over the place, Aaron decides on pulling you away from the task the following day, instead pairing you up with him to check out the crime scene of the most recent victim.

He doesn't know if it's the leader in him doing so, pulling you away from your original project he had tasked you to do, or if it's just the mix of both curiosity and jealousy that continues to gnaw at him.

He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. Yet he couldn't help the way his heart churned when you hold his hand for a second longer than necessary after he helps you climb up the small, but frosty hill.

"Thanks," you mumble sweetly, your shoulders brushing against him as you walk past him and towards the await detectives.

Aaron trails behind you, trying to calm his beating heart as the lead detective on the case walks you both towards the victim's body.

"This is the second victim that's been dumped in a park," you start, squatting down to inspect the cuts and bruises on the woman's face. "These sites are obviously more public than the forests, yet he still leaves them in more secluded spots, away from general view."

"Well, we ruled out that he can't feel any remorse or sympathy," Aaron adds while he looks around the now closed off park. "He holds and tortures these women for hours."

You stand from your spot, placing your hands on your hips as you look around the park. Aaron recognizes the face you make as your 'thinking' face, your eyes squinted and your nose scrunched.

"What is it?" He asks, trying to meet your wandering gaze.

“Reid and I were talking about the possibility of the unsub dumping his victims in the same places where half—if not all—of his childhood abuse took place,” you miss the way his breath hitches in his throat and the way his shoulders sag slightly, continuing. “We know that he has to be a local here from Portland—probably raised around these same areas—and that he was abused severely as a child.”

Aaron tries his best to nod as nonchalantly as possible, “Something from his childhood obviously triggered him for him to start abducting and inflict the same pain on the victims before leaving them in similar places where he could have been left as a child after being abused.”

“Exactly,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “We were theorizing around that idea for a while but weren’t too sure if the abuse could play such a huge part on his M.O.”

At the mentions of you and Reid again, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

Not only was he a grown man, but he was also your boss. And you were his subordinate, someone he should never had feelings for in the first place and someone he shouldn’t be feeling possessive over as if anything was to truly ever happen between you.

At first he had thought that Spencer wasn’t to blame for having the same feelings Aaron so strongly harbored for you. But, maybe, you weren’t the one to blame.

For falling for someone more your age, for someone you worked and paired so well with, for someone nobody else made such a grand effort to understand the way you did.

Not only was he a grown man and your boss, but he was also double your age, a single father, and a widower.

Swallowing harshly, he pulls out his phone from his suit’s inner pocket, “I’ll have Garcia check out any reported speculations of childhood abuse in these areas and see if she can narrow down our list,” He turns, using his height to his advantage and speeding off, leaving you completely behind.

You frown, rushing to catch up to him. You halt when you come to the same frosty hill he had helped you climb up and open your mouth to call for his help, but close it back up when you see he’s already made it back to the SUV and is climbing inside.

When you finally climb inside the car after successfully managing to climb down the hill without busting your ass, he’s talking with Garcia.

You wait patiently as he drives, the phone on speaker as he gives out quick orders that your friend rushes to catch up with. You try to take the chance of speaking up once he hangs up with her, but he’s quickly dialing for Rossi afterwards.

You’re quiet throughout the ride back to the precinct, the sudden change in mood too heavy for you to gather the courage to make any sort of conversation. Once parked in front of the building, he gets out right away, slamming the door while you’re barely unblocking your seatbelt.

You make a beeline to the conference room where you find Reid, no longer paying any mind on trying to find Aaron any longer.

Spencer jumps when you hurriedly slam the door behind you, eyes filling with worry when you lean against the wood and stare at the floor pensively, “You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” you mumble, pushing yourself off the door and taking a seat across from him. “I just got back from the latest crime scene with Hotch and he started acting so weird after I told him about our theory of the unsub’s dumping pattern.”

“Weird how?”

You move to speak, but hesitate when you realize that going into detail about how cold your boss suddenly acted towards you after being used to receiving such kind—some might say preferable—treatment would make your friend speculate things he, of all people, did not need to speculate.

You shake your head, “Nothing. He’s probably just stressed or tired,” you drop your forehead onto the table’s cold wood, your arms stretched out in front of you. “I know I am.”

A beat of silence passes before you hear a creak and the feeling of a finger press against your index. You bite back a laugh, looking up to find Spencer leaning forward in his own seat to do a ‘finger touch,’ something you had come up with for him after realizing how persistent his germophobia was, even with the people he loved the most.

You smile at him, leaning your head on one of your forearms and pressing your finger into his.

From outside the glass-windowed office, Aaron watches you both, a solemn look on his face.

*

The case is finally closed once you and Spencer’s theory is proven right, the unsub securely put away and the green light to go home given at last. But with the late night icy weather too dangerous for the jet to take off, Aaron orders for everyone to instead turn in for the night at the hotel and head out first thing tomorrow morning instead.

He gives a silent thanks to no one in particular when he finds out it's his turn to have a room all for himself, the rotation always being cheated by Dave, Derek, or Emily that he always forgets who's next.

Shockingly enough, he's ready to turn in for the night, not even sparing an extra glance to any of the files he had brought with him as he prepares for bed. He's just about to sit down when a knock comes from behind his door, echoing throughout his room.

He lets out a quiet groan but stands nonetheless, rubbing tiredly at his face before swinging the door open. His first instinct is to snap at whoever's behind, but that's before his eyes cast over you.

You're fiddling with your fingers, dressed in your pajamas that consists of an off-the-shoulder shirt that dips low enough to show off your collarbone and the very top of your chest, your bra strap in the middle.

And, despite the chilly weather outside, you were wearing shorts. A pair of cotton shorts that peek out from underneath the shirt you were wearing and leave little to the imagination—more so, Aaron’s imagination.

Truth be told, he's seen you in a lot less. Your usual team outing outfits consisted of tank tops, baby tees, shorts, and slightly more revealing clothes.

But this, seeing you in what you would normally sleep in, sends him into a completely different spiral.

You cringe and immediately panic at the thought of having woken him up, "Sorry, were you already asleep?" you ask, taking a tentative step back.

Aaron blinks and clears his throat, the pads of his thumb and middle finger once again tapping against one another, "No," He lies. "I was barely getting ready."

Your shoulders drop and the panic dissipates as a small smile replaces it, “Oh, okay,” you bring your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels, “I just wanted to talk to you. If that’s alright?”

Aaron’s brows furrow though he immediately steps to the side to allow you in, a soft ‘of course’ following.

He takes in the way you hesitantly step in, back facing him and arms still intertwined behind your back.

You’re being respectful, probably hoping that you’re not overstepping with whatever it is that you want to talk about. And though you always are, he can’t tell if you’re nervous, worried, or filled with insomnia that you just couldn’t sleep.

“Is everything alright?” He finally asks when you don’t make a move to sit down anywhere, his hands slightly ajar to his side like he’s ready to reach out and touch you.

God, how he wishes he could touch you.

You clear your throat and turn around, “Actually, I was just coming to ask you the same thing,”

The harsh lines on Aaron’s face deepen when you take a seat on the edge of the bed, glancing beside you as a signal for him to join you.

He swallows as he does so, careful not to sit too close and award you space. His eyes flicker back up at you when he hears your breath hitch.

Seconds of silence pass before you shuffle closer to him, bringing your body forward so that you were staring at him directly.

“Are you… feeling okay?”

Aaron freezes, his movements completely stilling at your question. His mind begins to race with all the possibilities of what could have brought on your question when it clicks.

How he had concurred that you and him were completely different and could never be a possibility, and how he immediately decided that acting cold towards you would shun out the feelings he’s felt for so long now.

Another clear of his throat, he replies, “I’m fine.”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a look that shows that you know he’s not telling the truth.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, this time more firmly. “I don’t mean to overstep, but you’ve been acting rather…strange ever since you and I got back from the fifth victim’s crime scene.”

Aaron cringes at how your expression turns into a sad one, quickly masking it with one of concern afterwards.

He sighs. He supposes that if there’s a possibility that you and Spencer are dating, now’s the time to ask you about it.

He makes a show of staring directly at you in the same way he does when he’s in his ‘boss mode,’ trying to study your face before he asks the question, “Is there something I should know about you and Spencer?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting.

You’re taken aback, quite literally flinching as if you had been struck. It takes you a few seconds to take in what he’s just asked you, and you shake your head almost as if it wasn’t real.

“I’m sorry?”

The desperation gnaws at him once more, and he’s not sure which side of him wants to find out the answer.

“Are you and Spencer dating?” he asks again, voice somehow unwaveringly calm as he punctuates each word clearly.

Your mouth opens in shock, letting out a sound that’s half a scoff half a broken laugh. You look around the room in utter bewilderment.

“What correlation does my relationship with Spencer have with what I asked you?” You can’t tell if you’re angry or just confused, but you stand from the bed and stare down at him.

Aaron follows your lead, “I never noticed it before until the rest of the team pointed it out, but you two are close. Close in such a way that—” He swallows, “—as your boss, I have to ask.”

Before the rest of the team pointed it out. Of course.

You fully scoff this time, “As my boss, you should know that Spencer and I have always been close,” you concur.

“Then why can’t you look at me?”

Despite your heart hammering in your chest, you force yourself to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“You’re not looking at me, you’re getting defensive, and you’re practically avoiding the question,” he says, his own gaze practically boring into you.

“Hotch—”

“You’re deflecting by saying that I should know that you two have always been close, and while I do know that, you’re still not answering my question.”

It feels cruel of him to press you for answers like this, knowing that there was an easier way to do it.

“Reid and I are not dating!” you do your best to not shout it at him in fears of waking the rest of the team up, fists balled at your sides.

“Then why are you so nervous?” he asks, taking a step closer to you. “Why can’t you still look at me?”

“Because it’s you that I like!”

You slap your hands over your mouth immediately and the room falls silent.

Aaron blinks. Once, twice, three times.

You liked him?

You lower your hands, nervously brushing your hair behind your ears as you look around the room in a state of panic, “I-I’m just going to go,” you mumble and immediately rush towards the door.

Aaron stands the for a second, too frozen to do or say anything before his own panic settles in brazenly. His body moves before he has time to register what he's doing and what he'll do when he reaches you.

He wraps an arm around your forearm just as you open the door, halting you from stepping outside, "Y/N, wait,"

"Hotch, please," you're quick to try and release yourself from his grasp, yanking your arm towards yourself in what results as a poor attempt. "Just ignore what I said."

"I can't do that," he dips his head to try and get you to look at him but you simply avoid your gaze even more than your originally had, your cheeks flushed.

"Hotch, let me go!" you whisper-shout, once more fighting his grip. “I’m already embarrassed enough, I don’t need you chastising me anymore.”

“I’m not chastising you, Y/N,” Aaron’s sure he sounds as desperate as you probably feel, but he can’t find it in himself to let you go and ruin his one chance of bringing his feelings to the light. Even if it went against everything he had been telling himself earlier that week.

“Do you not think it’s possible for me to feel the same way?”

Your head snaps towards him, your movements suddenly rigid at his question, “W-What?”

You’re sure that, if your heart hadn’t raptured beforehand, it certainly will now.

Aaron takes you letting your guard down as the chance to bring a hand to your waist and pull you back into the room, shutting the door and thanking that nobody else from the team had emerged from the commotion.

“What do you mean by that?” you’re quick to ask, staring up at him with curious, yet hopeful eyes.

He lowers his head as to avoid your gaze this time, letting out a deep breath. Everything he wanted to do now went against everything he had told himself the day before, when he ridiculed himself for ever thinking that you would like someone such as him or that something could ever happen between you two.

“Hotch,” your voice is firm and you allow yourself to take a step closer to him. You need him to look at you, to give you some sort of clue that he didn’t just say what he said to play you, to get you to re-enter the room just so he could profile you even more. “What do you mean by that?”

Repeating your question doesn’t help him and it certainly doesn’t help the way his heart hammers in his chest, a sound so loud that he’s sure you can hear it from how close you’re standing.

“You like me?” you whisper, dipping your head to try and meet his eyes. How ironic that just a couple of seconds ago you were trying to avoid it.

Aaron shrugs, finally looking up, “How could I not?”

His boyish, yet vulnerable expression makes your breath hitch.

“I said that I had to know if there was something between you and Reid as your boss, but it was just because I was jealous,” he shakes his head, trying his best to suppress an all but amused smile. “It was immature of me, really.”

You shake your head, trying to collect both your own thoughts and everything he was telling you. He had been jealous?

“So, is that you acted that way after I told you about our theory in the park?”

The way in which he left you behind in both the park and in the parking lot of the precinct hits him like a brick, cringing at his actions, "I realized then, when you were talking about what you had both come up with, how compatible you two are. How it would make more sense for you to like someone more suited for you. I'm sorry for how I acted,"

Your heart breaks at hearing his confession, of how he, the same man you practically fell head over heels for after your first meeting, could think that he was unworthy of your attention. If you were being honest, you hadn't been hurt by the way he had acted earlier in the day, only confused as to why.

"Hotch--" you stop yourself. You take another step closer, closing the space between the both of you more and more. "Aaron,"

He snaps his head up at your usage of his first name, the way you said it so gently and naturally getting all his attention.

"I've liked you ever since I first met you," you confess. "I'll admit I was too intimidated by you to fully register what I was feeling, but the more I got to know you, the harder I began to fall. And I fell really hard," you let out a laugh, trying to ignore just how much you were putting on the line right now and how self-conscious you felt with his eyes boring into you.

"You've been with the BAU for three years," Aaron's voice is barely above a breathless murmur and he's sure you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't standing so close. "That's how long you've liked me for?"

You nod, lips pursed, "I never said anything because I thought you would never see me that way, let alone reciprocate my feelings. If I'm telling the truth, I wouldn't have said anything if it weren't for you pressing me into telling you that I was dating Reid."

Aaron smirks despite the warmth he feels on his cheeks, shrugging his shoulders and letting out a soft laugh, "Well, then I'm glad I ended up asking. Who knows how many more years we would've gone like this if I hadn't."

You both laugh, subconsciously curling towards each other when you both double over and bring yourselves even closer than before.

You stare up at him with a warm expression before casting your eyes downwards. You lift your hand to linger above his, the pads of your fingers brushing against the hairs on the back of his palm, "So, what happens now?"

Without breaking eye contact, he takes your hand in his while the other reaches for your waist once more. You let out a small yelp when he pulls you even closer, your bodies now touching and radiating the warmth you both thought you’d never be able to feel from one another.

The next few seconds are filled with bliss when he lowers his head to press his lips against yours. You’re immediately weak, letting go off his hand to place both on his shoulders as to support yourself.

The other now free hand of his comes to rest on your other hip, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts ever so possessively. A whimper escapes from your mouth and Aaron takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, doing so with so much fervor and passion that it leaves you feeling dizzy even with your eyes closed.

Aaron is relentless even after you pull away to catch your breath, the act of kissing you now something he’s inevitably hooked on. He presses kisses all over your face, from your cheek to your chin to your jaw, then all the way down to your neck.

“You know,” you cough out, flushed from the attention, “I told you how long I’ve liked you, but you didn’t tell me how long you’ve liked me.”

Aaron smiles into your skin, immediately recalling when he first realized his own feelings for you. He lifts his head to press a sweet kiss to your lips, eliciting a hum from you.

“I can tell you all the details over either a nice dinner tomorrow evening after we land,” he says, another kiss to your lips. He turns your bodies around so that his back was to bed, the mattress dipping under his weight when he sits. “Or you can spend the night here and we can stay up all night talking about it.”

His voice is sultry, and the way in which he grabs at your hips to get you to straddle him makes you flush.

“Are you already trying to seduce me?” you ask, mock offense in your tone though you happily take your guided seat on his lap, both knees on each side of his thighs.

Aaron hums this time, brushing your hair back to begin kissing at your neck again, “Can you blame me?”

He already knows your answer, he’s sure. He knows you can’t, because he can’t, either.

[luveline]

can we possibly get the one where Gideon doesn’t like bombshell reader and poor Spencer is watching like☹️

Spencer feels a little like a child of divorce. Like, he absolutely is a child of divorce, but he didn’t think he’d feel this way at work. Lately, all Hotch and Gideon do is argue. 

It’s especially odd in that Hotch doesn’t usually go against Gideon’s judgement, even when he doesn’t agree, but you seem to be something Hotch is willing to fight for, and Spencer has no idea why.

“We don’t need her,” Gideon says. Spencer knows it isn’t Gideon being cruel, just stern. “We have a fine team without her.” 

“But with her, we’re better. And we have an opening. I know you like Greenaway for it, and I do too–”

“Everyone likes Greenaway for the position, she’s more palatable than L/N, and she works harder.”

Spencer tries not to whip his face back and forth like he’s following a ping pong ball, but it’s hard to keep up. He has no idea what his mentor’s talking about in all honesty, you’d seemed more than palatable when you met him last week. You were nice. And barely anybody is nice to Spencer. 

You sounded like you actually wanted to hear him talk, something Gideon has often been alone in. And palatable is a subjective word. 

“That’s not necessarily true,” Hotch says, knowing he’s losing. 

“We’re not gonna rush into picking someone,” Gideon says, less stern, more neutral. 

“No. I have invited her to the Georgia consultation this afternoon.” 

Gideon sighs through his nose. The afternoon rolls around quickly. Spencer doesn’t want to think about it but he’s excited to see you, and he feels conflicted in that; Gideon is the first person in a long time who actually seems to care about him, so Spencer is guilty of always aiming to please, but he can’t understand why Gideon dislikes you so much. Am I being easily led? he wonders. 

He’ll admit to finding you attractive. In his head, that is. You’d spoken so particularly, you’d looked stunning, and you didn’t make a fuss when he wouldn’t shake your hand. You called him beautiful. 

It’s the nicest, kindest attention he’s had since he started. Morgan calls him pretty boy. Spencer knows it’s not the same thing. 

They gather in the conference room, Morgan, Hotch, Gideon and Spencer, just a few minutes before 2PM. A minute later, you’re knocking on the door. 

“Hello…” You smile when you realise they’re here. “Am I late?” 

“No, L/N. Come and take a seat,” Hotch says. 

There’s a plastering of documents on the table and an empty seat by both Morgan and Spencer. You choose the one beside Spencer despite a stack of manilla folders, tucking your chair in neatly. “Oh, the grizzly stuff. This will upset my feminine energy.” 

Morgan laughs. Gideon glares at the table. 

Spencer likes it when you’re around. One more person and suddenly the consultation is a conversation and not a debate. You can keep up with everyone. You laugh at Spencer occasionally and he doesn’t know why, but he can tell it isn’t cruel laughter; he’s had a long time to work out the difference. 

Gideon excuses himself for a coffee half an hour in. 

Hotch immediately leans across the table. “I’m trying to help you,” he says. 

You grimace. “What am I doing wrong now?” 

“The laughing.” 

“You laugh.” 

“I know.” Hotch smiles at you. “You’re getting good at this, you have good insight on the dark triad. You read the book I sent?” 

“How’s Haley?” you ask.

He shakes his head, but his smile stays. “Don’t joke about that.” 

You’re not flirting. Or, Spencer doesn’t think so. It’s more likely you’re joking as Hotch says, everything about your body language pointing to amicable friendliness besides your flirting tones. “I read the book,” you say. Your gaze turns to Spencer. “Bet you’ve read it too, huh? Morgan said you’ve read every book ever written.” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” Spencer says. 

“But close?” you ask. “I’d love some recommendations. You know. For profiling.” 

“Don’t let her fool you, Reid, she’s well read,” Morgan says. 

“Wait, Gideon doesn’t like you because you laugh?” Spencer asks. 

It’s a socially inept thing to say, he realises after. You lean back in your chair all sweet and soft with your legs crossed, your dark stockings thin at the knees. He’s so, so worried you’re going to be offended and that’s exactly what he needs, a possible friend isolated again by his inability to read the room, but you don’t chew him out. You nudge his leg gently with the toe of your heel. 

“Now who said he doesn’t like me, handsome?” you ask teasingly. 

Spencer regrets the heat that floods his face and neck. 

“It’s complicated,” you add, your smile more than friendly, Spencer can’t work it out. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn him around eventually. It’s one of my many talents.” 

Oh, he thinks. That’s what it is. Spencer’s finally in on the joke. 

[kureijei]

finally feeling like bothering to post smthn .finished this a week or 2 ago ? idr but didnt get around to posting cuz of how self insert focused it is and it made me feel bad LMAO but anyways. been becoming a bit of an elliothead after watching that deep dive video on him from fiona sangster (her vids r rlly good !!)

also some scrappier stuff that i dont hate either but im not gunna work any more on. haleys winter outfit is sooo cutesy to me an absolute slay

[woofwof21]

COZY NIGHTS/CHRIS STURN

hii this feels so weird and it's like my first time here on tumblr so yeah im sweating LMFAO

anyway uhm i hope im not as bad as i think i guess?

warnings?: fluff, hinting at nsfw stuff, got dressed infront of her but nothing more, use of y/n ig

already eight minutes past midnight on a saturday night and im sitting on my boyfriend's soft comforter, his big white pillows supporting my back as my eyes follow haley dunphy's steps into the kitchen on the screen of my phone. the faint noises of water hitting skin and shower floor is to hear through the door of the connected bathroom along with occasional soft, deep throated hums of chris' to some melody in his head aswell as my amused giggles everytime a good joke landed in my series.

after some time the water had stopped and eventually he comes out of the bathroom with a warm grin, already happy to see my face again.

"heyy baby", he whispers to me with a slight rasp in his voice as he leans down to press a kiss on my temple. i shoot him a quick smile before just turning back to my phone, my pastel pink earbuds muffling his words for me not to even notice them.

chris takes his steps over to his closet, letting the white towel fall to the floor in order for him to pull his soft sweatpants over his legs.

"i already told you like a gazillion times, babe, you don't need to use your cute little earbuds when you're in my room!", he retorts with a faint smirk, a little louder this time in order for me to hear, while quickly slipping through the holes of one of his black t-shirts.

i glance back over to him, taking one of them out of my ears as a huge grin forms on my lips, building up to a chuckle. "i like wearing them!! get's the sound closer to my brain!", i explain in defense for myself as another chuckle escapes my lips.

he just continues to grin at me. that cute but also sooo slutty grin, showing all his teeth. one side lifted up wider than the other, making my heart melt and my thighs tighten all at once.

chris walks back over to me, climbing onto his bed right next to me and immediately sliding his arm over my shoulders to pull my closer to his chest and press a kiss onto my temple once again.

he leans his forehead against mine, his lips close to my ear for him to whisper while his thumb rubs circles on my bare shoulder "i also remember telling you to just use my tv if you wanna watch stuff. don't want your pretty little eyes turn into big squares, hmm princess?"

the smirk returns back on his lips as he watches my cheeks turn a shade pinker at his soothing tone and silly partially unaware flirtyness. the furthest i respond is with a loving smile, which he quickly returns as his smirk softens up into a huge grin.

he squeezes me tightly to him, chest against chest, and lays me fully down onto the mattress while growling

"rrrghhh you're so cute baby!"

i stare into his lovestruck eyes, giggling a bit shyly at his affection towards me before just blankly staring.

chris stares back at her for only a few seconds before leaning down to press lots of loving little kisses on my soft cheek causing me to scrunch my face up a little, my eyes squeezing shut while more and more quiet laughs escape my throat.

"okay! okay! stop it chris! stop it!", i exclaim amused while my hands put pressure onto his chest to try and get him to back off.

he does as told and leans away, still gazing into my eyes with his fully blown out pupils and that stupid grin he couldn't hide whenever he was around me "sorry y/n, just really missed you", he mumbles while his fingers graze my forehead when brushing some strands of my hair out of my face.

"in the shower?", i retort with a laugh at his silly affectionate self towards me.

chris can't hold back the faint blush that paints his cheeks from the slight embarrassment i caused him but he brushes it off with a cheeky smirk as he leans back forward towards me and mumbles in a flirtitious tone "you better join next time" before pressing his soft, deep pink lips onto mine.

EEEK i hope no one sees this actually fuck off 🤗

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Spooky Call.

Spencer Reid x Hotchner!reader

Summary: When your boyfriend gets a call from you, the last thing he expects to hear is that you're being held at a police station for decorating your house.

Words: 2,2k.

TW: fem!reader. mention of haley's death, jack, crime, murder, blood (fake). reader was arrested (obviously). implication that the reader is wearing jeans and shirt (not very descriptive). reader is hotch's sister. established relationship. spencer being the standard. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This was the last fic of my october special, but I had problems and never posted it, so I had to change the plot a bit and here it is.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You’ve always hated asking for help. It wasn’t just a matter of pride—it was the belief that you could, and should, handle everything yourself. Life, however, had a cruel way of reminding you that it didn’t always work like that. Everyone needs help sometimes. At least, that’s what people—well-meaning friends, family, even your boyfriend—kept telling you. We live in a society; there are people who love you; they’d want to help, they’d say. Blah, blah, blah. The sentiment was kind, sure, but it never stuck with you. Not really.

Today, though, maybe you should’ve listened.

All you wanted was to throw your nephew a belated Halloween party. It wasn’t like you were planning anything crazy. Just a few decorations, some music, and a bit of creativity—how hard could it be? Nothing about it seemed complicated or dangerous, not at first. You’d seen your brother overwhelmed trying to keep things normal for Jack, and you figured this was something you could handle on your own. Something small but meaningful.

Somehow, things got out of your control, and now you were sitting in your boyfriend's car in the police station parking lot trying to organize your thoughts to explain to him how you had ended up arrested in the first place.

“This has a perfectly reasonable and not at all criminal explanation. I swear.” You began to speak as you noticed by the watch on his wrist that three minutes of complete silence had already passed.

It had only been a year since you started dating officially, and there were still some things you were afraid Spencer would see, especially the things that got you in trouble for doing stupid things. You'd liked him for a long time, even before he realized you could be more than just his friend and his boss's sister. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin everything and make him run away in terror, even though that didn't sound very much like him or his values.

“This better be a good explanation,” Reid finally said, his voice calm but tinged with confusion. He placed the car keys down in the cupholder and turned to look at you fully. “Because right now, I’m struggling to understand how decorating your house could get you arrested.”

You squirmed in your seat, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter. “It’s…complicated,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. That was the only thing that kept repeating in your mind.

“I’m sure it is,” he finally said, his tone dry but still patient, his gaze never wavering.

You exhaled sharply, dragging your hands down your face. “Okay. So, I started with simple decorations—some cobwebs, pumpkins, and all the usual stuff. But it just…it wasn’t enough. I wanted to do something big. Something really cool.”

He raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

“So, I got this idea,” you said, hesitating. You could already feel the heat rising in your face. “I took a garbage bag, stuffed it with paper to make it look like a body, and then—” You paused, your voice dropping slightly. “Then I added some fake blood. A lot of fake blood.”

His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you admitted, wincing. “But it looked amazing! For like…five minutes.” You gestured vaguely toward the dashboard, trying to find the words to defend yourself. “I might have spilled some of the fake blood on the lawn. And…it might’ve looked a little too real.”

Too real, extra real.

“A little?” Spencer asked, incredulous. “You mean realistic enough to make the neighbors call the cops?”

You winced, expecting him to think you were ridiculous—or worse, stupid. But then, to your surprise, his lips quirked into a soft laugh.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me!” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest when you saw the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Yeah, maybe you didn't want him to think you were weird, but you didn't like being laughed at either.

“I’m not laughing,” he said, though the hint of amusement in his voice betrayed him.

“You are absolutely laughing,” you huffed, your pout deepening. “It’s not funny, Spencer.”

He took a deep breath, finally managing to suppress his laughter—mostly. His hand reached out to tilt your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. The warmth in his hazel eyes softened the sting of your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, though his lips still twitched with the ghost of a smile. “I really am, angel. But you have to admit, you went a little overboard with the ‘terrifying’ concept.”

And there it was, the kind of sweetness that had made you fall for him so hard. The kind you'd expect to receive without question after spending at least half an hour locked in a filthy cell.

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Okay, maybe. But in my head, it wasn’t that bad,” you said weakly. “It just…went a little wrong.”

“A little?” he repeated, his eyebrows raising again. “You got arrested. You scared half the neighborhood into thinking they’d stumbled onto a crime scene.”

“At least it wasn’t illegal!” You shot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I didn’t actually hurt anyone. I just made a mess. With fake blood.”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to your hands, where smears of red clung stubbornly to your skin. His eyes flicked to your clothes—your jeans, your shirt, both stained with dried streaks of crimson. A slow grin spread across his face.

“It wasn’t illegal, but now you look like you walked off the set of a slasher movie,” he said, his voice filled with teasing affection. “Here—and here.” He gestured to a streak of red on your shoulder, then another on your cheek.

You were about to protest when he suddenly leaned in. His face was so close now, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could say another word, his lips brushed softly against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that caught you off guard. You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. Then, as if it had all been a slow, perfect dance, you melted into him. His lips were warm and tender, the kiss slow and sweet, like a quiet promise that everything, even in the chaos of your night, was going to be okay.

When he pulled back, your breath caught, your chest fluttering in that way only he could make you feel. His grin was wide, playful, but there was something else in his eyes—a depth, a tenderness that made your heart thud. You blinked up at him, still dazed from the warmth of his kiss.

“For the record,” he murmured, his voice soft, his lips still dangerously close to yours, “I never thought you were a criminal. Just a little…overly enthusiastic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine, warm sound bubbling out of you. “Overly enthusiastic,” you echoed, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it.”

“And messy,” he added, his eyes twinkling as they lingered on the fake blood smeared across your face.

“Don’t push your luck, Dr. Reid,” you warned, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound melting into the quiet of the car. He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss that felt like a promise—quiet, tender, and full of unspoken reassurance. The warmth of his touch seeped into you, and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the comfort of his presence.

As he pulled back, he studied you with that signature look—the one that always made you feel like he could see straight into your soul. His brow furrowed slightly, and you recognized that expression well: the one he wore when he was about to ask something important, when he wanted to understand you better. It was a look that never failed to make your heart flutter, even if it made you feel vulnerable.

“Okay,” he said slowly, his tone gentler now. “I get wanting to make the decorations amazing, but why was it so important? Why go all out to the point of, well…” He gestured vaguely toward you, his lips twitching again. “Fake crime scene levels of effort?”

You hesitated, his question hitting you like a wave. You knew the answer, but speaking it aloud felt heavier than you had anticipated. It was as though the words themselves had a weight you hadn’t been prepared to carry. You lowered your gaze, absently picking at the hem of your shirt as you fought to find the right words, your mind tangled in emotions that were hard to articulate.

Reid didn’t push, though. His silence was patient, waiting for you to open up at your own pace. It was one of the things you adored about him—the way he didn’t rush, didn’t demand. He just let you be, trusting you would share when you were ready.

Finally, you exhaled a shaky breath and met his eyes, the vulnerability in your voice clear as you spoke. “It’s not just about the decorations,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about Jack.”

His expression shifted immediately, his eyes softening with understanding but remaining focused as you continued.

“I just…” You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I want to be the perfect aunt for him, you know? Someone who makes things better, even if just for a little while. He’s been through so much—losing Hayley, seeing my brother juggle everything just to make sure Jack’s okay…” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your hands to steady yourself. “He’s only a kid. He deserves to feel happy and safe and…loved.”

Maybe that last word was too personal, and maybe your boyfriend noticed.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent offer of comfort. You took his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you enough to keep going.

“I know I can’t replace his mom, and I’d never try to,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought maybe, just maybe, if I did this party right—if I made it something really special—it could be a distraction. Something fun. Something he could look back on and smile about instead of just…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the words lodged in your throat.

He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Instead of just remembering what he’s lost,” he finished for you, his voice soft and understanding.

You nodded, blinking back the sting of tears. “Yeah.”

The car was quiet for a moment, the weight of your confession settling between you. Then Spencer shifted closer, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray tear from your cheek. The tenderness in his touch made your chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he said gently, his voice steady and sure. “You’re already doing more for him than you realize. Just by being there, by loving him the way you do…that’s what matters. Not decorations or parties or anything else.”

His words hit you squarely in the heart, and you let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest loosening just a fraction. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” you admitted, leaning into his touch. “I didn’t want to mess it up and end up in a cell.”

Reid smiled softly, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw as he held your gaze. “You didn’t mess it up,” he said firmly. “Okay, maybe the decorations were a little unconventional,” he added with a playful glint in his eye. “But your heart was in the right place. And Jack knows that. He loves you and thinks you’re wonderful, just like I do.”

You felt your breath catch at his words, the warmth in his eyes making your cheeks flush despite everything. “You’ve really become good at this, you know,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “The whole comforting and making me blushing thing.”

He let out a soft chuckle, giving your cheek a gentle tap with his thumb before pulling back slightly. “I might have read eleven books to brush up on a few things and be better,” he said, his tone light but not dismissive.

You chuckled, the sound lifting the tension that had been pulling at your chest. “Eleven books? You really went all in on this, huh?”

His arm slipped around your shoulders, drawing you closer, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you grounding and reassuring. “When it’s you,” he said softly, “I’d go even further than that.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world ease off your shoulders. A quiet thought lingered in your mind, one you hadn’t been able to put into words until now. “But…sometimes, don’t you think I’m weird?” you asked, the vulnerability creeping in despite yourself.

Please say no.

“Weird? No,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I think you’re perfect.” He paused for a moment, then added with a soft laugh, “And every day, I’m grateful you don’t think I’m weird either.”

You smiled, the knot in your chest loosening, the weight of uncertainty fading as his words settled in. “Guess we both can be a little weird then,” you said, the truth of it comforting you more than you expected.

He chuckled, the sound easy and light, as he pulled you a little closer, holding you in a way that spoke of quiet promises. “It’s perfect for me.”

[swarvey]

Can I ask for reactions to Farmer having real bad, MASSIVE, resting bit@% face. please 🙏

I don't care who you do it for, have fun with it. :3

when you have a resting bitch face | shane, haley (separate!) x gn!reader

summary -> your resting face has never been . . . the kindest, to say the least. it couldn't matter less to them, of course. warnings -> none! wc -> 502

a/n: this request is so funny and real i love it. i decided to do it with those who i headcanon to also have resting bitch faces. enjoy!! <3

shane

"fuckin' hell — what's up with them?"

as someone who also typically does not look the friendliest, shane feels like he has the right to judge

he's barely phased tho, thinks it's hilarious watching you go around town handing people gifts with such a stoic face

it all changes, tho, the day he sees you smile

he doesn't recall what made you laugh, only remembers thinking he wished it was because of him, bc damn

any thoughts he had about your resting face are gone

now, he only cares about being the one to break it

not that he'll ever admit it, ofc

(at least, not until you and him have matching mermaid's pendants)

it starts off with awkward small talk, as stuff typically does

"hey." | "um, hey." | "..." | "... do you need something?" | "no! no. nothing." | "okay." | "okay."

no one told him talking was hard, okay?

(the chickens usually think he's pretty funny, he swears)

something he said to you must have been right, tho, bc one day, he's on the way to joja and is stopped by you

and you have a container in your hands. for him. of pepper poppers.

"i heard you liked these ... so i decided to try and make them."

your typically hostile exterior is gone, replaced with ... is that embarrassment in your eyes??

he can't say shit, tho, he can feel a flush of heat creeping up his neck

"oh, uh, thanks, i guess. i mean, these are my favorite, so, yeah. thanks."

he wants to crawl away into a hole for the rest of his life.

his antics are rewarded nonetheless, seeing that he made you laugh for the first time

(which, in turn, gives him the chance to make you laugh for the rest of his life)

haley

"why is the new farmer looking at me like that? do they have a problem or something?"

definitely takes offense to it at first, disregarding her own major rbf

thinks you have something against her personally until emily reassures her it's just your resting face

she'll scoff and think it's stupid at first

but then she goes into the bathroom, looks into the mirror, and pretty much shrieks, scaring the hell out of her sister

"what, what?!" | "i have it, too!" | "have what?" | "the resting face! the one the farmer has!"

(emily reminds herself of inner peace before shutting the bathroom door and walking away)

after her monumental realization, haley is more understanding of you and decides to try and get to know you better

very pleasantly surprised to find your exterior doesn't match how you truly are

and when she finds a sunflower on her doorstep, along with a short letter written to her?

she's smitten.

haley's used to getting what she wants, and it's no different with you

"hey. you gave me this, right?" | "the sunflower? yeah, i heard you liked them..." | "so, wanna go on a date?" | "huh?!"

the rest is history

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ the mood i'm in ❞ ─ an adhd chronicles blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!adhd!reader. summary: sometimes rearranging a whole entire closet is a biological need. content warnings: fluff, adhd antics (i'm diagnosed don't try to come for me) word count: 600+. a/n: this was requested by @ficmeoutofthisworld and i felt the need to make a blurb!verse of it, so expect more fluff for these three 🩵 & the idea of jack calling you honey came from honey is for love by @angellsell

      “Daddy, honey has that weird look again.” Aaron can’t help but smile at his little boy, putting the files he was working on down on his desk, telling him to come closer with his hands. Jack had gotten into the habit of calling you honey very early on in your relationship, that being one of the pet names Aaron used the most when talking to you. It was too endearing to correct him, even after you moved in. You both just let the boy be, knowing that he would call you by name once he got older.

      You didn’t mind him not calling you mom or any of its variants, even if the relationship you shared now was much alike mother and child, Jack didn’t remember a lot of Haley by himself, he was too little, but Aaron always did his best to keep her memory alive in him, so if for his young mind it was easier to call you a pet name, you would take it every single time with a smile. And so would Aaron. 

      “What look, buddy?” He asks even though he’s sure he knows the answer, having been through that a few times over the last two years. 

      “She’s staring at my stuff and sitting on the floor.” Bingo. Every once in a while you would get obsessed with something, it made sense after you were diagnosed with ADHD and he learnt how to accommodate you properly, but for a while it was just a big clash of his organized and controlling nature and your chaotic mind. 

      “Let’s see what she needs, okay?” Jack nods, leading the way with his dad closely behind. They find you exactly as his boy explained to him, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor, staring at his wardrobe so attentively it might scare the unknown eye. 

      “Darling? What’s going on?” He asks without entering the room, not wanting to invade your space before you called him in, instead he decided to lean on the door frame, observing you with his kind eyes.

      “I want to rearrange all of Jack’s clothes but we need more hangers for that and I don’t want to go to the store just to buy hangers, but I also can’t get up to go to the kitchen and check what else we need.” You answered quickly, finishing your ramble with a huff, dropping your shoulders and looking at your fiancé with a pout that made him get closer to you, offering his hands so you could have some support while getting up, you lazily do it, being embraced by him as soon as your feet touch the ground. 

      “Go watch something with Jack, okay?” His tone is always soft, as if your conversations, even the silliest and mundane ones, were secrets for you two to keep. He knew you too well, so he prevented the whine he knew would come–you wanted to get this done, you needed to rearrange Jack’s clothes or the itch in your brain wouldn’t leave–and he did so by holding both of your cheeks with his hands, making you look at him. “I’ll make the shopping list and then you both can go to Target while I get some reports done.” You nod happily, his hands moving with your head. 

      Telling you to watch something with Jack could seem like a mindless choice of words, but it wasn’t, Aaron knew you were feeling stuck and how bad that made you feel, you needed a dopamine kick before you could do something, and no better way for that than colorful silly shows with your favorite boy.

      By the time he’s done with the shopping list, you had already started another important project: Napping on the couch with Jack. So he leaves it attached with a magnet on the fridge, gives you both soft forehead kisses and goes back to work, not minding the fact he did it quickly for no reason, happy you were resting and that it was done for when you decided to shop.

[fictionalmenxyn]

—✪𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐢𝐬, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞✪—

Pairing: rafe x reader (can be frat!race if you wish. ALSO established relationship)

Warnings: language, mentions of blood (FAKE BLOOD), jealous Rafe, suggestive, groping, kissing and I think that’s it!

(Less girly but only with movies)

(Authors note: hey you lovely people!! Quick life update, I start college tomorrow (currently 11:34pm in uk as I made this) and I also have a practice run at a possible job too. So I’m either gonna post earlier (uk time afternoon) or really late. So I do apologise. But as always, enjoy and have a good day/night all!!! 🫶)

---꥟✪✪✪꥟---

You were so excited for tonight, the Halloween party. You had planned these outfits perfectly. Since you weren’t into chick flicks or romances. You decided on Marla and Tyler as your couple outfit. You had Rafe sat on your desk chair as you added the fx blood. You smiled (mainly to yourself). You put the sunglasses on “oh look at your hottie! My Tyler Durden!” He smirked. He insisted, if you were gonna make him dress up, he got to hold the back of your thighs while you did his fx makeup. Which you happily agreed to.

He smirked “good pick, baby, definitely better than Topper and his hook ups outfits.” Topper was going with one of his hook ups. She insisted that they’d dressed up as the basic ‘cop and robber’.

Rafe knew you were a movie girl, so he didn’t need to do any costume looking. He knew you’d be able to find stuff or have clothes that you can make into costumes, like the Hawaiian shirt he’s wearing.

Rafe patted your thigh, signalling that he wanted to stand up. You took a step back and walked over to your large floor mirror. You smiled as you looked over your Marla outfit. God, you were so excited, not even to party. But to show off your costume and show people that this was YOUR holiday. You owned Halloween, every year you had THEE best costume. No doubt.

Rafe walked over, putting one of his Marlboro gold into the gap between your head and ear. You smiled, putting your hands on your hips, tilting your hip out a little. “So… how’d we look??” He smirked, standing closely behind you. A hand on top of yours, “we look so good, baby, best costume yet.” You smiled. You knew he’d like it, Fight Club was his top five movies, of course.

You grabbed your black handbag, pulling your phone out you snapped a few photos of you both. Sending them to your girls group chat. All of them loving the costumes.

Two hours later…

You were both at the party, Rafe was with the boys. As usual. While you were with your friends. Dancing like no one’s watching. Enjoying the moment. Rafe would stare glance at you from time to time. You looked so good in your short black dress. He wanted to rip it off asap. Sometime throughout the night, Rafe gave you your his red sunglasses back. He didn’t want to wear them anymore. So they laid on top of your pinned back (cause Marla has short hair, you don’t). The red sunglasses shined under the flashing lights.

You occasionally sipped out of your red solo cup. You laughed with the girls as you all danced and chatted.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed.

He saw two guys approach you and your friends. One of them approached your friend Haley as the other guy approached you.

Topper followed Rafe’s cold glare, seeing the guys with you and your girls. Topper smirked to himself, tapping Kelce’s shoulder and nodded his head at Rafe. Kelce smirked “ooo someone’s-” “ah! The fuck was that for…” “for acting like a school girl..” as you guessed it. Rafe clipped Kelce across the back of his head.

Rafe didn’t take his eyes off the guy. He knew you could handle yourself. That’s why he wasn’t looking at you, he didn’t know the guy. He didn’t know what he was potentially of doing, or what he wanted from you… Rafe could guess what he wanted. The way the guy undressed also eye fucking you. It made Rafe want to scoff.

Topper and Kelce’s smirked faded.

The guy put his arm around your shoulder. Rafe saw that you froze. He knew you didn’t ask or want what that guy did. Thankfully Rafe’s solo cup was empty. Would’ve been emptied with the way he was squeezing it.

Topper spoke “hey man, you better go-” Rafe didn’t need a push or a second thought. He was up and over to you at the speed of light.

Rafe walked over, of course, Rafe being Rafe… he placed his hand on your ass. Giving a light squeeze as he tilted his head down to look at you. “All good baby? Need a drink? Or you all full?” You knew that was a silent ‘you need help with this guy?’ Because Rafe wouldn’t ask you if you needed a drink. He’d get you one, you didn’t need to ask, or he didn’t need to ask you.

You smiled “yeah, I need a drink..” the guy looked at where Rafe’s hand was. The guy looked back to Rafe “ah, watch where you’re putting your hand-” “you should watch where that arm goes, you won’t have one if you keep it there…”

The guys arm quickly moved off your shoulder. Rafe moved his hand from your ass to your hip. Pulling you into him more. The guy looked confused “is she your girl or something??” “She is, besides she wasn’t into you anyways, my girl, or not…”

You looked at the guy, then looked to Rafe. Rafe gave your hip a small squeeze. “Look man I didn’t-” “I saw the way you looked at her, don’t fucking lie, you were eye fucking her!” You glanced to your friends. They either smirked and mouthed ‘damn your getting lucky tonight’ knowing when Rafe’s jealous, that you’re in for a long night. Or they mouthed ‘he looks so pissed’. Pissed was an understatement.

What? It was a simple arm over-… no, not in Rafe’s eyes. Shit, he got pissed cause the guy even approached you. Never mind the contact.

Rafe looked down, “come on, sweet girl, let’s go sit with the guys…” you nodded. You flashed a small smirk to the girls, you weren’t complaining for his jealousy, you knew you’d have a good night tonight. And you knew he doesn’t mean the party…

He guided you over to the large couch the guys and their hook ups were on. Rafe sat down first. He saw the guy and his friend still looking over at you. He gently but firmly pulled you into his lap. You sat sideways on his lap. Your left arm hooked around the back of his neck. Your finger nails gently scratching his buzzed hair.

Rafe’s hand rubbed up and down your side. Possessively yet comforting. For him at least.

Rafe leaned back into the couch. He gently took your cup from your hands. Taking a sip you playfully pouted “Rafey…” god he loved when you called him that “… that’s my drink.” He smirked and took another sip before slipping the red solo cup into your hand. “Sorry baby, just needed a sip, sweetheart.” He run his knuckles over your cheekbone. You had a subtly smile on your lips as you kept pouting playfully. He smiled a little “babydoll, put that lip away, you know I don’t like when you pout.” You quickly turned tour pout into a smile when he kissed your cheek. “There’s my girl, love that smile…”

Those two guys were glancing in your direction every so often, throughout the night. Rafe noticed, he didn’t like that.

Rafe hand a hand on your hip as the other was on your thigh. He smiled “you look good in your costume, baby, good call for Fight Club..” you smiled. “Thank you, Rafe, I wanted to do one of your movies this year. We did my movie last year…” he nodded “we did, still enjoyed doing Morticia and Gomez.” You smiled. “Yeah, I liked that one.” He grinned “I definitely did… that dress did wonders for your bo-” you swatted his chest “Rafe!” “What?!… it’s the truth!” You laugh.

It was now later in the party, Rafe was getting bored. And also angry. Those guys had left for a while, but now returned. Still eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat. Rafe hated that. You weren’t meat, you’re a goddess in his eyes. He reminded you every day, even if you weren’t with him.

Rafe had enough, it was a good enough excuse to leave to, in his eyes. He sat up, resting his chin on your shoulder. Looking at your lips “hey baby?” You turned your head to look at him “yeah?”. He asked “you ready to go?” You looked down at your drink “I still have half a-” he grabbed your cup and downed the rest of it “no you don’t…”

You looked down at him, “but can’t we stay for a few more minutes? I like this song…” he smirked and whispered in your ear “baby, those guys are looking at what’s mine, I’m not gonna let them look any longer. You either come with me, I’ll play this exact song as many times as you want while I lay you down on my bed…”

Your eyes widen, in excitement. “Promise?” He nodded, his eyes focused on your lips “anything you want, baby, shall we go?” You nodded. He smirked “atta girl, c’mon, think my beds callin’ your name…” he patted your thigh. You stood up.

On the way out of the house, Rafe glanced back. Holding up a middle finger to the guys; as the other was firmly on your ass.

Let’s just say, he was definitely gonna keep you up all night… he’d call it ‘recreating the Tyler and Marla scenes..’ if ya know what I mean…

---꥟✪✪✪꥟---

[ssa-dado]

7 - Cogito, ergo Sum

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: slow burn, sad just sad stuff, angst

Summary: On a train to Riverhead, you confront buried memories of your father’s death and the complex emotions stirred by Peter’s welcome back party, where Hotch’s past with Haley left you feeling like an outsider. Hotch, haunted by memories of his abusive father and first love with Haley, grapples with his choices and regrets. Meanwhile, Hotch and Peter clash over your safety and personal boundaries on the job, discovering the next target of a series of poisonings. Warnings: Grief, domestic violence, emotional abuse, anxiety, CM case. This is quite sad

Word Count: 4.5k

Dado's Corner: Not me sobbing like a kid while writing this haha. Poor Aaron you deserve a hug. That said, I experimented a bit with the style of this chapter - it's quite cinematic. I drew inspiration from Suits' 2×08 where Harvey goes to visit his father's grave and the narrative interlaces flashbacks, present and the characters' point of view so beautifully. Also - this has a sister chapter coming up next so don't worry.

previous chapter ; masterlist

The train rattled gently as it made its way toward your hometown, Riverhead, each passing mile pulling you deeper into a past you had long avoided. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks was a steady, relentless metronome, marking each second that brought you closer to face your father’s grave.

You glanced up to see a little girl holding her father’s hand, her tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his as they made their way to a seat just past yours. The sight was simple, ordinary - something that happened every day - but today, it felt like a punch to the chest.

Watching them, you felt the train become a catalyst for everything you’d been trying to bury; the pain surged, raw and unfiltered, hitting you all at once. The easy affection between them, was a reminder of what you could never have again. Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill as you stared at the floor, trying to swallow the ache of everything you’d lost. In that fleeting moment, the emptiness of your own hands felt unbearable, as if the absence of your father’s presence echoed a thousand times harder in the quiet hum of the train.

You stared out of the window, but the passing trees and fading buildings blurred into the background, their muted colors mingling with the fog of your thoughts. You’d taken the rare step of taking a day off to make this journey, a day that was supposed to be about finding some semblance of closure, or at least confronting the loss you’d tucked away behind your work.

But you hadn’t been able to think only of your father. Your mind kept drifting back to Peter’s welcome back party the previous week. Where you sat at the table, Gideon’s words lingering in the air, the concept of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis feeling painfully apt in that moment.

“Everyone, this is Haley,” Hotch said, his voice carefully controlled. “We… we go way back.”

Only now you could clearly see at how Haley smiled, but her eyes were constantly on Hotch, her presence radiating a sense of ease that only came from years of knowing someone deeply. “It’s been a long time, Aaron,” she said, her tone gentle but layered with unspoken memories. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You watched the interaction with a heavy heart, feeling like an outsider in your own team. The connection between them was undeniable, and for a moment, you felt a pang of jealousy, a sharp twist in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You had just started to let your guard down with Hotch, to allow yourself to see him not just as your stoic coworker who would crack a joke every once in a while - but as someone you could trust, someone who understood you. And now, here was a piece of his past that you hadn’t been privy to, thrown in your face without warning.

As the evening wore on, you tried to engage, to laugh at Rossi’s jokes and nod along with Gideon’s stories, but your mind kept drifting back to Hotch and Haley. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of not knowing this part of him, of realizing that no matter how close you’d gotten, there were still walls between you.

At one point, Hotch caught your eye from across the table. His expression softened, a silent question in his gaze, as if he could sense your discomfort. But before he could say anything, Haley leaned in, pulling his attention back to her, and the moment passed.

Gideon, ever observant, leaned closer to you, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over you.

“You know, Y/N,” he said thoughtfully, tapping the cover of the book you’d bought for Hotch, “Hegel’s all about finding balance. Sometimes, the only way forward is to let go of what you thought you knew and embrace the contradictions.”

You nodded, but the words felt too close to home. You weren’t sure how to find balance in this moment, how to reconcile the sudden wave of emotions crashing over you. All you could do was hold on and hope that, somehow, things would make sense again.

Now your mind was buzzing with a mix of emotions: shock, confusion, and a sinking feeling of being completely blindsided. It was in the way Hotch and Haley exchanged glances, the comfortable proximity, the shared history etched in every small gesture. It hurt more than you’d ever thought it would, making everything sounded distant, muffled, like you were underwater.

The gathering had been a lively affair, full of laughter and shared stories, but a specific moment kept replaying in your mind: Haley’s warm smile as she said goodbye to Hotch, “It was really good to see you, Aaron, I’m glad you’re doing well. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

Hotch nodded, his expression warm yet tinged with a hint of sadness. “Yeah, Haley. Take care of yourself. See you around.”

With that, she gave a small wave to the table and headed back to her group of friends, leaving Hotch standing there, momentarily lost in the past. As he returned to his seat, you could see the way he was grappling with the emotions stirred up by the unexpected reunion. He caught your gaze briefly, offering a small, almost apologetic smile that only deepened your sense of uncertainty.

As she walked away, Rossi had thrown a smirk Hotch’s way, raising an eyebrow as he quipped, “So, old flames burning bright again?”

Hotch rolled his eyes, though there was a faint, embarrassed flush to his cheeks. “Rossi, don’t start,” he warned, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Rossi continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Haley’s quite a catch. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a little lovestruck.”

Hotch sighed, but there was a softness to his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. “It’s not like that, Dave. We… had our time. It just didn’t work out. She wanted a family, a stable life. I was too caught up in my career, trying to make it into the Bureau. We were just… heading in different directions.”

There was a pause as the table absorbed his words, the rare glimpse into Hotch’s personal life catching everyone a little off guard. You could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes, the acknowledgment of choices made and paths taken, and it resonated deeply with you. It wasn’t just about Haley; it was about the sacrifices, the regrets, and the constant pull between duty and desire.

You had stood on the sidelines, listening, and telling yourself it wasn’t jealousy you felt, but something else entirely. Hotch and Haley’s history was full of things you couldn’t touch, memories you couldn’t rewrite.

The ease between them that felt unreachable, at least for you. It highlighted your own struggles, the way you and Hotch danced around each other’s guarded edges, each too closed off and too stubborn for way too much to admit the walls you’d built were anything but necessary. You had worked hard to break through those barriers, inching closer to something that resembled real friendship with Hotch, but seeing him with Haley made it clear how far you still had to go.

One of your coworkers, ever the instigator, smirked and raised their glass, turning the conversation light again. “Ah, first loves. We’ve all been there, right? High school sweethearts, college crushes, and then… life happens.”

They nudged Peter playfully, their grin widening. “I bet you’ve got some stories, too. You and Y/N? Seems like you two have your own history.”

The comment, though playful, struck a chord. You could feel all eyes momentarily on you and Peter, the unspoken insinuations hanging in the air. Peter chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that belied the tension simmering beneath the surface. “Oh, come on, let’s not dig up the past. Y/N and I? We were just kids. We studied, we got into trouble, and then we grew up.”

Rossi, always enjoying a chance to stir the pot, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? ‘Just kids,’ huh? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Seems like more than just studying to me.”

Peter shot you a sideways glance, his smile both teasing and sincere. “Well, you know me, Dave. Always mixing business with pleasure.”

You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your ears. “Please, don’t encourage him. Peter was more like the annoying older brother I never asked for.”

The table erupted in laughter, and for a moment, the awkwardness eased. But underneath it all, there was a thread of unspoken tension, a reminder that you and Peter’s relationship, much like Hotch and Haley’s, was layered with complexities that no amount of jokes could untangle.

Hotch watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it understanding? Regret? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was clear he was processing his own thoughts amidst the lighthearted teasing. The parallels between his past and what was unfolding now weren’t lost on him.

Then memories shifted, drawing you deeper into the party’s ambiance: the clinking of glasses, the chatter of old friends reuniting, and Peter’s infectious laugh as he moved through the crowd.

You remembered the moment he found you in the corner of the room, handing you a glass of wine with a casual, “So, are you ever going to let me take you out on that date?”

You had laughed it off, deflecting with a joke. “You’d have to catch me when I’m not buried in case files.”

Peter’s smile had softened, and he leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes searching yours in that disarming way he had. “I’m patient. You know that.”

There it was, an offer that seemed perfect on paper. Peter was kind, funny, and someone you could talk to for hours without feeling the need to perform or pretend. He had always been a constant, someone who understood your messy family dynamics and never judged you for them. Yet, for reasons you couldn’t quite name, you had hesitated.

It wasn’t just fear that a relationship might ruin your friendship, though that was part of it. No, this hesitation was something deeper, something that had started to shift within you over the months you’d been at the BAU.

The job had changed you, had made you see the world differently, and maybe that change had rippled into the way you saw Peter, too. He was familiar, a comfort you could rely on, but when he looked at you with that earnestness, you felt a strange dissonance, like you were two notes that no longer harmonized as they once did.

You shook off the thought and turned back to the scenery, trying to refocus. The landscape outside shifted, becoming a blur of rolling hills and scattered houses, but all you could see were memories of the afternoons you’d spent with Peter.

He was a piece of your past that felt safe, steady, and uncomplicated. You remembered the day he’d chosen your mother as his thesis supervisor, the excitement in his eyes as he explained why.

“She’s brilliant,” he had told you, sitting at your kitchen table, his hands animated as he spoke. “I mean, I’ve read everything she’s published. Working with her is like… I don’t know, getting to play with a master.”

Your mother had smirked from the kitchen, where she was brewing tea. “I’m not sure if ‘play’ is the word I’d use,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m glad you’re eager. I could use someone with your enthusiasm.”

Those afternoons felt like moments frozen in time, filled with academic debates that stretched into the evening. You would sit with Peter, surrounded by books and papers, discussing everything from human behavior to obscure psychological theories. Your mother would occasionally join in, her sharp insights cutting through Peter’s eager optimism, and you would feel an odd sense of belonging, of being seen and understood in a way that was rare. You and Peter fit so easily then, like two pieces of a puzzle that made sense together.

So why now, when Peter had finally asked, did you feel that familiar comfort turn into something that almost felt suffocating? It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was something more complex, more tangled.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but whatever it was, it had kept you from saying yes. Part of you wondered if it had to do with the person you’d become at the BAU, the person who had learned to live in the shadows, to thrive on the unspoken and the unsolved. There was a distance between the you that Peter knew and the you that existed now, and you weren’t sure how to bridge that gap.

As the train chugged closer to Riverhead, you let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of your own thoughts settle in your chest. This trip was supposed to be about your father, about facing the memories you’d buried along with him. But as the scenery continued to blur outside your window, you realized it wasn’t just him you were here to confront. It was yourself, and all the tangled, unresolved things you’d left behind.

.

Back in his apartment, Hotch stood motionless in front of his closet, the faint hum of the city outside barely reaching his ears. It was supposed to be a simple, mindless task: changing out of his work clothes, slipping into something comfortable to signal the end of another long case. But that morning, the weight of the past lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating, refusing to be ignored. Seeing Haley again had shaken something loose inside him, memories that he had tried to bury beneath layers of duty, responsibility, and the unyielding armor of his carefully crafted stoicism.

He stared at the closet door as if it were a portal to another time, a past version of himself that he had spent years trying to forget. His hand hovered over a hanger, hesitating before he finally pulled the door open. He reached for a pair of sweatpants, the movement automatic, but his fingers brushed against something unexpected, something soft and familiar. He pulled it out, holding it up to the dim light of the room. It was an old pirate hat, worn and faded, buried at the back of the closet like a forgotten relic.

The sight of it was enough to send a rush of emotion coursing through him, his heart tightening with the weight of memories long left untouched. It was a small, silly thing - a costume piece from a high school play - but it held the echoes of a time when life had felt simpler, when love had been a lifeline rather than a distant, unattainable dream.

Hotch turned the hat over in his hands, his thumb tracing the worn edges. It felt lighter than he remembered, the fabric frayed but still holding the shape that had once made him feel like someone else - someone braver, someone who didn’t wake up every day terrified of what the morning might bring.

Holding it now, he was transported back to those days in high school, when he had first met Haley during their school’s production of The Pirates of Penzance. He could still remember the nerves that twisted his stomach into knots as he stepped onto the stage, feeling every bit the awkward, shy boy who never quite knew how to fit in.

His father’s presence loomed over every aspect of his life, a dark, volatile force that made every day feel like a minefield. Mornings were the worst; he’d wake up before dawn, his heart pounding with the dread that his father would already be up, the stale stench of whiskey on his breath and anger simmering just below the surface.

Every morning, Hotch would lie still in his bed, his ears straining to hear the slightest sound - a creaking floorboard, the clink of a bottle, the unmistakable thud of something heavy being thrown against the wall. He’d close his eyes tightly, his breath catching in his throat as he braced himself for the inevitable: the harsh sound of his father’s voice, slurred and laced with venom, cutting through the stillness of the house like a knife.

“You worthless piece of shit,” his father would sneer, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched. The insults were always the same, a relentless barrage of contempt that felt like punches to the gut. And sometimes, they were. The bruises left behind were easy to hide, but the fear lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

But then there was Haley.

Haley, with her bright smile and infectious laugh, had entered his life like a beam of light piercing through the darkness. She was everything his world was not: warm, kind, and unafraid to be herself. He could still see her as she had been that first day, standing backstage with an easy confidence that seemed to light up the entire room. He had been fumbling through his lines, tripping over words as he tried to keep his hands from shaking, feeling the familiar grip of anxiety clawing at his throat. But then she had turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Not bad, Hotchner,” she teased, her voice light and teasing, breaking through the wall of his self-doubt.

She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, her touch gentle but grounding. “But if you’re going to be a pirate, you’ve got to look the part.” She reached up and tilted the hat on his head, adjusting it with a flourish. “There. Much better.”

He had laughed then, a rare, unguarded sound that felt almost foreign to his own ears. It was a laugh born of something deeper than humor - it was relief, joy, and a sense of being seen in a way he never had been before. That moment had been the start of everything: the stolen glances, the whispered secrets shared between classes, the way she’d lean in close, her eyes bright with something that made the whole world seem less terrifying.

Haley became his first thought in the morning, replacing the dread that had once greeted him when he opened his eyes. Instead of the anxiety that his father would be there, ready to strike, his mind was filled with thoughts of her: the way she smiled, the sound of her voice, the softness of her lips whenever they kissed, the easy way she’d tease him about his nervousness on stage. She was his anchor, the one person who made him feel like he wasn’t drowning in his own fears.

Every morning, instead of waking up with his heart racing at the thought of his father’s rage, he’d wake up thinking of Haley. He’d think of their rehearsals, of the way she’d roll her eyes when he messed up a line but would always follow it with a grin that told him she was proud of him anyway. She had made him feel safe, like maybe, there was more to life than the fear that had defined his every waking moment.

Hotch hadn’t just fallen in love with Haley; he had clung to her like a lifeline. She was the first person who had shown him what it felt like to be cared for, to be valued for who he was, not for what he could endure. She was his sanctuary from the storm that raged inside his home, and for a while, she had made him believe that he could have something good, something real.

But as he stood there now, holding the hat, those memories were tinged with the bittersweet realization of what he had lost. The love that had once saved him had crumbled under the relentless weight of his ambition and the demands of his career.

He had chosen the Bureau, chosen to bury himself in the pursuit of justice, thinking that if he worked hard enough, if he dedicated himself to the job, he could finally be free of the shadows that haunted him.

But in the process, he had lost Haley. He had lost the last piece of innocence that had made him believe he could balance it all: love, career, and a future untangled from the pain of his past. Now, the hat felt like a symbol of everything he had tried to bury, a reminder of the boy he used to be and the love that had once made him feel whole.

Hotch closed his eyes, a wave of grief and regret washing over him as he placed the hat gently back in the closet. The memories of Haley, of the warmth she had brought into his life, were still there, but they were shrouded in the painful truth that he had let her slip away. He had spent so long running from the fear of his father, trying to replace it with something brighter, but in the end, he had pushed away the very thing that had saved him

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, jolting him back to the present. “Hotchner,” he said, masking the turmoil beneath his usual calm.

Gideon’s voice came through the line, urgent and clipped. “We’ve got a situation. A series of poisonings in Long Island, targeting public spaces. Libraries, parks, shopping centers. It’s escalating, and the unsub’s leaving messages. We need you here, now.”

Hotch glanced back at the pirate hat before slamming the closet shut. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he replied, shoving the memories aside as he grabbed his coat and headed out the door. There was no time to dwell on the past; the present demanded his full attention.

At the BAU, the team gathered around the conference table as Gideon outlined the details of the case. The poisonings were strategic, each attack aimed at places where people gathered, spreading panic through the community. The unsub’s taunts came in the form of cryptic messages, each one hinting at the next target.

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he scanned the crime scene photos, feeling the familiar pull of duty override everything else.

“We’re splitting up,” Gideon said, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Hotch, you and Peter will head to the latest crime scene. Rossi and I will cover the first.”

Hotch nodded, his face impassive as he gathered his things. He was already mentally mapping out the approach, compartmentalizing the emotional weight of the morning. But as they drove, Peter, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, tried to break the tension.

“You know, about that bet I won,” Peter began, glancing over at Hotch with a hint of a smile. “The date… with her. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it special.”

Hotch’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, his expression tightening at Peter’s words. The mention of you - the team member who had started to break through the cracks in his own carefully guarded exterior - sent a surge of conflicting emotions through him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Have you really thought this through?” Hotch asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “You and her, both in the field, both seeing the worst of what people are capable of… it’s not as easy as you think.”

Peter shrugged, trying to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a defensive edge creeping in. “We’ve always been good at separating things. She gets it - she’s smart, one of the smartest people I know. We can handle it.”

Hotch’s frustration boiled over, his tone sharpening. “It’s not about being smart, Peter. This job… it changes you. It gets into your head, your heart. And you’re fooling yourself if you think it won’t affect you both. What happens when you’re forced to make a choice - her safety or the job? How do you keep that from clouding your judgment?”

Peter’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked toward Hotch, the beginnings of anger flashing across his face. “You don’t think I know that? You think I haven’t thought about it every damn day since I realized I wanted more with her? At least I’m honest about where I stand. I’m not hiding behind this job like it’s the only thing that matters.”

The tension between them was palpable, the car’s interior charged with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. Hotch’s gaze remained fixed on the road, but his mind was racing. Peter’s words hit closer to home than he cared to admit, scraping against wounds that had never fully healed. Peter’s willingness to embrace his feelings, to take the leap Hotch had always hesitated to make, stung in a way that was hard to articulate.

“You don’t get it, Peter,” Hotch said finally, his voice quieter, more resigned. “You have no idea what it’s like to live with the consequences of those choices. I’ve seen what it does to people, how it tears them apart. This job… it doesn’t let you have a normal life, no matter how hard you try.”

Peter stared at him, searching for something in Hotch’s expression that he couldn’t quite find. “Maybe not. But I’d rather take the risk than spend my life wondering what could have been.”

They lapsed into silence, the argument left hanging between them, unresolved. Hotch felt the weight of Peter’s words settle heavily on his shoulders, mingling with the guilt and regret that had been simmering beneath the surface since seeing Haley again.

He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if he even had the right to. Peter’s defiance, his willingness to fight for what he wanted, was a painful reminder of the choices Hotch had made and the things he had lost in the process.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Hotch pushed all of it down, shoving the emotions into that familiar place he rarely let himself go. The crime scene was chaotic, with officers milling about, evidence markers scattered across the library floor.

Hotch’s keen eyes scanned the room, piecing together the unsub’s method, the subtle clues left behind. But something caught his attention: a bulletin board crowded with flyers and notes, too chaotic at first glance, but hiding something.

He moved closer, pulling back layers of paper until he found it: a cryptic message, written in neat, deliberate script. As he read the words, his blood ran cold, the implications settling like lead in his stomach.

The riddle painted a clear picture of the next target. Hotch’s hands trembled slightly as he stepped back, the reality sinking in.

Riverhead.

The place you were right now.

Without a word, Hotch turned and sprinted out of the building, his heart pounding with a fear that went far beyond the professional. This wasn’t just another case. It was personal, and every second mattered.

[hotchs-big-hands]

might be tmi but i desperately want to eat Aaron’s ass 😳 it’s so cute and he deserves it so much and ughhhh 😮‍💨

AAAA HELLO ANON YOU ARE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH AS ME CUZ BIG SAME I THINK ABT THAT SO MUCH

Ya girl has to write a blurb abt this too so ummmmm NSFW! minors DNI

gn!reader

We can easily say Aaron has most likely had a very vanilla sex life. I mean he was with Haley since high school and then dated Beth for a while, and in my opinion I doubt they really got too frisky with it.

So you and Aaron are together now and you’ve definitely been exploring kinks with him, stuff he’s never done before and he’s got a grasp of what he likes. You’re enthusiastic when you suck him off, taking him down to the base but also nuzzling and kissing his balls whilst you jerk him off. But on one particular occasion, as you’re messily sucking and kissing the underside of his balls, your tongue slips out to lick down and it just barely brushes against his perineum and he gasps out, hips thrusting upwards as his cock twitches. Neither of you expected such a reaction, and he takes a moment to recover and apologise- although he definitely doesn’t need to.

You can’t stop thinking about it but you haven’t brought it up to him. Your mind wanders though, you’d fantasised about rimming him but you didn’t want to bring it up and make him uncomfortable if he wasn’t into it as well. But that reaction… you had yet to admit to him you’d gotten yourself off thinking about it since it happened.

On the flip side, Aaron has been thinking about it nonstop ever since. Ever since he began dating you and your sex life turned adventurous, he had done a lot of research. And in turn, discovered things he had yet to bring up to you. Before you he had never even considered the prospect of anything being in or around his ass, but now he’d seen and read about certain things- watched certain things- and he suddenly had a desire to try some things out.

You’re making out, he’d just gotten out of the shower and returned to your shared bedroom where you all but attacked him with your mouth on his, hands grabbing at him until he has you straddling his lap. You can feel his clothed cock hardening against your inner thighs and when you part for oxygen, you lazily trace your fingers over his chest as your mouth opens and closes a few times, deep in thought about how you were going to bring up what you wanted to talk to him about. He notices and raises a brow at you and squeezes your hips.

“Everything alright, honey?” He asks quietly and you hum with a smile. You tell him you want to talk to him about something and he chuckles.

“As do I actually. Please, go ahead.”

And so you do, watching the micro-expressions form and change with every word you utter about what happened the other night, admitting you'd not been able to stop thinking about it since. He shakily laughs and for a moment you aren't sure if that's a good sign or not. But he tilts his head as he scratches his temple and you realise he's blushing.

"I... would be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about it ever since either." He admits and smirks a little. "I... I did some research on it. I wouldn't- uh, I wouldn't be opposed to trying it with you."

He grunts when you shudder with excitement, inadvertently grinding on his crotch and his hands return to squeezing your hips again.

And it's a while later when you're both stripped completely nude and your lips are pressing kisses all over his body, trailing down his chest and his soft, hairy stomach in the direction of his leaking cock. But you merely lift your mouth away and smirk at him, pressing a single kiss to the tip of his cock before you move down to his balls and nuzzle into them.

He jolts and makes a quiet noise of surprise when you pull at him and grab a pillow to prop under his hips, telling him to hold his legs back by hooking his hands around the back of his knees. He bites his lip and complies, creases forming across his stomach from the curled up position he's in and his leaking cock smears precum through his thick happy trail. And now you have access to it, his puckering little butthole. It makes you salivate, but you check in with Aaron to make sure he's still on board.

With a nod and quiet affirmation from him, you lay down on your stomach and your hands come to grip the backs of his hairy thighs firmly. You lean your head forward and he swallows thickly and as you press a kiss to his inner thigh, he gasps and you feel the muscles move under your hands. You press another kiss to the other thigh and smile when he gasps again. You begin kissing inwardly, closer and closer to where he anticipated your mouth and finally your mouth reaches his pucker. His eyes widen and his head falls back against the pillows and you press another kiss to it.

“Fuck… oh fuck…”

With a grin, you slip your tongue out and swipe at his hole and his body jolts with another gasp. You lick it again. Then again. You begin circling the hole with the tip of your tongue ever so slowly, then swipe it up to his perineum and press a kiss there as well. And when he feels your tongue slip inside the slightly more relaxed muscle, he moans oh so prettily. He feels your grip on his thighs tighten further, almost bruising, and you wiggle your tongue inside him. He can barely form words, a cacophony of noise pouring past his lips whilst you makeout with his rim.

Then, one of your hands moves to grip his shaft and the other massages his balls.

He knows he’s a goner, he’s not going to last long- embarrassingly so- but the increase of broken moans and whines as you work his body eagerly. You want him to cum, he can feel your excitement as he realises you’ve been rolling your hips into the mattress. He grips onto the back of his knees desperately, holding for dear life as his lower body begins to move. He’s fucking your hand, fucking your tongue. And you’re lapping it up with pure delight.

“Baby, I- I’m not gonna last-” he chokes out and you work faster, sucking on his pucker and swirling your thumb around the tip of his twitching, leaky cock. It’s all it takes to push him over the edge. He tenses, his hole tightening around your tongue and he moans your name brokenly whilst the pleasure ripples through his whole being. You jerk him through his orgasm, and he idly feels the spurts of cum hitting his stomach and chest. But he feels so far from it, floating in pleasure as his eyes scrunch closed.

He only comes back to earth when he feels you gently moving his hands from the back of his knees, gently straightening his legs out on the bed and stroking his thighs. He smiles at you softly through hazy eyes and you smirk. You want to clean up the mess on his body, with his permission of course. He groans softly and his spent cock twitches. He certainly won’t say no to that.

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

dick grayson instagram hcs

basics

we are pretending dick is not a cop in this because i said so!

he's a professional model but also does perform at a local circus as a special guest

he's not actually going to the olympics (yet) but the american team has been trying to contact him for the better part of the decade so maybe you can convince him to go

he's kind of like one of your friends who you think is chill and normal but then you go to their ig and you find out they're something of a local celebrity?

everybody in gotham already knew him as bruce wayne's son but also he went semi viral on tiktok and got a bunch of new fans (and some edits) out of it

he used to have a less serious pfp but his management convinced him to use this one instead

followers + following

obviously you're there

as well as his friends and family

he manages to get away with following the superheroes since i mean, basically everybody else does as well

also a lot of industry people that he meets, both for modeling and gymnastics/trapeze

highlights

he is an abuser of the story function

will spend any opportunity to brag about his pretty girlfriend and all of the dates and trips you guys go on

he is weirdly good at taking photos, will give you tips on how to pose to get your best angles

also he has a lot of fans so he likes to post a photo of you every once in a while to remind everyone that he's happily taken

will also repost your work related stuff to be like hey look at how cool my gf is at her job!

dude has a million highlights that he updates for the fashion weeks each year

a lot of photos of his looks, him meeting with certain designers, it's mostly his team who posts this

same thing with his shows in the sense that it's usually other people (including you) taking photos of him while he's performing

but this is a more personal venture of his so he asks everyone to send him the pics and he decides which ones to post

will also repost stories from fans who came to the show!

oooh this man posts the most jaw dropping photos of himself

he will have just woken up and post a photo that makes you think it's so unfair how perfect somebody can be

he just likes to post when he feels good about himself and i support!

haley and (i did not come up with a name for your guys' cat so you guys can have fun with that!) also have their own dedicated highlight

it is exactly as cute and wholesome as you would think it is

there are even more highlights if you keep on scrolling. he has highlights for each year's fashion weeks, as mentioned, as well as trips you guys have been on (the most recent is a trip to greece and italy!)

posts

once again he's one of those infuriating sort of famous people who are like fine as hell but they post just enough cute and relatable content that he actually seems like a real and very nice guy (fun fact, he is!)

you can tell immediately when he's been on a trip because he'll have at least 3 posts up and they're all of the same place

you guys are like the photo taking couple

if you weren't good at taking pics before you started dating, his skills definitely rub off on you

he'll do the thing where he gets you to pose for him so he can take a photo of you and then you take the same style of photo for him

it's disgusting you guys have matching photos on your feeds of each other

if it wasn't already common knowledge that you guys are dating, i can imagine the conspiracy theory videos being like guys they were in the same place? at the same time? and they took the same type of pics? i think they're dating

he loves cooking with you (while i personally think it would be really funny if he can't cook, in some of the comics they do mention that he can cook, but either way he enjoys cooking with you)

you guys are like the parent friends who host dinner at their place and there's usually a theme surrounding seasonal ingredients and everything's plated really well

you probably watch cooking shows together and are now you can't serve a dish without some microgreens or sliced radish on top or something

also yes he did plan the picnic and he's quite proud of it

he watched all of those charcuterie board hacks to make the flowers and fancy cheese arrangements

and there were chocolate dipped strawberries, champagne with glasses, and freshly baked cookies (alfred might have helped with that one)

also yes he does wear glasses!!!! only at home when he's reading or staring at a screen too long. his prescription's not that bad

———

jason ver.