#caregiver aaron hotchner

[alittleamongtheclouds]

Helps Me Too

Pairing: caregiver Aaron Hotchner and little reader

Tags/warning: sfw agere. Caregiver Aaron Hotchner little reader. Reader calls Aaron papa. Cuddles. Gentle Aaron. Comfort. Fluff. BAU reader. Pet names

Synopsis: It has been case after case and finishing up the paperwork, you start to regress.

A/N: this was posted on my AO3 under anonymous. This is strictly safe for work. Age regression, not age play.

You had been working lots and had a lot of paperwork you needed to get done. You were exhausted, overwhelmed and was looking forward to a few days off. However, in order for that to happen, you needed to finish the stack of papers on your desk and let Aaron finish his.

You couldn't help what was happening. you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, feeling yourself slip and starting to regress. You knew you needed Aaron. It was getting late and you hoped that he was almost done.

A few people were still in the office. You got up slowly from your desk and made your way to his office. You noticed that his door was slightly open and you gave a light knock.

Aaron was focused on getting his paperwork done, he didn't look up when he heard the knock. He just gave a short, but firm. "I'm busy, right now."

"Okay, papa." you spoke quietly, voice sounding childlike.

This caused Aaron's head to snap up and look towards the door. His eyes softened as he saw your exhausted face and slight pout as you turned to leave.

You never wanted to be a bother to him and you were always respectful of when he's working, even when you're regressing or as he can clearly see, regressed.

"Sweetheart" he spoke softly, causing you to turn back to him, looking at him with puppy dog eyes, he could tell you your trying not to cry. "Come here, honey." his voice gentle, but firm

Aaron pushed his chair back and watched as you tentatively made your way to him, still not wanting to be in the way, with all his work that needed to be done.

You didn't meant to, but you let out a sniffle, he carefully pulled you onto his lap, cradling you a bit. You started crying, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

"Sweet girl, I think it's time to go home, hm?" he soothed, running a hand up and down your back, comforting you.

"Papa's busy." you whispered.

"Right now, Papa needs to take care of his girl." Aaron kept his voice soft.

He focused on keeping his breathing steady when he heard you give a little hiccup,

"Bu-but-"

"Shhhhh." reaching up, he started to lightly running his fingers through your hair. "I know you don't like to be be in the way and you want to make sure everyone else is taken care of before your own needs. We have had a few stressful weeks. Sweetheart, you need to let go and regress. It has been almost two months. I miss it." you looked up and finally looked him in his eyes, a little shocked. Aaron couldn't help the little chuckle that he gave. "Papa likes taking care of his girl. It not only helps you relax, but it also helps me. Do you understand?" you nodded, giving a slight pout and he nods too. Aaron cupped your cheek, stroking it.

"Hold me?" you asked and Aaron nodded.

"I have three more files I need to do."

"I did mine." you said and smiled softly.

"Good girl."

Aaron helped you move so you were straddling him. He protectively wrapped his arm around you. You settled, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. When he was done, he looked down at you, half asleep.

"Okay, baby. Let's get home." he whispered, causing your eyes to flutter open and then closed again, earning a slight whine. "Once we get to the parking garage, I'll carry you to the car, okay?"

"Mmm" you nodded

Getting up, you rubbed your eyes with your fists. Aaron grabbed his stuff, and placed a guiding hand on your back, steadying you as you walked to your desk to grab your stuff. As promised, once you got to the parking garage, Aaron lifted you into his arms.

"Okay, honey. Almost at the car and then we'll be home." he whispered

"Love you, papa." you mumbled.

"I love you too, honey."

[littlespencereid]

Sick Days And Secrets Out

Content Warnings: Age regression (100% SFW), regression, soft caregiver/little dynamic, slow emotional processing, parental comfort, vulnerable and sick Reid, comfort-heavy, cranky and sick Little behavior, soft and subtle crush feelings (Hotch → Rossi)

Universe Explanation: This AU is set a few months after Spencer Reid’s kidnapping by Tobias Hankel. In this universe, Spencer is an age regressor who uses his regression to cope with trauma and past addiction. No one on the team knows about this except for Aaron Hotchner, who is not only Spencer’s caregiver during his Little time but also his adoptive father. In this timeline, Haley and Jack do not exist, and David Rossi has been part of the BAU from the beginning. Hotch and Rossi are not yet in a relationship, but Reid relentlessly teases his dad about his obvious crush.

Author’s Note: This one-shot is a softer, more domestic look into the “Little Tales of the Doctor” AU (yes—that’s what I’m calling it for now until something better comes along!). It focuses on a sick, cranky Little Spencer and the poor Dada just trying to hold things together when someone unexpectedly shows up at their door. It’s slow, fluffy, and full of quiet tension—especially since no one knows about Spencer’s regression but Hotch. Hope you enjoy it, and please remember to be kind—thoughtful feedback is always welcome! (This one is a little short, sorry T^T ).

Little Owls Still Get Sick Sometimes

The living room looked like a toddler had claimed it by force. Which, in a way, one had.

A tangle of blankets was cocooned on the couch, a plush owl poking out from one end and a mop of brown, sweat-damp curls from the other. The faint sound of an old Clifford the Big Red Dog rerun floated from the TV while a humidifier puffed mist nearby like a lazy dragon.

In the kitchen, Aaron Hotchner stirred a pot of bland chicken broth and rubbed his temples. His phone buzzed on the counter—again. Another agent update. Another voicemail. Another everything he’d been ignoring. He'd been ignoring everything and everyone.

Even David Fucking Rossi.

The BAU could function without him for a day or two. Spencer couldn’t.

“Dadaaaa.”

The whine was raspy and pathetic, coated in congestion and indignation.

Hotch sighed, turned off the stove, and returned to the couch. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Spencer—regressed, feverish, and thoroughly over it—poked his head out of the blanket burrito. His cheeks were flushed. His nose was red. His eyes, glassy and teary, narrowed in righteous fury.

“My show froze again,” he croaked. “It’s stupid, and I hate it, and nothing works, and I feel like shit!”

Hotch blinked. Slowly.

Spencer blinked back, equally slow. Then he paled more (if that was even humanly possible), as if he realized too late what he’d just said.

Aaron crossed his arms, trying to stay calm. “Language.”

“But I’m siiiiiick!” Spencer moaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “And the stupid owl’s cold, and I can’t breathe, and everything sucks!”

“Spencer.” Hotch crouched beside him. “You know that word’s for Big boys only. Even when you’re sick.”

Spencer groaned, dragging the owl plush over his face like a curtain. “You hate me,” he mumbled.

“I’m the one making you soup, bubba,” Aaron said softly. “Nice try.”

He reached out to ruffle Spencer’s hair, gently coaxing the plush aside. Spencer leaned into the touch instinctively. Cranky or not, sick or not—he always melted when Hotch gave him quiet, solid comfort.

Just as Hotch leaned in to check his temperature again, the doorbell rang.

Spencer flinched. “Nooo,” he whined. “Don’t want people. Just you.”

“I know, baby,” Hotch murmured. “Stay right here. I’ll handle it.”

He slipped toward the door, fingers brushing through his hair to look slightly more composed.

When he opened it, he froze.

Rossi stood on the porch, looking deeply concerned. And mildly frantic.

“Garcia said Reid’s really sick. And you canceled everything. Two days in a row. And, on top of all of that, you won't return my calls. What’s going on? Is he in the hospital? Is it something serious?”

Hotch swallowed hard. “He’s… It’s not that kind of sick.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “Aaron. You’re never this cagey unless something’s really wrong.”

Before Hotch could respond, a stuffy voice from the living room echoed: “Dadaaaa! You comin’? Close the dooor... 'M cold!”

Rossi blinked.

Hotch winced.

Silence.

Rossi stared.

Then, slowly, with furrowed brows, he stepped past Hotch into the house.

Spencer was sitting up on the couch now, bleary-eyed and frowning toward the doorway. When he saw Rossi, he froze.

His eyes widened. “...Uncle Dave?”

Oh shit, Hotch thought.

'Uncle Dave' was a Little Spencer nickname for Rossi. One that had never, ever been said out loud outside their house.

Rossi looked from Spencer to the owl plush to the apple juice sippy on the coffee table and back to Hotch.

Hotch shut the door and took a steadying breath.

“Okay,” he said, voice low. “There’s something you don’t know. About Spencer. And I’m asking you, as a friend and a colleague, to not react the way most people would.”

Rossi’s face softened with confusion. “What am I looking at here?”

“He’s… regressed,” Hotch said simply. “It’s a way to cope with trauma. A healthy way, Dave. It's mostly private, or at least we like to keep it private. I take care of him on another extra level when he regresses. Most of the time, he's not regressed. But he got sick, and sometimes... Most of the time, when he’s sick, he slips.”

Spencer was watching them both now with wide, worried eyes, clutching his owl like a shield.

“Did I mess up?” he whispered. “Was I ‘posed to pretend?”

Hotch immediately crossed the room and sat beside him. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Rossi was quiet. Very quiet.

Hotch looked up, heart in his throat, waiting for a reaction.

But when Rossi finally spoke, it was soft.

“...You’ve been doing this alone?”

Aaron nodded once. “It’s not a burden. I adopted him; he's my kid. I am more than happy to be the one he turns to.”

Rossi looked at Spencer again. Really looked. At the flushed cheeks, the vulnerable posture, the thumb absently near his mouth.

'That has to be bad for his teeth,' Rossi thought, already making a mental list of how he could spoil the sweet baby he saw in front of him.

“I... I had no idea,” he said quietly, not knowing how to respond without scaring Spencer.

“No one does,” Hotch replied. “We wanted it that way.”

Another silence.

Then Rossi, very gently, asked, “Can I sit?”

Spencer looked to Hotch, uncertain. Hotch gave him a nod.

The older man sat carefully on the edge of the couch. After a moment, Spencer scooted closer to Hotch and whispered, “M’tired.”

Hotch held out his arms. “Come here, lovebug.”

Spencer collapsed against him instantly, owl and all, face tucked into his neck.

As the cartoon resumed in the background, Rossi glanced at them, something unspoken in his expression.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

Hotch gave a half-smile, giggling as he cradled Spencer more into his lap. “Trust me, he gets sick more often than you think. Not my first rodeo.”

“He’s lucky.”

Aaron didn’t look at him. “Nah, I'm the lucky one.”

Rossi stood a while later to leave, pausing at the door.

“I won’t say anything,” he said. “You have my word.”

Hotch nodded, too tired to find words.

But as Rossi stepped out, he added quietly, “You’re not alone, Aaron. You shouldn’t have to be... I... I can babysit sometimes if you would like me to." He offered, smiling softly towards the father in front of him.

Aaron just smiled, nodding softly as Rossi left, closing the door softly so as not to wake up Spencer.

Then, Hotch—standing there, holding a feverish genius who still smelled faintly of applesauce and menthol rub—felt something shift inside him. Quietly. Deeply.

Something like hope.

Maybe even reciprocated love.

That, or Spencer's flu was passing onto him, and he was getting delusional.

Oh well, what could he do?

[softspace-fics]

It's okay, Dada's here.

A/N - My family and I had a argument last night and my friend comforted me and so I decided to make a oneshots of Loki helping a reader when their parents argue. 

Masterlist - All my work!

Warnings ⚠️: Mentions of screaming, G/N reader (no pronouns used, gender neutral nicknames), Mentions of Loki helping change reader, tears for a main part of the story, mentions of abusive household.

—--

Loki’s green glow shines through your blanket, and the energy in your room shifts. The screaming, slamming, and insults shared between your parents downstairs quiets. Your sobs and sniffles become louder to your ears, and your body shakes.

“Little one?” Loki asks as he quietly shuffles to sit next to you and pulls the blanket off your face, his face nothing but concern for you.

He gently picks you up and cradles you in his chest, rocking you, gently shushing you.

The muffled sobbing into his chest as you find comfort in his soothing voice and how he holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, how he knows just how much you need him.

How he uses his magic to make sure you can't hear how bad the fighting is getting downstairs, and how he protects you from the world that threatens to hurt you.

“Sweets, I'm going to take you back to my home. You can’t be here anymore.” Loki whispers softly, standing up and holding you protectively. 

Holding tightly onto him while he uses his beautiful green magic to take you back to his apartment in the tower.

He gently sets you down on his bed, crouching in front of you and wiping the tears off your face.

“Hey baby it's okay, you're safe here. No one can get you. The screamy is all done. No more.” Loki gently strokes your face, kissing your nose before getting up and getting you a change of clothes. 

He helps you to get changed into his shirt and a pair of shorts he had for you, before grabbing a paci and gently pushing it past your lips.

Picking you back up he gently rocks you as your tears finally stop and your breathing begins to even out. 

“T’ank you dada.. scre’min wa’ louds n scaries.” You mumble quietly under your breath, falling happily into your safe headspace.

“Always baby. You know you'll never be alone. Dada always has a space for you here. Even permanently if you wanted?” Loki gently pulls his head back to look at you.

“Nuh mores scre’min n b’eakin stuff?” You look up at him, tears building in your eyes once more.

“No more any of that. Dada will protect you.” Loki softly smiles, kissing your nose.

“Wanna lives wif dada..” You softly mutter.

“Then here you'll stay baby, don’t worry loves, Dada will make sure you never have to hear another one of their arguments.” Loki climbs into bed with you, safely tucking you into his chest and holding you protectively. Safe from anything that dares to take you from him.

[littlespacereader]

I saw that ur criminal minds agere fic is just one so here is my request

Daddy hoch x dada derek x little reader where something is bothering her but she regressed to a headspace where she is non verbal (she is always tiny in her headspace but today she was extra tiny) and they try to find out what's wrong but there gotta go to work but dont want to leave her alone so they go all to the Bau and after a while she falls asleep with her paci in mouth a stuffy under her arm a blankie in her hand and wrapped in a very big cozy weighet blanked 😍😍🥺

GET OUT OF HERE! Don’t actually because this fic is absolutely adorable!! I’m a sucker for a good CG!Hotch fic but CG!Morgan too!! I’m dead!! I absolutely love the ideas you added to the request so I made sure to include them all! I apologize for how long this took me to write. Between school and all the rewriting I’ve been doing it’s been a bit of a hassle. But I’m very happy with how this fic turned out! Please enjoy!! Thank you for the request!

Baby in the Bullpen 🍼🏢📄

Caregiver! Aaron Hotchner, Caregiver! Derek Morgan, & Fem Little! Reader

Tags - SFW!, hurt/comfort, hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses, pacifiers, sippy cups, low key mentions of pull-ups, BAU family

Nicknames - Princess, sweetheart, baby, sweet girl, Daddy for Hotch, Dada for Morgan

Picture a day where everything is perfect. It’s a perfect day where everything goes well and there’s no problem or pressure at all. Almost like you’ve been floating on a happy little cloud.

Today is not one of those days.

Today is a day where everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong. Like a rain cloud that’s only centered on you.

I knew the moment I woke up it was going to be one of those days. Snuggled between my Caregivers in a nice warm bed, what more could any Little ask for? But my alarm went off and off to work I went.

It wasn’t every day my Caregivers had the day off, so I was especially mad I had work while the two of them were home. But trying to match my schedule with theirs always seemed like an uphill battle.

I arrived to my job at the bookstore to a line, let me repeat, A LINE of angry customers! How you could possibly be angry in a bookstore is beyond me, but today wanted to test me to see my limits.

So there I stood, listening to one complaint after the other, all while trying to keep my composure.

My book came with scratches on the cover!

My book’s cover was supposed to be purple!

I didn’t like the ending!

You didn’t say it was a sad book!

Blah, Blah, Blah. All utterly stupid and pointless complaints that were more ridiculous than the next. Despite their ridiculous claims it’s began to ware me down with one right after the other.

I longed for the day to end, for my Caregivers, who were probably on each others nerve by now without me as their favorite buffer. The thought brought a smile to my face.

Then my manager came over and decided to ruin it all. “Y/N, I’m going to need you to stay later today. Elizabeth called in sick.”

“I can’t I have plans.” Do I actually have plans? No, nothing besides a nice early dinner and cuddling with my Caregivers. But she didn’t need to know that.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel them. You’re the only one here so you’re going to cover it.” And with that she walked away.

Suddenly I felt the weight of the day layered on again. I became overwhelmed with emotions I wasn’t allowed to have at the moment. I took my break and went into the restroom to pull myself together.

Frustrated tears fell from my eyes but I couldn’t break down now, not yet. I would have time for this when I got home. I just needed a minute and then I could go back out there and deal with everyone once again.

~~~

Morgan could see Y/N’s headlights going up the driveway before he heard the car door slam shut.

“Hotch, she’s home.” He called out to him, before the front door opened.

The moment Y/N entered the house, Morgan and Hotch immediately looked over. Morgan sat by the television and Hotch had popped out of kitchen. But immediately they could both see that something was wrong.

“Princess? You alright?” Morgan right away asked. His usual smile replaced with a worried look.

Y/N didn’t say a word. She just dropped her bags and started crying. Morgan jumped from the couch and quickly made his way over to her.

“Hey, hey, hey, what happened? What’s going on?” Morgan lifted the sad Little into his arms.

Y/N didn’t say a word, she just grabbed Morgan’s shirt like her life depended on it and cried. Hotch crossed the house, joining Morgan and Y/N at the door.

The two Caregivers shared a worried look. “What happened sweetheart?” Hotch tried to ask but still Y/N didn’t say a word. She just buried her head against Morgan’s chest and continued to sob.

Morgan began walking around the room with the Little in his arms, lighting bouncing and shushing her cries. One arm wraps around her back with his hand cradling her head.

Morgan and Hotch continue to share worried looks to one another as the two Caregivers turn their profiling sides on for a moment.

“She was supposed to be home at 3 right?”

“Yeah but she texted me saying they had to keep her there long.” Hotch replied.

“So a bad day at work?”

“This isn’t just from a bad day at work. This is a build up. We were gone all last week and now the first day of our break she has to work. Mix that with possibly a bad day and…” Hotch trailed on.

“Poor baby,” Morgan coos, “Missing your handsome Caregiver today huh?” He jokes hoping to get anything from his little one, but it doesn’t get a smile. Instead she just rests her head on his shoulder as tears still slip from her eyes.

Thankfully all the walking around bouncing seemed to work, at least a little bit. Y/N was no longer crying but she didn’t seem too happy either.

“There we go, no more tear gorgeous. You’re okay now. We’ve got you.” Morgan sat beside Hotch on the couch, pulling Y/N in his lap.

Hotch leaned over and wiped the remaining tears from her face. “It’s been a long day hasn’t it?” He asked but Y/N just cuddled closer to Morgan instead of answering.

All at once the two realized their baby was feeling a bit non verbal today. It didn’t happen often with Y/N, but when it did they knew she was feeling especially young.

“Not in the mood for talking? That’s okay princess. We’ve got you.” Morgan starts to say.

“How about this? How about we go upstairs and get changed out of these big uncomfortable clothes and into something a bit more comfortable? Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no.”

Morgan took her hand in his. After a moment of thinking he set a single squeeze. He looked to Hotch and nodded. “Alright, let’s get you changed.”

He stands and immediately smells something burning. “Aaron…you’re burning dinner again.” Hotch’s face dropped. He jumps up from the couch and runs into the kitchen.

Morgan smirked and shook his head. He carries Y/N upstairs and while chuckling, “It isn’t really a Daddy dinner if he didn’t burn it?” He joked. That got a small smile from Y/N. They were heading in the right direction.

Once in her light pink bedroom, he set her down on her bed and began going through her dresser drawer. “Okay, I think for you tonight we’re going to get you dressed in the absolute softest pajamas. And the absolute softest pajama you have arrrreeeeee these!”

He turned back to the bed to see Y/N sitting patiently with her favorite stuffie Sharky the shark in hand. “Ta-da!” He held up the fluffy pink long sleeve onesie complete with footed feet.

Y/N squeezes their stuffie as they took a moment of consideration. They decided with a simple nod of the head as a yes to Morgan and the footed onesie.

“Great! I thought I picked a good one,” he winked, “Now let’s get you changed for the night.”

Morgan helped Y/N take off their normal work attire and changed into the soft onesie and a pull-up for good measure. “There we are. Now let’s get your hair out of your face.” Morgan moved to get their hair tied and brush when there was a knock to the door.

~~~

Daddy walked in and he had that look on his face. You know, the look that says something’s wrong and he’s not happy about it.

“Derek I need to speak to you for a moment.”

That’s never a good thing.

“Y/N, we’ll be right outside the door okay? Just for a minute.” Dada reiterated.

My two Caregivers left the room and closed the door behind them. Then, once again, I was alone. The terrible feelings start to come back again.

Dada scared them away with his gentle rocking, shushing and jokes. He always knows how to make me feel better when I’m upset. But now my sadness was returning and with it fear. It’s never a good thing when your Caregivers go to talk about something first without you there.

I squeezed my shark stuffie a little tighter as I stared down the bedroom door. Was I in trouble? Was there trouble? My mind started to spiral with ideas.

It sounded like they were arguing, not with each other but about something. Again, that’s never a good thing to hear. My sadness took a backseat for a second as curiosity took the wheel. I hoped off my bed and walked over to the door with the hopes of maybe catching what they were talking about.

“Call them back and tell them we can’t. I mean you see the kind of night she’s having.”

“You don’t think I know that? *sigh* I tried everything, every excuse in the book. Rossi knows us, he knows Y/N. He wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t life or death, you know he wouldn’t.”

“So what are we going to do? She can’t be by herself tonight-“

I backed away from the door as I processed what they’re saying. Uncle Rossi called? That means they were going to the office. They’re leaving me.

The realization brought sadness back to the drivers seat. I walked back over to my bed and crawled under the covers. Maybe it’s better if I’m alone. I don’t want them! I don’t want anyone!

I cried into my shark stuffie as I heard the door open and close again. Then I heard the sound of footsteps over to my bed before I felt someone sit next to me.

“Sweetheart it’s okay. You don’t have to hide it’s just Daddy.” Hotch said as his hand rubbed the top of the blanket.

Okay maybe I was lying when I said I wanted to be alone…because I don’t. I want him to stay!

I peeked my head out from the blanket and was met with Daddy’s worried eyes. He opened his arms to me as a silent invitation, one I happily took. He brought me into his lap and hugged me close. I rested my head on his shoulder as tears fell from my eyes.

“There’s my sweet girl. Now, there’s something we need to talk about.”

The last scared me, and all at once I started crying some more as I shook my head no. I don’t want to hear the bad news.

“It’s okay, you didn’t hear it yet. It’s not a bad thing I promise. It’s just…a change of plans.” Hotch sighed as he began to rub my back to calm me down, “You see, Uncle Rossi called me and he really needs Dada and I to go to the office and work on something. Now normal I would rather you stay home and stay far away from the office. But I can see you really need Dada and I tonight so…you’re going to come to the office with us.”

My sniffles here and there stopped for a moment as I process what he was saying. I would come into the office with them?

I lifted my head off his shoulder and looked at him confused. I would go to his office, like this? And he was okay with it? I mean, his team knows about my regress. One of them even regresses too. Spencer and I are best friends because of it. But everyone else at the FBI doesn’t know.

I guess Daddy could see my confusing because he explained on. “It would only be us, just our team. It’s too late for everyone else to be at the office anyway. Just Aunt JJ, Aunt Emily, Aunt Penelope, Uncle Rossi and Spencer. No one else.”

That put my worries at ease, but it didn’t answer million other questions running through my mind. Before I really understood what was happening, he stood up and made his way over to the dresser.

He paused seeing my hair ties and brush sitting on top. Daddy chuckled, “It’s a good thing I stopped Dada before he brushed your hair. Isn’t that right?”

I mean he wasn’t lying. When it came to doing my hair, Hotch is my favorite person…well after Aunt Penelope, JJ and Emily of course. Morgan…he wasn’t the most gentle when it came to brushing my hair. He sat back on the bed and began to brush and tie my hair.

Once satisfied, he went to my closet and grabbed my usual Little to-go bag. He began packing it with the usuals some coloring books, crayons, toys, my pacifier, and a weighted blanket. But speaking of paci…

Immediately when I saw my favorite pacifier I whined and made grabbie hands for it. Daddy immediately held it up for me as if to say “is this want you want?” When I nodded my head yes repeatedly, he walked over and handed it to me.

I immediately popped it in and felt the rush of relief. There’s something about a paci that just melts away the stress. I held Sharkey close and closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the nice fuzzy feeling before it disappeared.

Daddy walked back over with a little pacifier clip. He wrapped it around and clipped it to my onesie so I wouldn’t lose it.

Dada popped in with a sippy cup on his hand. He handed it to Daddy before he zipped the bag up. I looked over at Dada and notice the new outfit he was wearing. Actually, now that I’m thinking that I notice Daddy was the same way. Out of their usual at home comfy clothes and back into their stupid work clothes.

“All set?” Hotch asked Morgan.

“Yeah I’m all set. Is she all good?”

“She’s all packed up and ready to go.”

Then they both looked back to me. I just squeezed Sharky and looked away. Dada walked over and kneeled down beside me.

“I know the last thing you want to do tonight is go out. But…” he dragged the but on, “Think of this whole thing like an adventure. Going undercover with your Caregivers at the FBI. You’re our Little agent tonight.”

I lifted my head up and met his eyes. That did sound cool the way he was saying it. I put my arms out to him and made grabby hands to be held.

He never needs to be told twice. He smiled, lifting me up into his arms. “Come on baby, let’s start our adventure.”

Dada carried me to the car with Daddy right behind. In Daddy’s arms, my backpack and his brief case in the other. Daddy hoping in the drivers seat while Dada buckled me into my seat. Once he hopped into the passenger seat, we were off.

The ride to the BAU wasn’t long at all, but with the emotionally exhausting day I’ve been having, I kept nodding off the whole drive. I really only woke up when the SUV came to a stop in the underground parking garage.

Daddy came to my side of the car, helping me with my seatbelt before I hoped out. It was weird seeing the parking garage so empty. Usually it would be filled with cars. Now it had our SUV and the others cars inside of it with the rest of the spots empty.

We made our way to the elevator. “Wanna press 15 for me sweetheart?” Hotch asked. I nodded and happily pressed the button. With that the doors close and we start to go up.

Once the doors opened I immediately started to feel shy. It’s very rare that I go out regressed like this, walking around in my onesie, stuffie in my hands and my paci in my mouth.

But today was a horrible, horrible day. And there was no way I was going to be much older than I am now.

I walk closer to Dada and grab his hand. He holds onto it tightly as I walk sort of hidden behind him.

Once in the bullpen Rossi greeted us. He began briefing Morgan and Hotch on what’s going on. All the big words fly over my head as I stay hidden against Dada’s side.

After a moment he turns and looks at me, “And hello my beautiful niece! How are you doing tonight? Out on a late night adventure?” Rossi smiles.

“She’s not feeling very talkative tonight David.” Hotch explains.

“Aw! That’s no problem. Whatever is most comfortable for my favorite niece in the whole world.” His kindness starts to bring me out of my shell a bit. I turn from Dada’s side to Rossi with a small smile across my face.

“She’s your only niece.” Morgan chuckles.

“Doesn’t make her any less my favorite.” Rossi winks towards me. Again I can’t help but smile.

With my free hand I lift Sharky up to Rossi to see. “Ahh! Well if it isn’t Sharky! He scared me! I thought there was a loose shark in here! You better keep an eye on him Y/N.” He winked.

Rossi looks back up towards Morgan and Hotch and explaining what they needed to do.

Morgan looks to me and squeezes my hand before letting it go, “Alright princess I gotta go do some work. You’re going to go with Daddy, okay? I’ll see you later.”

With a pat to my back and a kiss to the top of my forehead Dada he made a move to leave. But before he could I grabbed his hand again, a whine sounding behind my pacifier.

I could feel Daddy place a hand on my shoulder as Dada turned around and took his hand from me. “I know baby, I know. I promise I’ll be back soon. You stay with Daddy.” He tried to reassure but I shake my head no.

Tears fell from my face as I watched him walk into the middle of the bullpen and take a seat at his desk. I didn’t want this! I want to be home with the two of them!

Daddy picks me up and carried me towards his office, all while rubbing my back and trying to reassure me. Looking over his shoulder I could see the whole team gathering to talk about the case.

Aunt JJ and Emily stand next to Morgan’s desk chatting with him. Not unusual. What is unusual is Spencer. I’ve never seen Spencer outside of our headspaces before. Whenever we hang out he’s regressed with me. So seeing him working and being his usual adult self was an odd shock to my system.

But soon we were in Daddy’s office with the door shutting behind him. All at once the overwhelming office became less overwhelmed with just the two of us together.

He sat his briefcase down on his desk before crossing the office and taking a seat with me on his office couch. “It’s okay. I know, it’s a long day isn’t it? And it keeps getting longer. But I’m here and Dada’s just a few feet away. We’re here.”

Daddy spends a moment reassuring and comforting me. Once my tears stop falling he coaxes me to start to color at his coffee table. “Alright, Daddy’s got to go do some work and while I do why don’t you color a picture for Dada and I? If you need anything you just come over and I’ll help you.”

With a kiss to my forehead, he picked me up and placed me on the couch. He grabs my coloring book, my crayons and my sippy cup and places them all infront of me before he heads to his desk to work.

For a little while I try not to bother him as he types away on his computer and makes phone call after phone call. But after a picture or two I get a bit antsy. I want to be by him or Dada! Not at this stupid coffee table!

So, grabbing Sharky and my weighted blanket, I make my way over to Daddy at his desk. I round the desk and pull on his sleeve.

~~~

Hotch, who can’t even remember his name at the moment with the amount of work he has, snaps out of his fog when he feels a small tug on his sleeve.

Then a small smile creeps across his face as he sees the tired Little standing infront of him, rubbing their eyes with their fist, a yawn or two escaping behind their pacifier.

“Oh, Y/N. What’s the matter sweetheart?” He asks before remembering.

He takes a moment to look them over before asking, “You wanna go to bed sweetheart?” That gets a nod. “Okay, give me a second and I’ll get the couch set up for you.”

But before he even turns back to his computer, Y/N whiles and shakes her head no. That seemed to upset her.

Hotch turns to her once again, this time confused. She wants to sleep, but not on the couch. “What’s the matter honey?” He asked concerned.

Y/N, with tired tears in her eyes, reach out to him with her stuffie and blanket in her arms. Ohhhhhhh. Finally it kicks in.

“You wanna snuggle honey? Okay. Come here, let’s bundle you up first.” Y/N holds onto her shark as Hotch leans forward and wraps her weighted blanket around her. Then he picked her up like a little burrito and sits her on his lap. Her head rest comfortably against his chest as he wraps his arms around her.

“There you go. Comfy?” He asks getting a small nod in agreement. “Alright, you go to sleep. Daddy will be right here to protect you.” Hotch adds with a kiss to her forehead for good measure.

Hotch continues on working with Y/N peacefully sleeping in his arms. Her head pressed again his chest listening to his heart beat, her paci still in her mouth and her shark stuffie held tightly inside her blankie. She’s the most relaxed she had been all day.

An hour flew by before Hotch received a knock at his door. Garcia popped her head in to ask Hotch a question but that quickly flew out the window as she got a look at how adorable Y/N was.

“Oh my gosh!!! Look at her!!” She whispered, practically dying at the sight of Y/N peacefully sleep in Hotch’s arms.

Garcia couldn’t help herself and alerted everyone to the cute sight. Soon everyone was taking a break from their work to pop into Hotch’s office and see Y/N. They all cooed and awed at the adorable Little who only cuddled closer to her Caregiver.

Morgan smirks and rolls his eyes plays fully, “Hey! When is it my turn?”

“Your chances of being president of the FBI are better than you getting Y/N from my arms.” Hotch jokes back. Now that he had the sweet sleeping Little in his arms, he was not letting her go.

[captainhappyclaws]

More Halloween & little Reid! This time with papa Hotch <3

[aew-kun-age-regression]

m on season 2 of criminal minds with my mama- wanteds to make some CG Hotch stuff :p

[jester-jpeg]

can you do a hotch cg board? ^^ no pressure!

♯ hotchner !caregiver moodboard ೀ

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

thank you so much for the request!! i hope i did this justice, i always get so nervous making cg moodboards for some reason lol REQUESTS OPEN

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

[littlereaderxfandoms]

Scary Sweet

BAU x daddy! hotch x little!fem!reader

Summary : Reader loves her sweets and is not exactly keen on sharing them with others. Hotch doesn't know this but the others do.

Y/n was almost jumping with happiness when Hotch let her get an entire box of cookies while they were waiting to get on the jet at the airport after a long tiring case.

Everyone knew that y/n was Hotch's little and they usually spent the return flights with little y/n as you relaxed and played around.

Once on the plane, you were happily sat on your usual window seat with a movie and your cookies, draped in your favorite fluffy blanket while the others were scattered around with Hotch seated opposite to you and working on some paperwork.

About half way through the flight the Spencer, Morgan and Emily gathered around at the opposite end of the plane from you as they eyed your half-empty box of cookies.

"I really want one." Spencer pouted as he looked at you nibbling on your cookie with puppy eyes.

"Then go get one. " Emily shrugged as she eyes your cookies from the corner of her eyes.

"And if you come out alive, get us some too." Derek added as he unabashedly stared at your cookies.

"She will definitely let me have one but I'm not like you guys, " Spencer said with the fakest confidence. "I don't take kids' food. "

Derek and Emily scoffed at that. All of them know that if he even got the guts to ask you for one, you might just bite him. Like, literally. Derek learned it the hard way when Hotch had to stay back and Derek asked you for a piece of chocolate from the box you were carrying around. You bit his hand pretty hard and he had the marks even after the week-long case had ended.

They never dared to ask you for sweets ever again.

After some more time of them starring at the box of cookies, Emily sat up. "Okay, I'm going to ask for one. "

"If you get out alive, bring me one too. " Derek snorted.

"What's going on?" They turned to Hotch who had just got back from the kitchen area.

"Emily wants to try and ask y/n for a cookie. " Derek states with a snort while Spencer looks at him with his eyebrows raised.

"You do know what y/n is gonna do now that you just said that to Hotch right? " Spencer asks Derek with a raised eyebrow and giggles at the horrified expression on Derek's face and the confused one on Hotch.

"Explain." Hotch gives them a stern look, not understanding the situation.

"Derek, you should do this." Emily says as Spencer nods in agreement. Before he can protest, she explains that now that he is already gonna get it from you, why include them in the range of fire.

He sighs before explaining the situation to Hotch and how you had bitten him really hard. He also snitched about how scarily you had informed him that 'snitches get stitches' when he said he would tell on you, scaring him for life, along with the others.

By the end of the explanation, Hotch was already thinking about your punishment as he made his way back to you.

You looked up from your movie as your daddy took his seat again and shot him an innocent smile, unknowing of the trouble you were in. He asked you to take your headphones off and you did so after pausing your movie.

"Y/n, why don't you go share your cookies with the others, hmm?" Hotch asked, but you knew better. He was clearly not asking or suggesting but giving you an order in that form.

You looked down at your 5 remaining cookies and then at the others on the plane, who had mysteriously gone back to their places and were doing their own thing, before looking back at your daddy. You didn't want to share your cookies. They were yours.

You gave Hotch your best pout and puppy dog eyes, silently asking him not to make you give them away. However, after such a long time together, Hotch knew not to let them change his decision. He gave you a stern look before asking you to go and give everyone else a cookie.

You pouted but knew better than to argue after that look. You got up with a sigh and took your cookies over to the nearest person, who happened to be Spencer.

"Cookie? " You offered with the sweetest voice that made Hotch smile but he couldn't see the menacing look you were giving Spencer that made him give you a tight-lipped smile before refusing. You gave him a smile at that.

You loved Spencer to bits but there was no way you were about to let him have your sweets. They were yours and yours only. At least that is what you thought.

"Go ahead Spencer, take one. Y/n asked you so nicely, you can't say no to that. " Hotch said, raising an eyebrow at him because he knew Spencer wanted a cookie.

Derek and Emily giggled at Spencer's situation as you dared him to take a cookie while Hotch dared him not to take one. They were so glad to have taken a further seat from the cute couple.

Spencer gulped before deciding that it was better to listen to Hotch since he was the boss after all. He took a cookie, giving you a strained smile as he thanked you.

"Of course." You huff before turning back to your daddy, seeing him raise his eyebrow before pointing to the others on the plane.

You pouted, knowing there was no way out of this before making your way to Em, Derek, JJ, and Rossi. By the time you got back to your daddy, you only had one cookie left as Rossi had been sleeping. You give him your best puppy eyes, making him smile at your antics before inviting you to sit on his lap.

You are quick to follow his orders this time as you climb into his lap before snuggling into him. You look at him with the saddest puppy eyes as he takes your last cookie, before happily taking a bite when he feeds you the cookie.

As you cuddle into your daddy after finishing your last cookie, ready to fall asleep, he kisses your cheek before whispering into your ear.

"Sleep little one, I'll deal with your behavior when we get home."

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Heyy sorryy about the fem!reader issue!!! I read over the rules again😅

But can you do the request with gn!reader?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ candy rule ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹ [og request they’re referring to]

|| aaron hotcner x derek morgan x spencer reid x reader

warnings: reader breaking the rules, lots of talk of food/candy

-

It’s not that you don’t know what the rules are, you do, Reid even wrote them out on a laminated piece of paper so you could reference them whenever you needed. But you’re not great at following them, at least one of them.

Brushing your teeth, cleaning up your toys, holding one of your caregivers hands in public, you can follow all those and most other ones, it’s the candy rule you don’t like. Even before they became your caregivers the boys knew you had a killer sweet tooth, they’d seen how you and Garcia kept bags of treats tucked away in your bags, or how Jj always got you sugary coffee with carmel swirled in, so they knew it’d have to be a rule to cut back.

Spencer’s explained the importance of having a balanced diet and how too much sugar can lead to problems with your teeth or make your stomach upset. Aaron and Derek have also stressed that they know you get a bit more hyper when you’ve had a lot of sugar so they want to avoid the inevitable sugar crash that’d surely come afterwards.

It hasn’t stopped you, not fully. You’ve been careful to cut back and to not keep as many sweets around so you won’t reach for them, but there’s still a stash of chocolates sitting in the front pocket of your to-go bag.

It’s where you’ve pulled candy from as you sit beside Jj on the jets couch, she’s reading a book completely obviously to your rule breaking behavior, so it’s working out nicely for you.

“Ahem.” It’s not til Derek clears his throat that you notice he’s moved from where he was playing cards with Elle and is now standing in front of you. You can only stare up at him, there’s still a wrapper in your hand and half a piece of toffee filled chocolate in your mouth. There’s no getting out of this.

“Hi Der.” You give half a smile that does nothing to smooth over the look on Morgan’s face.

“Is that chocolate?” You can only hand the wrapper over, hoping the ones shoved into the front of your bag go unnoticed.

“You know you’ve already had your candy for the week.” The week rule has worked out nicely, you get a certain amount you can eat whenever you’d like and Aaron usually keeps track that you’re not going through it too fast as you’ll be upset by the end of the week with nothing left. It was finished two days ago and in your defense, the case you guys caught was long and hard so you think you deserve something extra.

“C’mon, let’s go find Hotch and Reid.” Derek sighs and holds his hand out for you which you gratefully take, at least this means he isn’t that mad at you. You’ve all talked over discipline and what breaking the rules mean in depth, none of your caregivers wanting to accidentally upset you or do something you’re not comfortable with.

“Hey sweetheart.” Aaron smiles up from his place beside Spencer, both of them sliding their respected books onto the small table as they take in Derek’s expression that reads less than impressed.

“What happened?” Hotch asks outright, he’s never one to dance around topics. Derek’s hand grips yours a little tighter, nodding for you to explain but also offering that extra bit of assurance that everything’s going to be okay.

“Was eatin’ candy that I wasn’t supposed to.” It’s more mumbled than you had hoped for but neither of the boys need you to repeat yourself, they simply nod then look over to Morgan.

“I think after this case we can go on easy on them, but we’re definitely taking those chocolates out of your bag. Mhm I saw those too.” Your mouth falls ajar at Derek’s head shake, not angry, a little teasing if you’re honest, but you know those candies will never be seen again.

“You wanna go with Der to clean out your bag or stay with us?” Reid asks and while you’re sure you’ll sit down and talk about this all once you’re home, you find comfort in not being bombarded with questions or yelling, and you’re able to breathe easy when Hotch lifts you to sit between him and Spencer.

[alittleamongtheclouds]

Pairing: caregiver JJ and little OC liaison Ali and Aaron Hotchner.

Tags/warning: sfw. Mama JJ Ali calls Hotch Papa. Crying. Sleepy little. Pacifier. Comfort.

Ali was the liaison for the team and accidently regressed on the way back from a case once and JJ had noticed, but didn't want to spoke the girl. So, she just sat with her, and let Ali do what she needed. After the two talked about JJ helping Ali when she needed.

This new case was a tough one, especially for Ali, she had to deal with the media and unhappy town folk this trip.

On a car ride home, Ali was in the car with JJ and Aaron and JJ knew it was only a matter of time before Ali slipped. The girl was already chewing on her fingers.

"Sir. I need you to not judge what's about to happen." JJ said and Hotch gave a quick glance.

"Alright" he said, not sure what was going to happen.

"It's okay, baby. If you need to slip, Hotch wont mind." JJ said looking back and Ali looked at her, eyes wide.

"Slip Mama?" the girl asked

"Mmhm." JJ nodded, giving a glance to Hotch, who immediately understood. "Okay?"

JJ watched as Ali fully let go and started to suck on her fingers. Hotch glanced in the rearview mirror and notched how content Ali finally looked.

Hotch pulled into a gas station and went to fill the tank while JJ came around to the trunk to grab a few things for Ali.

"How long have you been helping her?" Hotch asked

"About seven months. Usually she can wait until later, but this case was a lot for her. No one else on the team knows. She's a bit embarrassed."

"I understand. It's a perfectly normal coping mechanism and some therapists even recommend it."

JJ opened the trunk and Ali looked back and smiled. JJ smiled softly and grabbed the backpack. The blonde made her way to the back seat and Hotch closed the trunk.

"Hi honey" JJ lightly cooed and she unbuckled the girl for a moment. "Let's see, we've got your blankey and Oh." JJ lightly wrapped her hand around Ali's wrist and gently tugged the girls fingers away from her mouth.

Her girl started to whine, but as Mama gently shushed her, a pacifier was popped into her mouth. Ali's furrowed brow relaxed and JJ let out a soft laugh. Hotch got back in the car.

"That's better, huh?" she asked and the little girl nodded, but showed JJ her fingers that she was sucking on and let out a whimper. She looked at Hotch, and whined.

"Papa" she whined.

"Oh" JJ said unsure.

Both agents looked at each other. That was certainly unexpected. Suddenly Ali started to cry, clearly embarrassed.

Hotch got out of the drivers seat and opened the door on Ali's side. Looking at the distressed girl.

"Mama will clean those for you." Hotch soothed rubbing a hand on the girls back to calm her. Ali hiccupped. "Can Papa sit beside you too?" he whispered and Ali looked at him, big fat tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Come on, let's make room for Papa" JJ said and she slid over and Ali moved to the middle and Hotch got in, closing the door.

JJ grabbed a baby wipe and Hotch started to comb his fingers through Ali's hair, which seemed to calm her. Ali rubbed her eyes with the back of her clean hand, clearly sleepy.

"It was a tough case, huh, baby?" she soothed and girl nodded.

"You did such a good job, sweetheart." Hotch added, careful not to overstep.

"Mmhm. Mama and Papa are so proud of you." JJ tickled Ali's stomach and the girl let out a giggle and both agents seemed to let go of the breath they were holding.

Hotch grabbed a tissue and started to wipe Ali's nose. He was used to it with Jack, so it didn't bother him.

"Do you want Mama to stay back here with you?"

"Mama" Ali nodded and JJ smiled.

"No more being big." JJ rubbed her hand up and down her baby's back.

"Let's get you home, honey so you can get cozy." Hotch said. Ali tapped his shoulder and then her forehead.

"You want Papa to kiss your forehead?" JJ confirmed, combing her fingers through her hair and she nodded.

Hotch leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the girls forehead, which made her smile behind her pacifier. He then got back in the drivers seat. JJ buckled her little one up and they were back on the road.

[littlespencereid]

Little Owls Still Get Hurt ( Sometimes )

Content Warnings: Age regression ( 100% SFW), implied past drug use (Dilaudid), PTSD-related trauma, regression due to triggers, offscreen kidnapping reference (Hankel case), soft caregiver/little dynamic, slow emotional processing, parental comfort, vulnerable Reid, comfort-heavy

Universe Explanation: This AU is set a few months after Spencer Reid’s kidnapping by Tobias Hankel. In this universe, Spencer is an age regressor who uses his regression to cope with trauma and past addiction. No one on the team knows about this except for Aaron Hotchner, who is not only Spencer’s caregiver during his Little time, but also his adoptive father. In this timeline, Haley and Jack do not exist, and David Rossi has been part of the BAU from the beginning. Hotch and Rossi are not yet in a relationship, but Reid relentlessly teases his dad about his obvious crush.

Author’s Note: This is a slow, emotional one-shot focused on post-case comfort. It leans into SFW agere themes between Hotch and Spencer in a deeply nurturing, familial way. I took extra care to make this as gently immersive and detailed as possible. Enjoy the soft angst and gentle comfort, and please keep your rude comments to yourself. (Opinions are valid and welcomed!). I do plan on using the AU again, so, maybe you guys can help me come up with a name for this AU? Anyways, enjoy!

Little Owls Still Get Hurt Sometimes

The lights in the kitchen cast a warm, golden hue across the hardwood floor, spilling in soft, amber patches up the cabinets and over the wide dining table. The air smelled like garlic and herbs, thanks to Hotch’s insistence on making something homemade tonight—penne with a thick, savory tomato sauce and fresh basil on top. The kind of meal you made with two hands, not from a packet.

Reid sat curled in one of the wooden chairs, legs tucked beneath him, socked feet peeking out from the too-long cuffs of the gray sweatpants Hotch had bought him a week ago. He was in a halfway headspace tonight—not all the way little, but not exactly Big either. He’d stirred the sauce with Hotch earlier but got bored halfway through and wandered into the living room to quietly watch cartoons with the sound off.

He wasn’t very talkative tonight.

Not sad. Not exactly. Just…soft.

“You want cheese on top, baby owl?” Hotch asked, scooping pasta onto plates with quiet ease. His voice was gentle, but not in the overly sweet tone he used when Spencer was deep in Little space. Right now, Spencer was maybe ten, maybe twelve, somewhere in that liminal space where he could still huff at dad jokes and hide his face under his hoodie when Hotch teased him.

Spencer shrugged and mumbled, “Yeah… but only the good kind. The shreddy one.”

Hotch smiled as he moved to the fridge. “As opposed to… the ‘bad’ kind of cheese?”

“The square kind is for sandwiches,” Spencer declared with great disdain, his voice muffled as he buried his chin in the collar of his shirt. “It’s not fancy.”

Hotch chuckled, handing him the plate. “Well, good thing I live with a cheese connoisseur.”

They ate slowly at the table, the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling. Spencer kicked his foot rhythmically against the chair leg while picking at the edges of his garlic bread, and Hotch made sure to give him his space while still watching, still quietly anchoring him.

“Rossi said the new edition of that book you wanted is out,” Hotch said after a minute. “He said he’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Spencer blinked, then perked up slightly. “The revised history of the Zodiac Killer timelines?”

“That’s the one.”

“...Cool.” He took a bite of garlic bread. “You should invite him to dinner sometime.”

“Oh yeah?” Hotch raised a brow.

Spencer gave him a mischievous glance over his fork. “Yeah. But I’m not gonna be nice. I’m gonna ask him if he likes you back. And if he wants to marry you.”

Hotch exhaled through his nose and gave him a Look. “Spencer…”

“Daaaaad,” Spencer whined with a smirk. “You already adopted me, and you’ve already got a crush on him. That means you’re, like, halfway to being a rom-com. I’m just making sure we get the happy ending.”

Hotch was about to respond when his phone buzzed sharply against the kitchen counter. He stood, picked it up, and his expression immediately changed. All business.

He mouthed “Case,” and Spencer nodded, already wiping his mouth with a napkin. That was one of the rules. Even if he was Little-ish, if the team needed him, he had to shift into his Big headspace. It was hard sometimes—he didn’t always want to—but Hotch never pushed him if he couldn’t handle it.

But tonight, he could. He was tired, but he could.

“Gear up,” Hotch said gently after hanging up. “Local PD found three victims posed in a park in Albany, New York. Jet’s already being prepped. We leave in twenty.”

Spencer stood and tucked his hoodie tighter around himself. “Okay,” he said quietly.

And just like that, dinner was over. The softness set aside. For now.

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

The jet ride was mostly quiet.

They’d taken off just after nightfall, the cabin lit with dim, overhead lights that reflected soft shadows against the leather seats. Spencer sat near the window, long legs folded close, a soft blanket he’d taken from the house still tucked across his lap. Even in Big space, he needed something soft sometimes. Hotch didn’t say anything. He just made sure the blanket was washed and packed whenever they traveled.

The rest of the team was quiet but alert—Rossi already flipping through the preliminary files, Morgan reviewing crime scene photos, and Elle reading the local PD’s notes. JJ caught Spencer’s eye and gave him a warm, tired smile.

They were a team. They were his team. And even when he felt like he was drifting on the edge of himself, this—this closeness, this mutual understanding—helped him hold on.

Spencer did well during the briefing, rattling off stats and timelines with calm precision. He’d compartmentalized it, shoved the soft part of himself way down. There was no room for his Baby Owl self here. Not with a killer loose. Not when people were counting on him.

The case stretched three days. Three victims posed in different parks, all within a thirty-mile radius. Strangled, then left with their eyes closed and hands folded. Ritualistic, but not religious. Clean scenes. No DNA. But a timeline was forming, and it was Reid who pointed it out.

“Every victim had a past history with a specific drug clinic. Same one. Different years, different doctors, but that’s the link.”

That broke the case open. They found the clinic’s patient records. One name stood out. A man who’d lost his sister to an overdose. A man who’d been treated twice at the clinic, then disappeared from the system. They ran his name. A record popped up. Last known address pinged. They moved that night.

The takedown was meant to be clean.

It wasn’t.

The house was a crumbling two-story buried in an overgrown yard on the edge of a wooded patch. Local PD hung back while the team moved in.

Hotch led the front with Morgan and Rossi. Spencer slipped around to the back, circling the structure for any signs of movement. A faint light glowed from a basement window.

He crept down the steps.

The door creaked open.

What he saw made him freeze.

There was a woman—barely conscious—slumped against a metal cot, her arm tied off with a belt. A man hunched over her, holding a syringe filled with a clear, yellowish liquid. He was muttering to himself.

Spencer’s breath hitched.

He knew that smell.

Dilaudid.

For a moment, everything else dropped away. The fluorescent hum of the basement lights became a roar in his ears. The walls warped. His chest tightened. His lungs forgot how to expand.

“F..FBI!” He heard himself shout—but it was reflexive, robotic.

The man looked up, startled—and bolted. He shoved the cot hard, sending it crashing into Spencer. Spencer stumbled, hit the wall, saw a flash of movement—and then heard Rossi’s voice from behind.

“Spence! Move!”

Then the tackle. Hotch, out of nowhere, pinning the unsub with a thud. Cuffs. Screams. Silence.

The woman was safe.

The team moved quickly, wrapping the scene and calling EMTs. Spencer didn’t say a word the entire time. He just stood near the basement stairs, hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket, swaying slightly like a blade of grass in too much wind.

Hotch didn’t say anything.

He just stood close.

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

The jet ride home was quiet.

JJ offered Spencer a granola bar. He took it, turned it over in his hands, and then forgot it on the table.

When they landed, the others dispersed with murmured goodnights.

Spencer rode home with Hotch in silence, curled in the front seat with his hoodie up, socked feet tucked beneath him, and fists bunched into the fabric near his knees.

He didn’t speak the whole ride.

Hotch unlocked the door and held it open. Spencer padded in.

And the moment it closed behind them—

It hit.

All at once.

He dropped fast.

It was like watching a switch flip. One moment, Spencer was standing in the hallway, shoulders stiff, eyes glassy.

The next, he whimpered.

It was small. Barely a sound. But Hotch heard it.

“Sweetheart?” he said softly, stepping forward. “Reid? Baby, is everythin—”

Spencer’s face crumpled. His hands flew to his chest, fingers twisting the fabric of his hoodie as he made a distressed, broken little noise.

“Dad—,” he hiccupped, voice pitching high, already on the edge of tears. “Dada, I—I don’t—c’n’t—” His knees buckled.

Hotch caught him.

Held him tight, one hand splayed across his back, the other cradling the back of his head as Spencer pressed his face to his father’s chest and sobbed—silent, stuttered sobs that barely made sound but shook his whole body.

“I’ve got you,” Hotch whispered. “I’ve got you, my little owl. Dada’s here. You’re safe now. Shh…”

Spencer clung to him like a drowning boy.

They stood like that for several minutes. Just holding. Just breathing. Just being.

Then Hotch kissed his hair and said gently, “Let’s get you into the tub, sweetheart. You’ll feel better.”

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

Spencer didn’t let go of Hotch the entire walk to the bathroom.

His hands stayed curled in his father’s shirt, his face pressed into the space between Hotch’s collarbone and shoulder. No words. Just soft sniffles and little shudders, like his body was catching up to everything his mind had forced away during the case.

Hotch didn’t speak, didn’t push. He just carried him—slow, steady, patient.

Once they reached the bathroom, Hotch gently sat Spencer down on the closed toilet lid and crouched to start the bath.

The room filled with the soft sound of running water.

Spencer sat hunched over, sleeves pulled down over his hands, his knees drawn up like he wanted to disappear.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” Hotch asked softly, glancing over his shoulder.

Spencer blinked slowly. Then gave a tiny, exhausted nod.

Hotch adjusted the temperature—lukewarm, with a little warmth at the end—then added a splash of the vanilla and honey-scented bubble bath Spencer liked. The scent drifted up almost immediately, sweet and calming.

He turned off the water and turned to his boy. “Arms up, baby.”

Spencer obeyed without a word. Hotch lifted his hoodie gently, careful not to startle him, then peeled off the t-shirt underneath. He took his time, like always—slow, deliberate touches, no sudden movements.

When the clothes were off, Spencer stood on his own, letting Hotch help him into the tub.

The warmth seemed to melt some of the tension from his body.

But he didn’t talk.

He didn’t even play with the bubbles—just sat quietly, arms wrapped loosely around his knees, eyes watching the foam float around his legs.

Hotch sat on the side of the tub, rolling up his sleeves. “No duckies tonight?” he asked, a hopeful smile in his voice.

Spencer gave the smallest shake of his head. “Don’t feel like it.”

“That’s okay,” Hotch said. “Just sit back and let me take care of you, baby. You don’t have to do anything else.”

He washed him gently, running the soft cloth down his arms, behind his ears, along his neck. When he rinsed Spencer’s hair, the younger man closed his eyes and leaned into the touch like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

Afterward, Hotch wrapped him up in a thick, warm towel and held him for a few minutes right there on the bathroom bench, rocking slowly.

No rush.

No pressure.

Just love.

Back in the bedroom, the lights were low and the sound machine was already on—a quiet, steady hum that filled the silence with something soft and familiar.

Spencer wore his favorite pajamas: a well-worn cotton set with little moons and stars. He clutched his plush owl tightly to his chest, his thumb brushing over its worn wing.

Hotch turned down the covers and helped him into bed. Spencer crawled under the blanket without complaint but curled on his side facing the wall, thumb hovering near his mouth.

Hotch sat on the edge of the mattress, resting one hand on his boy’s back.

“I’m right here,” he said softly. “I'm not going anywhere. Not even my own room.”

There was a pause.

Then Spencer turned just slightly and whispered, “Dada?”

“Still here, my love.”

His voice trembled. “He had it. The same kind. The yellow top.”

Hotch nodded slowly, listening to his baby's words, everything coming together as he connected the points. Now he finally understood why Spencer —his Spencer— was acting that way. “I know.”

“I smelled it and I—I wanted it,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “Just for a second. My brain said it would help and I knew it wouldn’t, but I still—” His breath hitched. “I still wanted it.”

Hotch didn’t say anything at first. He just moved closer and gently wrapped an arm around his son, guiding Spencer to tuck into his side.

“You didn’t take it,” he said quietly. “You got away. That’s what matters.”

“But I still wanted it,” Spencer whispered. “Doesn’t that make me bad?”

“No,” Hotch said without hesitation. “It makes you human, baby. It means your brain remembers pain and thinks about what used to numb it. But you didn’t listen to that part. You were scared. And you were strong. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

Spencer hesitated.

Then curled tighter into Hotch’s chest.

“Love me anyway?” he mumbled.

“More than anything in the whole world,” Hotch replied.

There was a long pause. Then, sleepily, Spencer mumbled, “Even more than you love Uncle Rossi?”

Hotch snorted, caught off guard. “That’s not a fair question.”

Spencer cracked a tiny smile. “Thought so.”

Hotch kissed the top of his curls. “Yes, baby. Even more than Rossi.”

“Even though you wanna kiss his face?”

“I can love you both,” Hotch said with a smile. “One of you’s my son. The other’s... complicated.”

Spencer giggled softly, thumb slipping into his mouth. “You’re blushing.”

Hotch covered his face for a moment, then reached down and tugged the blanket over both of them.

“You little gremlin.”

“I’m your gremlin,” Spencer mumbled, words slurring with sleep.

Hotch brushed his hair back. “Yes, sweetheart. Always.”

Spencer sighed, curling close, finally—finally—safe enough to rest.

Hotch held him close, listening to his breathing even out, and let his eyes close, too.

There was still pain. There were still bad memories.

But there was also this.

Safety.

Warmth.

Home.

And love.

So much love.

[tommytheglamorousedinosaur]

Being Aaron Hotchner’s sweet baby

All images from Pinterest

[littlespacereader]

Hi! Could you maybe do cg!Hotch headcannons? Gender neutral little who works at the bau (no diapers) with little ages around 2-4 ❤️

CG HOTCH OWNS MY SOUL!! I remember starting Criminal minds and after watching an episode I was like “Yup that man is a Caregiver and no one can change my mind.”😂😂 I hope you don’t mind, I did a strictly Caregiver Hotch Headcannon meaning there’s little to no mention of the others from criminal minds on here. I wanted to focus on his character and give the best Headcannons I could for him!😄 I hope you enjoy!! Thank you for your request @teddysterk !!💞

Caregiver Aaron Hotchner Headcannons

TW- mentions of FBI work and everything that entails, mention of nightmares and (spoilers) past trauma from Hotch loosing his family.

Being the youngest at the BAU already earns you the nickname kid and kiddo without them getting to know know you. Oh how they truly don’t know how close to home the nickname is for you.

When you’re an agent at the BAU you get a lot of perks. But the disadvantage? You have to live with what you’ve seen. It’s either unhealthy coping mechanisms or healthy ones. Luckily for Y/N, they choose one of the healthiest one there’s is, Regression.

Your regression is TOP SECRET. The team already think of you as a kid so they don’t need your regression to prove it even more. But what Y/N doesn’t know is someone is already onto them.

Hotch has been and always will be coined as the token Dad of the BAU family. Not only is he their boss but he takes care of them and makes sure they’re all doing okay. So when he starts to notice a particular case getting to Y/N. He steps in to make sure they’re okay.

He doesn’t embarrass them infront of the team. But he begins to notice small things about them that peaks his worries. He can’t turn off being a profiler, after all it’s his job, so when he starts to really take notice of Y/N, he thinks he’s stumbled upon a Regressor.

Hotch, being an educated man, knows about age regression. He’s seen some victims regress and even fellow colleagues from years ago regress. But he hasn’t been around a Regressor as young or as close to him as Y/N.

So one day when it’s just him and Y/N in the office. He brings the subject up. He put Y/N’s worried right away at bay, letting them know from the start that their regression is okay and that it would change nothing about their status on the team and would be between the two of them.

Maybe hiding it for so long wasn’t the best choice because after Hotch explains it to Y/N, they begin to break down and regress.

Hotch immediately swoops in and takes over, wrapping Y/N in a tight but gentle hug, shushing and reassuring them that’s it’s okay, and that their regression is valid.

After that night though, Y/N regression seemed pulled to Hotch, feeling comfortable and safe around him.

So one night, when everyone’s left again, Y/N walks into Y/N’s office and ask if he would be their Caregiver.

Hotch smile, something only Y/N seems to pull from him, and happily accepts. He then becomes their Caregiver both on and off cases.

Hotch as Y/N’s Caregiver is both similar and different to how he is on the team.

For one, he stern but a softie as well. He big on rules but he also is a softie when Y/N gets upset after breaking one or really really wants something.

He’s a terrible cook. He tries, he really does to be a good cook and make nice meals for the two of them but it usually ends up burnt and the kitchen full of smoke.

*The smoke detectors go off while Y/N sits in the living room. They run into the kitchen with a fire extinguisher and spray Hotch more than the burnt chicken*

When they’re on cases together, Hotch can know just by one glance whether you’re feeling Little or not. He’s developed a knack for the little things you do when you start to regress.

No one is allowed to touch Hotch’s brief case. For one he has classified files in there. But two, he also has your little gear inside incase you regress while they’re on a case. Inside he has a pacifier, some fidget toys, a small palm size plushie, and even some snacks.

Back at the BAU office, he has a whole drawer dedicated to you. Some blankets, coloring books and crayons, sippy cups, pacifiers, small animal figures. You name it, he has it. He likes to be prepared whenever you need to regress.

Sometimes you start to regress at work, right before the two of you leave. That’s fine with Hotch! He closes the door to his office, wraps you in a blanket and gets everything set up so you can feel safe to regress while he works.

He’s definitely the type of CG that would buckle you up in the car and go: “There we go. All buckled up and safe.”

He’s the king of forehead kisses. On and off cases, in and out of regression. It’s his way of reassuring or comforting you.

He’s also huge on holding your hand when you’re regressed. He likes to have you safe and next to him when you’re both out of the house. It’s not just security for you, but also reassurance for him. As you walks he’ll tend to rub his thumb against your knuckles as small gesture to himself that your next to him and okay.

Being in the FBI for all these years his biggest fear is someone trying to hurt you to get to him. It happened to him once, taking out his entire family, but he will NEVER let it happen again with you. You come to realize you something’s have to be patient with him, knowing his trauma.

Love to read to you before bed. It’s not only a nice way to send Y/N off to sleep, but also to help relax the two of you away from your thoughts of work.

He’s the type to wake up to any little noise. If you cry out in your sleep, wake up to grab some water, whatever it is he’s up in two seconds. He’s not a deep sleeper.

He’s also the type that can see through it all. Any kind of lie or act you try to play, he sees through you like a window. “Where’s your vegetables?” “Oh I ate them…” “You ate them?” “Yeah…” “Really? So if I checked the garbage disposal it wouldn’t-…” “Waitwaitwait!”

Always make sure you have your comfort items close at all times incase you could need them, including fidget toys.

Very outdoorsy! Whether it’s taking you to the park, riding your bikes or simply just playing in his backyard together. Hotch loves to be outdoors with his little one.

When you cry or get upset, Hotch swoops in. He gently hold you in his arms, slightly rocking the two of you as he reassures and shushes your worries away. “You okay. Just let it all out. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Working from home with him becomes an impossible task with a regressed Y/N coming up to him every minute. “Look at my toy lion!” “Can I have a snack?” “What’s this paper say?” “Can I draw on your papers?” “Come watch Bluey with me! I wanna cuddle.” He doesn’t really end up doing much work, not that he minds at all.

At the end of the day, Hotch may seem like a stern and yet protective boss to everyone at the BAU, but to you, he’s a gentle, caring and loving Caregiver who finds your regression an escape for you and him to enjoy.

[aew-kun-age-regression]

Hey! I love your blog and your blog has really helped me be more open about my age regression. Would you be open to write a story about cg!hotch X cg!reid X little reader? Thanks have a great day💕

Hii!! I am sooo sorry this took so long!! I was having really bad writers block and then I completely forgot about all the story requests I had!!

I'm so glad my blog has helped you with your age regression!! <3

I hope this is okay 😅

"At work.."

Pairings: Caregiver!Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid x Little!Reader.

Summary: You slip at work, lucky your caregivers are there to help.

Warnings: the briefest mentions of a case revolving children, nicknames (daddy, dada, sweetheart, sweetie, bub, kiddo.)

Daddy - Hotch

Dada - Reid

(Gender Neutral Reader)

‼️ THIS IS NOT NSFW ‼️

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NOT Proofread

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You were currently sat at your desk. It was one of the rare days that the bau were in the office, working on paperwork.

You'd been slipping all day and we're finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the folder that sat currently in front of you.

The bau were unaware that you were a regressor. Well apart from Spencer Reid and Aaron Hotchner. They both knew. They had become your caregivers.

Hotch was the first to know after he found you in a cupboard in a hotel after a particularly hard case involving children, he'd noticed how upset you'd been during the case and was originally going to just check up on you, but upon finding you crying, with a pacifier in your mouth he'd had a change of plans. He spent that evening watching over you and then proceeded to approach you on the topic in the morning when you were no longer small.

Spencer had found out soon after. He was good at profiling and had noticed your childlike innocence. He spoke to Hotch who in turn spoke to him about the situation, asking Reid not to mention this to anyone else.

Soon after that interaction there was an incident where you had slipped at work. Hotch was too busy to be able to watch you so Spence volunteered. You ended up having lots of fun with him. And so from that point on both Hotch and Spencer became your caregivers.

Spencer approached you slowly.

"Sweetheart you feeling small..?" He asked you quietly.

You looked up panicked.

"it's okay sweetie.. it's just dada.."

You nodded, tears in your eyes.

"oh it's okay bub.. Do you wanna go see Daddy??"

You nodded again.

Spencer gently took your hand in his own and led you to Hotch's office, knocking gently on the door.

A simple "come in" from Hotch was all it took before Spencer guided you into the room.

"Reid?? What's wrong??" Hotch asked upon seeing you holding his hand.

"They slipped whilst doing some paperwork and I thought it would be best for them to calm down and be regressed in here instead of in the open.." Spencer spoke looking to Hotch.

Hotch gently hugged you.

"do you want to do some colouring kiddo?"

You nodded eagerly.

Aaron took your hand from Reid.

"can you go get their regression bag from the boot of my car??"

"of course"

Reid left to go get your bag whilst Hotch got you settled on the couch in his office.

"now daddy has to carry on working but I'll be in here with you, yeah?"

"mhm.."

"okay Sweetheart."

Reid came back quickly, knocking on the door and then slipping in. He placed the bag down next to you and kissed your forehead.

"I'm going to get back to work before the others start asking questions. Have fun okay bub?"

"okii dada!!"

"okay Reid."

You and Hotch answered.

You ended up colouring 4 different pictures, you chose to do two for each of your caregivers. Labeling 'dada' and 'daddy' on the respective colourings.

Hotch decided to drive both you and Spencer back to Reid's house.

Hotch made you dinner whilst Spencer sat with you reading.

You fell asleep calmly knowing that your caregivers would always be there to help you when needed.

[jester-jpeg]

do you have cg rossi and little hotch/nf? I feel like it'd be sorta cute

:: little hotch + cg rossi moodboard .ᐟ ✦ ::

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here’s you go <33 tysm for the request i’m sorry it took a while :(

i stg i posted this already response already though, i have vivid memories of me typing out a couple headcanons for you. anyways, here u go, i’m super duper tired so i’m not gonna do the hcs again, i might type them in the comments later. REQUESTS OPEN (also plz go do my poll)

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[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

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