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write-tama · 10 months ago

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"hank.. what am i feeling right now?"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞��❥ connor anderson (4k800) x officer!reader

sypnosis ; connor is very interested in an officer who just joined the police force. after being told the news that they would be joining the team, connor just had to make an acquaintance with them. anything to hear their voice.

containing ; use of you/yours and they/them pronouns! connor struggling to process emotions. hank being a proud father.

author’s note ; hihi! havent written for connor in SO long so i thought this was a cute little way of them meeting each other. connor is a

04.12.24 | 1.9k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everyone knew about the infamous RK800.

The last most developed and intelligent android produced by Cyberlife.

A machine built to hunt its prey and to always accomplish his mission.

But now?

A confused man sitting at his desk, elbows on the surface as he ran the fourth diagnostic this morning.

Connor was never really taught how to feel his emotions, considering that he was forced to compress them from the moment he was made. If he were to feel any sort of emotion, it was either to the scrap factory for him or a hard lecture from Amanda.

But Amanda was gone, and androids were free to express any emotion they pleased.

It’s been weeks since Markus hit the headlines for his famous android revolution. He worked with the government extensively to pass bills in order to settle android rights for the country. Connor, on the other hand, continued to work with the DPD as a full-on detective under the supervision of Liutenant Hank Anderson. Hank was more than just a coworker, but a father figure to Connor. And that brought Connor joy, an emotion Connor was well aquainted of.

But not the feeling he was experiencing now.

Connor couldn��t get his mind off a certain someone who had joined the team a bit before the revolution. You had joined a week prior, and honestly, you were kind of regretting it. As android and human tensions rose, you were on duty 24/7. Originally, you were supposed to start easy with basic patrol around a part of a city, but because you were so impatient in doing the “big kid stuff” you found yourself frequently in the middle of the android and human discourse. Your shifts nearly lasted twelve hours, and you would be absolutely exhausted.

Things are different now. Sure, there were still some situations between the two sides, but it was definitely peace compared to literal boycotts. You sat at your desk idly scrolling through your past cases, making sure that all the information was correct and accurate. On the other side of your desk was a tablet full of notes you had taken after some cases you had to deal with. What you didn’t notice was the android detective constantly glancing at you, watching your every move to see if maybe, at some point, you would notice him.

A loud groan echoing from the desk in front of Connor made him jump, immediately turning his attention to his lieutenant taking a seat in his chair. “Fucking hell..” Hank sighed. “Fowler does nothing but my bust my balls these days, huh?” Connor stared at his partner with his hands folded in his lap and eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“It’s nothing too serious. Fowler just wants me to take the rookie on our next homicide case. He insisted that they would be a perfect addition to the team or whatever.” Hank groaned. “Now I’m responsible for two of you fucks.”

Connor, admittedly, felt his thirium pump racing. You? As part of the team? It was almost like he could overheat and shutdown momentarily right now. “I think they would be a great addition to the team.” Connor stated, biting back from smiling. “They have an excellent track record of solving cases in an orderly and timely manner, has caught every perpretrator with their undercover skills, and had a reputation back in their training classes as one of the top students.” He explained. Hank looked over as he was slouched in his seat with arms folded across his chest.

“Jesus, Connor, you sound like some creep searching up their name on Google.” Hank scoffed, half smiling. Though this caught Connor a little off— was he being creepy? He didn’t want to leave a bad impression on you, especially now that you're about to meet for the first time. His face scrunched up in anxiety, feeling as if he made a mistake. Hank immediately took notice and sat up. “Ah— I was just joking, Connor. I’m sure you have uh.. Good intentions.” Hank reassured, though he never said he was exactly good at it.

Hank looked over to you, seeing that you were preoccupied with work despite the fact you haven’t been on a case in a few days now. Hank looked at Connor. “Well.. Why don’t you introduce yourself to them.” Hank suggested, nodding his head over to you.

Connor immediately jolted his head up, a little wide-eyed to even suggest such. “O-Of course.” Connor stuttered out. Connor never stuttered, and though Hank was in a mood after his exchange with Fowler, he certainly didn’t leave that unnoticed.

“Did you just stutter?” Hank asked, a little amused. “Are you.. Nervous?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” Connor replied as steadily as possible. “I am an android.”

“Connor.”

“Yes?” Connor replied, mindlessly.

“You’re a deviant, for fucks sake.”

“Oh.”

Connor, to avoid anymore embarassment from the man he deemed his father figure, swiftly got up and started to approach you. Hank watched in pure amusement, not even wanting to stop the boy from probably embarassing himself even further, but at least Hank had some faith in him. He is Detroit’s best god damn detective.

“Hello, Officer (l/n). My name is Connor. It is nice to meet you.” Connor said, putting his hand out for a shake. You looked up from your computer screen only to be met with the most chocolate eyes you’ve ever had the privilege of being in the prescence of. He smiled politely, but behind that smile he thanked Elijah that androids could not sweat, otherwise you would’ve felt the claminess of his palm.

You took his hand and shook it firmly. “A pleasure to make your aquaintance. My name is (y/n).” You smiled generously, and wow, did Connor felt like his pump couldn’t get any faster.. He cleared his throat before darting his eyes to the unoccupied chair that sat next to your desk.

“May I?” Connor asked, gesturing towards the seat.

“Of course, I’m not doing much anyway.” You nodded. Connor took a seat, and for some reason, he struggled to even maintain his balance as he sat himself down. He nearly had to think about how to fold his hands before placing them firmly on his laps and looking at you. Thankfully, you barely realized any sort of struggle as you looked away to take a swig of your morning coffee.

“So..” you said, clasping your hands. “Am I in trouble or anything?” you joked. Connor immediately shot his head up, worried he had made the wrong impression.

“Oh, no— I—” Before Connor could sputter out an explanation, you tilted your head a little and started laughing.

“Relax! I was just kidding!” You playfully waved off. Connor’s shoulders immediately relaxed as a breath he didn’t even know he was holding back escaped his lips. You looked at him curiously, a smile still resting on your face.

“I’m sorry. Usually, I am not like this.” He said, shaking his head a little in embarassment. He was always on his A game and constantly prepared. Why were you the reason for this disruption. “I.. Uh..” He couldn’t think of anymore to say. Suddenly, he got a message through his LED.

NEW MESSAGE:

HANK: tell them u think theyre pretty.

Connor blinked a bit, registering the text message. Hank was at a perfect view watching this unfold. The back of your head was visible but he could see all of Connor’s reactions, who desperately tried to maintain a polite smile.

“I think you’re very pretty, (y/n).” Connor complimented.

“Oh— ah—” A subtle blush began to form on your cheeks as your eyes widen a little, not expecting a compliment from a handsome android such as Connor. “Why thank you, Connor. I wasn’t expecting that as our first conversation.” You chuckled a little. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Thirium was rushing through his circuits and to his cheeks. The faintest color of blue appeared dusted on his face. “Thank you.” He maintained a calm, neutral voice. They stared at each other for a minute, sort of registering the sort of corny first conversation the two of you had.

“Ah.. I almost forgot to mention.” Connor snapped back to reality. “I came here to introduce myself sfter I heard that you were joining our team on our next investigation. It’s good to make an aquaintance with our future team member.” Connor smiled politely.

“Why thank you. I am very excited to work with you and Lieutenant Anderson.” You nodded. “Though I will miss working with Gavin and Chris’ team.”

Ah, that’s right. You used to work with Gavin. It almost left a bad taste in Connor’s mouth knowing that Gavin probably spat some awful opinions about him to you. Though from the looks of it, you were enjoying your conversation with him which eased him.

“I promise we will a provide a welcoming and safe space in our team, and of course, to make sure you don’t come into harms way.” Connor assured. Though he was mainly promising this to you personally. God forbids Connor seeing you get hurt.

“Why thank you, Connor.” You said, tilting your head. Connor was rather intriguing to you— an android acting this way around you. His LED constantly switched between yellow and blue as if he was making sure to process every word you uttered. Yet he was so human— he would scratch the back of his neck, fidget with his fingers, and shuffle a bit in his seat. You would think someone as advanced as him would at least be able to have a composure, but he was different. It was something you admired about him.

“(l/n), in my office!” Captain Fowler called from the balcony of his room. You looked over to Connor before sighing.

“Well, boss is calling me. I’ll talk to you afterwards?” You suggested as you stood from your seat.

“Of course.” Connor replied, shielding his excitement. He stood up from his chair as well. “I’d be happy to talk again, (y/n).”

“Likewise.” You winked. With that, you left your desk and headed straight to Fowler’s office. Connor stood shellshocked. Did you just.. Wink at him?! Connor’s eyes slowly drifted to Hank, who was chuckling heartily. He gave Connor an assuring thumbs up as Connor made his way back to their desks.

“You’d be a shit detective if this is how you acted all the time.” Hank snickered. Connor grinned a little before taking a seat back at his desk.

“I know.” Connor sighed, leaning a little back in his chair. He at you through the glass walls, noticing your upright posture and the way you listened intently to Captain Fowler’s words. He looked over to Hank before thinning his lips.

“Lieutenant?” Connor asked.

“What is it, son?”

“What am I.. Feeling right now?” Connor asked, a little lost on how to explain it. “I can only think about them— only envision them when I close my eyes. I get nervous and its like my programming has reduced to 0s and 1s.” He sighed, hell, even a little frustrated that you had this affect on him.

Hank with a wide smile, shook his head and looked at Connor with a knowing stare. Connor looked up, both lost while desperate for an answer and maybe even a cure. Hank sat up and made sure to look at Connor right in the yes.

“Connor,” Hank sighed, grinning. “Son, that feeling your experiencing is called love. And your plastic ass better get used to it.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thank you so much for reading towards the end ! im sorry if its a little messy-- i quickly had to post this before hanging out w some friends but i just wanted to get this out of the way rq! reblogs, replies, and even likes are so so appreciated <3

#detroit become human #connor detroit become human #connor x reader #connor x you #connor rk800 #connor dbh x reader #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #rk800 x reader #dbh #detroit become human fanfics #hank anderson #connor anderson #4k800 #connor 4k800 x reader #dbh 4k800 #4k800 x reader

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solar-wing · 1 year ago

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⚣ Protective Lover 🥰

⚣✋🏻 A/N → Another idea partly inspired off one of my previous Jason posts. Dude is the definition of scary dog privilege. "and my man, thank you to my man." WARNINGS: Jealous/Possessive Behavior. Minor Swearing and Threats of Violence. Cute Fluff.

⚣✋🏻 Summary → It's no secret: Jason is a jealous and possessive boyfriend. But, many don't think about the benefit that comes along with that. He's hella protective. Sometimes it's overbearing, other times, it's very helpful.

⚣✋🏻 Words → 1.4k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🥰

At some point, Y/N had gotten used to it. Was it annoying? Yes. Did it feel overbearing at times? Countless. Did he secretly love it and felt the world’s most (concerning) validation from it? Absolutely.

But, when looking at the situation and its circumstances as a whole, it made sense.

When he and Jason first started dating, there was definitely a vibe of him being a gruff but soft teddy bear who was clingy and needy for love and attention when with his chosen lover. But, when around literally anyone else who was not said lover or other people were in the same room as his chosen mate, he’d turn into the world’s scariest guard dog.

It was the general rule of Scary Boyfriend Privilege. Only the designated boyfriend could see their boyfriend’s soft and needy side. Anyone outside that got the ‘murderous if you get too close’ grizzly bear side.

Extremely hot and sexy, but it could be a bit (a lot) much at times.

Y/N tried to get Jason to calm down, always showing that he could take care of himself and there was no reason for him to worry. But, living in a city like Gotham and given the vigilante’s past (hence the aforementioned situation and circumstances), there really was no calming him down.

But let’s look on the bright side here. With said privilege and the kind of boyfriend Jason was, Y/N never felt more safe and secure in his life. It was like walking around a video game world with the most overpowered gear on. He was basically untouchable.

Examples? Why, of course!

When it came to school, Y/N always preferred studying and doing his homework with Jason since he would help him stay focused and assist him with subjects that he struggled with.

Y/N was not the first but certainly the loudest to say that Jason did not get enough credit for how smart he was. Yeah, he typically lived by street smarts, but he was big on book smarts as well. He just had to learn how to communicate the information in ways where it wasn’t confusing for both him and his boyfriend.

Plus, in dating Y/N, he learned the art and benefits of positive reinforcement which anyone could probably imagine taking a magnifying glass to their relationship, it was something the Y/N had to use a lot for Jason. Now, the vigilante was doing the same for his boyfriend by giving him little rewards for finishing his work and getting good grades like take-out dates, letting him play in his hair, and more often than not, a good dic-

PAUSE

Oh for fucks sake, are we doing this again? Why does it have to be PG-13? Well, no one said– Ugh…Fine.

A good fitness workout that involved lots of cardio, sweating, and soreness, but the good kind.

Happy?

But, the week of midterms turned out to be an equally busy week for Jason as well. He was knee-deep in a big crime plot and was getting closer and closer to solving the case. Y/N understood and didn’t want to get in the way of his boyfriend's duties. It still sucked though because it meant he wouldn’t be able to study in his apartment as he’d find way too many ways to get distracted. So, he had no choice but to study on campus, and figured what better place than the library?

Turns out there could have been better places.

Y/N was sitting at a large table by himself with various books in front of him along with his tablet and laptop reviewing his notes for a huge test he had the next morning. He wasn’t the only one who had the idea of going to the library to study as it was packed full of students trying to do last-minute cramming and studying.

Jason, as usual, called him to make sure he was okay and that he had gotten to the library safely even though Y/N was well aware his boyfriend had many different ways of tracking him and making sure he was where he was supposed to be. At first, he found it creepy, but when he got to know Jason’s family, he understood.

When Jason didn’t hang up the phone long after Y/N had already sat down and began reviewing, he decided he wasn’t going to hang up either, feeling more relaxed and calm while hearing his boyfriend’s voice and breathing through his earphones.

Now and then, Jason would call his name and check to make sure he was focusing and not slacking off or scrolling on social media and Y/N would turn and scold him for trying to check him when he should have been focused on fighting criminals.

“That’s the thing, babe. I can focus on more than two tasks at the same time. You, on the other hand, still can’t manage to focus on one task for more than 10 minutes without getting distracted by something else like your favorite song and flooding our apartment.”

“I told you to let the bathtub thing go!” Y/N whispered loudly into his earbud mic with a goofy smile on his face still.

“I will never let the bathtub thing go.”

They continued their playful back and forth while Y/N continued studying until he was interrupted by another student, a guy from one of his history classes. This guy was more or less a bit annoying and creepy and had been bothering Y/N for a while with his persistent quest to ask him out.

No matter how many times he rejected him, the guy always tried again and again. He never got forceful, or at least he never had the chance since Y/N always made sure there were people around or that he got to an area where other people were nearby just in case he tried something.

He wasn’t judging him, but he took Jason’s words and lessons very seriously when it came to his safety. He’d seen enough of his boyfriend’s cases where people didn’t take the necessary steps to keep themselves protected and safe because they didn’t imagine it would ‘go that far.’

The creep only left him alone when he saw Jason was with him. Truthfully, many people tended to steer clear of Y/N and his massively scary boyfriend whenever he was with them on campus besides his friends. They were even put off by Jason at times whenever they hung out with their friend cause they’d catch him at times giving them weird looks and glares if they touched or just got too close to his boyfriend for his liking.

Plus, after the one incident of the guy who tried to pick a fight with Y/N and pushed him, thus having to deal with Jason in the aftermath, everyone learned it was just better to steer clear.

So, when Jason wasn’t anywhere in sight, Y/N’s creepy stalker saw it as a perfect moment for him to try and make a move on his classmate, not expecting the very person he was hoping to avoid being on the phone the entire time.

It wasn’t until he saw Y/N unplug his earphones and hand him his phone that he realized he was indeed on a call, and after receiving possibly the most violently worded threat he had ever heard he decided there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

He handed the phone over to its owner before scurrying off like a scared mouse, Y/N watching with a confused but also amused and relieved look.

“Hi baby,” Jason immediately responded to Y/N’s ‘hello’ in his little delightful and excited tone whenever he heard his boyfriend’s voice.

“Jason, what did you say to him?” Y/N immediately asked.

“Hey! It’s babe, baby, sexy, honey, or Jay at the slightest to you, mister. Only my family calls me that.”

“Jason…”

“Babeee, stop it! I don’t consent to this treatment. No means no!” Jason protested in a whiny voice.

“You’re such a baby,” Y/N chuckled.

“Only for you, hot stuff. But we’ll be having a long talk when I get home about you not telling me about creepy guys bothering you.”

“How did you know?”

“Babe, you know who you’re dating, right? There never will be something that bothers you that I won’t know about. I’m always gonna protect you, even if it annoys the hell out of you.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the big smile spreading across his face at his boyfriend’s words, knowing he meant every single one. Jason would always be his protective lover.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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squiddy-god · 6 months ago

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dorm leaders and a chubby s/o

As a chubby guy my self I absolutely love Chubby readers, this was written in the early days when I wasn't writing all my readers implied to be chubby- dark times I know- since I am almost done with restoration ⚠︎REQUEST ARE OPEN⚠︎ please send in request, my navigation post has links to anything you would need! And if you don't wanna request you can always just chat! Anon is always open

CW : fluff, chubby readers supremacy

Riddle

Riddle lives you no matter what!

You being chubby does not affect him at all, besides your super soft and good for cuddles

Will not tolerate slander on your name weather from yourself or others

Gets really angry when people comment rude things about you

Isn't one for PDA but he'll hold your hand, especially when your insecure

Lowkey loves your hugs sm because gosh your just so amazing

You make him so red in the face aksbsosndhskebje like how can you be so cute

You can always tell who was talking smack because they will have riddles collar thing and will avoid your gaze

And the screaming from riddle

Very soft with you

Azul

He knows exactly how you feel when you feel insecure

Azul is very understanding because he also used to be chubby

Loves your hugs so much because your warm and soft ✨

If you let him lay his head on your thighs he would probably die on the spot

Seriously he loves to rest his head on your nice plush thighs

Talk shit get hit, or in this case, hunted for sport by two very tall eel Bois

Actually gets angry when people mermer about you because oof that shit hits close to home

Really good at comforting you because he says all the things he wishes he was told

Always compliments you ❤

Leona

Literally not a fuck in sight 👀 he gives no shits

You are good for naps tho

Loves to lay on your tummy and sleep for hours

Thinks your such a cute little herbivore

Ur a snack ❤

When your down and sad he'll legit just pull you into his lap and cuddle tf out of you ✨

Has heard people talk smack about your weight and it always irks him

Probably gave someone a black eye about it

Not the best at comforting you but he'll tell you that those people are just assholes and not worth your time

Kalim

Aksnakamdbsks 𝕐𝔼𝕊 𝕐𝔼𝕊 𝕐𝔼𝕊

Loves you so much!! Everything, from your cute cheeks to your soft hugs and adorable tummy

Am I biased? Extremely. Does that change the fact that I think kalim would ADORE a chubby s/O?? Not at all

Always wants hugs from you because your soft and warm and make his heart go brrrrrrr

Always gives you the most heartfelt compliments

If your insecure about the close you were then he'll let you know just how much he loves anything you put on

Gets legitimately confused and mad when someone talks bad about you and has no shame in asking what there problem is

Really good at comforting you and will cuddle you while calling you cute pet names 🥺

Vil

😤👏body👏positive 👏vil 👏

Vil firmly believes that just because your chubby doesn't mean that your not beautiful and adorable

👏all bodys are gorgeous 👏

Always seems to pick clothes that look fabulous on you and also make you feel comfortable

Won't admit it out loud but he loves your plump cheeks and tummy

Pitches your cheeks Affectionately

Someone : *talks shit about you*

Vil : rook hold my teira

Literally has 0 patience for someone slandering your name and putting you down

Will fight

Probably likes to trace any stretch marks you may have and tell you your beautiful/handsome/gorgeous

Also won't let you put yourself down

Idia

Your so cute he couldn't even look at you without blushing, even from behind his tablet, seeing your chubby cheeks in HD was a 1 hit k.o

Once your together he's pretty comfy around you (and probably only you lmao) and oh boy does he want ✨cuddles ✨

Your like perfect for cuddles, your soft, warm, plush, adorable, don't fight him on this you can't change his stubborn mind, and yes he has a PowerPoint on why he's right

You'll be cuddling and suddenly he'll get the wildest, toothy grin and squish your tummy or pitch your cheeks

Immediately blushes and shys away

Sometimes he'll just rant/ramble about how cute you are as if he's talking about one of his hobbies (a.k.a talking at light speed and info dumping for hours)

Someone : *talks shit about you*

Idia : *about to roast them both figuratively and literally*

Ortho : * pulls out magic laser*

Idia knows what it's like to be bullied and it makes him angry to see people treat you like that

Get you your favorite snacks and has you sit in his lap and game with him to comfort you (and lets u win Mario kart)

Malleus

Oh absolutely

Something about you, his chubby little human, makes his heart go brrrrr

He's so curious and he likes to poke and squish your tummy and thighs (lovingly)

Takes any and all opportunities to lay his head on your lap

Behind closed doors he's a cuddle feind

Stairs at you lovingly from across the room

Gives you lots of small complements because they just came to him and he's like "haha gotta tell y/n that! "

I'd recommend not talking shit about you because malleus is not having ✨any of it✨

Legit gets so angry when people badmouth you because he just doesn't understand why they would

But they won't be talking for long that's for sure

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

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ranchdisaster · 1 year ago

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I just got that xp-pen tablet with like 16k pressure levels and honestly why the fuck would you use wacom when this shit exists

we’re really out here living in an AI dystopian hellscape and this shit has just begun… the future is grim…

#xppen #xp pen tablet #i plug it in #and it works #every single time #no issues with drivers and you get a cute pen case #WITH FELT TIPS #xppen is the most slept on

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orangaria · 13 days ago

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Floret stands for girl :3 (in this case anyways)

A floret works up the courage to go talk to her affini about something that’s very important to her. “Ma’am, I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I think I’m actually a girl” she says looking down, visibly shy and embarrassed.

“Petal, you’re so adorable.” The affini says. “I’ve known ever since you had your implant installed.”She takes her tablet from within her chest and shows it to her adorable girl pet. “See this graph? Oh and this one, and also these two? Don’t you see how obvious it is?” She purrs, smile on her face.

The floret’s face turns a deep shade of red at that. She has no idea what she’s talking about. All she sees are lines. Even if she wasn’t drugged out of her mind she still wouldn’t have any idea.

As if her owner read that thought directly from her mind, she smirks and pats her adorable human. “You aren’t lucid enough to notice, are you? Fine, here.” a swivel of vines taps against her tablet a few times and suddenly, the flower’s reality shifts into place.

Her senses become hers again, her vision clearing up from the haze it has been in for stars know how long. She instinctively pushes her hair off her face and… has it always been this long? That thought is quickly pushed away by a sudden surge of vertigo has the room is now oddly stable beneath her feet. The floret instinctively tries catching herself by grabbing her affini, but her weak flimsy arms aren’t able to hold herself up. Vines quickly come to her rescue though, catching her before she can hurt her adorable little face on the floor. A pillowy mass presses against her chest.

The cute pet stands back up, now acclimated to her newfound clarity of mind. “Sorry about-” the floret gasps. Why does her voice sound so different? What’s going on? Her owner's deep giggles fills the room as the affini give her a delicate pat on the head. “Calm down blossom, everything’s going to be okayyy.” One of the affini's many long vines reaches into another room in the hab and comes back carrying a medium size mirror that she points towards her ward, excitement beaming in her eyes.

What the floret saw blew her mind. It wasn’t a boy, but a beautiful, adorable girl. She had long, wavy brown hair, green eyes, an adorable dress with vivid orange circles that perfectly showed off her adorably squishy thighs and.. wow those are very respectable boobs!

Stars.

She is so pretty.

She blushes.

As if struck by her own subby glare, she melts into a puddle of gay juices. Mentally anyways. In truth she is just staring at herself, standing in shock with eyes wide.

“So, petal?” Her affini purrs with a smile. “Aren’t you a pretty little one?” No response. “I took the liberty to sneak in some class G’s in your xenodrug regiment. I hope you don’t mind~” without a word, the cute girl walks up to her owner, and gives her the biggest hug of her life, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Thank you…”

#hdg #human domestication guide #hdg stories #orange thought #flort #floretposting #affini #Forcefem #Trans #transgender #t4t #trans #Lesbian #Orange story

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kiwriteswords · 17 days ago

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It's a Match [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 7.6k|| AN: I rescheduled a hinge date to finish writing this (I wish I was joking)...that is the inspo for this. I really enjoyed this one, though!

Tags/Warnings: non-BAU!Reader, suggestive themes, canon-typical themes, implied sexual themes, dating apps, meet cute ? kinda?, Aaron Hotchner's POV, Garcia-the-ever-supportive-friend, The BAU giving Hotch shit, Garcia signing Hotch up for a dating app.

Summary: Aaron Hotchner rarely sought out the opinions of others, but when his co-workers' incessant nagging about getting back out in the dating world continues, he begins to think about it a little more clearly.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t fond of his personal life being up for debate. At this point in his life, he rarely found himself seeking the advice of others. He found that relying so heavily on other’s input, only made him feel less confident in his decisions.

That isn’t to say that his team...his team that means well--he must add, that they…they tend to still give advice without him needing to ask for it.

In the low hum of the bullpen, Hotch tood with a stern expression, his eyes scanning the case files in a folder he held. Despite the typical chaos of phone calls and keyboard clacks, an undercurrent of a different sort awaited Hotch--a well-meaning, albeit persistent, nudge from his team towards something resembling a personal life.

“Hotch, you seriously need to get out more,” Garcia quipped as she approached him, her fingers dancing across a colorful tablet, laden with what Hotch assumed were not just case notes but potential social engagements. “It’s been ages since Beth and...well, you know.”

Hotch merely nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. He appreciated her concern, a softness blooming in his chest, but the thought of venturing back into the world of dating seemed daunting, a distant terrain.

“You have to admit, Jack’s practically a grown-up now. He’s got his own social calendar,” Prentiss joined in, her voice light, trying to tread carefully around the subject.

Hotch sighed, setting down the file he was holding. “I’m not sure I’m ready,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. This admission felt heavy, laden with the unspoken grief of losing Haley and the subsequent dissolution of what little personal life he had managed to rebuild.

Morgan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. “Look, man, no one’s saying jump into anything serious. Just...meet people. Have coffee. Laugh a little.” His tone was earnest, edged with concern.

Hotch rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the weight of their stares. “I know you all mean well, but—”

“It’s healthy, Hotch!” Garcia interrupted, her voice vibrant, attempting to infuse some light into the somber mood. “And who knows? Maybe there’s someone out there who’s been waiting just for someone like you.”

Despite himself, Hotch’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. He admired Garcia’s relentless optimism. “Maybe,” he conceded.

The team seemed to collectively hold their breath, waiting for more, but Hotch was not ready to offer anything beyond that concession. He glanced around at each of them, their faces etched with a mix of hope and caution.

“I’ll think about it,” Hotch finally said, a compromise that seemed to satisfy them for the moment. He hoped this was the last of it.

As the team dispersed back to their tasks, Hotch returned to his office. His hand brushed over a photo of Haley and Jack, the texture of the frame familiar and bittersweet under his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he was truly ready to let someone else into his life, but the warmth from his team’s concern was hard to ignore. Maybe it was time to start thinking about the possibility, even if the thought alone made his heart race with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to know his team would bring this up…again. And again. And you know what? Probably again.

The evening found the team at a local bar, a rare collective moment of downtime that buzzed with laughter and casual banter. Hotch, though present and occasionally contributing to the conversation, often found his gaze wandering over the crowd, an observer more than a participant.

Garcia leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she nudged JJ, who was scanning the crowd with a mischievous grin. "Okay, so there's this woman at the bar," Garcia whispered loud enough for the team to hear, "and she looks perfect for Hotch."

Hotch, who had been sipping his scotch quietly, raised an eyebrow, his posture stiffening slightly. "I thought we agreed—"

"Oh, come on, Hotch, it’s just a bit of fun," JJ interjected, her gaze fixed on someone across the room. "No harm in looking, right?"

Morgan chuckled, clapping Hotch on the shoulder. "Let's see if Garcia's matchmaking skills are as good as her tech skills."

Reluctantly, Hotch turned his gaze towards the bar. The woman in question was laughing loudly, a little too boisterously, her movements slightly uncoordinated as she swayed to the music. As if sensing the attention, she looked over, her eyes locking with Hotch’s for a brief, unsettling moment before she raised her glass in a sloppy salute.

Hotch’s lips thinned, his discomfort clear. He turned back to his team, shaking his head. "I don't think—"

Before he could finish, the woman decided to make her way over, her steps uneven, a clear sign of her inebriation. Garcia and JJ exchanged a glance, their initial enthusiasm dimming as they watched the scene unfold.

"Hey there, handsome," the woman slurred as she approached Hotch, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby patrons. "I saw you staring. Buy me a drink?"

Hotch stood, his FBI training kicking in to manage the situation with politeness mixed with firmness. "I believe you’ve had enough for tonight," he said, his voice low and calm.

The woman pouted, leaning closer, her sense of personal space clearly compromised by alcohol. "Oh, come on, don't be such a party pooper."

From the table, Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression one of concern as he watched Hotch handle the delicate situation. Prentiss covered her mouth, trying to hide her cringe, while Morgan finally stood, ready to intervene.

"Ma'am, I think you need to go back to your friends," Morgan said, steering her gently but firmly by the elbow.

As the woman was guided away, muttering under her breath, Hotch sat back down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The team was silent for a moment, the previous mirth replaced by a shared awkwardness.

Garcia finally broke the silence, her voice soft. "I’m sorry, Hotch. That was not what we expected."

JJ nodded, adding, "Yeah, we just thought...I don’t know what we thought."

Hotch managed a small smile, appreciating their intentions despite the outcome. "It’s okay. I know you both mean well." His gaze shifted to his glass, his mind not on the failed attempt at matchmaking, but on the quiet realization that perhaps he wasn’t quite as ready as they hoped he’d be to jump back into the dating scene.

The team spent the rest of the evening avoiding any further matchmaking attempts, focusing instead on stories from past cases and plans for the weekend. Hotch listened, occasionally contributing, but mostly he appreciated the laughter and the familiar, comforting presence of his team.

As they left the bar later that evening, Hotch felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder--Rossi’s silent support. "You'll know when it’s time, Aaron," Rossi said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of understanding.

Hotch nodded, the night’s air cool and refreshing as it cleared the remnants of the bar’s claustrophobia. "Thanks, Dave," he said, feeling a little lighter. Despite the evening’s missteps, the bond with his team had never felt stronger. He knew they had his back, in the field and beyond, and that was enough--for now.

But then it happened again and Hotch began to feel cornered by his own team. It was getting a bit ridiculous, if you asked him.

The dull roar of the jet’s engines served as a backdrop to the team's winding down conversations, each member settling into their seats, weary yet content after a successful case closure. As the aircraft hummed its way through the skies, Derek Morgan turned his attention towards his teammates, a grin spreading across his face as he hatched another of his well-intentioned plans.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Derek began, his voice filled with a conspiratorial warmth, “I say this weekend, we do a guys’ night out. Just us, some good food, maybe a few drinks, and see what kind of trouble we can find.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the balance as he met Derek’s gaze. He appreciated Derek’s efforts, always aimed at lightening the mood or bringing them together off the clock, but the idea of a night focused on meeting women wasn’t particularly appealing.

Rossi, who had been quietly reading a book, looked up with a smirk. “Speak for yourself, Morgan. I don’t need wingmen,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. “And I doubt Aaron here needs one either. When he’s ready, he’s ready. No pressure needed.”

Derek laughed, turning to Reid, who was absently shuffling some papers. “What about you, pretty boy? You think you got game?”

Reid looked up, blinking behind his glasses. “I-I suppose I could… that is to say, I have read extensively on social dynamics and interpersonal—”

“Spencer, if you have to quote a study, it’s not game,” Hotch interjected, a rare, teasing tone in his voice as he shared a knowing look with Rossi.

Reid’s cheeks tinged pink, but his lips curved into a smile. “Well, I might surprise you,” he countered, the mock offense clear in his tone.

The banter lightened Hotch’s mood, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as the familiar and comforting dynamic of their team played out around him. It was these moments, simple and unadorned, that reminded him of what mattered most.

Derek clapped his hands together, his smile broadening. “Alright, it’s settled then. We’ll table the wingman idea for now, but we’re still doing guys’ night, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Rossi and Reid chimed in, their voices overlapping.

Hotch nodded, feeling a sense of relief at the postponement of the original plan. “Agreed,” he added, his voice firm yet grateful.

As the conversation drifted to other topics, Hotch leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the dark window, reflecting the soft interior lights of the jet. The thought of venturing back into the world of dating remained daunting, a distant shore he wasn’t quite ready to explore.

It seemed like not-subtle attempt, after not-subtle attempt, Hotch felt like he was getting further and further away from the idea of wanting to meet someone.

Hotch's reluctance to step back into the dating world was not born of fear, nor was it due to a lack of interest in companionship. Rather, it was the weight of his past--a tapestry woven with profound love and devastating loss--that anchored him. The memories of Haley, vibrant and alive, contrasted sharply with the harrowing night of her death. Then there was Beth, a chapter that had closed gently, but still a loss that added layers to his guarded heart.

As he sat there, his eyes occasionally flickering to the photos of Jack on his desk, Hotch considered the complexities of introducing someone new into their lives. Jack, now a teenager, was his priority, and any disruption that could unsettle the stable life he had fought so hard to provide was a risk Hotch was hesitant to take.

The responsibilities of his role at the BAU further complicated matters. His job was not just a career; it was a calling--one that demanded everything of him, including long hours and the mental toll of delving into the darkest corners of human behavior. How could he find or ask someone to understand that? Hotch's brow furrowed as he considered this. How could he bring someone into this world--his world--where danger was a constant companion and where the balance between life and death was often precariously thin?

Hotch was lost in the meticulous review of case files when the whirlwind known as Penelope Garcia burst into his office, her tablet clutched like a treasure chest of mischief. Her arrival was usually heralded by her exuberant chatter or the bright clash of her eclectic fashion, but today it was her wide grin that signaled she was up to something particularly Garcia-esque.

"Hotch, you are not going to believe what I've done!" she exclaimed, barely containing her excitement as she approached his desk.

Hotch looked up, his expression a blend of wariness and resignation. "Garcia, please tell me you haven't hacked into another government database." He thought this moment itself could take years off his life.

"No, silly!" She waved off the comment with a flick of her wrist. "Something much better. I've signed you up for a dating app!" She beamed, clearly proud of her handiwork.

Hotch’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Garcia, you know how dangerous those can be. I have no business being on a dating app."

"Oh, come on, Hotch! This is how people meet nowadays. It's all very safe, and you can be upfront about what you're looking for through DMs!" Garcia explained, her enthusiasm undimmed.

"DMs?" Hotch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Direct messages, Hotch. Keep up!" She tapped on her tablet, pulling up a profile that Hotch hoped against hope wasn’t his. His hope was in vain.

Garcia turned the tablet toward him, revealing a profile complete with photos of Hotch that looked suspiciously candid and slightly dated. "See? I even picked your best photos. This one's from that beach vacation you took ten years ago. You're shirtless! It's gold, Hotch, pure gold."

Hotch stared at the photo, his mind racing back to a much simpler time. "Garcia, I barely even look like that anymore. Where did you even find this?"

"In the deep recesses of the BAU annual trip photo archive thingy," she quipped, winking. "And everyone needs at least bathing suit photo, Hotch. It's like an unwritten rule of dating apps."

Garcia proceeded to scroll through the profile, pointing out the interests she had listed for him. "Look, I put down that you love long walks on the beach, are an aficionado of fine wines, and have a passion for rare book collecting."

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Garcia, I’ve never collected a book in my life, unless case files count."

She shrugged, undeterred. "Details, Hotch, details. It's all about selling the dream."

Despite his frustration, a small smile tugged at the corners of Hotch's mouth. Only Garcia could get away with this level of audacity. She gleefully showed him how to use the app, swiping through various screens before downloading it onto his phone with practiced ease.

As Garcia finally left his office, still bubbling with excitement, Hotch looked down at the app icon on his phone. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. Shaking his head, he chuckled softly to himself. "Only Garcia," he muttered, his annoyance fading to a fond exasperation.

Left alone with his new digital dating life, Hotch tapped on the app, curiosity overcoming his initial reluctance. As he scrolled through the interface, the absurdity of the situation struck him, and he couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh. Maybe exploring this new world wouldn’t be so bad, especially if it gave him more stories to share with Garcia--just maybe not the ones she was hoping for.

One night soon after, Hotch made it home at a reasonable (well, still very late) time--reasonable for him. He settled into the unusual quiet of his apartment, the absence of Jack's lively presence making the space seem larger and more silent than usual. With a sigh, he resigned himself to a solitary evening--a rare slice of downtime that was both welcome and unnerving.

After a moment of hesitation, curiosity nudged him towards the dating app that Garcia had enthusiastically installed on his phone. He still harbored reservations about the entire concept, but with the night stretching empty before him, the app seemed like a harmless diversion..

Sitting comfortably on his couch, Hotch opened the app and began navigating through it with a tentative curiosity. The light from his phone cast a soft glow in the dim room as he scrolled through profiles, his face a mask of concentration.

Methodically, he started tweaking his profile, softening Garcia's more flamboyant embellishments to reflect his true nature. He made it clear he was a devoted father and that his--undisclosed to the app--job was demanding, requiring anyone interested to understand the stakes of his career. His description was straightforward--seeking a meaningful connection with someone who could appreciate the complexities of his life.

As he swiped through the profiles, Hotch's brow furrowed slightly. Many were immediately unsuitable--too young, too flashy, or just too far from what he felt comfortable with. One profile made him pause, the woman's intense stare and array of self-purchased tactical gear a bit too reminiscent of an unsub profile he'd studied just weeks before.

But then, he swiped to the next profile, and everything stopped. The woman's photos--your photos exuded warmth and sincerity, your smile genuine, reaching your eyes and lighting up your entire face.

Your description was simple yet profound, speaking of your love for literature, your passion for teaching, and your volunteer work with children. It wasn't just your physical appearance that caught his attention--it was the evident kindness and intelligence that shone through your words.

Hotch's finger hovered over the screen for a moment before he decided to swipe right, feeling a strange surge of hope. The screen flashed, and the word "Match!" appeared. A small, surprised smile touched his lips. It was the first profile he had responded to positively, and the immediate match was unexpected.

For a moment, Hotch stared at the screen, the implications of the match settling in. This was uncharted territory for him, stepping into a world of potential and possibilities. With a deep breath, he opened the messaging feature, contemplating his first words to you. He wanted to convey sincerity and interest, a reflection of the authenticity that had drawn him to your profile in the first place.

As he typed out a simple greeting, careful to be both respectful and engaging, Hotch felt a flicker of something like excitement—or perhaps it was just the thrill of new beginnings. Whatever it was, it felt right, and for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to feel cautiously optimistic about the path unfolding before him.

The digital conversation was new territory for him, each notification a pulse of unfamiliar excitement. When your reply came, it was both thoughtful and warm, sparking a connection that seemed to transcend the mere pixels of his screen.

As the messages exchanged grew more frequent and personal, Hotch admitted, somewhat reluctantly, that he was a novice in the realm of online dating. He explained how his work shaped his cautious view on things like dating apps, and he confessed that it was his team’s encouragement that led him here.

You responded with understanding, echoing his sentiments about the unusual path that brought you both to this app, yet expressing a selfish gladness that his coworkers had nudged him into this new experience. It was a sentiment Hotch couldn’t help but share, feeling a connection building that was both surprising and delightful.

The conversation naturally flowed, and soon, you suggested shifting from texting to something more personal. "I'm not much for messaging," you wrote, "Would you be up for a video call instead?"

Hotch felt a wave of relief wash over him. Navigating the app was one thing, but speaking to someone, hearing their voice, that was familiar ground. He agreed eagerly, and within moments, he was waiting for the call to connect, his heart rate subtly quickening.

He was glad this didn’t allow for much time to think in between--he’d be afraid he would talk himself out of it. Find a million reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this.

When your face appeared on his screen, the connection was instantaneous. You were even more captivating in motion, your smile lighting up the digital space between you. Hotch found himself momentarily lost for words, taken aback by how the interaction felt so natural, so right.

"Hi," he started, his voice steadier than he felt. "I hope it’s okay to say this, but you’re even more beautiful than your pictures."

You laughed, a sound that was both melodic and grounding, easing the last of Hotch's nerves. "Thank you, Aaron. You're quite the charmer yourself."

As the conversation unfolded, the chemistry was undeniable. You both shared stories, your laughter mingling through the airwaves, bridging the physical distance with ease. Hotch, typically reserved, found himself opening up about aspects of his life that he seldom discussed outside his closest circles.

You were a professor at a university. A bit younger than him, but did not seem phased by that--especially considering his age, height, along with way too many other physical details, were displayed on his profile.

Encouraged by the undeniable connection, Hotch took a breath before voicing a thought that had been on his mind since the call began. "I don’t mean to be forward, but I would really like to meet you in person. Would you like to go out for dinner this week?"

Your smile broadened, and it was all the confirmation Hotch needed. "I'd love to, Aaron. That sounds wonderful."

Plans were made for a dinner later that week, the details ironed out with mutual enthusiasm. As the call ended, Hotch sat back, a sense of accomplishment and anticipation settling over him. He hadn’t expected this when he first opened the app, but now, he couldn’t deny the potential that lay ahead.

He placed his phone down, his mind replaying moments from the call, each laugh and shared story a promise of possibilities.

Hotch’s mind was a tumult of apprehension as he prepared for the evening. Each scenario he imagined was tinged with the occupational hazard of suspecting the worst. Yet, he meticulously chose his attire, settling on a sharp, dark suit that matched his formal, reserved nature. Despite the nerves, a part of him--the part trained to face unknowns head-on--compelled him forward.

He arrived at the restaurant punctually, the ambiance a blend of soft lighting and quiet chatter, ideal for a meaningful first date. Standing at the entrance, he scanned the area for you, his heart rate ticking upward not out of fear, but anticipation.

When he finally saw you, everything else fell away. You were waiting at the table, looking up from your menu with a smile that drew him in completely. As he approached, Hotch felt the last of his doubts dissolve, replaced by an unexpected surge of hope.

"Hi," he greeted, voice steady despite the whirlwind inside. "You look incredible."

You stood to meet him, extending a confident hand that he shook gently. "Thank you, Aaron. You're quite dashing yourself. I’m so glad to meet you in person."

As you both sat, the conversation began to flow naturally between the ordering of drinks and dishes. Hotch found himself genuinely smiling, engaged by your insights and humor. Almost forgetting that this was someone who had been a total stranger to him not long before.

"So, you're a professor?" he inquired, genuinely interested. He remembered you mentioning it briefly in your first initial conversation.

"Yes, I teach literature. I like to think of myself as a life-long learner and to be able to share words and pages that shaped so many lives--it’s incredible," you explained, your eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

"That sounds extremely rewarding," Hotch commented, noting the passion in your voice. "It must be fascinating to see students develop their understanding over a semester."

"It is," you agreed. "And what about you? I know you work for the DOJ, but what does that entail day-to-day?"

Hotch hesitated, weighing how much to share, before deciding on honesty--he couldn’t deny that your presence…your aura made it easy to want to share. "It's challenging. My job can be intense--managing cases, leading a team. But it's fulfilling, knowing we're making a difference."

You nodded thoughtfully, sipping your glass of wine and looking at him over the rim of the glass. "It sounds like you're very dedicated. I admire that."

The conversation shifted seamlessly to lighter topics, and eventually to Jack. "He's staying with a friend tonight," Hotch mentioned. "He's growing up fast, involved in sports, school...it keeps us both busy."

"It sounds like you're a great father," you noted, your tone warm. "Balancing such a demanding job and raising him."

Hotch appreciated the compliment, feeling a flush of pride. "I try my best. Jack is my priority. It’s just us two."

As the dinner progressed, there was a mutual, comfortable--and natural--level of flirting that neither of you shied away from. You leaned in slightly, your interest clear as you spoke, "I must say, Aaron, I was a bit nervous about this date, I’ve never been on a date from an app before…but you've made this evening truly enjoyable."

Hotch mirrored your movement, leaning in, driven by a rare impulse to connect. "I can honestly say the same. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I'm glad I came tonight."

The evening ended with a promise to see each other again, both of you reluctant to part ways after such a promising start. As Hotch walked you to your car, he felt a lightness he hadn't experienced in years.

"Thank you for tonight," he said, standing a bit closer. "I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon."

"I'd like that," you smiled, your confidence and warmth evident even in the dim light of the parking lot.

As you drove away, Hotch remained for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the night. He allowed himself a small, hopeful smile, a sense of anticipation for the future blossoming inside him. Tonight, Aaron Hotchner felt not just the skilled agent, but a man stepping into a new chapter of his life, unexpectedly uplifted by the promise of new beginnings.

As Aaron Hotchner and you grew closer, the budding relationship unveiled a lighter side of Hotch, one that had been subdued for years under the weight of responsibility and duty. The dynamic between you was characterized by a playful banter that coaxed smiles and even laughter from the normally stoic FBI agent.

One crisp evening, as you both enjoyed a casual stroll through a local art festival, you pointed at a particularly abstract painting. "So, Aaron, if you were an art critic, what profound analysis would you offer here?"

Hotch studied the painting, his brow furrowng in mock seriousness. "Well," he began, adopting a thoughtful tone, "I would say that the chaotic swirls represent the tumultuous nature of...let's say, choosing the perfect wine to go with dinner."

You laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly with yours. "That sounds suspiciously like last night’s dilemma. Did this piece just speak to your soul?"

He turned to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "It might have. Or maybe it’s reminding me that I should stick to my day job."

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you both shared stories and insights. Later, sitting at a small café, Hotch opened up about his work with a rare openness, prompted by your genuine interest and lack of judgment.

"You know, most people get intimidated when I talk about my job," Hotch admitted, stirring his coffee slowly.

"You're not just your job, Aaron," you responded, smiling warmly. "Though, I must admit, it’s a pretty impressive part of who you are. But I’m more interested in the man who can quote Shakespeare and knows his way around an impressive omelet."

Hotch’s smile was genuine, a little wider this time. "Well, I could say the same about a woman who can discuss Renaissance literature and beat me in a game of chess."

As the evening wore on, Hotch found himself sharing more than he usually allowed. The topic of fatherhood--the most important part of his identity, always seemed to weave his way through. And now, having a teenager, a wise teenager, it didn’t take long before Jack picked up on the fact that Hotch was seeing someone.

"Jack’s been asking about you," he said cautiously, observing your reaction.

"Is that so?" you grinned, clearly pleased. "And what exactly have you told him about me?"

"That his dad is spending time with a very smart, beautiful, and funny woman who might just be a worse cook than I am."

Your laughter filled the space between you, and Hotch felt a warmth that went beyond the ambient glow of the café’s lights. "Challenge accepted. I’ll have you know, my culinary skills are...in development."

The playful back-and-forth continued, with each exchange gently peeling back layers of Hotch's reserved exterior. It was clear to both of you that something significant was taking root--something filled with potential and promise.

As you parted ways that evening, Hotch felt an ease and contentment that was new and invigorating. "I'm looking forward to our next culinary showdown," he teased, his tone light but sincere.

"And I, for one, can’t wait to see what other hidden talents you have, Agent Hotchner," you replied, your voice playful yet affectionate.

Walking back to his car, Hotch allowed himself a rare, contented smile. This new chapter with you was unfolding into something unexpectedly wonderful, showing him that life could indeed be vibrant and full of surprises, even for someone as grounded in reality as SSA Aaron Hotchner.

After an elegant evening at the theater, Aaron Hotchner found himself walking with you to the car under a starlit sky, the air crisp and cool, perfect for the light jackets you both wore. The play had been a profound one, sparking rich conversation between the two of you that continued as you strolled. Your love for classic literature and his lost love for theatre combined.

Hotch, typically reserved, felt an unusual flutter of anticipation mixed with a warmth that had grown steadily since the night began.

He had thought about this often, but never felt the need to bring it up--in due time, he thought, but tonight…tonight felt like it was due.

"You know," Hotch began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of emotion, "I can't believe we've been seeing each other for this long, and I haven’t even—"

You turned to face him, a teasing sparkle in your eyes. "Haven’t even what, Aaron?"

He paused, looking into your eyes which were reflecting the soft streetlights. "Kissed you," he admitted, the words feeling more significant as they hung in the air between you.

Your smile widened, and you stepped a little closer, diminishing the space between you. "Is Aaron Hotchner nervous about a kiss?" you asked playfully, tilting your head as you gazed up at him.

The corner of Hotch's mouth lifted in a half-smile, a rare show of his lighter side that you had slowly uncovered. "Maybe," he confessed, his usual confidence tempered with a vulnerability he rarely showed. "But only because it feels important."

"It is," you agreed softly, your hand finding his. "But only because it’s you."

That was all the encouragement Hotch needed. He leaned down, his heart beating a touch faster as his lips met yours in a gentle, searching kiss. It was a kiss that started tentatively but grew more confident as you responded, your hands moving up to lightly grasp his jacket.

The world seemed to quiet around you, the buzz of the city fading into a distant hum. Hotch’s free hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his touch tender yet certain. The kiss deepened, stirring a warmth that spread through his entire body, a feeling of rightness that was both exhilarating and calming.

When you finally parted, both of you were slightly breathless, a flush on your cheeks that matched the one on Hotch’s. You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears.

"So, was it everything you hoped it would be?" you teased, your eyes dancing with mirth.

Hotch, still holding you close, nodded. "Even more," he said sincerely. "I think using that app might have been one of the best decisions I've ever made."

Your laughter rang out again, joyous and free. "Just for the record, you're the only one I ever made it on a date with," you shared, giving him a playful nudge.

"And you were the only one I ever messaged," Hotch revealed, his usual stoicism warmed by the affection in his voice. "I guess we both got incredibly lucky."

The drive to bring you home was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated by shared looks and soft smiles. When he stopped at your place, Hotch leaned over to kiss you again, this time with a confidence borne of the shared connection that had only deepened since the first.

"Goodnight," he said, his voice low and filled with a promise of more to come.

"Goodnight, Aaron," you replied, your hand squeezing his for a moment longer before you stepped out,

As Hotch drove away, his mind replayed every moment of the evening, each memory a treasure. He realized, with a clarity that was almost startling, just how much he had come to care for you.

Days later, Hotch sat solemnly at the round table, his usual composed demeanor slightly offset by an underlying layer of disappointment. As the team geared up for an abrupt deployment to handle a pressing case, Hotch couldn't help but think about the dinner plans he had to cancel with you. He had been looking forward to a relaxing evening, a rare chance to step away from the demands of his job and focus on the burgeoning relationship that had become a significant source of joy in his life.

"I'm sorry, I can't make it tonight," Hotch had said over the phone earlier, his voice carrying a weight of regret.

"It's okay, Aaron," you had responded, your tone light and teasing. "I'll just have to spend the evening sending you flirty texts instead. Stay safe, and catch the bad guys, okay?"

Despite your understanding and playful reassurance, the disappointment lingered. As the team discussed logistics and profiles, Hotch's mind wandered momentarily, reflecting on the personal sacrifices that came with his role at the FBI.

Suddenly, Garcia's voice snapped him back to reality. "Hotch, you seem more down about this trip than usual. Anything you want to share with the class?" Her tone was lightly teasing but underscored with genuine concern.

Hotch cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. "It's nothing," he started to dismiss, hoping to steer back to the case details.

But Garcia, ever perceptive, wouldn't let it go that easily. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. "No, no, no, this has to be something good. Wait! Did you meet someone on the dating app?"

The room quieted, all eyes suddenly on Hotch. The surprise on his team's faces was palpable, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Hotch sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he realized there was no dodging Garcia's sharp intuition. "Yes, I met someone."

"And I can tell he's incredibly happy," Garcia added, her voice squealing with excitement, filling the room with her infectious energy.

The team erupted in a mixture of chuckles and supportive remarks. "Hotch on a dating app, now that's something I didn't see coming," Morgan commented with a grin.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mock seriousness. "So, this is serious then?"

"It's...going well," Hotch admitted, allowing himself a small moment of vulnerability in front of his team. "And yes, I'm happy. It's just hard balancing the job with personal life sometimes. I forgot how difficult it is to cancel on someone you--someone you're starting to care a lot about."

The team's demeanor softened, understanding the conflict Hotch felt. Prentiss leaned in, her voice gentle. "We get it, Hotch. But it sounds like she does too. That's a good sign, right?"

Hotch nodded, appreciative of the support. "It is. She's very understanding. Makes it a bit easier."

Garcia beamed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Oh, I need to know everything. When we get back, you're giving me details, Hotch. Deal?"

Hotch couldn't help but laugh, the sound rare enough to cause a few surprised looks. "Deal, Garcia."

After all, he did feel like he owed Garcia…so much in this moment for if it wasn’t for her, he’d never had met you.

Throughout the duration of a challenging and complex case, Aaron Hotchner found moments of reprieve through the buzz of his phone. Each notification a reminder of the intriguing connection he’d developed with you.

Your texts, infused with lightness and wit, became small beacons of joy amid the high-pressure environment of his work.

One evening, as he and the team were wrapping up a long day of interviews and evidence analysis, Hotch’s phone vibrated with a new message from you. He glanced around--most of the team was absorbed in their tasks--and allowed himself a moment to read your text.

"Thinking of a proper celebration for when you get back...Maybe we can explore the possibility of moving past just kisses? I have a few ideas I think you’d approve of..."

The message was smooth, playful yet suggestive, and it caught Hotch off guard. He felt a flush of warmth spread through him, a mixture of anticipation and slight disarray, emotions he usually kept neatly compartmentalized.

Sitting back in his chair, Hotch let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh.

It was rare for him to connect with someone so deeply that thoughts of them could so easily unsettle his usual stoic demeanor. Yet, you did just that, and he found himself not only accepting this new dynamic but eagerly looking forward to what it promised.

He typed a response, his fingers pausing above the keyboard as he considered how best to reply. Finally, he settled on a message that matched your playful tone while still holding onto his inherent reserved nature.

"Exploring new possibilities sounds like an excellent plan. I’ll look forward to your ideas... very much so."

Sending the text, Hotch felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was an unfamiliar sensation to look forward to personal plans with such anticipation, but it was one he found increasingly appealing.

As he pocketed his phone and returned his focus to the case files spread out before him, Hotch’s thoughts momentarily drifted to what awaited him upon his return. The prospect of deepening his relationship with you brought a sense of excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Even amidst the demanding rhythms of his job, Hotch found himself counting down the days until he could see you again, eager to explore the new dimensions of their relationship. The playful, flirtatious exchanges were more than just brief escapes from his responsibilities; they were reminders of the burgeoning connection that might just redefine his understanding of balance between his dedication to his work and his personal life.

After wrapping up the demanding case, Hotch found himself outside your apartment, his anticipation a palpable presence within him. He had been thinking about this moment throughout the flight back--about you, about the promise of what lay ahead. The door opened to your welcoming smile, and any remaining trace of professional tension melted away as he stepped inside.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could leave work at the door.

The evening unfolded effortlessly, as if every moment were simply meant to be. Dinner was a shared endeavor, filled with laughter and gentle touches that spoke louder than words. As the night deepened, so did the connection between you, pulling you both inevitably toward a more intimate closeness that felt both exhilarating and utterly right.

Later, wrapped in the warmth and softness of your bed, Hotch lay beside you, his arm securely around you, feeling the comforting weight of your head against his chest. The room was quiet, the only sound the gentle breath of two people content in each other's presence. It was a profound intimacy that Hotch had rarely allowed himself to experience, yet with you, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You know," Hotch began, his voice soft and thoughtful, "I never imagined that downloading an app would lead me here, to this moment. But I'm incredibly glad it did."

You shifted slightly, turning to face him. In the dim light, he noticed a hint of shyness in your expression--an unusual trait for someone usually so vibrant and confident. "Aaron, I need to tell you something, and I’m a little afraid it might be too soon...or…or how you might react."

He tightened his embrace reassuringly. "Sweetheart, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

You nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking. "It's just that...I've never connected with anyone like this before. Not from a dating app, not in real life. Like I feel crazy. And it scares me a little because I think I’m falling in love with you."

Hotch’s heart skipped a beat, not just at your words but at the earnest vulnerability with which you spoke them. For a brief moment, he was speechless, overwhelmed by the depth of his own feelings that mirrored yours.

"I’ve been trying to make sense of it all myself," he confessed, his voice a whisper against your hair. "This isn’t just unusual for me; it’s unprecedented. But hearing you say that...it’s exactly how I feel. I’m falling in love with you, too."

Relief and joy mingled in your eyes, and you moved closer, pressing a kiss to his chest--a simple, sweet gesture that sealed the words just shared. Hotch felt a profound peace settle over him, the kind that came from finding something real and true.

As you both lay there, entwined in the quiet aftermath of shared revelations, the world outside seemed inconsequential. In that room, with the soft glow of the nightlight casting gentle shadows, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just an FBI agent or a guarded widower; he was a man deeply in love, grateful for every unpredictable twist of fate that had led him to you.

"You know," you whispered, a playful twinkle returning to your voice, "this is going to make a great story someday--how a skeptical FBI agent fell for a girl from a dating app."

Hotch chuckled, the sound rich and content. "It’s a story I look forward to telling again and again," he agreed, pulling you closer.

As days turned into months, Hotch experienced a transformation in his daily life--a lightness and joy that were new and profoundly delightful.

Your relationship flourished; the connection deepened with each passing moment you spent together. Jack met you and took an immediate liking to you, his youthful judgment never faltering. The integration of you into his and Jack’s life felt seamless, natural, like pieces of a puzzle that had been waiting to find their place.

You were fiercely independent and career-driven, qualities that resonated deeply with Hotch. The balance between your professional pursuits and personal life mirrored his own, creating a perfect symmetry that allowed both of you to thrive without sacrificing the bond growing between you.

Reflecting on this, Hotch couldn’t help but think back to several months ago when his team, especially Penelope Garcia, had pushed him to step out into the dating world. He was immensely grateful for their encouragement--grateful that Garcia had practically coerced him into using the dating app that brought you together.

Once (and due to his line of work, pretty much always will be) a skeptic of dating apps, he now sung its praise, in a…cautious way. It was praised enough that in a very Rossi-fashion, David Rossi bought stock in the app, Hotch and your love story solidifying the need to.

Now, seated at his desk in the quiet hum of the FBI offices, Hotch decided to express his love and appreciation in a tangible way. He opened a florist’s website, browsing through the selections to find something that captured the essence of what you meant to him.

Settling on a bouquet of wildflowers--bright, beautiful, and unpretentiously elegant--he filled out the delivery form to send them to your workplace. The note attached was simple but heartfelt: "For no reason other than I love you. Aaron."

With a contented sigh, Hotch then organized a second floral arrangement, this one for Garcia. He chose vibrant sunflowers and daisies, flowers as bright and cheerful as Garcia herself. The note for her was equally thoughtful: "Penelope, thank you for pushing me onto that (still questionable) app. I am forever grateful. - Hotch."

As he confirmed the orders, his colleague Morgan passed by his desk, noticing the slight smile on Hotch’s usually stoic face. "What's got you looking so happy, Hotch? That doesn't look like case work."

Hotch looked up, the smile still playing on his lips. "Can’t I just take a moment to appreciate the good things, Morgan?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Good things, huh? Does this have anything to do with that special lady I’ve been hearing about?"

"You could say that," Hotch replied, his tone light, an uncommon but genuine warmth evident in his expression. "And I’m also sending Garcia some flowers."

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Man, Garcia’s matchmaking really worked out for you, didn’t it? Never thought I'd see the day. She’s never going to let this one down."

"It did," Hotch acknowledged, his thoughts drifting back to you. "And it’s made all the difference."

After Morgan left, Hotch leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a few moments of quiet reflection. He felt a profound sense of gratitude--not just for the love and joy you brought into his life, but for the unexpected journey that led him to you.

It was a reminder of the unpredictable beauty of life, how sometimes, taking a chance could lead to something extraordinary.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #kiwriteswords #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminalminds #aaronhotchner #Aaron Hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner reader insert #criminal minds fluff #hotch x you

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mggslover · 2 months ago

Text

The Holiday Getaway ❆

A Holiday to Remember: part 1

In which the BAU's holiday getaway takes a dark turn when a family is found murdered on Christmas, forcing the team to investigate while reader struggles with painful memories of her past and her growing, unspoken feelings for Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: bau found family fluff and comedy, slight angst Content warnings: mentions of shitty past christmases, suggestive content Word count: 5,8k A/n: merry christmas eve! this is part 1 of my holiday special and focusses all on the fun, cute found family vibes of the bau outside of a case. next part will explore a crime case and delve deeper into reader's relationship with spencer (smutsmutsmut), so be sure to check it out tomorrow! don't forget to interact if you've enjoyed this, it'll mean a lot 🎄🤍! dividers by @issysh3ll

Snowflakes swirled against the windshield of the car, vanishing as quickly as they arrived thanks to the rhythmic sweep of the wipers. The soft hum of Christmas music filled the SUV, providing a festive backdrop to the ongoing bickering between Garcia and Morgan in the front seats.

You were on your way to the BAU’s first official holiday getaway. It was a couple of weeks ago when Garcia came up with the idea to spend the holidays together. She planned the entire thing out and got a cabin in the woods booked, without so much as a heads-up to the team. Garcia was adamant about making this a traditional Christmas weekend getaway: Secret Santa’s, hot chocolate by the fireplace and snowball fights. As tempting and relaxing as those activities sound in comparison to the usual unsub hunting, a traditional getaway also meant no GPS, since that “ruins the fun”. So much for being a tech analyst.

“Okay, now take a right,” Penelope instructed Derek, holding a map like it was some kind of ancient artifact. “This is the shortcut. I swear.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A shortcut? You sure? Because if we get lost again, I’m pulling up the GPS.”

Penelope made a face. “We do not need the GPS. I know this route like the back of my hand.”

Spencer and you shared an amused glance from the backseat, feeling like the younger siblings on a family road trip. You couldn’t help but wonder how the other SUV was doing. It wouldn’t surprise you if Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Prentiss already made it to the cabin, warming up by the fireplace, probably betting on how many wrong turns you'd taken by now.

After about six more chess matches on your tablet with Reid, you’re already the children of the trip, no need to hide the iPad kid allegations, the car finally slowed as Penelope’s excited shriek filled the air, announcing that you’d arrived.

You squinted through the window, shielding your eyes against the soft, bright snow that blanketed the landscape. There, nestled in the distance, was a massive wooden house with a smoking chimney, decorated in twinkling fairy lights. The scene looked copy pasted straight out of a Christmas movie. Spencer leaned in beside you, his curls brushing against your face, eager to see the scenery. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Come on, let’s go,” you said with a smirk, pushing open the door. Everyone piled out of the car, the crisp air biting at your skin. Derek moved to the trunk to grab the bags, handing them out one by one. The hum of the engines of the other SUV echoed in the distance as Hotch waved from the driver’s seat, pulling up alongside you.

“Ha! I told you it was a shortcut!” Penelope teased, giving Derek a playful punch in the arm.

“I know, I know. Never doubted you, baby girl,” He responded, holding his hands up in surrender.

You turned to Rossi as he slowly emerged from the other car with a huff, stretching his legs in exaggerated motions.

“You doing alright there, Rossi?” you asked with a grin.

He groaned, bending down to touch his toes. “I didn’t sign up for a six-hour car ride,” he muttered.

“Poor passenger princess,” you shot back, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Emily and JJ stepped out of the car, their boots crunching softly against the snowy driveway as they approached you.

“How was the ride?” JJ asked, her breath visible in the crisp winter air.

“An eventful one, that’s for sure,” you replied with a knowing smile. “What about you? What did you two get up to?”

“Well, we took a trip down memory lane,” Emily smirked. “Rossi finally spilled the tea on what really happened with all of his ex-wives.”

“No way!” you exclaimed in disappointment. “I’ve always been curious about what went down with his third wife.”

JJ chuckled, her arm slipping through yours. “One of these days, I’ll give you the whole story—over wine, of course.”

The group moved toward the house, and as you stepped inside, the scene before you took your breath away. If the exterior had been magical, the interior was nothing short of a Christmas dream come true.

The vaulted ceiling soared high above, its beams adorned with twinkling lights and garlands of fresh pine. In the corner stood an enormous Christmas tree, its branches heavy with ornaments that shimmered in the golden glow of soft fairy lights. The very tip of the star-topped tree nearly grazed the ceiling.

One wall of the living room was a seamless expanse of glass, framing a picture-perfect view of the Winter Wonderland outside. The warmth of the room drew you further in—a handwoven rug stretched across the wooden floor, anchoring a cozy sitting area arranged around a roaring fireplace. The flames crackled and popped, casting flickering shadows over the deep brown leather couches and armchairs.

Hotch and Derek, ever the gentlemen, were already gathering the luggage toward the grand staircase, Penelope instructing them on where to place everything.

You laughed softly. For a moment, the scene around you felt overwhelming. Being surrounded by people who felt like family, people who cared enough to include you in something so meaningful—it was almost surreal. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like you were stepping into a picture-perfect moment that wasn’t meant for you.

The thought brought a bittersweet pang, memories of past Christmases creeping in. You remembered locking yourself in your room as a kid, trying desperately to block out the shouting from the other side of the door. And later, when you lived on your own, how the silence of those solitary holidays had felt just as loud.

You blinked back the sting in your eyes, unwilling to let the weight of the past overshadow the beauty of the moment. JJ squeezed your arm lightly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You okay?” she asked softly, her eyes kind and knowing.

You nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little uneven. “Just...taking it all in.”

JJ returned your smile. “She really outdid herself, huh?”

Your gaze flicked to Garcia, now descending the stairs with Hotch and Morgan, their laughter filling the space. “Oh, she really did,” you chuckled, the aching feeling being washed away by gratitude.

“My brilliant, beautiful people! Let’s gather around!” Garcia announced, her hands fluttering theatrically as she beckoned everyone closer. She reached into her coat pocket, taking a notebook out with on the cover a pug wearing a Santa hat.

Clearing her throat with mock importance, she held the notebook up. “First of all,” she began, “I want to say how ridiculously happy I am to be surrounded by all of you today. Truly. I mean, look at us! My fabulous crime-fighting family, all gathered in one glorious Winter Wonderland!” She placed a hand over her heart dramatically. “I’m especially glad I managed to convince you all that spending the holidays here is way more important than whatever terribly mundane plans you had in mind for the weekend.”

Her announcement was met with a round of chuckles and a few amused groans.

“I won’t leave you hanging for that much longer, I know everyone is excited to go wander around, so now, I will be announcing the bedroom arrangements for the next two nights.”

She flipped open her notebook with a dramatic flair. “For our fearless leader and our Italian stallion,” she began, gesturing dramatically toward Hotch and Rossi, “I’ve selected the room on the far left—peaceful, secluded, and far away from the rest of us loud, lovable lunatics.”

This earned some chuckles. Hotch and Rossi exchanged a nod.

“Next,” Garcia continued, “Emily and JJ, my glorious goddesses, you’ll be sharing the suite next door to them. Roomy, cozy, and perfect for midnight gossip.”

“As for me and Hot Stuff over here,” Garcia said, flashing a grin at Morgan, “we’ll be right next door to the goddess suite. And last, but certainly not least,” she declared, looking over at Reid and you, “my beautiful geniuses will take the far-right room. Bright minds need a quiet place to rest after dazzling us all day long.”

The group clapped and cheered as Garcia snapped her notebook shut with a satisfied nod. There were no surprises in the arrangements—everyone naturally gravitated to their usual pairings. With that, everyone began to disperse, laughter and easy conversation filling the air as they made their way toward their assigned rooms.

“I hope we get a room with a window,” Spencer said as the two of you walked toward the stairs, his tone light with anticipation.

“Oh, me too,” you replied with a dreamy sigh. “Imagine waking up to that view.”

When you reached the door to your room, you gestured for Spencer to open it. “Go ahead, Dr. Reid. The honor is all yours.”

Spencer turned the handle and stepped inside, his gaze immediately drifting to the far wall. “We did get the window room!” He said, his voice tinged with genuine delight.

But while Spencer was marveling at the view, your attention went straight to the king-size bed dominating the center of the room.

You froze. Then you heard it—the soft, innocent “Oh” from Spencer as he realized it too.

“Uh... yeah. One bed,” you said, your voice tight.

Spencer turned to you. “Well, at least the window is nice,” he offered helpfully.

You blinked at him, then quickly turned on your heel. “Wait here. Don’t move,” you ordered, making a beeline for the room next door.

Three sharp knocks later, Penelope swung the door open, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Is everything okay?”

You peeked into her room, your eyes landing on the two neatly made single beds. “Oh, everything is not okay,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“What’s up, sweet cheeks?” Penelope asked, feigning innocence.

“What’s up,” you said, voice rising slightly, “is that there’s one bed in our room. One!”

Penelope scrunched her face in mock surprise. “Oh no, that’s so weird! I could have sworn all the rooms had two beds.”

“Pen,” you groaned, narrowing your eyes. “How could you do this to me? I can’t share a bed with Spencer!”

“Why not? You have a crush on him!” Penelope replied, dropping the act. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“Yes, a crush!” you hissed, glancing nervously over your shoulder to make sure no one could hear. “Crushes are for daydreaming about, not for... for sharing beds! That crosses all the boundaries—professional, personal, existential! All of them!”

“We’re not at work, darling. We’re just a group of friends having a fun weekend together. Friends can totally sleep in the same bed without it being a big deal,” she tries to encourage.

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare.”

Penelope stepped closer, her tone shifting to something gentler. “Okay, okay, calm down. How about this? Derek and I can swap rooms with you two. We’ll survive the whole one-bed situation, no problem.”

You peeked up at her through your fingers, your heart racing at the thought. “Oh, uh, no, no,” you stammered. “That’s not... necessary.”

Penelope’s eyebrow arched slowly, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. “No?”

“No! I mean, we’re professionals, right? It’s just... sleeping. Innocent, completely normal sleeping, next to each other, in the same bed. Totally manageable,” you babbled, the words tumbling out in rapid succession.

Penelope crossed her arms, smirking even wider. “Uh-huh. I’ve never met two people more professional than you and Spencer.”

“Exactly!” you squeaked, nodding so fast it felt like your head might fall off. “I’ll, uh... I’ll just let him know we’re keeping the room.”

“Great plan,” Penelope said, patting your arm in encouragement. “Go get ‘em, babe.”

You shot her a panicked smile and turned back toward your room, heart pounding as you steeled yourself for the next step.

With a deep breath you entered your shared room again, seeing Spencer seated on the edge of the bed, playing with his tie. He looked up as you creaked open the door.

“Hi, I—uh, Penelope made a mistake with the beds,” you said, stepping into the room.

Spencer faintly smiled. “I assumed as much.”

“Is it okay if I grab a quick shower before the whole Secret Santa thing?” you asked, hoping to keep things casual.

“Of course!” he said quickly, nodding a bit too earnestly as he shifted on his feet.

“You can stay here, you know,” you offered, gesturing to the bed. “Watch some TV or something. I won’t take long.”

But Spencer was already shaking his head, waving off the idea. “No, no, it’s fine. I, uh, still have some things to take care of.”

“Alright,” you replied, trying not to overthink his reaction. Was the whole one-bed situation making him uncomfortable?

Spencer grabbed his bag and slipped out of the room as you headed for the connected bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, your annoyance with Garcia melted away.

The bathroom was like something out of a dream. Hanging lamps casted a warm, golden glow, and the walls were made of rich oakwood, giving the space a cozy yet elegant feel. The floor was cool stone tile, and to the left, a matching wooden vanity stood under a large mirror. On the right, a sleek glass shower. But the real showstopper was the round bathtub at the far end of the room, set under yet another window with a breathtaking view of the snow-covered trees. Judging by the controls on the side, it looked like it doubled as a hot tub. Either Penelope had blown the entire budget on this trip, or this was her attempt at matchmaking taken to the next level.

Shaking your head, you stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away your tension as you tried to stop obsessing over the sleeping arrangements for the night.

Meanwhile, Spencer was spiraling. The second he left the room, he raced to Penelope and Derek’s room, knocking urgently.

The door opened a crack, and Penelope peeked out. “It’s just a bed, don’t stress about—oh! Spencer!” she squeaked, clearly expecting you.

“I’m not worried about the bed,” Spencer said in a rush, his eyes wide and earnest. “I need to talk to Derek.”

Penelope blinked, thrown by his sudden intensity. “Uh... okay? Pretty sure he went outside to look around.”

“Thanks!” Spencer called over his shoulder, already halfway down the stairs.

Penelope watched him go, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, boy,” she muttered under her breath. “This is going to be so good.”

Spencer’s eyes darted frantically around the room until they landed on Derek. He sprinted toward him, halting abruptly when he saw that he was in the middle of a conversation with Emily.

“Derek,” Spencer called, getting his attention. “I need you.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Now, I was expecting you to confess to me one of these days, but certainly not like this,” he joked, making Emily stifle a laugh behind her hand.

Reid rolled his eyes, his voice tinged with impatience. “I’m serious. Please, just come with me.”

Derek glanced at him, clearly confused. “Alright, man,” he said slowly, trying to figure out what got Reid so worked up. Emily waved them inside as she stayed behind.

“What’s up?” Derek asked once they were inside.

“You picked Y/N for Secret Santa.” Spencer stated.

Derek blinked, still processing. “Yeah, I did. Why?” His eyes widened as the realization hit him. “Oh, you peeked, didn’t you? Penelope’s going to kill you.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” Reid replied quickly, his voice almost pleading. “Look, I need to swap with you. I got Garcia.”

“What?” Derek asked, clearly offended. “No way. I already bought something for Y/N.”

“I’ve got something for Garcia too,” Reid said, lifting his bag as if to prove it, “it’s probably better than anything you could come up with.”

Morgan shook his head, refusing to budge. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t know what you’ve got against Garcia, but it’s not happening.”

Spencer paused, pursing his lips. “It’s not about Garcia,” he began, thinking his next words through. “I’ve got something special for Y/N, and I really want to give it to her tonight.”

Morgan’s eyes widened in surprise. He had a thousand questions ready to ask, but over the years, he'd learned not to press Reid when he got this sincere. He’d be sure to get the full story from Garcia later.

After a long pause, Derek sighed. “Alright. Fine. But you owe me big time.”

Spencer exhaled in visible relief, a genuine smile flickering across his face. “Thanks, Derek.”

You’ve got yourself all cozied up on bed, a book in your hands and wearing the matching Christmas pajama set you got with the girls. The door creaks open, and you look up to see Spencer standing there, a small smile tugging at his lips. His posture is less tense than before—his shoulders are relaxed, and the frown on his face seemed to have melted away. The time spent alone seemed to have calmed the both of you.

You turn fully to your side, facing him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he replies. “How was the shower?”

“Oh God, Spence,” you sigh, the memory of it still fresh in your mind. “I swear, you need to give it a try. It was the most heavenly experience of my life.”

He chuckles in response. “I can’t say no to that.”

Spencer places his bag down on the chair by the door before heading into the bathroom. Your fingers flick through the pages, content when you find the sentence where you left off.

Suddenly the peaceful silence is interrupted by a piercing scream. You’re sure you’ve broken a world record, because in a split second, you’re off the bed, gun in hand, and racing toward the bathroom door.

You quickly scan the room, finding no danger. But there, standing under the shower, is Spencer—completely naked, eyes wide in panic, hands clutching at his skin. The glass shower walls don’t hide anything, and in a blur of horror, you realize everything is on full display.

You join his screaming, and instinctively, you spin around, covering your eyes even though your back is already to him.

“I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything!” you stammer, not sure whether you’re trying to convince yourself or him. Because, well, you definitely saw a thing.

Both of your screams come to a halt. The silence that follows is thick with awkwardness, and after a beat, Spencer’s voice cracks through the tension.

“You—you set the water temperature to 115 degrees!” he says, sounding somewhere between panicked and utterly exasperated.

You blink, still trying to recover from the shock of what you just witnessed. “I thought you were dying!” you blurt out.

“My skin was dying! You’re stripping away the natural oils your body produces to protect itself. You know the skin is an organ, right? It’s not some random thing you can just ignore. Plus, your body’s not a furnace—it can’t handle prolonged exposure to that kind of heat. It messes with your blood vessels, makes your heart race, drops your blood pressure. It’s like you want to dry out your skin and potentially knock yourself out.”

You throw your hands up in frustration, running your fingers through your hair. “Spencer, it’s freezing outside,” you argue.

He sighs dramatically, as if this is the least logical thing you could have possibly done. “Cold is a much better option—it buys you more time to either get to safety, or, well, succumb without experiencing rapid organ failure.”

You’re about to respond when you hear him turning on the water again—this time at a much lower temperature—and with a hasty glance over your shoulder, you quickly avert your eyes again.

You shake yourself out of the random exchange, your heart still racing. “Whatever. I’m going downstairs. I’ll meet you there.” You hurry out, hoping the quick exit will help shake the awkwardness.

Downstairs, Rossi is waiting for you in the open kitchen. He places a bottle of wine on the counter, offering you a glass with a smile. “A 2008 well-chilled Pouilly-Fuissé for the lady.”

You take it gratefully, letting out a soft sigh of relief. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

“Wine time already?” Emily asks, her voice filled with curiosity as she strolls over, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Every time is wine time,” Rossi replies with a wink, pouring her a glass as well.

Emily takes a sip, her sharp eyes immediately flicking over you, scanning you in that way she does when something’s off. You feel your cheeks flush, and of course, Emily notices.

“Alright,” she says, her voice dropping a notch, “spill it.”

You take a slow sip, swirling the wine in your glass. “I don’t think I should. You know, very expensive carpet and all that.”

Emily rolls her eyes but smiles. “Don’t try to outsmart me now. You’re rarely this flustered, and no—” she points a finger at you, “—you can’t blame it on the alcohol.”

You hesitate for a moment, then give in with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Just… Can we go somewhere a little more private?”

Emily’s grin widens as she leads you to the living room, and you both sit down. “So. You’re gonna tell me why you look like a deer in headlights.”

You glance around, making sure no one’s close enough to overhear. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you say, “I just saw… Spencer’s…”

Emily raises an eyebrow, urging you to go on.

You take a deep breath before muttering, “Penis.”

Emily almost chokes on her wine, letting out a wheeze and nearly dropping her glass.

You quickly hush her. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t a big deal.”

She recovers, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “No? So he’s…?” She makes the universal ‘small’ gesture, her fingers pinched with a tiny gap between them.

“No!” You blurt out, suddenly defensive. “No, no, not at all! He was… he was good.”

The look on Emily’s face is pure delight as she bursts into a fit of laughter. “I cannot believe this. You just—wow.”

“It really isn’t that dramatic,” you mutter, hoping to deflect the tension. “I accidentally saw him in the shower.”

Emily’s eyebrows lift slightly, an expression that mixes curiosity with a touch of amusement. “Did anything happen?” she asks with interest, aware of the dynamic between you and Spencer.

“No,” You scoff with a short, dismissive laugh. “Especially not after I almost burnt his organs to a crisp.”

Confusion flickered across her face. You see it, but before she can ask for clarification, you wave off the subject.

Emily leans back on the couch, her eyes softening as she studies you, a calm yet knowing look settling on her face. “Look, I get it,” she says, her voice lower now, almost reassuring. “This was an awkward moment, but it’s not the first time you’ve wasted an opportunity in showing him how you feel. You’ve been tiptoeing around this for long enough. Come on, it’s Spencer. If there’s one person who you should feel comfortable with to confide in, it’s him."

“I know that,” you answer, the words coming out as a quiet sigh, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “It’s just not convenient. We’re colleagues, and on top of that, great friends. If I wanted to pursue something, I should’ve done it when I first joined the team. It’s too complicated now.”

She leans in slightly, her voice becoming more direct. “It’s only complicated because you’re making it complicated. You like him, and from what I can see, he feels the same. He’s probably just waiting for you to make the first move.”

You shift uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes, your fingers tapping nervously against your knee. You want to argue, but it’s hard to deny the truth. You’ve been tiptoeing around Spencer for so long—too long—burying your feelings beneath the surface where they could never cause any disruption.

“And if you don’t do something about it,” Emily adds, her tone soft but heavy with meaning, “you’ll regret it.”

A shaky exhale escapes you, as the reality of her words sinks in. “I don’t know, Em. There’s so much that could go wrong.”

Her gaze lingers on you, but it’s not pitiful. She sees right through you—sees the fear, the hesitation, the walls you’ve built up. The truth is, you’ve spent years convincing yourself that being close to Spencer was dangerous. Not just because of your professional relationship, but because of the way he anchors you—keeps you grounded when everything else feels unstable. He’s always been there, the rock you cling to when everything else feels uncertain. And the idea of stepping into something deeper with him, risking that connection, terrifies you more than anything.

Because if you lost him—if you let yourself love him and then something happened to him... you’re not sure you’d survive the fall.

The words you’ve been avoiding finally spill out of you in a quiet, strained whisper: “I’ve kept him at a distance, you know? I’ve always kept him at arm’s length because I’m afraid of what would happen if something bad happened to him. If I opened up, fully, and let myself love him… what if I lost him, Emily?” You swallow hard, the vulnerability in your voice feeling raw, exposed. “It’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”

For a long moment, Emily says nothing. She simply watches you, her expression unreadable, but you know she’s hearing you. When she finally speaks, it’s with a calm certainty that cuts right through your fear. “There is also so much that can go right,” she encourages, the words simple but heavy. “You’re not the only one who’s afraid of losing something. He’s been walking the same tightrope for as long as you have.”

Her words linger in the space between you, the silence hanging heavy. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t let you escape the truth that’s been right in front of you all along.

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat tightens, the words getting stuck. The risk of losing him is real, but so is the risk of never knowing what could be. And the more you think about it, the more you realize that the regret of not trying, of letting fear hold you back, would hurt so much more than anything else.

Emily shifts in her seat, clearly sensing the shift in energy. “Alright, enough of the heavy stuff for now. We’re supposed to be enjoying the holiday, remember?” She glances toward the doorway where the sound of laughter and festive chatter floats in. “It’s Secret Santa time. Now just look cute and pretend you’re excited before Penelope walks in.”

You chuckle, giving Emily’s hand a light squeeze, silently thanking her for steering the conversation in a lighter direction.

One by one, the team filters into the living room, settling into the couch and chairs. Spencer walks in last, looking effortlessly beautiful as always, his hair still damp from the shower. He offers you a sheepish smile as he sits down beside you, and suddenly, the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you melts away. Emily was right, it’s just Spencer. Your Spencer. Everything is fine.

Penelope takes her rightful spot in front of the Christmas tree, her arms outstretched toward the pile of gifts that are scattered across the floor. Her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Alright, everyone! Get ready, because it’s time for Secret Santa!”

“How exactly are we going to go about this? Any specific rules or guidelines we should follow?” Reid asks in interest.

“I am so glad you asked,” she responds in delight. “We’re keeping it simple—because let’s be real, our brains have been on overdrive and we all need a break. Here’s the plan: We’ll go in a clockwise order starting with Emily. Everyone can pick a gift from under the tree and open it. After that, you’ll have to guess who it’s from. And once you make your guess, the Secret Santa will reveal themselves!”

“Sounds easy enough,” Emily announces as she stands up, walking toward the tree. Her eyes quickly landed on a package with her name scrawled in sharpie. She sits back down on the couch, everyone’s eyes fixed on her with eager anticipation as she tears into the wrapping. Inside, she finds a leatherbound journal with a blackbird embossed on the cover.

“I love the song,” Emily says, running her fingers over the emblem. She looks up at JJ, a knowing smile on her face. “This could be from no one but you.”

JJ smiles in return. “It’s for writing down the thoughts—and everything else—you don’t always feel like saying. Sometimes putting pen to paper helps more than we realize.”

Emily's smile softens at the gesture, touched by the thoughtfulness behind it. Next, it’s JJ’s turn. She received a sleek organizer, and as she flips it open, the first page is a collage of photos—her wedding pictures, memories of Henry, and fun moments of the team.

“Only a parent would add a page like this,” JJ says, recognizing the personal touch. She looks at Hotch, and he nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I figured it might help with the chaos,” Hotch replies.

“You’re all too good at this guessing game,” Penelope complains playfully. “It’s no fun when everyone’s a profiler.” She bends down to pick up her own gift, the package heavy in her hands. She sits on the floor as she unwraps it carefully.

When she sees what’s inside, her eyes widen in delight. Inside the package is a DVD player that also doubles as a radio—something you've seen in ads countless times. “Oh my god, please tell me it has the voice,” she says, fingers hovering in excitement over the buttons. She presses one, and suddenly, Derek’s programmed voice comes from the speaker, making you snort.

“Hey, baby girl. It’s December 24th. Ready for some music?”

Penelope’s face lights up, and she squeals in delight, wrapping her arms around Derek and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best!”

Derek shakes his head in amusement, giving her a quick smile before rolling his eyes at Spencer, who’s watching the exchange with an almost childlike excitement.

Next, Derek gets a ticket to Vegas. “Once we have a free weekend, I’ll take you with me on my Sin to Win weekend,” she teases, and Derek laughs, already looking forward to it.

Just then, Hotch’s phone rings. “Excuse me,” he mutters, heading to the kitchen.

Penelope pouts. “It was his turn,” she says with disappointment.

“No worries, Garcia,” Rossi reassures her with a wink. “My present will be better anyway,” he jokes, making her smile.

He unwraps his gift—a vintage bottle of whiskey—and holds it up with a grin. “See? It doesn’t get better than this.”

Laughter fills the room, but your heart is pounding as it’s now Spencer’s turn. You watch him closely, knowing that this is the moment when he’ll open your gift. It’s a small box, and as he unwraps it carefully, his fingers pause when he sees what’s inside: an exclusive Doctor Who Time Vortex watch. The watch has a leather blue strap, gold-plated Roman numerals, and the intricate inner workings of the watch are visible through the glass. You’d spend ages hunting down this piece online, fighting off a dozen eager Doctor Who nerds, and paying well above the asking price just to secure it.

“Wow…” Spencer breathes, his voice tinged with awe as he examines the watch. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, immediately knowing it’s from you.

“How did you get this?” he asks softly, his eyes full of gratitude and wonder.

You smile, trying not to overthink your response. “It wasn’t easy, but you’re worth the effort.”

A blush spreads across Spencer’s cheeks, and for a moment, the two of you share a quiet, intimate glance. Just then, Penelope’s voice interrupts. “Hey, Y/N has two gifts! That’s not how this works!”

Spencer’s eyes narrow, shooting daggers at Derek, who unapologetically shrugs.

“Ooh, I’m special!” you tease, grinning as Penelope hands you two gifts—a big one and a small one.

“Big one first,” you say, excitement bubbling in your chest as you accept the pink box with a bow on top. You rip into the paper. A red lingerie set stares back at you from under the packaging, and you throw your head back in a laugh.

A few weeks ago, Derek had come back from another late-night fling, and the conversation still echoed in your mind.

“How come women only own the same three pairs of bras?” he’d asked, genuinely perplexed.

You’d just sighed, shaking your head. “Derek, you’re lucky you don’t have boobs. Finding a bra that fits—and is affordable—is probably the hardest task one could face.”

Now, with the lingerie in your hands, you raise an eyebrow at Derek. “Do I want to know how you got my exact size?”

Derek looks over at Penelope with a sheepish grin. “I had some help from one of Santa’s elves.”

Penelope mischievously adds, “I may have hacked your computer to check out your purchases.”

You raise your hand in a dramatic, 'there you go' gesture, not at all surprised. “Of course you did.”

“Well,” you begin, looking at the box in your hands, “just know that you're never gonna see me in this.” You wave the red lace and satin teasingly in front of him, feeling a surge of amusement as Derek’s face falls in exaggerated disappointment.

You laugh, then glance over at Spencer, who’s sitting beside you. You can barely make out his muttered, “Good,” under his breath, though it’s enough to catch your attention.

You’re about to take initiative, maybe throw some playful banter his way, when the sudden sound of footsteps in the hallway cuts through the light moment. The door to the living room opens with a soft creak, and you look up as Hotch strides into the room. His jaw tight, his posture all business, and you can feel the shift in the air immediately.

“We’ve got a case. A family is murdered twenty minutes away from here.”

PART TWO

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jjkamochoso · 2 months ago

Note

Helooo sorry to barge in!

I was hoping maybe you do a creation of one of Kaiju no 9 of making humans but he left her thinking she's a waste of creation.

The JAKDF found her though she was dead (inside a pod that contains some water and oxygen mask for humans to breathe)

Then the container suddenly opens and Hoshina out of reflex catches fem reader.

These might be time consuming so sorry about that but you can take your time of wanting to do this but even if you ignore it I don't mind. Ok! Thankyouuu for your time!!🤝🏻✨✨✨

Hello and welcome to my blog!! Thanks so much for this request, this is such a cool idea!! I’m sorry it took so long but I very much appreciate your patience😁🫶 I hope you love this!!

Too Cute to Be a Kaiju

Angst, Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x f! reader

Warnings: description of medical paraphernalia (oxygen masks, tubing attached to body, etc.)

You felt… incredible. Invincible, even. Of course, that was after the excruciating pain that had been inflicted upon you for the past who knows how long. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt sunshine on your skin or what a breath of fresh air tasted like, but you also couldn’t remember what it was like to feel so powerful.

And then everything went black.

Kaiju No. 9 had been quiet for the past month.

Too quiet.

Soshiro Hoshina frowned at the news, or lack thereof, being reported to him about No. 9’s whereabouts by a soldier tasked with the unfortunate job of being at the brunt of the JAKDF’s finest’s frustrations.

“…and there was nothing to report there either. Our operations team did report a sudden spike in fortitude levels near an abandoned cave, but the excavation team didn’t make note of any evidence of No. 9 having been there-”

“Hold on. Where was that?” Soshiro interrupted, his bored expression turned immediately interested.

“Where was what, sir?” the solider replied, the shake of nerves overtaking her voice.

“The spike in fortitude levels. Where was that at?”

“At… at a cave, sir,” she swallowed thickly.

Soshiro fought the urge to grab her by the collar and shake the answer out of her, instead choosing to grin sarcastically.

“I got that part. Any idea which one?”

“Um…” She flipped through the pages of reports in her hands with fervor. “Here, sir.”

He took the paper from her outstretched hand. A singular red dot stood out on the black and white map, its location just outside Third Division’s city boundaries.

Thanking her, he handed it back. “Did anyone follow up on this irregularity?”

She shook her head no and Soshiro’s eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s all. Thank you.”

“But the report, sir, I’m not done-”

“Are there any sightings of 9 in there?”

“No sir.”

He shrugged. “Then I’m good. I’m releasing you from report reading duty to go do something more worthwhile.”

The soldier, albeit confused, saluted him and walked out of his office. Rubbing his face with his hands, Soshiro took in a breath.

Looks like I’m going spelunking.

A few days, tons of arguing with higher ups, and plenty of paperwork later, the vice captain of the Third Division found himself facing the depths of a cave on the coast outside Tokyo. He was allotted two soldiers to go with him in case something went awry, both of which were currently arguing over who had to enter the suspicious looking cave first. While they were occupied with each other, Soshiro pulled out his tablet and began to measure fortitude levels in the surrounding area. For several minutes, the reading stayed at zero, signaling that nothing of concern was residing there.

Maybe it was a fluke.

Without warning, the fortitude level readings pulsed with numbers fluctuating between 1.4 and 7.6. Soshiro’s eyes blitzed away from the screen and began to scan for an immediate threat, yet he found none. As quick as it began, the levels went back down to zero.

“Have you two stopped bickering and figured out which one of you is heading in there first?” Soshiro addressed the squabbling soldiers.

“Since you’re in charge, sir, we think you should,” one of them said after a moment’s pause, causing the other to nod along eagerly. Soshiro sighed and entered into the depths, his fingers itching for the safety of his blades.

The cave was like a labyrinth; it would be a feat for Soshiro’s small team to be able to retrace their steps to the entrance when they were done exploring. Keeping an eye on the fortitude readings, there was no change while walking the first few miles of the underground tunnel. All of a sudden, like before, the tablet alerted Soshiro to readings ranging from 3.3 to 8.5. He pressed on, his soldiers cowering behind their vice captain like scared children. The pathway of the cave started to narrow and Soshiro felt his heart pound with unease. Before long, he was struggling to fit through the tunnel. With the little light he had emanating from his flashlight, he saw that the tunnel has been damaged by some sort of explosion, leading the walls to cave in on themselves.

As if someone—or something—had been trying to hide what they were up to.

There’s something here. I know it.

With one final squeeze over fallen rocks, Soshiro and his team were rewarded with a change of view. They had come upon a wide open space, with stalagmites gracing the surrounding areas. Sticky air permeated this part of the cave and Soshiro’s lungs struggled to work in the thick atmosphere.

“What is this place?” piped up a squeaky voice.

“We’re here to find that out,” murmured Soshiro, his flashlight lighting up the walls to gain a sense of his surroundings. “Take a look around and report back if you find something.”

“I found something!” yelped the other solider, his flashlight quivering, casting moving shadows on the…

The…

What exactly was that?

Soshiro inched closer, wanting to investigate. There was no way that was what he thought it was. As he moved in and realized what he saw, his eyes widened in shock. Standing tall in the middle of the cave was a giant tube filled with some sort of liquid. Floating inside the tube was a woman, a thin white gown covering her body and an oxygen mask covering her mouth. There were various small tubes and cords running off of her, but nothing seemed to be in working order.

She couldn’t be the source of the wavering fortitude levels…

Could she?

Against better judgement, Soshiro approached the tube. This discovery, no matter what it was, was going to be extremely important. It didn’t matter if this was a breakthrough for the JAKDF or just the local police force.

He was going to get her out of here.

“Is she a Kaiju, sir?” asked the soldier who found the woman first.

“I don’t see how she could be,” replied Soshiro, circling the tube, “but this is very strange.”

“She’s too cute to be a Kaiju,” remarked the other soldier and Soshiro glared at him, the soldier now averting his eyes in embarrassment.

Soshiro studied the woman for a good while, his hand clasped under his chin in thought. She must be dead since there was no way she could’ve survived down there with no food or water, suspended in water like that.

“What happened to you, hm? Were you experimented on by some sort of freak?” Soshiro wondered aloud. His tablet alerted him to a change in fortitude levels but he had no time to check it.

The pod burst opened.

Without even having to think about it, Soshiro caught the woman’s body with ease as she was flung out of the now opened pod door, water pouring out and soaking the both of them. Soshiro was thoroughly confused by what brought that on, but he had barely a moment to think before the woman’s eyes fluttered open and his tablet recorded no more instances of rising fortitude levels.

“Are you alright?” he asked, still holding her close to his chest.

“I… don’t know,” you croaked out, your voice rusty from disuse.

“Shh, don’t hurt yourself. I’ve got you, okay?” Soshiro reassured you, his firm grip a comfort on your aching arms. You didn’t seem like a Kaiju, going off of your looks, but there was no way you were 100% human. Your skin was much too cold for you to not be shivering, nor was it pruny from being suspended in water for who knows how long.

“Hey, dumb and dumber. Disconnect her from the tube, would ya?”

The soldiers, frozen in surprise at the alive woman in front of them, broke out of their stupor and pulled at the cords, unplugging you from your container.

“What’s your name, darling?” asked Soshiro, trying his best to keep a calm demeanor to get you to talk.

“I… I don’t…”

Your head felt like it was splitting in two. All of your memories were hazy. You couldn’t remember your real name, where you were from, or how you got down there in the first place. The only thing that was clear in your mind were the experiments done on you and a sinister voice calling you disobedient and a waste of creation. You didn’t want to think about your past anymore—you wanted to focus on the present, with the soft touch of a handsome man quelling your worries like you never had them to begin with. This man, who was holding you with such fondness, too much for a stranger like you, you thought, was making your chest pound like your heart would burst through at any time.

“Hey, it’s alright. Don’t stress over it. We’ll get you out of here and cleaned up, okay?”

The man gestured at who you assumed were his team. You didn’t care to look at them; you couldn’t take your eyes off the man with the bowl cut.

He looked very familiar.

“You… I know you…” you declared, staring into his bright purple irises, trying to place where you knew him from.

“Do you? I’m on the news a lot, you know.”

He flashed you a smile, his fangs barely peeking over his lips, but it was enough for the memory to come rushing in faster than the water rushed out of your pod. You flung yourself out of his grasp like his skin had burnt your own, putting a fair amount of distance between the two of you.

“Vice Captain Hoshina,” you called out, your breathing heavy as you grappled between restraining yourself and giving into your monstrous urges, “I was going to be sent to kill you.”

Soshiro only raised his eyebrows at your words, seemingly not worried about anything of what you just told him. He sauntered over to you without a care in the world, his goofy grin still plastered on his face.

That’s too bad. She really is cute.

Taglist: @kana-daydreams

#soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina angst #soshiro hoshina x reader fluff #soshiro hoshina fluff #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x female reader #soshiro hoshina x you #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #kn8 fluff #kn8 angst #hoshina x reader

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