#mind the age gap

[movielosophy]

The Starry Love | You’re so old yet you still want a wife?

[mariasont]

A Simple Rinse Would've Sufficed - A.H

summary: sweetheart!reader is completely convinced hotch's first aid response is overboard

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader

warnings: dbf aaron hotchner, teeny tiny cut on readers hand, pre-relationship, reader being lil obsessed with hotch

wc: 0.9k

"This really isn't necessary," you murmur, but the words lack conviction, trailing off before they can land.

Hotch doesn't look up. Doesn't hesitate. Just finishes unscrewing the cap on the antiseptic like he didn't hear you—or more likely, he did, and didn't care for the argument.

It was just a scratch. Practically invisible. Nothing to fuss over. But apparently, Hotch is operating under some kind of every minor injury is a security threat policy.

Which felt especially ridiculous considering you'd just walked away from an arrest unscathed. You'd spent the last twenty-four hours proving yourself—running down leads, securing evidence, even keeping up with the rest of the team during the suspect pursuit. You were proud of that. 

And then you got back to the precinct, went to grab a file from one of those awful old metal drawers, and bam. A tiny, inconsequential scrape across your palm. You had survived actual violence, only to be bested by office furniture.

So now you were getting a full medical exam over something that wasn't even visible unless you really squinted.

You shift on the edge of the table, legs swinging, mostly because sitting still feels impossible under his touch. His hands are big—bigger than you realized until now. Strong, but you'd say also careful, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly against your skin as he holds you in place. The sensation sends an unsteady type of warmth curling up your spine, landing somewhere behind your ribs.

"It's barely even a cut," you say, attempting to sound exasperated instead of—whatever this was. "Like, I'm pretty sure I've had worse from opening candy wrappers."

That earns you a look, and you instantly shrink under it.

Not a harsh look, not even an annoyed one—just Hotch's look. That's explanation enough. The kind that makes you feel like you should probably quit while you're ahead, but also makes you realize you're probably not capable of quitting while you're ahead.

So, naturally, you keep talking.

"I mean, I really don't think this requires a whole medical response, sir," you add, the nervous energy bubbling under your skin making it impossible to shut up. You clamp down on the urge to chew your lip, shifting slightly under his attention.

The antiseptic meets your skin with a sharp little sting, and you suck in a breath, fingers twitching like you might actually yank your hand away from your boss.

Hotch doesn't even blink. Just presses a little firmer, holding your wrist steady like he already expected you to flinch. "Hold still."

And gods help you, but something about it turns your thoughts into white noise.

It's nothing. Objectively, logically—nothing. Just Hotch being careful, thorough, like he is with everything.

Except his hands are warm. Rough in a way that makes your breath feel a little short, moving over your skin with a level of care that shouldn't make you feel nearly as dizzy as it does.

You blink, zeroing in on the plain, standard-issue bandage he's peeling open—completely unremarkable, completely ordinary. Like forcing your brain to register on the most boring detail in the room will make you stop spiraling. 

"It's just funny," you blurt, because the silence is suffocating, and you're panicking a little.

Hotch gives you a look, not quite questioning but not dismissing either.

You clear your throat. "I mean, you do realize you've done more for this than most people would do for, like, a full-on stab wound, right?"

A pause. Just long enough for you to start regretting speaking at all.

And then—to your absolute horror—something shifts. A flicker of amusement. So quick, so barely there, you might've imagined it.

Oh no.

You'd almost prefer it if he just ignored you. If he shut you down with that infamous serious look he always wore. This, the possibility that you might've entertained him for even half of a second, was infinitely worse.

His thumb smooths over the bandaid, pressing it into place, and your body locks up.

Because he doesn’t move away.

For a second—maybe less, maybe nothing at all—his touch lingers, barely there but there, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin adhesive. He’s still holding your hand. His thumb still resting against you, light, thoughtless. Like he doesn’t even realize it.

You should move.

You should say something.

You should not be sitting here, waiting to see if he notices.

Then, as quickly as it happened, it’s over. Hotch lets go, caps the antiseptic, and steps back like it never happened.

"There," he says, so even, so unaffected, like none of this was anything. For him it probably wasn't. "You'll live."

You exhale a laugh—too thin, too breathless—like your brain is trying to reset itself, like you weren’t this close to total system failure. “Well, thank God. I was getting worried.”

He doesn’t react, doesn’t even glance up at you as he secures the first-aid kit back in place. “Check in with Prentiss before you go.”

You nod—too fast, too much—and push yourself off the table, legs feeling weirdly unsteady, like you’ve been sitting too long. That’s all this is. You just need to walk it off.

And then he's gone. You stare at your hand, fingers flexing experimentally. 

“You do realize that was entirely unnecessary.”

You jolt, turning so fast you almost trip over yourself. Reid is standing there, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he’s studying something under a microscope.

You blink. "I—what?"

Reid gestures toward your hand. “That wound wasn’t significant enough to require antiseptic or dressing. A simple rinse would have sufficed.”

You stare. Your brain is still buffering—half stuck-on Hotch, half trying to figure out how Reid manages to be the weirdest and most correct person in any given room.

"I—uh." You clear your throat. "Good to know."

Reid nods. "Just thought you might find that interesting."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11

taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

[reidphobic]

trying hard not to get into trouble (but i’ve got a war in my mind) - s. r.

in which your criminology professor is just too tempting. 3359 words.

switch!spencer x switch!fem reader, questionable age gap & power dynamic, mild exhibitionism, authority kink, brief choking, praise, semi-public sex, oral (f and m receiving), mild degradation, no use of y/n

Your bare thighs stick uncomfortably to the plastic lecture hall chair, and you shift in your seat. Still, you focus diligently on the lecture, or, more specifically, on your professor. Dr. Reid is your favourite kind of challenge, a man you can’t have, the kind who won’t compromise his morals no matter how much he wants you — or, thinks he won’t.

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on you just a second too long, flickers down to your chest before he catches himself. Toying with him is the highlight of your week, coming up with new ways to torture him, push his boundaries as far as you can before he snaps. The semester is drawing to a close, though, and you haven’t quite snared your pretty professor yet, so you’re having to resort to drastic measures.

It’s like he’s deliberately avoiding you, eyes sliding over you as if you’re not even there. You hope that means your barely-there outfit is working as intended. Dr. Reid refuses to call on you to answer a question, stuttering through his sentences and raking his hand through his unkempt curls. You wonder if they’re soft to the touch, if he likes having them pulled, if— Focus. You raise one hand, digging through your bag with the other. When his attention is finally on you, you spout off some stupid question that’s believable enough not to arouse suspicion; he sees right through it, though, knows the ruse.

Out of politeness, Dr. Reid keeps his focus on you as he speaks. His words come out rapid-fire as if he’s trying to escape you before you do any more damage. It only makes him stumble more, and his struggle is frankly adorable. His reaction as you wrap your lips around a cherry-flavoured sucker is audible, a hitch in his breath and a waver in his voice as you smile innocently around the candy. From then, he can’t take his eyes off you, watching your red-stained tongue lap at sticky sugar, fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

Leaning back in your chair, you smirk slightly, wait to draw his attention. When he meets your gaze, you spread your legs, give him a deliberate eyeful of the tiny scrap of lace between them. At that, you physically see him snap, rail against the constraints of his moral compass, finally, gloriously give in. A thrill skitters up your spine as he stops in front of your desk. “See me after class,” he murmurs, jaw clenched.

“Yes, Professor,” you breathe, licking your lips as your thighs clench under the table.

You linger as your class lets out, carefully reapplying your lipgloss while you wait for the room to empty. When you’re finally alone, you approach his desk cautiously. “You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?” you say delicately, suddenly uncertain — you might just be in for the reprimand of your life, and that’s no fun for anyone.

“If you’ll just come with me to my office,” he says tightly, staring resolutely past you as he stands from his desk. Desire pools under your skin, your every nerve alive with tension as Dr. Reid lets you into his office. The sound of the lock clicking shut falls straight between your thighs — that’s when you know you’ve got him. You sit demurely in his armchair, legs crossed as he puts as much distance between the two of you as possible, standing across the room with his arms folded protectively across his chest. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my classroom.”

You smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” you say, putting on a wide-eyed, naive look you’re sure he won’t fall for. Unconsciously, he steps towards you. 

Dr. Reid’s gaze is unreadable. “Really? That little stunt with the sucker, I— I know what you’re doing, and it has to stop, okay?” he says, and, oh. He’s the one pleading with you.

It makes sense, once you think about it. You know he used to be an FBI agent; a dangerous, high-stress job like that, it’s no surprise he’d want to shut off, hand over the control, be taken care of, entrust his pleasure entirely to someone else. “Why would I stop?” you pout. He’s close enough now that you could reach out and touch him. “I’m having so.” You take Dr. Reid’s tie delicately between your fingers. “Much.” You pull him in gently. “Fun.” You tug sharply on his tie, hard enough that he stumbles, bracing his hands on the arms of your chair.

He lets out a shaky gasp, like he’s expecting you to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole. “This is… The, uh…” He clears his throat. “The way you’re acting in my class is not appropriate, and it needs to stop,” he says. You’d almost call it firmly, if not for the near-imperceptible tremor in his voice.

You note that he hasn’t pulled away. “I don’t think you want me to stop, Professor,” you murmur. “I think you want me to stop teasing you, and you want me to give you what you want.” Your smile widens the longer he stays silent; searching for the words to refute you, but the lie won’t come. “Tell me what you want, Doctor Reid,” you purr.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “You aren’t… It’s not…”

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this,” you breathe, catching his jaw so he can’t look away.

His mouth opens, but no words come out, speechless in a way you’ve never seen him. “I… I’m twenty years older than you.”

You grin. “And?”

“I’m your teacher,” he protests, nearly a whine, and oh, isn’t that a delicious sound.

“So?”

“So?” Dr. Reid repeats, incredulous. “I can’t… have sex with you in my office!” he hisses, low as if someone might be listening in.

Your grin only widens, and you pull him down towards you, so close that his breath skates across your lips. He twitches nervously, like you’re close to breaking him, like he’s this close to doing something he’ll regret. “But you want to,” you murmur, cupping his jaw and letting your fingers trace his cheekbone. “Tell me, Professor… When was the last time you had something just because you wanted it, hm?” He shudders, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll take real good care of you, sir, I promise.”

With a strangled groan, he gives in. The kiss is sudden, harsh like he’s furious with you for pulling him in like this. Soft lips give way to sharp teeth, greedy tongues, slotting together like you were moulded for him. Your hand slides up into his hair, tangling in his curls as you kiss him harder. A moan slips from your lips when you pull away for air, and the sound seems to drive him well and truly into madness. His lips meet yours with a renewed hunger, resting a hand at your jaw when he breaks away.

Spencer (you’ve just had your tongue down his throat, for God’s sake, you’ve earned the right to call him by his first name) strokes his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing down at you with awe and disbelief written across his face. He sucks in a sharp breath when you close your lips around his thumb, lapping at it just like the sucker from earlier. “You’re trying to kill me,” he breathes.

Releasing his thumb with a slick pop, you laugh. “Is that what you think?” You stand up, press your body into his. Spencer nods warily. “You’d know. If I was trying to kill you, I’d do something like this,” you murmur, sliding your hand up his throat and pressing down softly. His eyes flutter closed in surrender, and a filthy, spit-slick grin spreads wide across your lips. “You like that? Good boy,” you say silkily, letting go of his throat as he nods. “You gonna let me take care of you, Professor?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, and when you let your gaze wander away from his flushed face and down his body, your lips part softly at the sight of him straining against his pants. You dip your head to kiss his neck, wishing you could bruise, make him yours, but you restrain yourself.

Rough carpet grazes your knees as you sink to the floor, hands coming up to work his belt open. You kiss him through his pants, slide his zipper down with your teeth. Spencer whines, and the sound sends a pulse of arousal through you. “So needy, sir,” you croon, slowly pulling him free of his boxers. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen, thick and hard in your palm, drooling precum as you lean in to kiss the tip. The salt taste of him fills your mouth and you moan involuntarily, his hips twitching as you pump his cock slowly.

Hands thread into your hair, but the touch is gentle, reverent, born from need rather than demand. Not that you’d say no to his manhandling you, but you get the sense that’ll take some time. “If you want something, it’s polite to ask,” you tease, holding Spencer’s hips when he tries to fuck into your hand.

“Fuck, please,” he hisses, and the obscenity slides deliciously up your spine. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so gorgeous down there. I want you so badly, I just— please?” Spencer whines, and he sounds so sweetly pathetic that you take pity on him, wrap your lips around his head. The moan that falls from his lips is made of pure lust, and you shiver, arousal dripping between your thighs.

You suck and lick at him, eager and teasing, moaning as the taste of him fills your mouth. Spencer trembles with the effort of holding still, not fucking up into your mouth, and his hands unconsciously tighten in your hair. “You can be a little rougher, if you want,” you say, sliding your palms up his clothed thighs and taking him in your mouth again. You moan around him as his cock bumps the back of your throat, swallowing a gag with practiced ease.

Spencer’s hand curls into a fist in your hair, your stomach clenching in anticipation. The gentle sting when he tugs just a little buzzes under your skin, and you moan enthusiastically around him, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper. “Fuck,” he whines, hips jerking forward until his cock bumps the back of your throat. Heat throbs between your legs as he twitches on your tongue, and you can tell from the sounds he’s making that he’s close. 

You double your efforts, pulling off to lick around his head and drip spit along his length. Arousal throbs in your belly, hips grinding down against nothing. Slowly, you take him all the way back in, moan low in your throat when he’s buried to the hilt. You trace your tongue across the vein throbbing on his underside, and Spencer lets out the sweetest, most desperate little whimper you’ve ever heard. “I- I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck, baby, oh, my God,” he gasps, needy and adoring.

His voice trembles as he begs, so soft you’re not sure he knows he’s speaking aloud, and the way he pleads your name, fuck. Time blurs around you, your head goes hazy, pleasure knotting itself deliciously around your insides. Spencer gives a strangled moan, a garbled sound that might be your name, and that’s all the warning you get. You swallow greedily as he spills on your tongue, twitching and moaning and praising you through short, gasping breaths.

He’s still twitching with the aftershocks as you pull off, kneeling to smile blithely up at him. Spencer’s eyes are wide, sparkling with adoration as he struggles for breath. “How was that, Professor?” you tease. “Do I get an A?”

He gives a groaning sort of laugh, pulls you to your feet. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, still gazing into your eyes. It’s disarming, and you get the distinct impression he can read what you’re thinking as plainly as if it were stamped on your forehead. “Come here, come on,” he adds, pulling at your hips and pressing your body into his. You’re almost shocked when he kisses you, hard and greedy and hungry, the most aggressive he’s been this entire time. He sanitises his damn desk three times in a class, for God’s sake — you’d half expected him to hand you a toothbrush when you stood from the floor.

And yet, he’s kissing you breathless, and his hands are tangled in your hair, and his body is pressed so close to yours that you can barely tell where you end and he begins. “Thank you,” he mutters against your lips. “That was incredible. You’re incredible. You’ve gotta let me— Come here, sit,” he says, guiding you to sit on his desk. You balance between scattered papers, an uncapped pen bleeding a black stain into your skirt. 

“Let you do what, Doctor?” you say, quiet and breathy, gazing up at Spencer with wide, adoring eyes.

Spencer smiles, and something warms in your chest at the sight. Long, delicate fingers trace along your thigh, push up your skirt until your panties are on full display. “Pretty,” he remarks, maddeningly casual. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Of course, sir. I don’t dress up for boys anymore.” You swallow, bite your lip. You decide to lay it on a little thicker. “See, I need a man.”

“Is that so?” Spencer murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Your heartbeat quickens, excitement throbbing between your legs as he drags them down. “Look at you, sweet girl. So wet. Is that all from sucking my dick?” he teases, and you shudder.

You don’t know where the sudden obscenity, sudden dominance came from, but it thrills you all the same. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “What are you gonna do about it?” Smirking, Spencer picks up your panties, lets them dangle from his fingertips, red lace starkly incongruous from the calm, studious background of his office.

After a beat, his grin turns wicked and he tucks them into his pocket. “Safekeeping,” he says, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. The movement is so tender that it stops you in your tracks, a shimmering thread of something more than simple desire stringing between you. His eyes glitter, and you know he feels it too. Then, long fingers start to work at the buttons of your blouse. “I want to see all of you,” Spencer says, bending his head to kiss your lace-clad breast as your shirt falls open.

His hand skates up your thigh, oh-so close to where you need it. “Please,” you breathe. “Please, sir. I need you.” Spencer draws his hand away and you whine pathetically, your bare thighs suddenly impossibly cold.

“Be patient, sweet girl,” he says, low and almost dangerous. A thrill skitters up your spine as he sinks to his knees, gazing intently at your dripping wet core. “Beautiful,” he mutters, so quietly you don’t even think he’s talking to you. His hands slide up to your thighs again, spreading them apart gently. “Are you gonna let me taste you, beautiful?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering at his words. He kisses the inside of your knee, works his way down your thigh. A brief, bright spark of pain flickers through you as Spencer sucks a bruise into your skin and you moan. A rush of incredibly gratifying heat washes over you when you realise he’s marking you; a hidden little secret lying just beneath your polished exterior. Spencer won’t be able to see anything else when he looks at you. 

He pulls away from his assault on your thighs to look up at you, doe-eyed. “Tell me you want this. Please. I need to hear you say it.” You shudder, closing your thighs around his head and threading a hand into his curls so he can’t drag himself any further away.

“Spencer,” you moan. His eyes blow wide at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please. I need you,” you breathe. “Need you to make me cum, sir, please. Haven’t I been good for you? Don’t I deserve it?” You bite your lip to muffle a scream when Spencer leans in, licks a broad, flat stripe along your soaked core.

He’s methodical, at first, and you know somehow that he’s carefully cataloguing your responses. His tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first and then faster, pressure mounting between your thighs. Spencer moans into you, shifts his hips, and you realise: he’s getting off on this. A jolt of arousal so strong you literally pulse against his mouth rips through you, and you feel his lips curve into a smirk.

Big, soft hands dig hard into your thighs, pulling you flush against him like he could bury himself in you. “You taste so good, baby,” he whines, pressing his tongue flat against your hole as you grind your hips forward. Pleasure curls under your skin, swelling and pressing against your organs, crowding your mind until you can’t think, can’t feel anything but him. Your toes curl in your shoes, stomach clenching as your orgasm builds and builds. Breaking away, Spencer presses tender little kisses to your inner thighs, licks soothingly over his bite mark. 

Just as you’re starting to whine at the loss, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Sudden, electric ecstasy shoots through your body when he sucks on your sensitive nerves and it’s all you can do not to scream his name for the entire campus to hear. “Oh, fuck,” you whine instead, rocking your hips in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “M’so close, sir, please— You gotta let me— fuck!” you gasp, cunt clenching as he slides two fingers into you. You’re so wet that it’s easy, a slick slide as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Look how well you take me,” he says, staring openly at the point his fingers disappear into your body, your greedy cunt parted around them as wet, obscene noises fill the room. He kisses your clit softly and your legs kick out. “You’re gonna look so pretty taking my dick, hm?”

Your mind goes blank, pleasure thudding sickly in your throat, humming in your ears. “I want it,” you whine. “God, I want you to fucking— mmm— bend me over this desk ‘n— fuck— make me all stupid for you. Oh, God, Spencer, m’so close!” you cry, tugging at his hair and writhing helplessly.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Spencer says, softly urging. “Cum for me.” He pumps his fingers, licks at your clit, gently coaxes you over the edge. Your hands white-knuckle the edge of the desk as pure pleasure washes over you. Your body slumps, weak and powerless against the weight of your orgasm ripping through you. Spencer doesn’t let up, smiling into you as you write above him, murmuring soft praises that fade into a low buzz against your pulse hammering in your ears.

Spencer’s lips and chin glisten with your arousal, still kneeling between your legs as you struggle back to your body. “That was… Shit, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand,” you giggle, testing your weight as you shuffle off his desk. Spencer leans down to kiss you, and the taste of yourself on his lips is dizzying. Pouting, you glance up at the clock hanging over his door. “I have class.”

As much as he wants to, Spencer won’t tell you to cut class, and you both know it. “Would you like to, uh…” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and just like that, he’s back to the sweet, nervous academic you’re used to. “Continue this discussion later? I’ll— I’ll be here all day.”

Your lips stretch wide in a saccharine smile as you slowly button your shirt. “Why, Doctor Reid, are you asking me to meet you after hours? How scandalous,” you giggle, pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss against his lips. “I’ll be back at six.”

[grassbreads]

On a scale of Chang Geng to Luo Binghe, how well does your teenage protagonist cope with the realization that he has a massive thing for the guy that's basically raising him?

[erinwantstowrite]

big hater of those aus where the JL think Batman is dating Nightwing before finding out that they're father and son. it's never funny and it's always weird

[2hiigh2cry]

i need to be paget brewster’s controversially young girlfriend

[daddyissuesbecauseofhotch]

Daddy issues || #1

{masterlist}

You’ve never, ever been attracted to older men, especially ones who are almost old enough to be your father.

Yet here you are, ogling your never-before-seen neighbor on the hallway when you find him coming home with a duffel bag in hand shortly before one in the morning. He looks like the perfect man for you; short brown hair, warm brown eyes, excellent taste in suits, and he’s in a good shape apparently. You heard stories from other residents that he has a son, and that he travels a lot because he’s working for the FBI, and they even said that he’s a really nice guy when he switches into dad mode.

But in your defense, you arrived with the same elevator, and he’s been glancing at you over and over again ever since you stepped inside that metal cage. Not like you can blame him, you just returned from a club, so you’re wearing a short sequin dress with your favorite pair of designer high heels. You know you look good, why else would you have the number of four guys you only met tonight saved in your phone now?

So, you do the sensible thing and flash a smile at him with a little wave of your hand. He nods in response, then disappears behind the door, leaving you there to wonder if he now thinks you’re some weirdo…

[thecentersfallingout]

[shortnotsweet]

Rhaenyra’s relationship with her stepmother Alicent was complicated, as some days it was filled with hostility, and others…

…it was more than fond. It was baffling to the Court, to the King, and most of all, to themselves.

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

anyway a very enjoyable detail imo is how fords confrontation with stan in tots after he broke fords machine and his confrontation with bill after fiddleford saw bill's true plans are framed the same way, with a few tweaks so that they're not wholly identical

but what matters here is that stan and bill are watching something (innocence gap aside lmao)

ford enters (or has technically entered the room already) with intent of confrontation

ford's dramatic body language through out the scene + the way stan and bill are placed

and theres a bit of irony in the fact that despite being liars and conmen, both stan and bill are both being entirely honest in this part, with fords reaction ending up the same way. stan is explaining that he broke fords machine on accident while bill is outright gloating that he tricked ford into building the portal. they both are angling to get something out of ford here, with stan still bringing up treasure hunting and bill trying to keep ford under his thumb with the deal they made.

at the end of the day though, with ford not believing stan saying it was an accident and thinking stan is lying to him vs him immediately getting confirmation from bill that he was being played the whole time, the end result is the same: ford feels he's been betrayed by someone he deeply cared about.

so thats all pretty basic stuff right? like who hasnt realized that ford has trust issues. and tbh im just pointing out some basic cinema similarities thats a cool detail nonetheless.

but my fave part is how these are the ONLY times times you actually hear both stan and bill call ford sixer in the show itself

stan and bill are both the only characters to call him sixer, but we only see how frequent that is in the comics and tbob. the use of the nickname in ONLY these scenes in the show specifically was very deliberate to envoke how much this sucks for ford that he's been prevented from achieving one dream by one person he loves, only to have that same dream used against him by another.

imagine how wild this must be for ford lol. the time he confronted bill he is instantaneously thrown back in time by bill using the very last time stan calls him a certain nickname the very night he remembers being "betrayed" by stan. betrayal on top of betrayal is connected to that very nickname, so its not JUST a random nickname either of them couldve called ford (or bill couldve also called him poindexter and a whole lot of variations of nerd, but sixer is the only nickname among the two's list is the same. almost like rubbing lemon juice and salt to the wound atp which is really funny of bill.

tots and lmc in general also have some of my fave details on stans influence over ford in general. from ford quoting stan and copying his body language when HE gets abandoned by fiddleford the way stan thinks ford did with him

(and i say copy— this is no coincidental parallel because we know in tbob ford knows what stan looked when he was doing the "high six" part, so he's been paying super close attention to stan's departure the whole time despite closing the window curtains)

and my favorite arguably funniest one, when stan called ford a dangerous know it all in ddamd and ford (who btw was already behind the vending machine and youd think already went down in the basement), is SO peeved by that he was tossing and turning in bed over that in conjuction with all his bill related flashbacks. this is funny because for someone who was literally writing "TRUST NO ONE" in his journal, he's very upset by the fact that either stan doesn't trust him + thinks that way about him, no matter how deserved or that stan is definietly right about him being a dangerous know it all (and i do not see enough people point that out lmao) AKDHAKDGEU

[bleue-flora]

Wait... Dream was born on August 12, 1999 and Dream was arrested in the Disc Finale on January 20, 2021 soo... wait, wait, wait, that means he was only 21 when he was imprisoned for life in a small lava covered box!... Did I do that math right? 21?! Man was barely able to drink legally in the United States and they gave him a life sentence in a boiling cell with nothing but lava, raw potatoes, a clock, and some books?!... oh my god...

[gilverrwrites]

Leonard Snart, who's easily old enough to be your father; pinning you down to the couch, doggystyle. One big, coarse hand in your hair, the other cupping your mouth, making sure nobody can hear you whining like a little bitch in heat while he splits your pussy open on his fat cock.

He chuckles when you start drooling into his palm, mindlessly babbling about how good he feels. He'll crack some cheesy line like "They don't make ‘em like me anymore, doll." or "What's the matter, daddy too much for you?" Directly in response to something you said earlier.

You like to push your luck, calling him shit like 'daddy-oh~' in front of the other rogues and god, he fucking hate the reminder of how old he is. Sometimes he thinks about letting you scream. Making sure everyone in the safehouse knows exactly how dear old dad punishes his little girl, but he really doesn't have the mental energy for the drama that would ensue.

So, he finds a way to keep your mouth busy while he's helping himself to your greedy cunt. Covering it, shoving his fingers in it, pushing your face into the nasty sofa cushions.

When his legs get tired or his back starts to ache, he just leans back, giving you the freedom you've been itching for. So ready and eager to fuck yourself good and deep on his shaft even though you know it'll fucking hurt in the morning.

He's never sure which is worse, the fact you never learn, or that that he lets you, knowing damn well he's the one who'll be icing it when you complain.

When he's done, he lets you rest your head on his thick thighs while he drinks a beer. He shushes you when you try to talk cause he's watching his shows but really his eyes are glued to your shattered body. His bitten-down nails scratching your sore scalp to ease the pain.

Just a thought.

[pezhead]

I really love your tmnt: Age Gap AU!!! TURTLES ARE SO ADORABLE!!!! 🥺🥺🥺 I want to give them all lollipops! (I hope Mikey can eat a lollipop, if not, then I'll give him cotton candy)

[4ever-feral]

Olderbf!Aaron Hotchner

Moodboard masterlist

[atsu-i]

[sarcasm-and-stiles]

Hi I saw that you were wanting requests, I’ve been having this idea in my mind since I’ve read something similar in a Spencer fic, but instead of working for Penelope she works for Hotch as an intern. So the concept is the reader would be a new intern for something but she hangs around with Penelope a lot so she starts answering phone calls from Hotch in a similar way that Pen does for Derek and the first time it happens the reader gets all flustered but as time goes on the reader gets more confident. Possibly leading into Hotch asking the reader out? Just a bunch of fluff. (Please let me know if this idea is not good or can’t be used)

A/N: Oh my god thank you so much for this request anon! This was the first thing I’ve written in a while and it was a lot of fun. I took some liberties with the prompt but I tried to stay loyal to the request. This is my first Aaron fic so I hope you guys like it :)

Word count: 1.7K (holy shit I’ve never written anything this long)

Aaron Hotchner x intern!reader

age gap

Hotch is in his 40s and reader is in mid to late 20s

Working for the FBI was itself a demanding job, but being Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner’s intern? That was a whole other story. Obtaining a Masters in psychology was great and all but the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was always my end goal, so getting to intern was a dream come true and I was determined not to blow it. Unfortunately, while working at the BAU I discovered another dream of mine, Aaron Hotchner. As I was nearing the end of my twenties and more concerned with academics and my career, it meant that there wasn’t much room for a love life, but a girl can dream can’t she?

I’m broken out of my reverie as I enter the bullpen.

“Morgan, have you seen Hotch yet this morning? I have those case files he was looking for.” I asked as I sidled up next to his desk.

“Sorry pretty girl I haven’t—never mind.” I look at Morgan with confusion written on my face.

“Sorry, I was running late.”

I tighten up a little before turning to address Hotch.

“Morning boss! No need to worry. I think that you’re allowed to be late every once in a while.” I say with a small smile. ‘Late to work’ isn’t in Aaron “punctuality” Hotchner’s vocabulary, so for him to show up late meant that something must have sent his morning off kilter.

Hotch started towards his office and I followed him, determined to finish the task set before me. He opens the door and holds it for me. I follow him through letting it close behind me to give us some privacy.

“Is everything alright with you this morning Aaron? You seem a little off.”

Hotch struggled to meet my eyes before replying, “What? Oh. Yes I’m fine. Jack woke up with a fever, so I had to wait on Jess to stay with him before I could leave the house.”

“Aw poor Jack,” I say as I place the files on an unoccupied area of Hotch’s desk.

“Thank you Y/N. Could you go and get Garcia, it’s time to start briefing the team.” I nod and exit his office closing the door shut behind me.

I walk to Penelope’s lair and let myself in. Since I’m only an intern, and have no field training, I am confined to the office. This means that I spend most of the time that Hotch is on a case with Penelope. This also means that Penelope is aware of my tiny monumental crush on our boss

“Ah good morning my dove! What brings you to me this beautiful morning?” Penelope’s sunshine demeanor is contagious bringing a smile to my face.

“Hello! Unfortunately I am here on business not pleasure, Aaron wants to start the briefing.”

“We must be on our way then. We can’t leave Aaron waiting, can we?” Penelope said while wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I blush realizing that she caught my mistake. “Hotch. Hotch wants to start the briefing.” I sigh knowing that my attempt to cover up my mistake was in vain. I quicken my pace to catch up with Garcia as she enters the conference room. When we walk in most everyone is already in their seats chatting comfortably. I look around and notice that the only available chair is the one next to Hotch and I steel my face as to not clue him in on my recent and obvious casualty surrounding my feelings for him. When I sit down he sends me a soft smile before calling everyone’s attention to the newest case that would be taking them to Nashville.

——

The team had landed safely in Tennessee, and by the next day I was out of things to do so I decided that the best way to spend my time was doing whatever I could to help the team by aiding Penelope.

I knock on the door before letting myself in announcing my entrance, “Good morning beautiful! How can I be of assistance to technical genius Penelope Garcia today?”

Garcia turned to look at me quickly before facing her computer once again. “Hello my lovely! Grab a seat and I’m sure I can find something for you.” As I’m settling myself in at the desk I hear the phone ring.

“Can you answer that for me love?” I nod and pick up the phone.

“Hey babygirl, how’s miss smart and sexy today?”

“Sorry to disappoint you Morgan, but I don’t think I’m the girl you’re looking for.”

“You’re never a disappointment y/l/n, although Garcia’s expertise may be more helpful in this situation.”

“Roger that. Passing you along.”

As I heard Penelope and Derek’s flirty phone banter, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to do the same thing with Hotch.

———

I had been combing through files for helpful information for the past couple of hours. My eyes were sore and my heart was heavy, nothing seemed to be of much use. I leaned back from the files and let out a sigh.

“Is everything alright my precious flower?”

I crack a small smile before responding, “Yeah yeah everything’s fine, just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to talk about love?” I let out another small sigh.

“I was just thinking about my love life, or lack thereof.”

“You’re a catch hot stuff! You just need to put yourself out there. Anybody would be lucky to call themselves yours.”

“Just put myself out there. Easier said than done.”

I spent the next few hours thinking about what Penelope said while continuing my work.

Put myself out there, I can do that. What’s the worst that could happen? Flirting with your boss never has serious consequences. No. Yes. I can’t keep hiding my feelings, sooner or later someone is going to realize. It’s not like I’m subtle.

After forming my plan, all I could do was wait for the right time. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long.

Ring Ring Ring

I check the caller I.D. to see Hotch’s name flash up at me, and I flip open my phone. “Speak and I will obey.”

There was a pregnant pause making me second guess jumping straight into the deep end.

“Y/N, I need you to get an old file for me. It’s in the filing cabinet in my office. Once you have that I need to to send it to me ASAP.”

“Yes sir. Your wish is my command.”

I can hear him hesitate before answering, “…Thank you.”

——

The next time I’m in contact with Aaron is when the team returns from the case the next day. Everyone is cleaning up their workspaces getting ready to head home. I’m chatting with Reid about a new book that he had read when I hear Aaron’s voice call for me.

“Y/N, could I see you in my office.”

My mouth opens and closes slightly before I nod and walk up the few steps to his office. I step inside on uneasy feet. I couldn’t help but shake the nervousness around me.

“Shut the door and have a seat.” I do as I’m told. I begin twiddling my thumbs and it seems like hours before he talks again although it has only been a few moments. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry. You’re gonna fire me aren’t you? I wouldn’t blame you. Oh my god-“

“Y/L/N.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Y/N stop talking.” I look up quickly and shut up. “I’m not firing you. I’m just - I’m just a little confused. Yesterday seemed a little out of character for you.”

I let out a shuddered sigh, “I was- I was putting myself out there.”

“Putting yourself out there?”

I look him in the eyes before saying, “I guess I’m going all in. I know you’re my boss and I know it’s inappropriate for me to even be saying this but…I like you Aaron—romantically. You don’t have to respond…I know I’m putting you in an awkward position but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.” After finishing my speech I have to shift my eyes to my lap, his analyzing stare too much for me to take.

“You’re right, it is inappropriate.”

I nod my head too ashamed to look him in the eyes as my own welled with tears. I stand up to let myself out of his office.

“I’ll uh…I’ll be…goodnight sir.” He lets me walk out the door without protest. By now the team has gone home which kept me from more embarrassment. I gather my belongings and rush towards the elevator. When I finally make it to the elevator and the doors begin to close I let my tears quietly fall. But a hand pushes itself between the closing doors, forcing them open. I rush to wipe my tears and look up. When I do I’m face to face with the man who had caused my tears. As quickly as he had gotten into the elevator he pressed the button closing the doors and leaving us alone together.

“Y/N.”

I refused to turn and look at him.

“Y/N, please.”

“What? What more do you have to say. I get it. I’ll get over it I just need some time.”

“I-I have feelings for you too.”

I look up at him, “What?”

“I have feelings for you too, and when you told me I didn’t know what to do. I-Ive never been in a situation like this before.”

“You do?”

“You’re very intelligent. Always trying to help others and you give your all no matter the task. And although it is not the main reason I find you so intriguing, you are beautiful. I know that we will have to learn to navigate this situation, but if it’s something you would want, I would like to take you out to dinner.”

It takes me a moment to respond, but when I do it’s with a wide smile on my face “I would like that very much Hotch.”

“Please, not Hotch. I love hearing you say my name.”

“I would like that very much Aaron.”

He takes a small step closer and reaches out to my face, wiping away a few stray tears before he cups my face.

“Can I kiss you?”

I look into Aaron’s eyes before saying, “Yes.”