#someone probably made this joke already but whatever
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weaver-z · 1 year ago
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Well my three-headed calf sees THRICE as many stars as usual, so
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franklyimissparis · 1 year ago
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the poet and the one-man band:
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tiptoethewordsgo · 4 months ago
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its the final countdown!! just like they always sung about !!!
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deranged-and-crazy · 1 year ago
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What if we…
writhed on a dirty bathroom floor and cut our feet off together…
haha just kidding….…unless…?
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birodactyloftheblog · 8 months ago
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In an alternate universe the danny phantom fandom is called the dandom
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tooies · 2 years ago
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guy whose pronoun's are who/whom
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pjlotrhhjeml · 9 months ago
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I swear this ship was a joke at first...
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rutadales · 2 years ago
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ghostieplus · 8 months ago
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fuck ya life
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bing bong
woke up today and realized that tumblr entirely killed fuck ya life bing bong so here ya go again
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yanderenightmare · 9 months ago
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TW: nsfw, dubcon, coercion, bullying
fem reader
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Your bully says he’s always been curious about what it’s like to fuck a geeky good girl like you—and that he’ll leave you if you let him have a taste.
You knew he was probably mostly joking when he offered… but you were sick and tired and perhaps a little desperate for the chance of him finally leaving you alone—so you balled your fists within his shirt, dragged him inside an empty classroom, and told him he could do whatever he wanted.
You don’t know who was more surprised.
He never knew you to be so brazen—but it’s not like you’re some blushing virgin, either.
You have experience. However, most of that experience is with nicer guys… not someone like him…
It’s not like you expected him to go easy on you, but still…
You bruise against the desk he has you bent over on—dewy-faced and panting, lying cheek-down in your own drool as he fucks full-chested moans right out of you. He snickers when your thighs shake, whistling with a grin when feeling your tight cunt flutter around him—slick dripping to the floor in a little puddle.
“You’re so wet it’s embarrassing.” He laughs.
He’s got your arms tussled behind your back, using your shirt as bindings—having balled your skirt up around your waist in two tight fists, knuckles white while using it to keep you still as he pounds into you with a mean snap of his hips. 
Your heart drops when you hear a rip. A second time when, you feel his movements still, and a thick warmth starts to fill you.
“Ah—fuck—don’t squeeze so tight—I’m ‘bout to—” He grunts, but it’s already too late once he pulls out.
Panting heavily as his cock drips with the last drop—hunched over—his eyes fall to your glossy cunt, half-mast while staring at the way his cum slowly leaks out of the still-fluttering little hole. 
He feels a cute-aggressive urge to slap it but doesn’t want to get his hand all sticky.
He pulls his pants up instead, only bothering to button his shirt up halfway, tie hanging loosely around his neck. Anyone with eyes could guess what he’d been doing with his sweaty hair and that flushed look on his face.
And yet he starts leaving without a care or a word. 
Already halfway out the door before you get your wits back.
“No—wait!” You warble, unknotting your sleeves to wrap your shirt around you. “You can’t leave me like this—my skirt…” You hold the tattered piece up for him to see, showing him the tear he’d made, rendering it unwearable.
His hand is still on the doorknob, only bothering to acknowledge you with a jaded look over his shoulder. “How’s that my problem?”
Your brows cinch that pitiful way it always does. That cute way that has his gut bubble and fizz. “Please…” You plead, and it’s almost enough to make his cock perk up again. “Just bring me a skirt from lost and found… please?”
He sighs—the door at his back as he leans against it with arms folded upon his chest. “Tch—and what's in it for me?”
You nibble your lip in thought—but you already know the answer. 
“I’ll be better at it next time—just... please?”
“Hm…” He hums in thought, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, tugged as if your words had pulled it with string. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”
The door closed with a click, and you were left in the classroom alone.
A few minutes passed. You doubted his return. 
You could always call a friend… but you didn’t want to get anyone into any trouble—calling them when they’re in class. Also, how would you even explain it to them? What type of person skips class to have sex in an empty classroom? Not to mention, they’d ask who you’d done it with—and there was just no way you could tell them. It’d be too embarrassing—you might just die—and if anyone else ever found out, he’d more likely kill you himself.
Well… suppose you could always make the run to Lost and Found yourself. The hallways should be mostly empty at this hour, but there’s really no guarantee. 
In the end, the thought of someone catching you in cum-soaked panties makes you hold onto all hope that your bully would return as he’d said.
And fifteen minutes later, he does. Black school skirt in one hand and strawberry milk in the other. Seemed he’d taken the time to stop at a vending machine.
But you don’t care. Breathing out a sigh of relief—gratitude on your lips as you leap over to him. “Thank you—” 
You eagerly accept the skirt—putting it on just as quickly.
He leans back against the door again, sipping his carton while watching you fall still with dismay. Humored at the pout that takes your lips as you look up at him with those pitiful doe-eyes.
“This is too short…”
He hides his smile with a tilt of his head. “Oh?” He grabs his jaw and pretends to assess your bottom half with focus. “Hmm… turn around, lemme see.”
You listen trustingly—as though you actually believe he cares. It almost makes him laugh out loud at how fucking gullible you are. But he keeps his act tight. Humming at the sight of the skirt only barely covering the crease of your cute ass.
“You’re right—something’s off.” He admits. 
You look back at him just in time to see his smirk before he grabs you. 
Keeping you still with an arm wrapped around your waist, he tips you over and grabs your panties—pulling them despite your body's protests as you wiggle in his hold. You cry as the fabric wedges up between your asscheeks, kicking your legs behind you until feeling it rip.
“There you go…” He coos while letting go of you, twirling the torn string in his hand. “Now it fits perfectly.”
He chuckles at the pretty tears clumped upon your lashes as you look at him with your lip tucked between your teeth until you finally get the grit to say what’s on the tip of your tongue.
“You’re an asshole.”
He sneers with a smile and bags your panties in his pocket—then turns around and opens the door. Leaving you worse off than before.
“Never said otherwise, buttercup.”
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BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki, Hawks, Shinso, Kirishima
JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji
DS – Akaza, Sanemi
HQ – Kuro, Miya twins
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quoththemaiden · 1 year ago
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Do you prefer reviews in the form of AO3 comments or Tumblr tags? Because I'm five minutes into writing tags and starting to realize this might be strange of me...
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oopsie!omens pt 11- St. James Park, 1862
They don't listen, break up ensues.
prev chp / kofi / AO3
#good omens#oopsie!omens#there is NEVER a bad time to have azazel dress fem#she's so gorgeous and i love her#LOL at her expression when talking about pears#i feel like everyone has slightly different interpretations of what aziraphale was trying to do in that line#this feels like a real 'head empty no thoughts' moment#not trying to distract jophiel#just like#'pears...'#although it's still a pretty effective tactic because jophiel is having SUCH a hard time with this conversation#so he could probably be frightened off from it pretty easily#i love that jophiel's owl joke was actually effective!!#azazel's little smile!!#'i do indeed have ears you silly goose'#('don't call me a goose!' 'whatever you say deer')#and then JESUS CHRIST THE HELLFIRE#i did NOT put together that jophiel would be asking her for THE THING SHE HAS PERSONALLY FALLEN INTO#USE SOME GODDAMN TACT MAN#(i've written so many tags omg)#(if tumblr eats my tags i'm going to bite someone)#(anyway)#jophiel dotting his i's with a star - because he made stars! - is so excellent#and it's still all caps because he's an engineer of course#azazel made a hard turn from assuming it's a suicide pill to believing jophiel when he says it isn't#i guess he really does believe jophiel despite everything!#...of course he has no reason to think that jophiel already broke his promise millennia ago by snooping around into azazel's past#(that feels like one of the things that might get hashed out in one of their many divorces)#jophiel reaching out for azazel's hand omg T_T#is that the closest they've come to holding hands?? T_____T
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certifiedestronaut · 2 years ago
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Ya'll wanna hear a joke? Of course you do.
So a guy comes back to his apartment and his roommate asks "Where have you been?"
And he says "I was just on a date with a trans girl."
And the roommate asks "Oh really? What is she like?"
He says "One thing is she's pretty tall."
The roommate says "Really? How tall."
He says "Well, she has a good 3 inches on me."
The roommate says "That's very impressive, but I was asking about her height."
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birodactyloftheblog · 10 months ago
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reshinless · 7 months ago
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❝ 𝐜𝐮𝐳 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ❞ hsr x reader 𓆩 𓇼 𓆪
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pairings. dan heng, caelus, sampo, welt yang, gepard, blade, jing yuan, luocha x gn!reader
a/n: i miss getting silly little reuqests like this . send me requests guys (if u snet a req b4 its not in the swag askbox anym sighhh), reupload from old blog!!
warnings:oh no SEX AND NSFW AAAHHH, breeding kink caelus, jing yuan, and blade, bc yes!!. kinda bdsm w blade, praise kink w jing yuan, degrading kink w blade, kinda sadist sampo, belly bulge 👍👍, fingering BUT NOT IMPLIED FEM READER 🤬🤬
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dan heng is more than happy to be yours, legally, and to be the man to put a ring on your finger. has waited his whole life for this moment, to see you walk down the aisle and everything. and nothing more than finally carrying you in his arms to the bedroom of your newly built house. but having your hands pinned to the bedframe, as his cock is so brutally penetrating your hole, and he can't help but praise you for being such a good pet and taking all of him in you. the endless thrusts you felt that kept coming, and your hole so easy to work himself in and out from all the cum from the rounds that happened hours ago, it felt so endless in your mind, but dan heng couldn't help but indulge himself into you, because you're finally his, and he's finally yours. more under the cut.
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caelus thought he was foreign to this kind of stuff, like no one would ever would love him like that back. but he's here now, and you are too. picks you up bridal style on the way up stairs, ripping your wedding dress off. (not rly, just takes it off you, but lets just say he did) all he wants is to literally fill your precious hole up with his seed :(( can't help but go another round, because his stamina was just too much for you to handle, but all it did was turn him on more! the way his cock made such a cute mark on your tummy.. he couldn't help but cum at the sight of how your poor hole will remember the shape of his cock, and his alone.
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sampo..? i'm surprised someone actually married him, anyways! kind of rough with it honestly, still type of guy to just ravage himself in you. taking his sweet time, especially when you were so close.<3 your expression, and the way you were just whimpering, and begging for him to just harshly thrust into you to finish it up. all he could say was "i wanna make this night extra memorable for you, and me~!", wants to be begging for his cock to just shoot his warm seed into you already.
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welt yang.. all i gotta say is that he's overjoyed, over the moon that he got married to someone as amazing, stunning, to be his world, his everything, the person he'd start a family with. but before all of that, ever since you both started your relationship, he promised himself, that on the night of your marriage, that's when he'd give you the time of your life. a time where you'll always remember. remember the way his huge cock would just be so rough with you aa, just wants you to get every drop of his cum till your belly bulge that he put inside you is so full of his seed, or that your hole will always remember the shape of his dick muahahahshhdkfjvi
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gepard my man! already planned it out, knows exactly how the night will go, maybe.. but whatever happens tonight will be according to a plan. probably saved his virginity for this moment, he.. he's tried reading about it, just lets the night go as it is... i guess.. but dear god he really did not hold back, as soon as you gave the go sin that he could go as rough as he wanted, bro wouldn't hesitate AT ALL. just wants to see you so full of his cum it hurts mfmfjfjfjfn. he's jerked off to this moment before too, and the way you just take all of him in, he loves ot so muchh! will breed you like crazy, no joke, even if you're a guy, bro will say he's gonna get you pregnant. anyways, he'll be soft and gentle w u in bed if you want, but if u ever say to go faster, good luck in that wheelchair next day ‼️‼️
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blade?!? getting married?!? damn!! very rough, lowkey forgets about you when he's at his climax. but he didn't really plan for it, just let the night play out. oh i have to say this but silver wolf is the flowergirl, kafka is maid of honor, and nanook walks him down the aile. anyways, bro doesn't hesitate to just absolutely breed you, be honest cause i know this man wants kids. and you will have them, don't give a fuck if you a man, he will breed yo ass. licks up the excess seed that didn't, or couldn't fit in your hole that was already so full of his seed. thank you 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥‼️
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jing yuan!! oo he is probably the same as gepard, will plan it out, but probably won't go to plan at all. and probably has read smutty books too, just in case. and wow that really helped because just as long as you ask bro to go faster, he will non stop breed you 'till you have like 3 generations of heirs for him. jokes aside, but he would breed you so bad. just needs to see your hole so full of him that it's too much, and won't fit anymore! probably makes you sit on his face once or thrice after all those rounds of pounding you too ;3
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luocha.. hmm, if you think about it really hard, lowkey dislikes the idea of sex at the wedding night, but we do not think about it really hard, he does it anyway!! he is the type to know all your spots, all the right places to make you cream on his cock over and over again, cuz bro is a doctor. and would finger you like crazy while making out before the actual intimacy. bro is so careful with you like you are as fragile as glass. his kink is just your whole body. everything about you, your curves, your thighs, your neck, he wants everything, and thats why he'd do it on the wedding night of his!!!
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for america i say for AMERICA!!!! (i dont live in the us anym)
🌼﹐✦﹒︿﹕TAGLiST: @skyl8ver @yamssxv @eve--011 @stygianoir @zomballs @roseclues @mystariouss @pryllee Sign up for my taglist and get updated for all my newest works!: CLICK HERE
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professional-termite · 7 months ago
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Chef teacher: I want this essay in 12 point font Times Stew Roman
slime teacher: I want this essay in 12 point font Slimes New Roman
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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago
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Professional Distractions
AN: Alright, here's the winner from the poll!! It's funny; I wrote a multi-chapter years ago about Hotch x Secretary Reader, so this brought back some memories!
Other Writing | Ao3
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Secretary!Female!Reader
Word Count: 8.9k
Rating: Everyone!
Tags/TW:  canon-typical themes, fluff, flirting
Summary: Aaron Hotchner thrives on control, order, and precision in both his work and personal life. But when a new secretary is assigned to his team, Hotch finds himself facing a different kind of challenge. Confident, witty, and effortlessly intriguing, she quickly becomes a presence he can't ignore. As their professional boundaries blur, Hotch is forced to confront feelings he never expected, and the calm, controlled world he's built begins to shift in unexpected ways.
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Aaron Hotchner had never been one for frivolities in the office. Efficiency was his religion, order his creed. So, when Erin Strauss approached him with the idea that the BAU needed a secretary—he needed a secretary—he balked.
"I don’t need one," Hotch had said firmly, standing tall with that no-nonsense posture of his. “It’s a waste of resources.”
But Strauss was unmoved. "It’s already done, Aaron. She’ll start on Monday."
He felt like he'd lost before the battle had even begun. Hotch couldn't shake the sense that this was an unnecessary addition to his already perfectly functioning team. But Strauss was Strauss, and her word was law.
The team gathered in the bullpen that morning, curious about the new hire. Hotch had informed them earlier, his tone curt and business-like as usual. “She’s just here for administrative support,” he had said. “Nothing more.”
Morgan, leaning back in his chair, raised an eyebrow. "Bet she's someone Strauss sent to keep an eye on us," he joked.
JJ chuckled, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation among the team. New faces were always a point of interest, even in the most serious environments like the BAU.
The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped out, heels clicking softly on the floor. The conversations in the bullpen gradually quieted as you made your way towards Hotch’s office with a steady, assured walk.
You didn’t have the overt sex appeal of someone trying too hard. Instead, it was the way you carried yourself—your professional yet perfectly tailored outfit, your calm but confident posture, and the intelligent glint in your eyes—that caught their attention. Your aura spoke of someone who knew how to command a room, someone sharp, witty, and perhaps even a little mysterious.
"She’s... something," Morgan muttered under his breath, watching you with a grin.
"Wonder if she can keep up with Hotch," Garcia added with a playful smirk.
You reached Hotch’s office, giving the door a polite knock before stepping just inside. The faintest hint of a smile touched your lips, like you already knew what to expect.
"Mr. Hotchner?" Your voice was calm, professional, yet laced with just enough warmth to make him look up from his work.
He glanced up briefly, bracing himself for whatever distraction this was. "Hotch is fine," he replied, already setting his focus back on the file in front of him.
"Hotch, then," you echoed smoothly. The quickness of your response wasn’t flirtatious—it was simply sharp, quick-witted. You stepped fully into the office, no hesitation in your movements, and he took a second to measure you, noting that nothing about your manner felt frivolous.
"Y/N, your new secretary. But you probably already knew that," you said, standing with a straight posture, your gaze lingering just long enough to create the smallest tension in the air.
He nodded, clearly already trying to return his attention to the work on his desk. "Yes. Welcome."
You smirked slightly, sensing his resistance. "I’m here to make your life easier, Hotch. You’ll see."
It wasn’t a flirtatious comment, not in the usual sense. It was matter-of-fact, confident, and entirely unbothered by his lack of warmth. You weren’t intimidated, and that threw him off just enough to pause.
She doesn’t back down, Hotch thought, his fingers tightening just slightly on the papers in his hands. Most people hesitated, unsure of how to navigate his cool demeanor, but not you. You took it in stride, as if his distance wasn’t something to be overcome but just another part of him to understand. He wasn’t used to that.
There was a part of him that appreciated your confidence, your ability to handle things without needing constant direction. But there was also the part of him that felt something else—a pull, an attraction that was more than professional admiration. He couldn’t afford to entertain it, not here. Not with everything that was at stake. Yet, the more you settled into your role, the more difficult it became to ignore that nagging awareness of you, the way you never seemed rattled, no matter how he tried to maintain distance.
He was used to people being intimidated by him, especially new hires. But you? You weren’t phased in the least. Instead, there was a kind of ease about you that made him a little uneasy, though he’d never admit it.
With that, you left his office, and for the first time in a long while, Hotch found himself momentarily distracted, wondering just what kind of dynamic you were going to bring to his carefully controlled environment. 
Aaron Hotchner liked things a certain way. He wasn’t unreasonable, but he valued precision and efficiency, especially in his professional life. His office was always meticulously organized, his schedule tightly managed, and his expectations of those who worked with him were crystal clear. So when Erin Strauss had informed him that you—his new secretary—would be joining the BAU, he had been prepared to explain exactly how he liked things done.
Except, you were already a step ahead of him. And that both intrigued and unsettled him.
Hotch stood behind his desk, hands resting on the back of his chair as you entered his office with a fresh stack of files. You were calm, collected, and that faint smile you always wore, the one that hinted at a quiet confidence, made him pause.
“I thought we could go over a few things,” he said, his voice steady and professional. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page about how I like things done.”
You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes as you placed the files on his desk with an air of someone who already knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Sure thing, Hotch. Lay it on me,” you said, leaning against the edge of his desk, clearly at ease.
Hotch hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He wasn’t used to this—someone who wasn’t fazed by his usual no-nonsense approach, someone who seemed completely comfortable in his presence. But he pressed on, his tone measured.
“I like everything to be organized by priority,” he began, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. “Urgent case files go on the top left, and any paperwork requiring signatures should be grouped together. My schedule needs to be updated daily, and—”
Before he could finish, you cut in smoothly, nodding as if you were already familiar with every word. “Urgent on the top left, signatures grouped. Got it. And don’t worry, I’ve been updating your schedule daily since Monday. You’ve got a meeting with Strauss tomorrow at 10 a.m., by the way.”
Hotch blinked, caught off guard. “You’ve already... updated the schedule?”
You nodded, not missing a beat. “Of course. And I took the liberty of sorting through the files on your desk this morning. The reports you requested from Garcia are already at the top. You’ll find a few case notes under them that I flagged as potential priorities.”
For a moment, Hotch didn’t respond, his usual calm composure faltering just slightly as he processed what you’d said. He wasn’t used to someone anticipating his needs like this, certainly not after just a few days of working together. And while he was impressed—very impressed—he wasn’t quite ready to admit it.
“Efficient,” he finally said, his voice careful, but you could tell he was weighing his words. “More than I expected.”
You grinned, tilting your head slightly. “What, did you expect me to be a disaster?”
“Not at all,” he replied quickly, but you caught the smallest hint of a smile on his face, which only fueled your amusement.
“Well, I hate to disappoint,” you teased, stepping back from his desk, “but I tend to be pretty good at what I do. You’re just going to have to get used to it.”
Hotch’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he felt that same unsettling sensation he had the first time you’d walked into his office—like you already knew him better than you should. And that both fascinated and unnerved him.
“I suppose I will,” he said quietly, his tone measured but with an undeniable undercurrent of admiration.
You smirked, sensing you had him right where you wanted him. “Don’t worry, Hotch. You’ll thank me eventually.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression returning to that familiar composed exterior, but you could see the faintest flicker of something behind his eyes—something that told you he wasn’t as unaffected as he liked to appear.
“You seem very sure of yourself,” he remarked, folding his arms across his chest.
You grinned. “Confidence is key, right? Besides, I have a feeling I’ll be a good fit here.”
Hotch didn’t respond right away, his gaze still lingering on you as if trying to figure you out. You weren’t like anyone else he’d worked with before. There was something about your calm confidence, the way you seemed to know exactly how to push just the right buttons without overstepping. It was... refreshing. Though he’d never say that out loud.
Finally, he gave a small nod. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful.
You chuckled, turning to leave his office. “Oh, I’m sure we will.”
As the day progressed, Hotch found himself more impressed with you than he cared to admit. Every task he’d mentioned—every detail, every instruction—you had already taken care of. Without being told. It wasn’t just your efficiency that caught his attention; it was the way you seemed to anticipate his needs, the way you handled everything with ease.
And the teasing? He found himself... enjoying it. More than he expected. You weren’t afraid to poke at him, to challenge him in small, subtle ways that made him pause and reevaluate the dynamics between you.
By the end of the day, as you prepared to leave, Hotch caught you on your way out, standing by his office door.
“Y/N,” he called, stopping you in your tracks.
You turned to face him, that same playful smile tugging at your lips. “What’s up, Hotch? Need something else done?”
He paused, then shook his head slightly, a rare smile threatening to surface. “No. Just... good work today.”
You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Was that a compliment? From you?”
He chuckled softly under his breath. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
You grinned, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Too late.”
As you turned to leave, Hotch couldn’t help but watch you go, still wondering how you had managed to slip past his defenses so effortlessly. You were different from anyone he had worked with before—confident, witty, and always one step ahead.
And though he wasn’t quite ready to admit it, Hotch knew he was impressed by you. More than he would ever let on.
Sitting back at his desk, Hotch allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. You’d been right: you had gotten under his skin. Not in a way that made him uncomfortable, but in a way that made him want to see where this new dynamic would lead. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite figure out—and maybe, for the first time in a long time, he was okay with that.
He glanced at the perfectly sorted stack of files on his desk and let out a soft sigh, knowing that working with you was going to be anything but predictable.
And for once, he didn’t mind that at all.
It didn’t take long for the team to notice the shift in the air. You were a natural conversationalist, quick on your feet with comebacks that were witty but never overtly crossed the line. Your presence was felt in the small ways—how you remembered little details about each of them, how you had a knack for lightening tense moments without being overbearing.
"I like her," Morgan said one afternoon after you had walked past, easily sliding a stack of paperwork into Hotch’s office without batting an eye.
Even Reid found himself smiling more when you were around, though you were relentless in teasing him, asking if his hair always did “that thing” on its own or if he had a special routine for it.
"She’s sharp," Reid added, intrigued by how quickly you seemed to pick up on the rhythms of the team.
"Too sharp, if you ask me," Garcia quipped, though her grin suggested she approved."She's like… intimidatingly hot," Garcia added, wide-eyed. "And those jokes? Even I blush."
JJ raised an eyebrow. "You think Hotch is... okay with her?"
Morgan laughed. "Oh, he’s pretending to be annoyed, but I bet he’s secretly amused."
And that was exactly the case. As much as Hotch tried to resist it, he found himself surprised by how often you caught him off-guard with your clever remarks. He wasn’t used to someone challenging him—not like this, in such subtle, intelligent ways.
But Hotch? He remained a fortress. He didn’t engage in your flirtation, not at first. He was polite, distant, keeping things strictly business even when you blatantly teased him about how serious he was.
“Do you ever smile?” you asked one afternoon, leaning over his desk again in that same casual-yet-familiar way.
“On occasion,” he responded coolly.
“Hmm. I’ll make it my mission to see that someday.”
He said nothing, though the corner of his mouth twitched—just a bit.
It was during a late-night case review when you knocked on his door and stepped inside, holding a cup of coffee. "I figured you could use this," you said, setting it down with a small smile.
“Thank you,” he said, eyes narrowing as he assessed you, trying to figure out what your game was.
“Careful,” you said, your tone light but teasing, “I might make you smile if you’re not too careful.”
For a second, his lips twitched, but he caught himself just in time. “I doubt that.”
“I love a challenge,” you responded without missing a beat, walking back to your desk with a slight grin.
And despite himself, Hotch found that he didn’t entirely mind the challenge either.
After a particularly long and grueling case, the team decided to go out for drinks to unwind. You, of course, joined without hesitation, slipping seamlessly into their social dynamic just as you had into their professional one.
As the drinks flowed, the conversation turned to you. Morgan, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a grin. "So, Y/N," he started, "you’ve been working with Hotch for a while now. What’s your take on him?"
You smirked, taking a sip of your drink before responding. "Hotch? He’s… everything."
The table quieted, and a few eyebrows shot up.
"Everything?" JJ asked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Care to elaborate?"
You shrugged, your tone playful but sincere. "I mean, he’s intelligent, strong, capable… and really attractive."
Garcia let out a small gasp, her eyes widening. "Wait—Hotch? You’re into Hotch?"
"How could I not be?" you laughed, setting your glass down with a casual ease. "He’s literally my dream man. Hot, smart, and way more fascinating than most people give him credit for."
Rossi, who had been quietly nursing his drink, raised an eyebrow. "Dream man, huh? I didn’t see that coming."
Morgan leaned back, clearly enjoying this turn of events. "You’ve got it bad, girl."
You smirked at him, completely unbothered by their teasing. "I’m just honest."
Emily, intrigued by your boldness, laughed. "I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you for a Hotch fan either."
"Oh my God," Garcia whispered dramatically, eyes wide. "Does Hotch even know?"
You rolled your eyes with a grin. "I mean, he will."
The table erupted into laughter, the team clearly amused by your boldness. Morgan, however, wasn’t done teasing. "You’re telling me if Hotch were sitting right here, you’d tell him to his face?"
Without missing a beat, you raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely."
And as if the universe had a sense of humor, Hotch, who had been at the bar talking to the bartender, chose that exact moment to return, taking a seat next to you.
"Tell me what to my face?" he asked, his voice low and curious as he glanced around the table.
You didn’t even blink. Turning to him, you smiled. "That I think you’re the hottest, smartest man in the room."
The entire table fell into a stunned silence. Even Morgan, who had been leading the teasing, looked impressed. 
Hotch, however, raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. He wasn’t used to being the subject of such straightforward comments, especially not in front of the entire team. There was a beat of silence, and in that moment, Hotch felt the weight of their eyes on him. Normally, he would brush off a comment like this, keep things professional, deflect the attention. But something about the way you said it—so casual, so unapologetic—left him uncharacteristically rattled.
She can’t be serious, he thought, though there was no mistaking the sincerity in your tone. For the briefest second, his mind raced—how could someone as confident, as intelligent, as you be interested in him? He was used to being admired for his work ethic, his leadership, but this was something different. Something personal.
The idea of being seen in that way, especially by you, was both unexpected and, if he were honest with himself, a little thrilling. But he couldn’t afford to let it show. Not here. Not in front of the team. So he did what he always did—he kept his face neutral, his words careful, even as his heart beat just a little faster than before.
"You’re serious?" he asked, his tone careful, as though he were waiting for the punchline.
You smiled, unwavering. "Very."
There was a beat of silence, the tension palpable, but not uncomfortable. Finally, Hotch’s lips curved into the slightest of smiles, something rare for him. "I see."
Morgan burst into laughter, clapping his hands together. "Well, damn, Hotch! I think she’s got you beat."
Garcia, still wide-eyed, leaned forward, her voice a loud whisper. "Do you like… like him?"
You turned to her, grin still intact. "Yes, Penelope, I do. I have good taste."
Hotch sat quietly beside you, a bit overwhelmed but also… intrigued. You weren’t like anyone he’d ever worked with before. You were confident, intelligent, and you clearly didn’t care about anyone’s opinions. You liked him, and you weren’t afraid to say it. 
Reid changed the subject, without even realizing so, but Hotch’s mind was still on your comments. 
Finally, he cleared his throat. "I think it’s time I head out," he said, standing and adjusting his suit jacket. His eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary. "Goodnight, everyone."
As Hotch walked away, the table erupted into more laughter, but you sat back, utterly unphased. You knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The next day, Garcia wasted no time in rushing into Hotch’s office with her usual enthusiasm.
"Hotch, I can’t believe you just walked away last night!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork, raising an eyebrow. "Walked away from what, exactly?"
Garcia huffed, placing her hands on her hips, her bright and colorful outfit a stark contrast to Hotch’s meticulously organized office. “Oh, don’t play dumb, Hotch. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Hotch leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanging but his curiosity piqued. “Enlighten me.”
Garcia dramatically threw herself into one of the chairs in front of his desk, eyes wide and voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Y/N! Last night! She said you’re the hottest, smartest man in the room, and you just walked away like it was nothing! Do you realize how monumental that was?”
Hotch fought back the smallest of smiles, keeping his voice even. “I recall the conversation. I didn’t think it required a response in front of the team.”
Garcia stared at him, dumbfounded. “Aaron. You have to be kidding me. Do you know how many women would say something like that to your face? And in front of everyone? She practically handed you the keys to a brand new chapter of life, and you walked away!”
Hotch let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly. “It’s not that simple, Garcia.”
“Oh, but it is that simple!” she shot back, leaning forward. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my time here, but never in a million years would I have thought someone would be so bold with you—and that you’d find it amusing! You didn’t even try to hide it.”
Hotch paused, letting her words sink in. Garcia was right, in a way. You were different. You didn’t play the games others did, and your boldness wasn’t born of carelessness—it was confidence, intelligence. And that intrigued him more than he had admitted, even to himself.
Still, he shook his head. “We work together, Garcia. I can’t cross that line.”
Garcia rolled her eyes. “Please. If there’s anyone who could handle both a professional and personal relationship, it’s you two. You’re like... two perfectly matched puzzle pieces, and I never say that about people who work here.”
Hotch glanced at the door for a moment, thinking. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t replayed the conversation from last night in his head. The way you had so confidently and calmly told him exactly what you thought—right in front of the entire team. It had thrown him off, but in a good way. A way he wasn’t entirely used to.
“I’ll handle it,” he said after a long pause, looking back at Garcia.
Her eyes lit up. “Handle it? Do you mean like actually do something about it? Because if you don’t, she will! I mean, the girl literally told you she thinks you’re the best man in the room. Hotch, you have to act!”
He gave her a look. “I said I’ll handle it.”
Garcia stood, grinning as she made her way to the door. “You better, or I’ll handle it for you. And trust me, you don’t want that.”
As she left, Hotch allowed himself a moment to sit back and think. Garcia wasn’t wrong. If he didn’t make a move, you likely would. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t mind that idea. Maybe, for once, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to let someone else take the lead.
You were at your desk, typing away when Hotch’s office door opened. You glanced up to find him standing there; his usual composed expression softened just a fraction.
“Y/N, do you have a minute?” he asked, his voice steady.
“Of course,” you replied, standing up and following him into his office, your curiosity piqued by the sudden request.
He closed the door behind you, the soft click of the latch making the room feel smaller, more intimate. You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms casually as you stood in front of his desk.
“What’s up, Hotch?” you asked, your tone light but aware that something was brewing beneath the surface.
He didn’t immediately sit down, instead remaining on his feet as he faced you. “About last night—”
You smirked, cutting him off. “You mean the part where I told you you’re the hottest, smartest man in the room?”
Hotch’s lips twitched, the smallest hint of amusement flashing across his face. “That part, yes.”
You tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.
“I wanted to make sure you understand that... while I appreciate your honesty, there are boundaries we need to maintain at work,” he said, his tone even but not dismissive.
Your smirk softened into a more thoughtful expression. “I’m aware. But if I remember correctly, I wasn’t exactly talking at work.”
He paused, clearly considering your point. “That’s true,” he conceded.
“Hotch,” you began, stepping a little closer, your voice lowering just a fraction, “I’m not here to make your life more complicated. But I’m not one to pretend either. You’re smart, and I know you’ve noticed the way we work together, the way we... get along.”
He didn’t respond right away, his dark eyes studying you intently. You had always been direct, and it was something he respected, but now, standing so close, it was more than just a professional admiration. It was something deeper, something that had been brewing for weeks, if not longer.
“I have,” he admitted, his voice softer now, almost contemplative.
“So what are you going to do about it?” you asked, your tone teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity in your question.
Hotch took a deep breath, his eyes still locked on yours. For a moment, the air between you seemed to thicken, the unspoken tension finally surfacing.
“I’ll figure something out,” he said, his tone more gentle than you had ever heard from him before.
You smiled, stepping back just enough to give him space. “I’ll be waiting.”
With that, you turned and left his office, leaving Hotch standing there, wondering just when he had started to consider the possibility of more.
The days after your conversation with Hotch carried on much like before: cases, paperwork, and the steady hum of the BAU. But now, there was an unmistakable tension between you and Hotch, a thread pulling tighter with each passing day. It wasn’t uncomfortable; in fact, it was almost... fun.
You enjoyed testing the limits of his calm exterior, watching for the slightest crack in his composed demeanor. Though Hotch stayed focused, that flicker of amusement in his eyes gave him away.
The rest of the team noticed, too, particularly Morgan and Garcia. Morgan would occasionally shoot Hotch a sly look, silently encouraging him to do something about the growing tension. Garcia, meanwhile, gave you conspiratorial smiles, her curiosity clearly piqued by whatever she suspected was brewing between the two of you.
One afternoon, you couldn’t help yourself. You wandered into Hotch’s office under the guise of bringing him some updated case files. You knocked lightly, then stepped inside before he could respond, a habit you’d developed over the past few weeks.
Hotch barely looked up from his paperwork as you entered, his brow furrowed in concentration. 
“Y/N,” he acknowledged, his tone calm but not dismissive. 
He knew it wasn’t just the paperwork that had him distracted—it was you. You’d been working at the BAU for a short time, but you had already managed to throw him off his usual rhythm. He wasn’t used to this—feeling something more than just professional respect for someone in the office. It unsettled him.
He told himself that it wasn’t anything serious, that he could keep it under control, but whenever you were in the room, there was an awareness that lingered—something beyond the simple back-and-forth of a working relationship. He glanced up briefly, bracing himself for the easy confidence in your expression that always made him feel like you saw more than you let on.
“What do you need?” he asked, trying to keep his focus steady. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not now.
“Oh, nothing urgent,” you said, your voice light as you placed the files on the corner of his desk. “Just thought you might like a little company. You’ve been holed up in here for hours. Starting to wonder if you’re avoiding me.”
He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the document in front of him. “I’m not avoiding you,” he said evenly. “Just busy.”
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, stepping closer, leaning against his desk. “You say that, but I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me because I might be distracting you. Don’t worry, Hotch, I won’t take it personally.”
His eyes flicked up to yours again, this time lingering a little longer. “You’re not distracting me,” he replied, but there was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.
You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if I was. It’s kind of my specialty.”
Hotch set his pen down, finally leaning back in his chair, giving you his full attention. “Your specialty?” he asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice. “And what exactly does that entail?”
You smiled, leaning in just slightly. “I’m good at getting under people’s skin... in a good way.”
His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile threatening to appear. “I’m not so easily rattled,” he said, his tone challenging.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you replied, your voice soft but teasing. “I’ve noticed that you seem a little... different lately. Less of that ‘stoic FBI boss’ thing you’ve got going on. Could be me, though.” You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Hotch didn’t respond right away, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. But you could see the faintest crack in his armor—just enough to know you were getting to him.
“I think you overestimate your influence,” he said finally, though the amusement in his tone betrayed him.
You smiled wider, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just underestimating how much fun I’m having seeing if I can make you crack.”
Hotch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, his eyes locked on yours with that intense focus he was known for. “You think I’m going to crack?”
You shrugged, unphased by his scrutiny. “Everyone has a breaking point, Hotch. Even you.”
He didn’t answer, but the way his eyes held yours for just a second too long told you everything you needed to know. You were getting to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Before the silence could stretch too far, you stood up straight, backing away just a little. “I’ll let you get back to your very important paperwork. Wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for you losing focus,” you said with a smirk.
“Appreciated,” Hotch replied, his voice low and controlled, but there was a new glint in his eyes. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
You gave him a playful wink before turning on your heel and walking out, leaving him sitting there, slightly amused but clearly rattled—just as you intended.
The tension between you and Hotch continued to simmer, but now, it was more playful than before. You took every opportunity to poke at him, using your wit and quick remarks to see how far you could push before he finally let something slip.
One day, you were both in the conference room, going over some reports. The rest of the team was out in the bullpen, busy with their own tasks, but you and Hotch were alone.
“Looks like we’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through,” you said, flipping through a stack of files. “You really should invest in a better system. Maybe hire a secretary... oh wait, that’s me.”
Hotch glanced at you, his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest glint of humor in his eyes. “You’re doing a fine job. No need to hire anyone else.”
You smirked. “Fine job, huh? Just fine?”
He didn’t bite, instead focusing on the papers in front of him. “You’re very efficient.”
You leaned a little closer, lowering your voice just slightly. “Efficient? That’s the best you’ve got? I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but efficient doesn’t exactly scream ‘compliment.’”
Hotch finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What would you prefer?”
You tapped your chin thoughtfully, pretending to consider the question. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something a little more... creative? Stunning? Irreplaceable?”
His lips quirked in what could have been a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Satisfied with your small victory, you leaned back, crossing your arms with a satisfied grin. “Good. I’d hate for you to hold back on my account.”
Before Hotch could respond, Morgan walked into the room, interrupting the moment. “Hey, Hotch, we’ve got a lead on the case. You ready?”
Hotch stood up, giving you one last glance before nodding. “Let’s go.”
You watched as they left, that familiar flutter in your stomach returning. You’d been teasing him relentlessly, but the way Hotch handled it only made you more intrigued. He never gave too much away, but there were moments, small cracks in his usual control, that told you you were getting under his skin in the best possible way.
By the time Friday rolled around, the team decided to go out for drinks again, needing a break from the stress of the week. You joined them, of course, slipping into your usual spot at the bar. As always, the conversation flowed easily, the team laughing and unwinding together.
But you couldn’t help but notice Hotch, sitting across from you, his attention shifting your way every so often. He wasn’t as reserved as he’d been in the past, and you found yourself wondering just how much further you could push him.
“You’ve been quiet tonight, Hotch,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Something on your mind?”
He glanced at you, a small, unreadable smile on his lips. “Just thinking.”
“About me, maybe?” you teased, your voice light but with an edge of curiosity.
Hotch’s eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze—something you couldn’t quite read. But instead of answering, he just took a sip of his drink, letting the silence linger.
“Careful, Hotch,” you said with a smirk. “You’re starting to look like you’re actually enjoying yourself.”
His lips quirked again, but this time, he didn’t deny it. “Maybe I am.”
Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, satisfied that you had gotten another small victory. This was becoming a game—one you were both enjoying far more than you’d anticipated.
And you had a feeling that sooner or later, Hotch was going to make his move.
The conversation shifted as drinks were passed around, laughter bubbling up among the team. You found yourself in easy conversation with Morgan and Prentiss, but every now and then, your eyes would drift back to Hotch, catching him watching you in those quiet moments between interactions.
It wasn’t long before Garcia, after a few drinks, leaned over the table toward you with a wide grin.
“Okay, Y/N, let’s get back to the real topic,” she began, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s your move with Hotch?”
You raised an eyebrow, amused by her boldness. “My move?” you asked, though you already knew where she was going.
Emily grinned, leaning in as well. “Oh, come on, you basically laid it all out there last time we went out. Now the question is, what happens next?”
You laughed, feeling the team’s eyes on you, and shrugged, completely at ease. “I think we’ll let Hotch decide that,” you said, glancing at him from across the table.
Morgan smirked. “You’re telling me you’re just gonna wait for Hotch to make the move? You know he’s not exactly the type to—”
“To what?” Hotch interrupted, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement as he joined the conversation, eyes now fully on you.
Morgan chuckled. “I was just saying that you’re not exactly the type to, you know, make a move in these situations.”
The table erupted in quiet laughter, everyone clearly enjoying the banter. But Hotch, ever composed, leaned back in his seat and looked at you, his expression soft but serious.
“Maybe I surprise people sometimes,” Hotch said, his voice low enough that only you could hear it over the chatter.
Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. You could tell there was something unspoken in his words, something that hinted at more than just a challenge. Your heart raced, but you kept your composure, offering him a small, knowing smile.
Before anyone could say more, Hotch stood up, drawing the attention of the team. “I think it’s time I head out,” he said, his gaze briefly lingering on you.
Morgan raised his glass. “Always leaving early, boss man.”
Hotch gave him a small, amused nod before glancing back at you. “Y/N, do you mind giving me a ride back to the office? I left my car there.”
There was no hesitation in your response. “Sure.”
The team exchanged knowing glances as you both said your goodbyes, and once outside the bar, the cool evening air hit your skin, but the tension between you and Hotch kept the night warm. The car ride back to the office was filled with comfortable silence, the kind that spoke more than words ever could.
You pulled up to the BAU parking lot, the building mostly dark except for the faint glow of a few security lights. Hotch turned to you as you cut the engine, his eyes reflecting the low light.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.
“No problem,” you replied, sensing that something more was on the tip of his tongue.
For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with the unresolved tension from weeks of lingering looks and quiet conversations. Finally, Hotch broke the silence, his voice steady but laced with something deeper.
“Y/N, about everything you’ve said—about me,” he began, his eyes holding yours. “I didn’t respond the way I should have before. I wasn’t sure how to navigate it, but... I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
You tilted your head, intrigued but calm. “And now?”
Hotch paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Now, I think I’ve decided.”
Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in just slightly, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I’ve spent a long time keeping things... separate,” he said, his voice lower, more intimate. “But I don’t want to ignore what’s in front of me anymore.”
You smiled, feeling the weight of his words sink in. “So you’re saying you do make the move sometimes?”
A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I just needed the right person to make me want to.”
And with that, Hotch closed the small gap between you, his hand reaching out to lightly brush your arm. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t impulsive. It was deliberate, intentional, and filled with the promise of something more. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft but firm, like everything you had been waiting for had just clicked into place.
Pulling back just slightly, he looked at you, the usual intensity in his eyes now tempered with something new. “Dinner next week?”
You grinned. “I’ll be waiting.”
And as he stepped out of the car, you couldn’t help but feel that the boundaries between you had finally shifted in the best possible way.
Hotch had always been the kind of man who liked things done a certain way—organized, thoughtful, and maybe a bit old-fashioned. So, when he offered to pick you up for your date, you couldn’t help but tease him a little.
“I could’ve driven myself, you know,” you said with a playful smile as you slipped into the passenger seat of his black SUV.
Hotch, ever composed, shot you a small glance. “I like to do things properly.”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Properly? What, are you going to ask my father for permission, too?”
He smirked—just the barest hint of amusement playing at his lips. “I considered it.”
You let out a laugh, settling into the seat. “Old-fashioned, huh? I didn’t peg you as the type, Hotch.”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a little tradition,” he replied, his eyes focused on the road, though you could see a glint of humor in them.
You leaned back in your seat, your voice teasing. “No complaints from me. But don’t expect me to be swooning over your chivalry.”
He chuckled under his breath, surprising you. It wasn’t often you heard him laugh, and when it did happen, it was always low, quiet—like a secret only a few were privileged to hear.
“Noted,” he said simply, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely unamused by your teasing. And that made you all the more curious to see how far you could push him tonight.
Dinner was a surprising success. You’d expected Hotch to be his usual composed self, always in control of the situation, but as the evening progressed, you realized there was more to him than the stoic leader you were used to seeing at work. He wasn’t exactly playful, but there was a dry wit to him, a subtle humor that came out when he was relaxed. And tonight, for the first time, you saw that side of him more clearly.
“Admit it,” you said, leaning forward slightly as the waiter refilled your wine glasses. “You’ve been looking forward to this.”
Hotch tilted his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I won’t deny that.”
He surprised himself with the honesty of his response. Normally, he wouldn’t have indulged in something so personal, especially not during a conversation with a colleague. But this wasn’t the office. Here, under the dim lights of the restaurant, it was different. He was different.
He watched as you smirked, your chin resting in your hand, completely at ease. You had this way of disarming him with a simple look, a shift in your tone that made him feel more like a person and less like the always-in-control Unit Chief he was used to being. It was unsettling how quickly you’d managed to make him lower his guard, even for a moment.
How long has it been since I’ve felt like this? The thought crept up on him, unbidden. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone made him forget about the weight of his responsibilities, even if just for an evening. There was something easy about being around you, something he hadn’t expected but found himself wanting more of, even if he couldn’t quite admit it to himself yet.
You smirked, resting your chin in your hand. “See, you can be fun.”
“I’m not as rigid as you think,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, I know,” you teased. “You’re just selective about when you let it show.”
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful, and for a moment, you felt the familiar tension between you—the same pull that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks. But just as you opened your mouth to speak again, Hotch’s phone buzzed on the table.
The moment the sound broke through, you both knew what it meant. A case.
As you laughed together over the last few sips of wine, the soft clinking of glasses and the gentle hum of conversation around you made the world feel smaller, more intimate. Hotch’s eyes lingered on you a little longer, and you could sense that rare ease in his posture, a subtle but meaningful shift away from the controlled, composed man you were used to seeing in the office.
But then, his phone buzzed against the table, shattering the moment like a pebble hitting calm water. Hotch’s hand paused before picking it up, his gaze briefly flickering with something close to regret. He already knew what it was. So did you.
As he glanced at the screen, you saw the professional mask slip back into place, the rare vulnerability gone in an instant. His shoulders straightened, his jaw set, and that familiar intensity returned. 
"It’s from Garcia," he said quietly, the warmth from moments before replaced by the familiar seriousness of a case.
For a second, he didn’t say anything further, his eyes resting on the screen as if weighing the decision to cut the evening short. His lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the disappointment he wouldn’t voice. Finally, he glanced up at you, offering an apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 
"I’m sorry," he said, his voice quieter now, as if reluctant to pull himself away from the moment.
You leaned back in your chair, letting out a soft sigh. "Comes with the territory, right?" you replied, understanding but equally disappointed.
By the time the two of you arrived at the BAU, the rest of the team was already gathered in the bullpen, their eyes immediately locking onto you and Hotch as you walked in together. You were still dressed in your dinner attire, and Hotch, though composed, looked far more relaxed than he usually did when coming into the office. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.
Morgan, always quick to jump on any chance for teasing, grinned widely the moment you entered. “Well, well, well,” he said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “What have we here?”
Garcia, who had been standing by her computer, gasped dramatically. “No way! You two were on a date?!” she exclaimed, her eyes darting between you and Hotch like she’d just uncovered the juiciest gossip.
Reid, looking slightly bewildered but intrigued, glanced at Hotch. “Really?”
You, completely unbothered by the attention, flashed a smile as you walked over to the table, pulling your jacket off and tossing it over a chair. “Surprised? I thought you all were more observant than that.”
Morgan laughed, clearly enjoying the moment. “We had our suspicions. But I gotta say, seeing Hotch in date mode? Didn’t think it was possible.”
Emily, who had been watching with a sly smile, leaned in. “How’s he doing? All proper and stiff like usual?”
You grinned at Hotch, who was standing behind you, his expression calm but not quite unreadable. “Oh, he’s very proper,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm. “He even picked me up. Very chivalrous.”
The team burst into laughter at that, and even Hotch, though stoic, didn’t seem fazed by the teasing. If anything, there was a trace of amusement in his eyes as he stood there, clearly aware that he was the center of the joke.
Garcia leaned forward, her eyes widening with curiosity. “Wait, hold on. Hotch on a date? This is... rare,” she said, her tone full of intrigue but tempered with playful restraint. “I mean, I’ve heard of such things, but to witness it—wow.”
Hotch shook his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “It’s not as monumental as you’re making it sound,” he said with a small, almost sheepish smile, something barely noticeable but present.
You laughed, leaning against the table. “Sorry, Hotch. I think you’re stuck with this one for a while.”
Morgan grinned, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t think she’s going to let you off the hook that easily. But I’ve got to say,” he added, glancing between you and Hotch, “I haven’t seen the man this... relaxed in a long time.”
Garcia smiled softly, her usual energy settling into something more genuine. “It suits you, Hotch,” she said with a wink, but there was warmth in her words, not just her usual excitement.
You shot Hotch a quick look, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “See? I told you I was good at getting under people’s skin.”
Hotch gave you a sideways glance, but the hint of a smile on his face didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team. “So I’ve noticed.”
Despite the teasing, the team eventually settled into their professional rhythm, focusing on the case at hand. Hotch shifted back into his role as Unit Chief seamlessly—his tone authoritative, his posture all business. But even as he directed the team, catching glimpses of you across the room, there was something new in the air between you, something that didn’t quite fit within the professional boundaries you’d both carefully maintained up until now.
Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing your way, his expression softening for just a moment before he returned to the task at hand. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. In fact, you could feel it—the subtle pull between you two, something the team had picked up on too.
You weren’t embarrassed about how the night had unfolded. Not even a little. You’d owned your feelings, and seeing Hotch standing there, the team playfully ribbing you both, only made you more certain of what was between you. If anything, it was fun. It felt natural. But as the case wore on and the work consumed everyone, the playful teasing fell away, leaving just you and Hotch standing side by side, reviewing files as you discussed the finer points of the profile.
At some point, Hotch’s shoulder brushed against yours, and it sent a spark through you—small but undeniable. The room was buzzing with the usual energy of the BAU at work, but between you and Hotch, there was a quiet that felt intimate, even in the middle of the chaos.
“You okay with how that all played out?” you asked quietly, keeping your voice low enough that only he could hear.
Hotch’s eyes met yours, his expression unreadable for a brief moment before he nodded. “It’s fine.”
You hesitated, sensing there was more beneath his calm exterior. Leaning in just a little, you lowered your voice even more, pushing a little, like you always did with him. “You sure? You’re not embarrassed?”
Hotch turned to face you more fully, his dark eyes steady as they met yours again. “Not at all,” he said, his voice soft but sure.
You studied him for a second, feeling that familiar spark of curiosity. “I can be a lot sometimes,” you admitted, your tone lighter now but with a genuine edge. “I know I get under your skin. And I’ve noticed you try to keep things professional, but... am I too much for you?”
His brow furrowed slightly as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He stepped just a fraction closer, his tone serious but gentle. “You’re not too much,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not that. I’m just... not used to it.”
You raised an eyebrow, feeling a little bold. “Not used to what? Someone poking at your stoic FBI boss exterior?”
He let out a low chuckle, the sound almost surprising. “That, yes. But it’s more than that,” he said, his gaze softening as he spoke. “I’m not used to someone like you. Confident, brazen, and... beautiful.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Coming from Aaron Hotchner, they felt weightier than any compliment you’d ever received before. “You really think I’m all that?” you teased, though your voice was softer now, the playfulness balanced by something more vulnerable.
Hotch gave you a small smile, the kind that was so rare for him but meant so much. “I do.”
For a moment, you didn’t speak. You just stood there, his words hanging between you, the tension both professional and personal at once. You’d been used to teasing him, pushing his buttons, testing the boundaries. But this? This was different. This was real.
“Good,” you said finally, a smirk tugging at your lips as you regained your playful tone. “Because I plan on teasing you about this for weeks.”
Hotch shook his head, amused. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
You were about to respond when Morgan walked past, flashing a grin. “Are you two done having your little moment? We’ve got a case to solve.”
Hotch straightened, his professional demeanor snapping back into place, though you could still see the warmth in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Let’s get back to work.”
But even as you returned to the task at hand, there was no mistaking that something had shifted between you. The teasing, the banter, the sparks you’d been playing with for weeks—all of it had led to this. And you knew, even as you both focused on the case, that the connection between you wasn’t something that would just go away.
As the night stretched on, you worked side by side, the teasing and laughter from earlier fading into the background. But every now and then, when the room was quieter and the rest of the team was occupied, Hotch would glance at you again, and in those moments, you saw it—the acknowledgment of what was growing between you.
This wasn’t just another playful exchange, another round of banter. This was real. And as much as Hotch was still the consummate professional, always in control, you could tell he wasn’t uncomfortable or embarrassed. Not by you, not by what was happening. He was simply adjusting, learning how to navigate something new.
When the case was finally wrapped up, and everyone began to head home, you found yourself standing in the BAU’s dimly lit office with Hotch once again. The others had gone, leaving just the two of you alone in the quiet.
“Well,” you said, folding your arms with a grin, “we never got to finish that date.”
Hotch, still composed, gave you a small smile. “I’ll make it up to you.”
You tilted your head, teasing. “You better. I don’t usually let guys off the hook that easily.”
He chuckled softly, the sound making your heart skip again. “I’m not letting myself off the hook.”
You took a step closer, your voice lowering just slightly. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go that easy either.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the night hanging in the air. And then, in a gesture that felt natural, Hotch reached out, his hand brushing yours before gently intertwining his fingers with yours.
“I’ll pick you up again tomorrow,” he said quietly, his eyes warm.
You smiled, giving his hand a light squeeze.“Old-fashioned, I remember.”
He smiled back, his tone soft but full of promise. “I think it’s growing on you.”
And with that, you both turned to leave, the knowledge that this—whatever it was—was just beginning.
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