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#aaron hotchner drabble
luveline · 2 days
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Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3
ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k
“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 
“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 
“I understand, but–”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 
You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?
“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 
The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 
“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 
You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 
“Did you call them?” 
Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 
Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 
“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 
You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 
Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 
“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 
You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 
“We really don’t have time to waste.” 
“I know, but my blood sugar–”
She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”
“Clearly not!” 
“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 
The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 
You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 
If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 
Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 
“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 
He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 
He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 
“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.
“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 
He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 
In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 
You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 
“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 
“No,” you say apologetically. 
“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 
Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”
“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”
“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.
“How did you get so low?” he asks.
“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 
“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 
“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 
“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 
“Don’t know,” you mumble. 
Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 
He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 
You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 
By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 
You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 
“I understand.” 
You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.
He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 
“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 
He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 
“What do I get in return?” 
He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 
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ssahotchnerr · 3 days
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okay i wanna see how aaron would react to reader being scared of a spider. like she sees a spider in the bathroom or something and screams and aaron runs in like “honey, what’s wrong?” and when he sees what made her scream he’s like “…y/n really? it’s smaller than your finger” or something like that !!
my hero
PLEASE that's so cute cw; fem!reader, spiders, established relationship, aaron being fluffy and lighthearted teasing <3
a shriek came from further within the apartment, followed by a desperate and distressed, "aaron!"
"honey?" abandoning his current task, aaron's feet carried him quickly down the hallway, rounding the corner towards the bathroom. the door was wide open, revealing you perched atop the closed toilet.
"what are you-" he entered, his first instinct being to look down at the ground.
"no, there."
you pointed frantically at the sink's countertop, or more specifically, the corner where the counter met the wall. there, was a small (while you'd insist otherwise) brown spider, with its legs scrambling as it attempted to climb up the smooth, slippery marble.
aaron's eyebrows quirked quizzically, before furrowing into a highly amused line. "a spider?"
"yes." you said as your gaze shot to him, eyes wide. like, hello? obviously?
a small laugh shook through aaron's chest, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes returned to your current houseguest. "and it was necessary for you to get on up-"
"just get it, aaron, please." there was a despaired strain in your voice, as if he didn't, you'd have no choice but to succumb to tears.
"i will sweetheart, don't worry." he pushed off the frame, ripping a small piece of toilet paper from the roll. with complete ease, and no hesitation, he smushed the spider, prompting a wince to come from you.
from both the spider, and simply him interacting with it.
"wait," as aaron moved closer to dispose, you sidestepped to the tub, standing on the edge. you reached out, grabbing onto his bicep to maintain your balance.
"it's dead, honey."
"and what if it jumps back to life?"
"then i'm sure it's first order of business will be to attack you." he quipped back, his tone playful.
as aaron reached down to open the toilet lid, you took that as an opportunity to clamber onto his back. your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, legs around his waist, slipping down towards his thighs a bit without his usual, sturdy hold; you were going to stay as far away from that spider as you possibly could.
his strength didn't falter despite your unannounced action, dropping the deceased in and flushing. your cheek suddenly came flush to his, scooting your body up his back as much as you could manage, allowing you to watch it spiral down the drain.
once satisfied, and the toilet rumbling to a stop, you hopped off aaron's back, a bright smile forming on your face. "thank you." you cheesed, leaning up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. "my hero."
"you're as bad as jack. worse even." aaron teased as a smile formed on his face. he grabbed your hand to guide you from the bathroom, clicking the light off behind the two of you.
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✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*
「 ✦ aaron hotchner ✦ 」
╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all aaron hotchner stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
┌──────────────────┐
MASTERLIST ✈️ CRIMINAL MINDS ✈️ 4/25/24
✐ @luveline
✎ sick of maybe
✑You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).
✎ a solitary mistake
✑ You're not sure you're ready to come back. Hotch has total faith in you. Or, your transition back into the team after your abduction doesn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped. 
✎ spontaneous phenomena
✑ Hotch touches your face much more than a boss should. Or, 5 times you have a nosebleed +1 time Hotch does.
✎ love, an abstract concept
✑ You learn how to be someone’s girlfriend. Or, 5 times Hotch raises your expectations (+1 time you raise his).
✎ if things go bad
✑ when an unknown intruder breaks into your apartment, you call hotch. he races to make it to you in time.
✎ bau!reader
✎ bau!reader
✎ bau!reader
✎ doctor!reader
✎ pregnant!reader
✐ @dudeitiskarev
✎ my one and only
✑ It’s Derek and Savannah’s wedding, and to Hotch, you’re the prettiest person in the room.
✎ i want to hold your hand
✑ Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.
✎ jealously
✐ @kimstills
✎ some reassurance
✑ in which you try to provide aaron with some reassurance after he asks for his worst qualities.
✐ @ssahotchnerr
✎ something good
✎ rom coms
✎ according to plan
✎ makeshift
✎ something exhilarating
✎ like dad does
✎ public displays of affection
✎ stay with me
✎ not so friendly competition
✐ @greg-montgomery
✎ request
✐ @headkiss
✎ something more
✑ you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
✎ steady hand
✑ hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.
✐ @honeypiehotchner
✎ gold star
✑ You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not.
✐ @chvoswxtch
✎ baby
✐ @hotchfiles
✎ half asleep takin’ chances
✑ there was no way around it, he needed an actual babysitter. so he finds you. and then he gets home to you adorably sleeping with jack on the couch to spider-man.
✎ no rainfall, no sunshine
✑ if there was a god, he wasn’t merciful, he was bloodthirsty, and he had a vendetta against aaron. he’s cursed, he knows it.
✐ @hotchscvm
✎ three cents
✑ you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.
✐ @erwinsvow
✎ coffee, black, two sugars
✑ aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.
✐ @atlabeth
✎ too sweet
✑ a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.
✐ @ptersparkers
✎ reckless
✑ After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isn’t your biggest fan. That’s too bad, because you really like him.
✐ @spacecowboyhotch
✎ in the east and west
✑ hotch and reader realize some things.
✐ @velvetcloxds
✎ bias
hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3
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em-prentiss · 1 day
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Ice cold
————
In which you have freezing hands, and Aaron warms them up for you.
Cw: fem!bau!reader—I think it could also be read as gn reader, getting together, fluff, first kiss, no use of yn
Word count: 1.7k
This is my first time writing a reader insert, so please be gentle with me lol. I’ve been wanting to write an Aaron x reader for ages and this idea finally came to me last night. Idk if I’ll continue writing these, but if you have any prompts let me know! It took me ridiculously long to come up with this one haha <3
————
The cold bites at your exposed hands and you shiver, dropping your pen and notepad into your coat pockets because they’re all but useless now, your fingers close to snapping in half. You leave Aaron to jot down notes of the crime scene you’re in, keeping your hands in your equally freezing pockets in a poor attempt at keeping them warm.
Who has the energy to dump and mutilate a body in the woods in the middle of January, anyway?
“Isolated and hard to find, safe to say he’s a local.” You murmur, tucking your chin into the collar of your coat. You curl your numb fingers into your palm, cursing quietly at the stiffness in them.
“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “One with experience, too. No blood spatter, no drag marks. He could’ve wrapped them in tarps.” He clicks his pen closed and slides it into his pocket along with his notepad, making you sigh in relief at the thought of leaving soon. “We’ll know more once Morgan and Rossi come back from the ME.”
You nod silently, clenching your fingers around the cold fibers of your coat pocket as you shiver again. Aaron’s gaze slides to you. 
“You okay?” He asks.
“It’s fucking freezing,” you grumble, hunching your shoulders and trying to wrap your coat tighter around your body. Your hands have gone fully numb now, clenched into icy fists inside your pockets. “My hands froze over. They’re like ice blocks.” You frown, your jutted bottom lip scratching against the wool of your coat.
Aaron smiles amusedly, his heart warming at the sight of your furrowed brows, your chin tucked into your coat for warmth. You shift slightly from foot to foot, subconsciously huddling closer to him and his endless, blazing warmth. 
He turns his back on the deserted crime scene and focuses instead on you, his eyes lingering on the flush on your cheeks, your skin bitten from the cold. He looks perfectly warm, you think grouchily, in his stupid large coat and his stupid neatly wrapped scarf.
“And yet when we went to literal Alaska you didn’t have any complaints,” he says. 
You huff indignantly, “Excuse you, at least in Alaska I knew it was going to be—” You cut off as his fingers wrap around your wrists and gently pull your hands from your pockets.
Immediately the cold bites at them again, but that’s not what makes you falter. “What are you doing?” You ask as he cups both of your hands between his. Distantly, you think it’s a stupid question. But his hands are so warm, large and completely engulfing yours, making you feel like you just stuck them in an oven. You let out an involuntary sigh, your brain going blank at the sudden heat from his hands.
Aaron ignores your question. “You weren’t lying,” he says mildly, bending his head to look at the way your nails were turning blue. He brings your hands up to his face and blows warm air on the blue tips of your fingers, massaging them with circular motions to force the cold out of them. Your heart picks up at the way your hands disappear beneath his, what’s visible of them looking small in his gentle grip.
Your skin is icy beneath his own. “Jeez, are you anemic or something?” He looks up at you and his lips tilt upward at the flush on your cheeks, deeper now than it was before, and you both know it’s not from the cold.
“No,” you squeak, the excessive heat of his hands rendering you incoherent. His thumbs rub gentle circles onto your palms, slowly forcing the warmth back into them. “Just terrible circulation.”
Aaron hums and looks back down at your hands, massaging them thoroughly until you start to regain the feeling in your fingers. You waggle them experimentally and he smiles a little, moving his thumbs up to your knuckles and rubbing them slowly.
You can feel your blush deepen as you look at him. His gaze is fixed on your hands, utterly focused on his task as if it were the single most important thing on his mind today, as if you didn’t have any pressing concerns like a team waiting for your feedback or a serial killer needing to be caught.
By the time he’s moved to your wrists your whole body is warm, your blood buzzing under your skin. He’s involuntarily shifted closer to you, your hands held so close to his chest your fingertips ghost against his shirt. 
His warm fingers brush over your wrist, catching your fluttering pulse, and your breath is trapped in your throat. Aaron presses your palms together and secures his hands over yours, finally done with his task. The warmth of your joint hands travels to your cheeks, the way his thumbs absently skate over the heel of your hands making your whole body flush. “Warm enough now?” He murmurs.
Just about to catch fire, actually. But you nod. “You’re a useful partner in conditions like these, Agent Hotchner. What with your furnace-like hands.” You try to joke through your racing heartbeat.
He chuckles lightly, his dimples digging into his cheeks. His hands are still holding on to yours. You’re glad for that, because otherwise you’re sure you would’ve risen on your tiptoes and pressed a thumb to each dimple, watching the way your fingers dip into the crevice. 
“Happy to be of service. Anything else I can warm up for you?” His eyes are like sun warmed honey, gazing into yours, and the words leave your mouth before you can think about them.
“My lips are cold too.”
Oh god.
You drop your gaze as your cheeks start to flame, a jittery nervousness suddenly making your stomach hurt. You try to tug your hands out of his grip but Aaron holds on tighter, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and holding you in place. 
You’re still looking down at your joint hands when he clears his throat. “I can help with that,” he says evenly, as if his own heart isn’t racing abnormally fast.
Your head snaps up. “What?” You breathe, frozen in place as he lets go of your hands. You don’t even register the sudden cold, your whole focus on the way he takes your face into his palms, his warm fingers pressing against your cold cheeks.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Aaron asks. His face is serious, all hints of his previously playful smile gone. Briefly you start to wonder if this is one of your many dreams about him, but his hands sear your skin, the icy air burns your lungs as you raggedly breathe in and out. 
You swallow, your throat unbearably dry, and nod. “Yes.” You grip the lapels of his coat, feeling the soft fibers between your fingers.
His face transforms. The hard lines soften, his seriousness melting away as he smiles again. The breath returns to your lungs. “Thank god,” he says bluntly, and you laugh, butterflies in your stomach, in your veins. You grin at him as his thumbs stroke your jaw, his fingertips sliding into your hair as he tilts your face up to his.  
“Your efforts at flirting are tragic, by the way,” he murmurs, just before he presses his lips to yours and steals your indignant reply. Immediately you melt into his arms, one hand slipping into his coat and the other resting on the hard line of his jaw. You always wanted to touch it, and as your fingers skate over it, wander over the skin that meets his neck, you feel his erratic pulse beating.
It’s good to know you’re not the only one ridiculously affected.
Aaron reluctantly pulls away when you both are breathless, his lips turning up into a grin at the sight of your dazed eyes. He leans in close and presses soft, gentle kisses on your lips—just to make sure they’re properly warmed up. 
You slip your hand into his hair and sigh—the cold has nothing on you now—just about to kiss him properly when his phone rings.
Aaron steps back and the biting cold replaces his warmth. You shiver as he digs his hand into his pocket and takes out his phone, your lips abnormally warm and your hands slowly returning to their once freezing state. 
“Yeah Dave,” he answers, his eyes still on you. You jut your bottom lip and he grins, his hand reaching for yours. He links your fingers together and softly runs his thumb over yours, making your cheeks flush again. “Sorry, we ran into traffic on the way. We’ll be there in an hour or so.”
Aaron ends the call and you laugh as he tugs you to the car, your fingers still linked. “What?” He smiles and you beam back.
“Traffic?” You raise your brows. 
He rolls his eyes. “What did you want me to say? ‘Sorry I got carried away kissing my beautiful subordinate’?” You reach the car and he opens the door for you, but you don’t get in. 
Your heart skips at his words. He smiles and you finally reach up and place your thumb into his dimple, your own smile spreading. “Yes,” you say simply, unable to believe you can finally do this. “You know they have a running bet on us.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss the divot in his cheek.
Aaron’s skin warms beneath your lips. His hand falls to the curve of your waist and he squeezes lightly. “I know,” his voice comes out a little tight and you smile. He clears his throat and gently pushes you into the car. “The faster you get in, the faster we can collect. And we’ll use that money for our date, yeah?” 
“Deal.” You grin and get into the car, Aaron’s gentle hand guiding you into the seat. He can’t help but give you another kiss before he closes the door, your lips sweet and soft between his own.
You sigh as he climbs into the driver’s seat, your cheeks delightfully warm and your hands only slightly chilly. Aaron pulls out onto the road and his hand finds yours again. 
You thread your fingers between his and look out the window, feeling absurdly grateful for the cold woods you were in.
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lis-likes-fics · 4 hours
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aaron hotchner drabble
tw: none, fluff. 750 words
Aaron is a light sleeper. It just comes with being in his line of work. When he married you, sleep became a little easier to indulge in. He loves holding you as he sleeps, an arm around your waist, his nose nuzzled in your hair. You're a warmth he adores, and one he welcomes.
And you're also really funny.
Sometimes in a worrying kind of way.
The bed dips next to him sometime in the middle of the night, and Aaron is warmed by the movement and the chill that follows. His eyelids part heavily as he orders them to open like the agents he orders on the field. His sleepy gaze follows you out of the door of your bedroom, closing it behind you as you do. He lets out a groggy sigh, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Aaron shuffles the covers off his body and stands to his feet. He opens the door you closed and walks after you.
He comes up carefully behind you as you stand in the living room with a pillow in your hands. You're tapping on it like it's a tablet, giggling about something under your breath and then “typing” something out.
“Hey, honey,” he whispers, setting a hand on your waist so gently and he turns you to look at him. Your eyes are open, but you seem to look right through him, even as you snake a hand around his own waist. “What did you find?” he asks as he takes the pillow from you.
For a moment, he gets worried. Because as soon as you hear him, your smile drops and you look annoyed.
“I don't want to hear your excuses.” You give up the pillow, staring past him as you shake your head.
Oh?
“I'm sorry,” is what he says, wanting you to elaborate without accidentally upsetting you.
“You can't just give me wet-willies.”
Oh.
If the pillow hadn't proved it, your reprimand just did. Never in his life has he ever given you, or anyone for that matter, a wet-willy. You're sleepwalking again.
“Okay,” he chuckles lightly. “No more wet-willies.”
He rubs your back as you lean into him. You make no move to walk, so he just holds you.
“What about the baby?” you ask randomly.
He raises a brow, wondering what's going on in your head. You could be talking about Jack, but you've never called him “the baby” before. “What about the baby?” he counters.
You tilt your head. “Did you tell them?”
“Tell them what?”
You scoff, blinking strangely. “The goose bit a bug on the baby.”
Your nonsensical words amuse him to no end. Part of him feels guilty for finding this so entertaining. You've been a tad stressed lately, which is why you've been sleepwalking a little more than usual. But it's nothing the two of you can't handle.
“Is the baby okay?” he asks as he guides you slowly back to the room before Jack wakes up at the sounds of your voices.
You scoff again. “It's a baby.”
While that does answer his question, he takes it anyway. “Well, let's talk about it in bed,” he says.
You walk with him, though your words protest. “We can't.”
“Why not?”
“The zombies.”
Wow.
Aaron can't help the little chuckle that slips past his lips. He looks at you, “Where are the zombies, honey?”
“On the toaster.”
He loves you.
“How'd they get there?”
“Tap dance.”
“Tap dance?”
“On the sofa. Like this.” You raise your hand, wiggle your fingers, and then give a thumbs up. When you've finished, you drop it again at your side.
“That's really good,” he laughs, trying to be quiet as he leads you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot. You hum in response.
“Lay down,” he murmurs at your side of the bed.
“On the plank?”
He nods, his smile hurting his cheeks. “Yes, on the plank.”
“But there are sharks.”
He kisses your forehead fondly. “I'll protect you from sharks.”
“Okay.” You lay in bed, and he pulls the covers over your body and rounds to his side. When he's securely at your back, he wraps his arms around you once again and pulls you into his chest.
“Goodnight, honey,” he whispers into the back of your head. He kisses your shoulder, sighing gently. “I love you.”
“Love,” you mutter distantly, “like loaf. Bread.”
He smiles against your hair, rubbing your side. “Yes,” he says, lulling you back to sleep with soft touches. “Bread.”
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ddejavvu · 7 months
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wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife
"How could you cheat on your wife?"
Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.
All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.
"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"
She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.
Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."
And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.
Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"
She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.
"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.
"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.
"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"
"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.
She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."
It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"
"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."
A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.
"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"
That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.
"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.
"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.
"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."
She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"
"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.
"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."
"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.
"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."
"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.
"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"
"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.
"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.
"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."
5K notes · View notes
inkdrinkerworld · 11 months
Note
aaron seeing reader in one of his old law school shirts and he’s like yeah this is heaven
all the air releases from his lungs as he comes home to find you lounging on the couch in his harvard hoodie.
“you’re back early,” you say, eyes shining with love as he makes his way to you immediately.
“mhm, as bad as it may sound, we had an easy case to solve today.”
aaron smushes his lips to your forehead before laying in your lap- trying for covertness but his hands tugging on the soft cotton gives him away.
“can i help you?” a giggle takes over your voice as your boyfriend’s hands climb up your torso.
“you’re wearing my shirt,” he says, a dreamy tone to his voice as he blinks up at you. “or rather, my hoodie.”
you nod, “i ran out of shirts,” you were on day number ten at his house and you’d only packed for a week. “stole the comfiest looking one.”
he places a kiss to your stomach, “you look good in it,” a second passes. “better than good actually.”
your belly heats up from his affection and you risk a small flick of his nose as you say rather bashfully, “stop.”
her only laughs, kissing your palm before pressing it to his cheek. “come to bed, honey. we can finally have an early night.”
3K notes · View notes
Note
hey i love your work so much!! i was wondering if you could do something where hotch gets lingerie for the reader. and the reader is like mmm no maybe not.. but hotch is like please just try it on to see if you like it?
reader is like ok, so they put it on and they are stilly kinda hesitant but when hotch sees them he is like star struck and… ya know shows them how pretty they are!! and he just praises the reader, maybe they do it in front of a mirror 🫣🫣
i think it would be cute, but you don’t have to write it if you don’t want, sorry if this is all over the place it was just a stream of consciousness!!
༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
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— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader
— summary: to aaron, buying you lingerie was an act of love, to you, it was something new.
— warnings: lingerie wearing (obviously), slight body insecurity, illusions to mirrors being used for future... unsavory acts, kissing, heavy petting, praise, heavy kissing.
— wc: 745
⋆ a/n: hello hun!! i'm so glad you like my work and sorry that this isn't as detailed as you probably would have liked. funny enough i couldn't find space to fit actual smut in there, but never fear! it is still as equally spicy and fun!
masterlist | AO3
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“What the fuck is that?”
Aaron held up a piece of lingerie that looked more like pieces of string and lace were sewn together than any actual cloth.
“Lingerie, honey.” He said with a deep chuckle. “And you want me to wear… that?” You questioned in disbelief. “That would be ideal, yes.”
There was a wince on your face as you continued to stare at the dark red thing. “Yeah… no. Absolutely not.” You crossed your arms. “Sweetheart, you don't even know if you won't like it.”
“No, I know I don't like it. How about you just see me naked?”
“As tempting as that sounds, I would like it very much if you were to try it on.”
Your eyes flickered from his to the bundle of lace.
Now, it wouldn't be fair to say no, because Aaron has indulged in many of your fantasies over the years, and he barely asks for anything, as well as always focuses on your pleasure. If you said no he'd drop the conversation entirely, he was never one to pressure.
You could see it in the burning of his irises that he wanted to see you in the lingerie, and he would never steer you wrong and pick something ugly. Oh God, just thinking about him going into a place like Victoria's Secret made your cheeks heat up.
With one final glance you sighed, sticking out your hand. “Fine, but I'm doing this just because I love you and… because I want to.”
He walked up and handed you it, pulling you into his side to give you a kiss on your head. “Thank you.” You just hummed before disappearing into the bathroom.
Oh you looked like a fucking clown.
You knew this would be no good. This was not flattering at all, at least in your eyes. You cringed, tugging at the straps that dug into your arms uncomfortably. You had never felt so… unsure sexually before.
“Aaron, I look ridiculous.”
“I'm sure you look great.”
“Did this thing not come with a robe?” You couldn't help but ask, because the outfit felt like it was missing something.
“It did.”
“And where might it be?”
“With me.”
“You're such a bastard.” You mumbled to yourself.
You took a deep breath to ease your nerves.
“Alright, I'm coming out, but if you laugh at me, I'm going to kill you.”
“In what world would I laugh at you?” He was right, you were being nervous and irrational and — God, you've never done this before. Was it hot in here? Were you sweating?
Stepping out of the bathroom was one thing, but Aaron staring at you speechless was a whole other can of worms.
You shifted anxiously in your spot as he approached you, his large hand cupping your cheek. His calloused thumb rubbed the hot skin of it softly.
“You look breathtaking.” His voice was strained. The other hand that wasn't cradling your face landed on your naked hip. He squeezed the fat of it, a light shiver shooting up his back at the feeling of the fat spilling through his fingers.
Your body thrums with excitement, your last hesitation slowly melting off of you.
“You think so?” You ask shyly. “I know so.” Aaron confirms with that warm, comforting voice of his. He connects your lips together and a light, surprised gasp exits your mouth. Your hands shoot-out to hold his strong biceps.
His lips molded themselves firmly onto yours, tongue exploring your mouth with desperate fervor. It was like he was trying to consume you, and a new type of fire burned in his veins. It was a rabid kind of need that threatened every part of him that was a gentleman.
You pushed away from him to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your eyes fall on the mirror hanging on the well next to where you guys are standing and you groan.
“Ugh, Aaron…” You whine in embarrassment, burying your head into his hard chest. “Don’t be ashamed of yourself, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.” You groan in embarrassment. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”
“Because I mean it. I love all of you.”
“You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you, Hotchner?”
“As much as I like sweet talking you, I like having you in my bed more.” He locked your lips again, nosy hands massaging and gripping at the chub exposed by the two-piece.
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moonlightspencie · 2 months
Note
“why are you looking at me like that?” : “i don’t know what you’re talking about” // hotch. as a treat. to me.
he is babygirl. he’s an angel. he’s a little wet mouse. he’s a grizzly bear. he’s he
pairing: aaron hotchner x gn!reader
warnings: none
send valentine’s day drabbles
It was obvious. Painfully obvious. And he totally thought he was getting away with it.
Sitting around on the jet coming back home from a case, much of the team was asleep. Though, they’d noticed on this case. And the last one. And the one before that: Hotch had it bad.
The singular person who didn’t seem to notice was you.
You sat by the window, looking out over the cloudy sky as you zoomed through the air back home. Everyone else was either sleeping or lost in their own world. Except for Hotch. He sat down in front of you, pushing a mug of your favorite tea towards you.
You smiled when you saw it, then you smiled at him.
“Thanks,” you said quietly, picking it up and sipping at the still-too-hot liquid.
“Any time,” he replied, even quieter with a small smile in return. Only he didn’t look away.
After a moment of staring out the window again, now with a warm mug in your hands, you looked back at him. Your smile only spread when you saw that dopey look on his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked softly.
His eyes widened briefly as he finally looked away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, looking uncharacteristically shy.
Finally, even you figured it out. Your heart beat a little faster at the idea, and you bit back a grin. You fell silent for a minute, then glanced back at him.
“It’s okay. I stare sometimes, too, when you’re not paying attention.”
The ghost of a smile hit his lips.
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luveline · 20 hours
Note
omg jade i heard you asking for hotch reqs and i RAN to your inbox
what about hotch taking care of r after they have a lil baby?? i think if i saw that man hold a new baby id die!!!! he could hole their whole head in the palm of his hand 😭😭😭
Every time you move, your hips and more intimate regions hurt like a hot poker. You probably won’t cry, but you require some tylenol and some sympathy to carry on. “Hotch?” you ask. 
Silence. You tip your head back over the armrest to find him. Even upside down, he looks handsome, sitting in the two seater with your little bundle of agony in his arms. Or, arm. The baby rests neatly in the curve of his forearm, his free hand dedicated to the baby’s small back. 
“Hotch?” 
“Who is she talking to?” Hotch asks your baby gently. You know what he’s doing immediately. 
“You get so hung up on the Hotch thing, if you didn’t want to be called Hotch, you shouldn’t have introduced yourself as Hotch.”  
You’ve been calling him Hotch for years, you aren’t going to suddenly kick the habit now. 
“She was my subordinate,” Hotch tells the baby. “She couldn’t have special treatment, even if she is the prettiest subordinate I ever had. It wouldn’t have been fair.” 
“I wouldn’t mind some more tylenol.” 
He raises his gaze. You twist into a painful but better suited position to watch him move the baby closer to his collar, his hand covering the entirety of the baby’s small head. Hotch said Jack was a little baby too, but you’d been terrified regardless, and no matter the size, it was too big for you to come out of the ordeal unscathed. Tylenol isn’t so much wanted as required. 
“I’ll get it for you,” he promises. 
“Thank you, Aaron.” 
“Oh, you’re welcome, honey.” 
He stands and shifts your tiny baby further into his chest, little snores pressed to his collar. “You okay to take him? I’ll make you some lunch at the same time.”
“I can’t eat.” 
“Just chips and a sandwich, honey. You can manage that.”  
You open your arms, letting Hotch lower your baby down into your arms and the surrounding nest of blankets. “You need to go see where Jack is,” you say. 
“I know,” Hotch says, kissing your cheek quickly. “I’m gonna make his lunch too. I’ll be right back.” 
You cuddle your baby to your chest and lean back. Your baby Hotchner is, as previously stated, so tiny, but he’s a nice weight against you, and he sleeps like a champ. You thought easy babies were a myth until now. So far he’s done nothing but sleep and stare at you whenever you talk. You think it’s love, or the surprise of seeing the voices that talked to him nonstop while he was in your belly now out in the open. He does the same to Hotch whenever he’s awake. 
You haven’t named him yet. You asked Jack for help, but he’d recommended you name your new baby Mister Awesome, so you’re at a loss for now. It doesn’t matter, though. He’ll have a name eventually. Until then, he’s the baby. And he’s very well loved. 
You wish he hadn’t hurt so badly to bring into the world, is all. 
Somewhere deeper in the house, Jack tumbles down the stairs, to Hotch's audible horror. “Are you alright? What are you doing, buddy?” 
“I’m being quick!” 
“Please be careful!” There’s the sound of a kiss. “You sure you’re okay? Yeah? Gonna go and keep Y/N company?” 
“Yeah, dad.” 
“Okay, thank you. I’m gonna make your lunch now, any requests?” 
“Peanut butter. And chips. And pretzels. And orange slices? And–”
“How about I bring you lots of everything, bud?” 
“Yes. Please. Hug?” 
They must hug, though you can’t see or hear it, as Jack walks into the living room with wildly tousled hair and a smile. He climbs over the back of the couch even though he shouldn’t, dropping onto your feet, a tangle of arms and legs. “Hi, Y/N.” 
“Hi baby. You hungry?” 
“Dad’s gonna make me a sandwich.” 
You reach over to collect his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers gently. You’d thought for sure that having a baby in the house would upset him, if only because his usual routine was disrupted —he’d had to make room for you first, and now suddenly there’s a new baby taking all the attention? it’s not what only kids usually want— but Jack’s an easy kid too. He squeezes your hand back, shimmying up the couch to lean on your leg. It aches, every touch to your lower half a reminder of the pain further inward, but he’s not rough. He climbs further onto your leg and rests his cheek on your shoulder. 
“Is this a cuddle?” you murmur. 
“Pretty please.” 
“No please required.” You frown to yourself, trying to juggle the baby into the opposite arm so you can wrap the one closest to Jack around his shoulders. You manage it poorly. “Dad makes this look so easy.” 
“He has longer arms,” Jack says with a shrug. His nose jabs the skin just above your chest. “Don’t worry about it.” 
“I won’t. Thank you, babe.” 
Jack touches the baby’s back. “He’s sleeping?” 
“Yeah. Must be weird getting to sleep all the time and then suddenly being born. At least he’s not crying.” 
You and Jack lay with each other for a while, watching the baby snore as you whisper about what Hotch is making for lunch. You wish he’d brought you the tylenol before he started, but he’s got a lot going on. You’re glad he’s the one making lunch (though you can’t be expected to right now, considering). The idea of having to stand there and butter a sub roll sounds like a low level of torture. 
“Don’t let me fall asleep holding the baby,” you tell Jack, your eyes drifting closed as Jack snuggles closer to your face.
“I can go get dad.” 
“I’m here,” Hotch says swiftly. You drag your face to the side to see him in the doorway, two dinner trays balanced with ease in his hands despite their obvious weight and full glasses on either side. “Don’t fall asleep, I’m coming. Sorry about the wait.” 
Hotch puts your trays on the coffee table and scoops the baby from your chest, leaving behind an awfully warm patch of skin. 
“Tylenols on the tray,” he says, smiling at you lovingly. “You okay?” 
“Fine. Jack’s gonna feed me.” 
To his credit, your lovely stepson offers to really feed you, but you’re not so tired now there’s food in front of you. Your stomach groans in want. 
Hotch stands looking down at you, baby somehow even smaller looking in his arms. “Need anything else?” 
You hold half of your sandwich up to him. “Eat that.” 
“I’m fine. My hands are full.” 
“I’m not asking, Aaron. Take it.” You force the sandwich on him. “We both know you only need one hand.” 
He’s cautious not to rain crumbs down on the baby. You make no such fuss, bread and lettuce falling down into your lap as you eat. Jack can’t stop giggling, “You’re not s’posed to eat like that!”
“Sorry!” you say, “I’m just so hungry!” 
“It’s okay,” he says. “Dad will vacuum you.” 
Hotch’s mouth is full to bursting, but his nod is vehement. He swallows hard. “I’ll mop you, too.”  
537 notes · View notes
ssahotchnerr · 2 months
Note
okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??
i just… aaron’s reaction?????
the parentals
i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3
as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.
a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.
but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.
"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.
"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"
"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."
aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.
"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"
jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.
"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.
aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"
spencer flushed. "uh..."
"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"
"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."
"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."
"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.
"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."
you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"
"old."
3K notes · View notes
alwaysmoncheri · 2 months
Note
hi!! I love your drabble about hotch and the monster under the bed! I had this idea and I wanted to share if you want to write it, but no worries if not. Years later reader and hotch's daughter is a teenager, hotch/reader wake up because they hear something in the middle of the night coming from daughter's room. An intruder?? Hotch goes to investigate, but the noise was actually daughter sneaking her bf in the window. She makes him hide under the bed when she hears her dad coming. (I thought of the line "you told me to make friends with the monster under the bed!") Maybe hotch notices her window is open or something and is suspicious. I love girl dad! Hotch. Sorry if this is too specific! 🩵🩵
oh my goodness! i love this sm! thank you for requesting! (never too specific, my darling, no apology necessary)
cw: girl dad!hotch, mom!reader, fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, kissing, minimal swearing, daughter’s name not specified, boyfriend’s name specified, 1.1k
<3
“hey, hey, you have to be quiet,” your teenage daughter's excited yet cautious voice is barely heard from the room next to yours, while hushed shuffling and quiet giggles softly echo through the walls, “sh, shh!” she giggles again, pressing her pointer-finger against her boyfriend’s mouth.
you and hotch know that your daughter has a boyfriend, but you’ve never properly met. she’d rather stick with sneaking him in her window every now and then for the privacy and until she’s comfortable for you and hotch to finally meet him. however, this particular night, they seem to be having a hard time keeping quiet.
from beside you, hotch awakes with a start, ears keen to the whispers through the walls, and eyes momentarily wide with fear with the thought of someone dangerous being in the house. without hesitation he climbs out of bed, his protective instincts high on alert while making his way toward the suspicious voices that echo throughout the house. in the quiet hallway, hotch contemplates grabbing a household weapon, his mind entertaining thoughts of danger. however, as the voices become clearer, recognition dawns on him. one of the voices undeniably your daughter’s and the other, a teenage boy’s.
“i am being quiet,” the teenage boy’s hushed assurance emits through the walls, reaching hotch’s ears, causing his frown to soften as he continues to listen.
“my parents are in the other room,” your daughter responds, nervous of being caught but giddy nonetheless, “i swear, if you get us caught.” she warns, but hotch can practically hear the smile, no doubtly reminiscent of yours, curled on her face.
“they won’t even know i’m here.” the teenage boy reassures her with a smirk reminiscent of hotch’s.
hotch makes his way over to your daughter’s bedroom, his steps quick and quiet in hopes that his presence in the hallway goes unnoticed. before he opens the door he hears a quiet thud and soft voice from the other side. hotch’s lips curve into a gentle smile, already knowing what is happening. when he opens the door, greeted with a nervous grin on your daughter’s face and an open window, all of his suspicions of her boyfriend’s presence are confirmed.
“hi, dad,” your daughter greets, nervously tilting back and forth on her heels with her hands clasps behind her back.
“honey, is there someone else in here?” hotch inquires, his gaze piercing but gentle, a knowing smile teasing at his lips.
a nervous grin adrons your daughter’s face as she tries to divert attention, “there’s no one in here but me, dad.” she replies only for there to be a soft thud coming from underneath her bed. a quiet, “oh, shit,” emits from the hidden figure under your daughter’s bed and her eyes widen momentarily, before quickly composing herself in front of hotch.
“then what was that?” hotch’s questions, crossing his arms and feigning seriousness.
“the monster under my bed?” your daughter responds with a nervous raise in her tone, attempting to weave a tale connecting to the imaginary friend during her childhood.
“oh?” hotch raises an eyebrow, playing into your daughter’s little white lie.
“yeah, you know, you’re the one who told me to make friends with him.” your daughter shrugs, an air of nonchalance in her response, yet a hint of mischief lingers in her eyes as if she knows that hotch sees right through her playful lies.
“and did you ever find out his name?” hotch asks, maintaining the delicate balance between parenting and understanding.
“james.”
“well, does james make you happy, sweetheart?” hotch asks, his voice softening.
“yeah,” your daughter admits, her smile betraying the joy in her heart, “he does.”
“then i think james is perfect for you.” hotch concludes, embracing the realization that your little girl is growing up.
your daughter’s smile widdens and her eyes gleam with happiness and hotch can’t help but see so much of you in her, “i love you, dad.” she says, the sincerity in her words tugging at hotch’s heartstrings.
“i love you, too.” hotch replies as your daughter makes her way over to him in order to hug. they share an embrace full of trust, love, and understanding of the situation, “make good choices.” hotch adds after the two of them pull away, his voice a mix of fatherly concern and pride. you daughter nods, before kissing her dad’s cheek and waiting for him to leave her bedroom.
hotch makes his way back to your shared bedroom, the muffled whispers of your daughter and her boyfriend creating a playful ambiance in the air. as hotch sits on the side of the bed, the night is lit by the glow of the bedside lamp. sensing his return, you’re already awake, and without a word, you silently join him on that side of the bed. your arms envelope him in a comforting embrace, wrapped securly around his shoulders before placing a tender kiss on the side of his neck from behind, the softness of your touch an unspoken reassurance.
“i think i just found our daughter with a boy under her bed.” hotch confesses quietly, leaning into your touch, and eager to hear your reaction.
“what?” you exclaim, a mix of surprise and amusement in your voice.
“yeah, when he bumped his head, she said it was the monster hiding under her bed.” hotch explains, a chuckle escaping his lips.
“oh, she can do better than that.” you reply, laughing softly against hotch’s neck, slowly allowing your arms to slip from his shoulders to hug tightly around his waist.
“yeah… should i have kicked him out?” hotch wonders aloud, seeking your opinion.
“she’s old enough to make her own decisions,” you respond seriously, hugging him a little tighter to show him that you’re there, “you did good, honey.” you add for reassurance.
“i don’t know if i’m ready for this.” hotch admits, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
“me neither but we face it together, always.” you affirm, your love and support unwavering.
“always.” hotch echos, nodding his head before turning it to kiss you, the tender exchange, unexpected but very much welcome, expressing love that transcends any challenges.
“let’s go back to bed.” you suggest and hotch nods, allowing you to pull him back under the covers and snuggle close to his side.
suddenly, a loud fit of giggles followed by a subsequent shush emits from the room next to you, a soundtrack to the unfolding chapter of parenthood. you and hotch glance at each other from under the covers, knowing smiles plastered across your faces.
“monster under her bed alright.” you remark, the laughter now echoing through the walls of both rooms.
masterlist ❧ aaron hotchner masterlist ❧ taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
tags: @ihrtmasong
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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ddejavvu · 7 months
Note
Wait Omg the thought of bau!reader and Aaron being secretly married but reader forgetting to take their ring off?? (Opposite to Spencer’s LOL). Everyone instantly zeroes in on it like ?????
You're not sure why you're on the receiving end of Prentiss's cheshire cat grin, but she's somewhat of an office prankster, so you assume that when you open the top drawer of your desk, a rubber band will fly out and whack you in the forehead. When no such thing happens, and JJ greets you with her own wide-eyed smile, you know something's wrong.
You retrieve the handheld mirror that you keep stashed away in your purse, trying to appear nonchalant as you glance over your face for any possible makeup smears. There's no smudges of eyeliner down your cheeks, mascara isn't dotted on your eyelid, and your lipstick is perfectly lined around your mouth; nothing is wrong.
You reach up to flick a wayward strand of hair away from your eyes, nothing big enough to attract the stares you're getting, but undesirable nonetheless. When you do you catch the glint of your wedding ring in the fluorescent lights of the bullpen, and your stomach drops.
That's not supposed to be there.
You snap the mirror closed and slide the ring off of your hand but it's too late, and both girls are snickering at your piss-poor attempt at concealment.
"Sooo," JJ hums, leaning over her desk with her chin propped on her hand, "When were you gonna tell us about that?"
"It's just a ring," You scoff, shoving it into the depths of your purse. You'll regret that later, when you're digging through napkins and lotion to find it, but for now evasion is key.
"Please," Emily scoffs, "That rock looks like it could pay my rent five times over. Are you seriously married?"
"No!" You gush, and you're sure they regret phrasing it as a question, because it gave you the opportunity to lie in answer, "No, I am not married, it's just a regular ring."
"Yeah, that's why you hid it from us," JJ drawls, "Morgan, did you know about this?"
"What?" The man's head pops up from his desk, "What do I know?"
"JJ, please-" You beg, but Prentiss is the one who answers, "Y/N's hitched!"
Derek's brows shoot comically high on his face, "Married-hitched?"
"No! I just wear rings sometimes," You insist, "Guys, I'm not married, this is ridiculous!"
"No one wears a ring that big unless it comes from a man who's equally endowed," Prentiss winks, that devilish grin on her face ever-present, "Come on, don't make Penelope deep dive, who's the lucky man?"
"What am I deep-diving for?" Garcia peers around the corner of the kitchenette, and you shoot Rossi a pleading look where he stands behind her. He'd been on his way back to his office, but apparently your drama has piqued his interest.
"She's married." Derek jerks a thumb at you, and it actually drops Garcia's jaw; you've always delighted in how cartoonish her reactions could be. Now, though, it provides enough silence for Rossi to speak, setting one of his hands on Penelope's shoulders.
"Don't waste your talents, Penelope. You don't need a deep dive to figure it out."
"Dave," You start, your voice sharp, but JJ cuts you off.
"Come on, you told Rossi before you told us?"
"She didn't tell me," Dave shakes his head, amusement glimmering in his eyes. You know he's absolutely ecstatic to be the one to let the cat out of the bag, and you resign yourself to slumping back in your chair as he changes the BAU forever more with two meager words: "Hotch did."
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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months
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hotch and reader who've had a fight so he's testy and short fused with the team all day till david/emily call you to tell you to come over to the bau and sort it out so he's not so difficult to work with
in hindsight, it was a stupid to be upset with each other over. you're both adults, so there's no way that between work and chores that you'd both see each other as much as a normal couple.
you and aaron were really just missing each other and couldn't get enough of each other to the point where you both came resentful at the ringing phones and being stolen away for work.
you weren't ready to let the fight be and neither was aaron. you just didn't know how bad he was taking it till your phone was pinging at work.
there's a million texts from his co-workers begging you to make up so he isn't so snappy and mean. even rossi texted.
with a sigh, you say, "i'm going for lunch," and grab your bag and head to the precinct.
when you get there, you see the chaos your husband has caused. there's more people than necessary in the bullpen, desks are crowded and people are walking around with hurried steps.
"what's going on?" you ask spencer as you spot him in the kitchenette.
"hotch is making everyone redo case reports, apparently it's not up to par." he's stirring an ungodly amount of sugar into his coffee. "i think he just needs to feel busy so he doesn't mull over your falling out."
spencer had gotten like a brother over the years you and aaron had been together and he's a damn good profiler so you're not surprised him or anyone else is aware of your fight.
"i'll go talk to him," spencer pats your shoulder, a marker of good luck as you weave through bodies to get to your husband's office.
you knock and his gruff, 'come in' isn't the least bit shocking. fights with him can consume him because he feels it's all his fault and that if something bad is happening it's because of him.
"aaron?" you mumble, skin clammy as you step into the hot, dark office.
"y/n, what are you doing here?" not honey. so he's still pretty pissed off.
"david said you weren't having the best day ever, so i thought we'd better sort the fight out." you say plainly as you sit on the lip of his desk.
you watch aaron's eyebrows crease to meet each other and then smooth out a couple times. "you know it's not your fault that we don't see each other as much as we'd like to, don't you?" you ask and watch your husband's shoulders sag.
"it's not yours either," he says softly, ashamed that he had implied that to you when you'd suggested having a day with just you two. "work is just work."
you nod, your hands reaching for his chair and rolling it closer to you. "it's hard, we both work odd hours, and that's fine." you reassure him, hands lost in his glossy hair. "but we have days off to take, even if it's just one."
aaron nods, letting his forehead fall to your sternum with a sigh. "i'm not mad at you for having a job like this, one that you love. i'd never ask you to leave it either, we just need to get better at managing our time together." you whisper the words as you continue playing with his hair.
"i'd never ask you to leave your either. i'm sorry everything got so convoluted." he says and you smile, kissing the crown of his head.
"i'm sorry too, my love." aaron raises his head and presses his lips to your jaw. "though, i think you need to apologise to david and the rest of the team. they've got agents from every department in the bullpen."
aaron sighs, his arms wrapping around your waist. "let them be busy for a little while longer, haven't had quiet time with my wife in a little while."
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hello 🩷recently found and loved your account so i’m here to ask from you!!
criminal minds SSA aaron hotchner x reader
i’d love any explicit smut 😋
ideal trope(s) would be jealousy, established but secret relationship due to workplace like the whole thing stems from AH being jealous af that you’re getting hit on or smth and he can’t do shy about it in public but oh when ur home.. 👀👀👀
hahaha sorry the brain rot is real
thank you if you do this!!
and i hope u never stop writing i’ve been reading ur other posts too i love them sm
༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
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— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader
— summary: your new relationship brings out a side of aaron that he had never seen before.
— warnings: established relationship, jealousy (obvi), unprotected sex, rough sex, teasing, couch sex, aaron lowkey bends you like a pretzel, heavy praise, he taps you on the cheek (lovingly ofc), implied creampie, consent king aaron!!, slightly insecure aaron, implied age gap but not specified, body massages and an implied size kink!
— wc: 2018
⋆ a/n: WOW a long smut fic, who would have thought? anywho, i'm trying to break free from posting headcanons because i just know they'll overtake this account. thank you for this request!
masterlist | AO3
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Aaron felt his eye twitch. 
His eye never twitches.
The culprit? The maintenance man that won’t stop talking to you. 
He had so much paperwork he needed to complete, the stack of it had begun to tower, but Aaron couldn’t manage to get himself to focus on anything else but you. 
Your relationship was fairly new, so you both had just agreed to keep it low-key for now. It wasn’t like you guys were lying, how could you when you were constantly surrounded by nosy profilers? 
With new relationships came new feelings, and one of them he hadn’t felt since he was a young man somehow managed to resurface right under his nose: jealousy.
Yes, he had his moments of jealousy when he had first gotten with Hailey, but this? This was different. The age gap between the two of you wasn’t that large, but it was considerable enough that when he saw men closer to your age creeping around you, it always put him in a foul mood.
Like right now he just wants to storm down there and kiss you right in front of that stupid kid. The urge was primal and unfamiliar, and quite frankly it drove him insane.
Aaron was sure you hadn’t meant to come off as flirtatious, and who were your colleagues to step in if you looked genuinely interested in the guy? For all they knew you were single.
Oh, yeah, this was going to drive him over the edge, and it was all your fault.
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It was safe to say you were excited when Aaron had decided to call it an early night, you just hadn’t expected him to jump on you as soon as you breached the threshold of your home.
He didn’t give you time to think or even put your things down, his briefcase followed along by your purse collapsed to the floor with a surprisingly loud thud!
Your lungs burned and your face was hot, heated between the two furnaces that were Aaron’s large and work-worn hands. You desperately clung onto the sleeves of his suit jacket, the material twisting between your fingers to keep yourself sturdy as he walked backwards.
“A- Aaron wha - what’s going on?” You pleaded breathlessly. You had to slightly shove the man away even though you were met with his uncharacteristic resistance. He just stood there and stared at you like a wild man, pupils dilated and chest rising and falling with every hastened breath he took.
He shook his head and blinked, like his thoughts were escaping him. Aaron couldn’t think when you looked at him like that; your lips kiss swollen with a light sheen of spit, your blouse covered breasts grazing his firm chest.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” Was all he could say before reconnecting your lips. 
He continues to walk backwards before the back of his calves meet the couch. He allows himself to drop down with a slight oomf, his needy hands tugging on yours encouragingly until you clambered onto his lap.
He didn’t give you time to show him any hesitancy, his palms gripping your hips firmly and all but holding you down against him. You gasped at the feeling, your fingers scratching at the shaved hairs on the back of his neck. 
“Aaron! What has gotten into you?” The question was a flustered giggle. Aaron’s eyes casted to the side in a rare show of nervousness. 
“It’s ridiculous.” He mutters. “I can bet you a million dollars that whatever you’re going to say isn’t as silly as you think it is.”
“It was that guy. The one that wouldn’t stop talking to you.” It took you a moment to think back on it before you finally understood what he meant. “The maintenance man? What about him?”
“He was flirting with you, and - I don’t know, it made me feel things I haven’t in a long time.”
Saying the actual word jealousy seemed so juvenile to Aaron; he was a grown ass man with a grown ass man job, so what right did he have to be acting like this?
“Oh.” It was long and drawn out. You felt a smirk begin to form on your face and you gently coaxed his eyes to meet yours. Aaron’s gaze was unsure. 
“You know I’m yours, right? I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you, no matter how young, rich or tall.” Your hips begin to grind down on his and Aaron chokes back a groan. His grip on your flesh gets stronger and it draws a whimper out of you.
“Yeah?” He asks sensually, his voice a low purr. He aids in your grinding and your head grows fuzzy. “Yeah.”
He’s quick to reposition the both of you, your back now resting on the couch cushions. He kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at the skin there. It sends a shiver down your spine and your lower half canting up, desperately searching for friction. 
Your hot cunt meets his knee. “Ah! Aaron.” You whined, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your boyfriend has one foot on the ground and the other wedged between your legs.
Aaron rises from your chest for a moment, shoving off his suit jacket and working the buttons on his shirt. You take it upon yourself to take your blouse off, arms reaching behind you to unclasp your bra with learned precision. 
His eyes fall on your breasts and you could have sworn his movements gained a bit of franticness.
“Like what you see?” You couldn’t help but tease, your hands now working to shimmy your pencil skirt down your thighs. “Very much.” Aaron agrees with a lazy half smile. “Here, let me help.” You lift your hips up and he takes both your panties and skirt off at the same time.
The casual show of strength made your stomach clench, and you all but snatched Aaron by the back of his neck back down to your level. A noise of surprise escapes him and you take it as a chance to slip your tongue in his mouth.
Your body begins to heat up, his taking grabs and grips driving you insane.
“Fuck me.” You heave. Aaron pulls away from you, “Are you sure? You aren’t prepared well yet, and I don’t want to hurt you.” You smile softly. “As much as I appreciate your concern about me, I’ll let you know if there’s any discomfort, okay?”
Aaron thinks on your words for a moment, mulling them about in his brain before relenting at the feeling of your sweet, tempting hands stroking his bare chest.
“You always have to keep me on my toes, don’t you?” 
“That was in the agreement.” You bite playfully. He snorts and rolls his eyes, but sits up once more to unbutton his pants. 
With what feels like forever, he’s finally bare for your hungry eyes and clambering on top of you.
Resuming his old position, he wraps your legs around his waist, the tip of his cock poking at your slit. The two of you shiver at the feeling.
“Are you sure about this, sweetheart? You know I don’t mind eating you out; I’m in no rush.” Your cheeks turn warm at his crudeness. “I’m sure, baby. I need you. Now.” With one final search of your face, he begins to push forward.
Your breath catches in your throat and you hold on to his muscular biceps. Your eyes flutter shut at the full feeling of him, your legs trembling and stomach tightening. 
The first initial stretch hurts of course, but with a minute of laying there adjusting to Aaron’s size as he delivers very stimulating circles on your clit to distract you from the discomfort, you find yourself loosening up.
“Move.” You grunted quietly. 
Aaron’s jaw is set tight, the vein in his forehead slightly bulging when he proceeds to thrust experimentally. Your lips roll in between your teeth to hold back the whorish moan that threatens to practically barrel out of you. 
He does it again, and again, and again, until all of his self control is thrown out the window and the only thing he can think of is you; of how tight you are around him.
“It feels so good, baby. So, so good…” You babble, your hands reaching up to grip the armrest of the couch for more leverage. “I know honey, I know. ‘M gonna get deeper, okay?” Aaron groans. You nod wildly, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face.
He steadies himself on the knee placed on the couch, lifting your legs up so either one sits on his big, broad shoulders. 
The change in position caused your back to arch, your mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ shape as you struggled to keep your head on straight.“Mphm! You’re so - you’re so deep.” You cried out, tears brimming on your eyelashes. “I know I am, baby. But you can take it right?”
“Mhm! I can! I know I can!” 
“You can take it because you’re mine right? Because you’re my good girl?” 
His praise pushes you dangerously close to the edge, and you’re honestly convinced that the crescent shape of your nails will leave an imprint on the material forever. The couch cushions stick to your skin like glue, the so of skin hitting skin resounded throughout the room lewdly.
A hand lightly slapped your face, your cheeks squeezed between his fingers, puckering slightly.
“I asked you a question, didn't I sweetheart?”
“You did, you did! ‘M sorry. ‘M your good girl, please.”
What you were begging for, you didn’t know; was it mercy? Was it a desperate call for your sanity? Whatever it was could wait, because you were going to cum.
“Gah! God, Aaron, ‘m gonna cum! Help me cum, please.” You begged again. “I got you honey.”
Aaron’s hand slithered down your body before landing on your clit, a calloused thumb drawing it around in firm circles. Your body moved and convulsed violently, your moans growing in volume – you’re sure you’re going to receive a noise complaint in the mail later.
That coil in your stomach threatened to snap, and all you could think to say was, “Cum with me?” 
To be frank, Aaron was ready to cum a few thrusts before, but he was always one to prolong his pleasure if that meant satisfying you.
“Of - of course.” He stuttered, his dominance slowly slipping away from him.
Aaron bent forward just a little more to test how far he could push you, and though you were sure your muscles were going to ache when everything died down, but God, this was so, so worth it.
“F- fuck!” You swore as you came.
Everything disappeared for a moment besides the sound of Aaron’s guttural groan that sounded more like a loud, long-drawn-out whimper than anything when he came too.
You were slowly brought back to reality by Aaron massaging your sore muscles, gently twisting them and rubbing out any potential knots that threatened to form. You knew he'd disappear in a minute to grab something to wipe you down with, but you couldn’t seem to find it within your post orgasmic bliss to care.
“Mm, that’s nice.” You rasped, your eyelids fluttering open to face your disheveled boyfriend. His hair was all out of place in the best way possible, his bare body shining in a clear sheen of sweat. If you weren’t so tired, you think you’d jump straight to a round two.
“I’m sure,” Aaron’s voice was just as hoarse as yours. “I think I pushed your body a bit too far.”
“Don’t get started, Aaron.” You chided lightly. “It was perfect, okay? You were perfect. Now get up here.” 
You dragged him from where he was and laid his body on top of yours.
“Down.” You demanded playfully. “I’m heavy, honey.”
“Don’t care.” You exaggerated the ‘don’t’ and pulled the rest of him down.
“I want to lay like this for a minute.”
“Alright,” Aaron nodded to himself. “I can do a minute.”
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