#hotch headcannon

[lucyswinter]

.-‘*•_aaron hotchner dating hcs .•*-.’💗’-.•*

pairing: aaron hotchner x girlfriend!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: some sexual-ish stuff implied

♡ ♡ ♡

-the two of you met after a mutual friend set you up on a blind date. aaron had been a little scared because he thought he was too old to date after his divorce, but after he met you, he was immediately in love

-despite his quite serious demeanour at the BAU office, hotch is such an affectionate and cutesy boyfriend. always showing you and kisses and cuddling you

-he looooves to give you my pet names/praise. “pretty girl” “my love” “sweet girl” “mmm youre doing great sweetheart” “good girl, just like that”

-his groggy morning voice is really sexy and low and he loves to talk to you as soon as he wakes up because he knows it makes you blush

-cuddling is his favorite thing to do at any point in the day. you guys just woke up? he’s pulling you in for the first snuggle of the day. he’s tired after work? his arms are already around you. the two of you are winding down to go to bed? you’re falling asleep in his arms

-after a long day of talking to people and giving orders at work, he loves to listen to you talk about it your day. “oh, sorry am i rambling a little bit?” “no, sweet girl, not at all. i love listening to you, baby.”

-he’s really touchy in a protective way and always has his hands on you. an arm around your shoulder, holding your hand, arm around your waist, slowly snaking down towards your ass

-he doesn’t like to talk about work very much, mainly because it gets pretty heavy sometimes, and he doesn’t want to freak you out by telling you about creepy cases

-first time you ever visited hotch at the office, everyone was absolutely appalled by how sweet he was to you and how quickly he changed as soon as you walked into the room-

-“morgan, this is the last time im going to tell you- oh, oh hey pretty girl! what at you doing here?” “you just forgot the lunch i made you at home so i decided to bring it to you :)”

-derek and garcia are very freaked out at this side of him and keep pestering him because they didn’t know you two were dating. “who are you and what have you done with hotch?” and all he can do is roll his eyes and turn his attention back to you.

♡ ♡ ♡

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds headcannons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch headcannon #lucywrites<3

[hotchnisslvr]

for her, i’d endure

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

rating: t

word count: 7.6k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: torture, descriptions of blood/injuries, drugs

summary: When you and Emily are kidnapped by The Chameleon, an elusive unsub that team had been tracking for years, you’re forced to watch her endure torture at his hands. In the hospital, you reel from your own injuries and the guilt of not being able to stop anything from happening to her. Angst and hurt/comfort with a happy end.

It’s hard to keep them open from the pain it causes you to try. You can’t help the slow drowsy blinking that follows. If they’re closed it doesn’t hurt as bad. Maybe this is a dream. Yeah, a dream. Just close your eyes and go to sleep, you tell yourself. You’ll feel fine in the morning.

Someone harshly whispers your name. You stir, but ignore it. Closing your eyes, you murmur something that isn’t quite a response, and try to welcome the darkness to take over. You just want to sleep whatever this is off…you try to at least. The harsh rasping whisper returns. There’s your name two, three times.

“Huh?” is all you can muster as you crack your eyes open once more. There’s a fluorescent light somewhere to your left, casting strange shadows over your field of vision. Your eyes burn. You want to close them again.

“Yes, that’s it!” cries the whisperer, “stay with me!” There’s an urgency in their voice, and as you take a few measured breaths, you gain more and more control over your senses. “Are you hurt?”

Emily. That’s Emily’s voice.

“My head,” you complain about the throbbing in your temples. “I think I hit my head.” You move to touch the side of your skull to assess the damage when your wrists don’t follow through with the command from your brain.

“What the—” There’s a sudden clarity that takes over as you hear the clatter of metal against metal. Your wrists are bound behind your back. You kick your legs out, or at least you try to. They’re bound too with zip ties to the legs of a metal chair that’s bolted to the floor.

“Don’t panic.”

“Emily?”

Fingers brush against yours from behind your back and you cling to them, though it’s awkward as you try to reach them. You’d know the feel of her hands anywhere. He’s got you and her back to back.

“I’m here,” she says soothingly, despite the edge in her voice.

“What happened?” you ask as your field of vision begins to clear and the picture of where you’re being held begins to form. It's dark save the fluorescent light you noticed earlier. There’s a few panels in the ceiling still flickering to life, though most are dark. Wires and cables hang haphazardly from the ceiling and water drips from a cracked pipe that stretches over the width of the room. The floor beneath your feet is concrete. You can’t see a door and the only windows are two small rectangles high near the ceiling. You’re underground. “Where are we?”

“The Chameleon,” Emily says after a short while.

Your heart skips a beat and you have to take a few measured breaths to keep the panic from creeping in. “You’re sure?”

The Chameleon, nicknamed such by the local media, is a serial killer that you and the team had been chasing across the East Coast for the last two years.You and the team didn’t care much for these nicknames as they often sensationalize the killer and detract from the victims, but it the name was fitting due to his nature to blend in to every environment he’s been a part of. This is largely due to how he is able to gain his victims' trust. Some of his known ruses include posing as law enforcement, a member of the clergy, other first responders, caretaker for a “lost” elderly patient, and more. He’d feign a scenario that caused the victims to unlock their doors, stop their cars, or otherwise pull their focus under the guise of safety. Once their guard was down, that was all he needed to ensnare them in his trap. Victims were initially blitz attacked, as evident by the bruising to their heads and faces, but as he evolved he began to dose them with heavy sedatives before taking them to a secondary location where he’d hold them for twenty four hours. During this time, he tortured his victims indiscriminately; sometimes cutting, sometimes burning, sometimes removing pieces of them or utilizing a combination of all three before ultimately succumbing to his need to kill. He favored a knife, often slitting the throats of his victims once he’d grown tired of playing with them. Despite his ability to blend in and kidnap his victims undetected, everything else originally pointed to someone just starting out, unsure of their preferences. However, this unsub evolved quickly. Victimology stopped differing and he’d settled on a pattern for women in their thirties, dark features, and often in roles that provided some sort of power. Though methods of torture varied, the rotation or combination of torture implicated states similar enough to create a pattern. He stuck to the routine, though. One woman every three months for the last two years. That was until recently. Now, a woman had been going missing weekly, suggesting a major deviation. Something had changed for this unsub, increasing his need to kill quicker and more often. Emily fits the victimology, but taking you too? It didn’t make sense? He’d never taken in pairs before.

“Fuck,” you mutter. You pull at the cuffs around your wrists, but they’re clamped too tightly. They don’t budge. “How long was I out?” you ask.

“Hours,” Emily responds. She sounds tired. “I don’t know how many.”

You blindly reach for her fingers again, this time with your other hand. When you brush against them, they’re slick with something.

“Emily?” you ask, concern edging into your voice. “What’s he done to you?”

“Cutting,” Emily answers clinically. “Left arm, chest, and right leg. They’re superficial.”

Red clouds your vision knowing he’d hurt the woman you love, and that you’d not been conscious enough to at least try to do anything about it. When you get your hands around this bastard’s neck…you yank hard against your restraints and hiss when all it does is cause the metal to dig deeper into your wrists.

“Baby, stop,” Emily whispers, keeping her voice low in case The Chameleon can hear. “We’ve been closing in on this guy. We just have to hope the team recognizes we’re gone before…” her voice trails off as a door opens.

Your heart stops and then starts, it’s usually steady beat now pumping erratically against your chest. You remind yourself to breathe, to take measured breaths to slow your heart and fight off the instinct to panic. The body’s natural inclination for self-preservation is astounding, but you couldn’t just think about yourself right now. You needed to be alert and look for anyway to wriggle into this guy’s psyche, anything to keep him from hurting Emily any further.

There’s a metallic clank as whatever door that’s out of your eye line slams shut. Heavy footsteps echo in the space and you count. Twenty four. There’s twenty four steps. You can’t fight the way your body tenses as a silhouette begins to emerge from the shadows. As the figure comes into focus, your eyes widen in surprise.

“Surprised to see me?” the man says, a twisted smile curving on his

“You know him?” Emily asks as she attempts to crane her neck to look at him.

You take in the man before you: white, mid-30s, average build, dark curly hair, and blue eyes wild with evil intent. You don’t know his name, but you've seen him before. You all had. Your mind flashes to each body dump where the team had investigated and gathered initial evidence to further flesh out the profile. You close your eyes and let your mind’s eye expand your field of vision to include the gathering crowd of onlookers. As you mentally guide yourself through each crime scene, you can clearly see him.

“You were there the whole time,” you say with a surprisingly level of calm as you open your eyes and meet his gaze directly.

He extends his arms to either side, a look-at-all-i-have-accomplished gesture, though there’s no audience save the two of you to take in his performance. “What can I say?” he says. “The media named me for my ability to blend in anywhere I go. I like the nickname, I do.” He points his finger at you as he begins to circle around you and Emily like you’re an injured seal in shark infested waters. “Though you profilers don’t like when these major news outlets do that. It sensationalizes the killer while taking away from victims.” He stops in front of you and bends at the waist to look you in the eye. You muster as much contempt into your gaze as possible.

“Good,” he snarls. “Those sluts aren’t worth remembering anyway. Any thoughts on that, agent?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually, I think I’m pretty tired of listening to you whine about your mommy issues.” A fire ignites in his eyes as you say this. You smirk. “Ooo, that did something. Did that strike a nerve?”

His lip curls as he takes a shuddering breath.

“I think I did, didn’t I?”

His knuckles collide with your face and there’s an explosion of stars behind your eyes as you feel your lip split in two. Emily calls your name and curses the unsub’s. There’s a buzzing in your ears as you blink the fog away. You sit up as best as you can and spit blood onto the floor. If his attention is on you, it’s not on Emily.

“Is that the best you can do?” you say, leveling your gaze back on The Chameleon. “You had to hit me from behind the first time. Are you scared to face a woman head on? Too much of a coward to face them? Or are you just too weak?” You incline your head toward your lap. “After all, you’ve got us tied up. Untie me and we’ll see just how well you do one on one.”

The Chameleon seethes, nostrils flaring as his rage blossoms. “You know nothing!” he bites.

“We know, everything.” You answer. He may not have been on the team’s radar, but you’ve seen this type before; a man that’s been forced into a submissive role and emasculated his entire life finally snaps and turns the tables on innocent women to make up for the lack of care he missed out on from a mother figure his entire life. He blames them because he can’t take his anger out on the person he wants to most. Mommy.

“Do you?” he sneers and you don’t flinch away from his hot breath on your neck.

“You’re easier to read than a children’s nursery rhyme,” you taunt.

The Chameleon snarls and this time his knuckles collide with the center of your face and there’s a sickening crunch. Blood pours from your broken nose onto the front of your shirt.

“Enough!” Emily shouts. “She’s not the one you want.”

You blink through the haze and blaring pain. Emily’s name is garbled as you try to say it, but there’s too much blood in your mouth. Just like the flickering gaze of a reptile, his eyes shift instantly to her. The desire that alights his face makes you want to throw up. She’s the one that fits the victimology. She’s the surrogate, the object of desire in his twisted fantasy.

“I think,” he says slowly, and you’re surprised you don’t see a serpentine tongue flicker between his lips. “That this next part will be more fun with an audience.”

Your vision shifts in and out of focus as you follow his movements. He shuffles just out of view of your peripheral vision and trying to force your eyes to see farther than they can exacerbates the splitting pain in your skull and face. Everything throbs. You can hardly see straight.

He returns with a syringe in hand. He holds it up for you to see. “Maybe I am weak,” he says bitterly. “But I’m the one in control and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He pushes the syringe into your arm and a slow, metallic heat creeps through your veins. Your limbs quickly grow heavy and your senses begin to dull.

Behind you, Emily pulls at her restraints. “Hey! What are you giving her? Leave her alone. You don’t want her, you want me.”

A choked laugh escapes the unsub as he cuts the zip ties at your ankles. You want to kick out at him and knock that smug look off of his face but the signals from your brain are cut off. Your body won’t follow the command your mind is ordering due to the drugs scrambling your system. Your eyelids are heavy. You want to close them. The unsub recognizes this and slaps at your face. “No, no. You can’t close your eyes, now. You’ve got a show to watch.” His lips twist into a sickeningly delighted smile. He slips a key from his pocket and undoes both sets of cuffs keeping you bound to the chair. You slump forward against him and he catches your weight easily. He wraps his arms around your waist and grunts as he hoists you over his shoulder. There’s static coursing through your limbs and despite every wish and desire to lift even a finger, your limbs don’t cooperate.

You slide off of him like rain down a windowpane, though instead of coming to a gentle stop you hit the ground like a stone thrown into a pond; all of your weight crashing down. Your head rattles against the wall and stars explode across your vision once more.

Emily calls your name and you try to focus on that. You blink and her form comes into focus. She’s bound in the same manner that you were in a chair exactly like yours. There’s blood staining her clothes, her blouse cut to ribbons and her pant leg tattered from where he slit it open with a knife; the same knife he used to cut into skin. Blood drips onto the floor.

She smiles at you and her gaze is so tender as her eyes meet yours. “Whatever he does to me, it is not your fault.” She’s soothing you. She’s about to endure more torture and she’s trying to comfort you.

You want to speak, to tell her you’re sorry, that you love her. You want to stand, to untie her and take her to safety. Most of all you want to put that unsub in the ground. A single tear leaks from your eye as The Chameleon wheels a tray table near Emily. The soft eyes she reserved for you steel upon seeing him.

He picks up a scalpel, his fingers gentle as he curls them around it; a stark contrast to the violence he inflicts with it. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Emily licks her lips and raises her chin to look him in the eye, defiant in the face of danger. “I’ve already come back from the dead once before. At least if you’re successful, I know whose ass I’m haunting first.” She narrows her brown eyes to slits. “Come on, lizard boy. Let’s dance.”

•

Tears leak down your cheeks as you’re forced to watch what he does to her. She continues to taunt him, but her voice has grown weak. She’s losing too much blood.

“I wonder,” Emily says, her breathing labored. She lifts her gaze to meet the unsub’s. “You love that knife.” She inclines her chin toward the blade in his hand and his fingers twitch. “Tell me, is it because you can’t get up? Are our mommy issues too severe?”

A wild scream tears from his throat as he backhands her. A sharp grunt of pain leaves her lips but no scream. She sheds no tears for him. She’ll show no fear to him and allow him to feed off of her emotions like he did with his other victims, but he knows she must be feeling the weight of the torture, of the exhaustion settling in.

Her voice is tired, but her words are dagger tipped. “You’re not a man,” she spits blood on the ground, her teeth stained with it as she bares them at him. “You’re just a coward, a little boy missing mommy’s hand to guide him through your pathetic, wayward life.” Each word is sharp and articulated, a needle digging a little deeper and deeper into his flesh with each cutting syllable.

“Enough!” he bellows, spittle flying from his mouth as he lifts his arm. In one swift downward motion, he plunges the scalpel into her thigh.

She screams, her voice ragged and raw. A panicked sound bubbles in your throat, but the drugs overpower your ability to call out to her. Your fingers twitch as you try to summon any amount of strength to them, but to no avail. You can’t move them anymore that. You try to wiggle your toes and only feel a tinge of movement from them. Tears leak down your cheeks and drip off of your chin. The tear stains left behind are cold overtop of the dried blood smeared across your face from your broken nose, still throbbing with pain.

Emily sits hunched over, her shoulders heave with shuddering breaths. She’s breathing. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. The thought plays on repeat in your mind. If she dies, there is no place this slimy, spineless creature can hide where you wouldn’t be able to find him.

A strangled moan rumbles from behind your lips as The Chameleon approaches Emily. There’s a smirk on his lips as he brushes his fingers along her jawline. Just as quickly as the smirk appears, it dissipates as he shoves her face away from him, disgust twisting his features.

“I think I’ve had enough of you,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re all the same. There is no place for women like you. I’m doing the world a favor by getting rid of you.” He picks up another knife off the tray table and moves to stand behind Emily, knife poised beneath her throat. His shifting eyes fall on you and his smile returns. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the show.”

You feel your brow pinch as a wash of emotion floods through you. Your hand twitches and you manage to ball it into a fist, but you can’t force much more than that.

“Emi—” your tongue lolls inside your mouth and you can’t get her name out but it’s enough to get her attention. Her wavering brown eyes fall on yours and you hope she can feel your full apology and profession of love in your eyes as you await the inevitable.

“I love you,” she mouths and a sob shudders free from your own.

A single gunshot cracks through the air like a whip.

As the unsub slumps to the ground, Derek’s hulking frame comes into view. “He’s down!” He calls as he holsters his weapon and rushes to Emily. His hand moves to the knife in her leg.

“Don’t!” Emily warns. “Let the medics handle it. The keys to the cuffs are in his pocket.”

As Derek squats beside the unsub Hotch and Spencer clamber down the stairs, spilling into the room.

“We need medics,” Derek says to them, eyes filled with concern. “We need them now.”

“Copy that,” Spencer states as he presses against his earpiece and relays the information.

Hotch holsters his gun and rushes to your side. Crouching down, his hands smooth your hair back from your face to inspect the damage.

“Can you hear me?” he says. You blink heavily as his face comes in and out of focus. He repeats the question and says your name. He’s asking you to talk to him, but you can’t.

“He injected her with something,” Emily says weakly as Derek works to uncuff her. “A sedative or a paralytic, I don’t know. She can’t move. She can’t, she can’t—” Emily’s eyes flutter and roll back in her head. Your eyes widen as she slumps forward. Derek catches her before she can face plant the concrete and risk dislodging the scalpel sticking out of her thigh before the medics can do their job to ensure she’s not at risk of bleeding out, if she wasn’t already.

Your hand twitches, fingers jerking against your palm as a sound of desperation eeks past your still lips. Hotch presses his hand into yours and squeezes. His hard eyes meet yours and there’s pain and understanding in them. He’s born witness to seeing the love of his life killed by an unsub. It was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He had to hope that Emily would survive what she’d endured here tonight. He squeezes all of that hope into your palm as the medics crash down the steps, backboards and kits at the ready.

“She’ll be okay,” Hotch promises, though there’s a hint of doubt on the edge of his words. “You’ll be okay.”

As the medics make way and his hand slips free from yours, you can only hope and pray that what he says is true.

•

A gentle beeping is the first thing you hear as your senses slowly creep back to life. The sound is soft, but each punctuated tone sends a pulse of pain to the space behind your eyes.

Your eyes crack open and you squeeze them shut again as the bright white of the fluorescent lighting blinds you.

“Shit,” you hiss. Your voice is hoarse.

“Hey, you!” greets a female voice. Penelope’s voice.

“Too bright,” you grumble.

“Oh! Hold on!” Her heels click against the tile of the hospital floor, a switch flicks, and the light behind your eyelids darkens. You feel the relief immediately though the bruising around your eyes and throbbing pain reverberating through your nose and cheeks starts to overwhelm your senses as you become more alert.

You crack one eye and Penelope’s bright face comes into view. Her pink cat eared headband matches her glasses frames and lipstick. Her smile reaches her eyes and that only just eases some of the anxiety that floods your system, the only other thing you’re able to feel besides the pain. If Emily was dead, Penelope wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye right now.

“I need to see her,” you say, sitting up and immediately regretting it. The room spins and your hand flies to your head, fingers pressed against your temple in a poor attempt to stop the whirling sensation.

“Sweetie, oh my God, don’t—” she stands up and crosses the room, but you’re already pushing the sheets back.

You curse as you rip the IV from your arm, the tape holding it in place ripping out the hairs on your arm. Garcia tries to take hold of your hands, but you bury them inside the folds of the hospital gown as your fingers feel for the numerous electrodes tacked to your chest. Hooking the tips of your fingers around the wire once you find a place to bunch them together, one swift tug is all it takes to dislodge them. The machine beside the bed flat lines as it no longer receives your heart rate.

“Honey please don’t make me—” Her face scrunches as you move to stand. She sticks her arms out to block you from doing so “Oh, you’re going to make me, ok— Derek! Hotch!”

Her shouts are like a drill through your skull. You blink and black spots your vision as it blurs. The pain in your face is so intense, but you have to push through it. If Emily could endure what she did, you can push through this to get to wherever the hell they were keeping her in this goddamn hospital.

Hotch and Derek burst into the room, eyes frantic and scanning the scene. Morgan swiftly cuts through the space, swerving in front of Penelope and taking you by the arms. Garcia may have hesitated to stop you in your tracks but Derek has no reservations whatsoever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks sternly.

Two nurses rush into the room and Hotch placates them with a gesture implying things are under control . He says something to them in a low voice and they glance your way once before nodding and leaving the space.

“I need to see her,” you say as you push against Derek, but in your current state you may as well be trying to push the Leaning Tower of Pisa upright.

His grip around your wrists is firm, but gentle; his hands placed just above the bandages from where the cuffs had bitten into your skin.

“She’s not awake yet,” Derek says. His features soften as he looks into your panic filled eyes. “She’s stable. She’ll be okay, and I promise you that the minute she wakes up I will take you to see her.”

“But Derek—”

He clicks his tongue. “No buts. You’re no use to her if you’re not well. You nearly overdosed on the drugs that man gave you. He broke your nose so badly, they had to re-break it to set it correctly. You have a concussion. Are you hearing me? You need to get your ass back in that bed.”

“Honey, listen to him.” Garcia adds, her voice equal parts soothing and concerned. “You can barely stand.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears well in your eyes. They slip down your cheeks and seep into the medical tape plastered to your face and nose. You draw in a shuddering breath as Derek guides you back into the bed. He presses a warm hand to your shoulder before stepping back and putting an arm around Garcia.

“Come on, mama, let’s go get a coffee while the nurses get her hooked back in.”

Penelope’s mouth drops into an o-shape as if she’s about to protest.

“I’ll stay with her,” Hotch assures her. “Go. I’ll call if anything changes.” That comforts her enough to let Derek steer her out of the room and into the hallway.

As the sound of their footsteps fade away, Hotch exhales a heavy sigh. The heels of his loafers click against the tile as he crosses the room and takes the chair Penelope had been occupying at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he reaches over and presses the call button to summon the nurses.

“Like someone cracked me in the face with a sledgehammer.”

A hint of a smile passes over your supervisor’s lips and a ghost of a laugh passes your own. You wince as the motion sends a new wave of pain rippling throughout your face.

“How bad is it?” you ask.

“The doctors say it should heal fine. They’re baffled that the break didn’t do any damage to your septum. The bruising will take time but you won’t need surgery so—”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Not me, Hotch.”

His lips press into a firm line. “She lost a lot of blood,” he says after a moment. “In total, he cut her about fifteen times before stabbing her. She was right to tell Morgan not to pull the scalpel out. It was dangerously close to her femoral artery. The unsub was either incredibly calculated in avoiding it or it was dumb luck that saved her.”

Your brow pinches as his words sink in. “What was his name?”

Hotch’s chin dips in response to your question. “Carson Peters. He was a Vet Tech on the perimeter of the geographic profile. We never even interviewed him.”

“The whole time we never knew his name,” you breathe.

“If I know Emily, I’m sure she came up with a few,” Hotch remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

Your lips twitch, but a smile doesn’t take shape. There is an entire slew of names you’d wanted to hurl at the unsub, to say anything that would have taken his attention off of Emily for even a second but you couldn’t because of the drugs he’d pumped into you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an image of him cutting Emily flashes through your mind.

Hotch says your name. You hear the deep tenor of his voice, but it’s as though you’re underwater. Emily’s cries of anguish echo in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as a tear leaks from the corner of your eyes. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

A firm hand slips into yours and you gasp, flinching from the contact. The image distorts and vanishes. You open your eyes and take a deep breath, dropping your gaze onto the hand in yours. You lift your eyes to meet Hotch’s hard stare. His fingers squeeze around yours and he nods.

“You’re safe,” he assures you. “Carson Peters is dead. He can’t hurt you, Emily, or anyone else ever again.”

Your fingers twitch around his as you blink back the onslaught of tears that want to pour out of you. “I couldn’t do anything.”

Hotch’s features soften. “I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat. Hotch squeezes your hand again, intentionally doing so to keep your mind from wandering. He’s keeping you grounded.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “I felt so helpless.”

“I know,” Hotch states as he levels his gaze on hours. His brown eyes waver as he speaks. “Witnessing a loved one’s abuse and not being able to do anything about it is a torture all its own. In our positions we have the authority to do something about it and in most cases, we can. When we can’t,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s natural to play it over and over again, to wonder where you went wrong, to think that somewhere along the line you could’ve done something, anything, to change the outcome.” His brow lifts toward his hairline. “We will kill ourselves ruminating on the what ifs and what could have beens.”

We. He’s not just talking about you anymore. He’s talking about his past when the unsub George Foyet killed his wife, Haley. You’d joined the team several years after her murder, but you’d been briefed fully on the case. It was well known to everyone in the BAU.

It’s your turn to squeeze his hand and you realize how out of the ordinary this exchange is. You’re as close to Hotch as anyone else on the team, but he’s not usually the touchy-feely type; the occasional half hug or handshake sure, but this level of vulnerability is uncommon.

A nurse walks into the room and Hotch stands to greet her. He shakes her hand and introduces himself formally; name, rank, and title. Establishing credibility for what, you wonder. He speaks in low tones and after a moment the nurse looks at you before looking back at him. She nods her head and he thanks her before she exits the room.

“What was that about?” you ask.

“A favor,” he answers as the nurse guides a wheelchair into the room.

“Five minutes,” the nurse says, aiming a pointed look at Hotch.

“Understood.”

The nurse leaves and Hotch pushes the chair up to the edge of the bed. He slips a hand behind your back to help stabilize you as he extends his other hand for you to grab hold of.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you take the proffered hand. You groan as you sit up and your head spins. You swear you can feel every bone in your face throbbing as pain threatens to split you in two.

“To see Emily.”

Your heart swells. You look at Hotch, eyes widening. “I thought—”

“I told the nurse you’d stay put and allow them to do their jobs and help you if you were allowed to see her. Hence, the five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” you repeat, nodding your head.

Hotch smiles reassuringly. “Five minutes.”

Slowly, Hotch assists with the transition from bed to chair. The shift exhausts you and it sinks in just how weak you are. However, the prospect of seeing Emily keeps you alert enough to push through.

The trip to Emily’s hospital room is short. She’s two right turns and one long hallway away from yours. The door to her room is cracked when you arrive and JJ opens it as Hotch reaches for the door.

“Sweetie!” JJ smiles brightly at you, though her eyes are tired. She leans down to pull you in a gentle hug, minding your face as she does so.

Her eyes flit between you and Hotch. “She’s in and out of consciousness. They’ve got her on some pretty strong painkillers, but she’s going to be alright.”

“Are you ready?” Hotch asks.

Your heart hammers in your ears, but you nod your head and whisper, “Yes.”

JJ steps out of the way so Hotch can wheel you inside the room. You raise your chin to peer over the threshold and whimper upon seeing Emily, hand moving to cover your trembling lips. She lies still beneath the sheets, which are pulled up over her lap. Her arms sit atop the sheet, her left arm bandaged from above the elbow to her wrist. Bandages peek out from beneath her hospital gown. An oxygen cannula is fitted under her nose and butterfly bandages hold close the split in her eyebrow. Hotch puts the brake in place after wheeling you right up to her bedside. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “JJ and I will be right outside. Five minutes,” he says.

Your eyes don’t leave Emily. “I understand.”

When the door clicks shut you let the floodgates open. You take Emily’s hand in yours, minding the IV jutting out from it, and cradle it to your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you sob. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop what he was doing to you.”

You blink away the stars that dot your vision as each sob sends an intense wave of pain through the break in your nose and bruising under your eyes.

Emily’s thumb sweeps slowly across your cheek. You take a shuddering breath and swallow your tears as you turn your attention to her. Her eyes crack open and a small smile ghosts her lips.

You gasp and choke back a sob. The smile that splits your face sends a burst of pain through your bones, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You’d feel this pain and all that she endured to see her warm, brown eyes on yours like they are now. Her smile, despite the pain meds dulling her senses, reaches her eyes and they’re so bright. As you look into them, for a moment you’re no longer in the hospital. You’re on a bench overlooking the Potomac and the sun is setting; its golden rays falling over Emily’s face and her eyes changed from brown to liquid gold. It was then you knew you’d never love looking into someone’s eyes as much as you loved looking into hers, that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved her.

You blink once and you’re back in the hospital. “I’m so sorry,” you blubber and clutch her hand to your chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, but the way she says your name is as soothing as ever. She shushes you and presses her fingers into your skin as she grips your hand. “Shh, baby, honey, look at me.”

You swallow and try your best to still your quivering lip as you raise your eyes to hers. Hers are focused as she looks at you. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows arch toward her hairline as she inclines her head toward you. “There is nothing that you could’ve done that would’ve prevented this, and that is okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head in refusal.

“Hey,” Emily says, pulling you back in. “Look at me.”

You sniff and take a deep breath as you open your eyes. “If anything,” she adds. “Your being there saved my life. He drew out the torture because he had an audience. If you hadn’t been there, there’s a chance he would’ve killed me before the team got to him. Do you understand?”

Your gut response tells you that she’s right, and you have to fight the part of your brain that’s telling you otherwise.

Her hand slips out of yours and reaches to cup your face, keeping her palm along your jawline to avoid your injuries.

She smiles and gestures to herself with her other hand. “Most of this is superficial anyway. The knife he jammed into my thigh will scar and take a while to heal, but that’s the worst that was done to me. I was,” she presses her lips together as tears glisten in her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

Something between a laugh and a sob escapes your lips. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Emily laughs in turn, the sound enough to make your heart swell three times over. “At least we’ll be able to spend our recovery together,” she says hopefully.

You smirk and tilt your head, considering. “My place or yours?”

Just then the door creaks open and Hotch steps inside. He smiles. “Sorry to cut the reunion short, but if I don’t get you back, I think the charge nurse will have my gun and badge.”

You all share a laugh. As he fixes the brake on the wheelchair, Emily tugs your hand toward her mouth and places a soft kiss to the backs of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You smile and nod as the tight feeling in your chest from before ebbs away. “Okay.”

As Hotch exits the room with you in tow, JJ hands you two cups of coffee. “For you and your watchdog,” she says with a nod towards Hotch.

You thank her and as Hotch pushes you back towards your room, you finally feel like things will be okay.

•

Two weeks later, you’re still on medical leave, but you feel as though you're getting back to normal. You’d been released from the hospital first and a few days later, Emily. Her apartment was bigger, so you’d gone to yours and with help from Penelope packed a bag. It was easier for you two to be in the same place knowing how often the team would be checking in.

Garcia had stayed over with you, helping you keep track of the medications the doctors had prescribed. She helped take care of Sergio too. The little guy had been all too happy to see you, weaving in between your legs and rubbing his furry head against your calves. When Emily returned home a few days later he couldn’t stop meowing. When she rested, he’d fall asleep beside her or curled up in her lap.

Just as expected, members of the team had been through in pairs, on their own, or as a whole. Penelope stopped in daily with coffees and pastries from the shop next to Emily’s building. Derek came by every other day, occasionally with Savannah when her work schedule allowed. She’d checked Emily’s wounds a few times from your insisting as you were worried about infection. Savannah assured you each time that Emily was and would continue to be fine so long as she kept up with changing her bandages and taking the antibiotics she’d been prescribed. Hotch had only visited once, which was unnecessary but still so kind of him. You knew he often stayed late working to ensure everyone else could go home on time. He did this all while balancing his responsibility as a father and the fact that he sacrificed a little bit more of his personal time just to check in on you two meant so much. Rossi had sent homemade Italian with Penelope or Derek. This week you’d been given enough carbonara to feed an army.

You’re fixing two bowls now for you and Emily, a late dinner as you’d both fallen asleep around 3pm and napped until 7pm no thanks to the pain medicines that kept you two on relatively similar sleep schedules. You shred some parmesan and sprinkle it over the top before sticking a fork into each.

“I’ve got dinner!” you call as you make your way back to the bedroom.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” You push open the door with your hip and place the bowls on Emily’s bedside table.

You lean down and kiss her, wincing slightly. The bruising around your eyes and cheekbones has gone down dramatically, but your nose was still bound and held in place by a splint and medical tape. The doctors say in about a week or so, it should be healed completely but to still exercise caution with day to day activities.

Emily rests on top of the covers. Her hair is up and out of her face in a loose ponytail, pieces of which had fallen out while sleeping and now stick to and around her face in various places. You try your best to smooth them down before cupping her chin in your hand. You smile and stroke your fingers along the smooth skin of her jaw before dropping your hands to pull the throw blanket down off of her waist, exposing her legs, bare except for the plaid pajama shorts she wears and bandages wrapped around her thigh.

She shivers in response to the air against her legs. “Sheesh, give a girl some warning!” she protests and you throw her a cheeky grin.

You open the bedside drawer and retrieve the supplies to clean and dress her wound. “We should finish the rest of that movie,” you suggest as you climb onto the bed to kneel beside her. Using a small pair of scissors, you carefully snip away the bandages to reveal the square gauze pad covering the wound. “I want to know how it ends and we keep falling asleep.”

Emily snorts. “That’ll happen when we both take narcotics before bed thinking we’ll make it to the end.”

“Yeah, but,” you remove the gauze and inspect the incision, searching for any signs of infection around the twelve carefully placed stitches. As you squeeze a bit of the antibacterial ointment onto your finger and gently rub it over the spiky black threads of the sutures, you can’t help but think of how much it resembles the caterpillars that used to invade the trees in your backyard as a kid, a story Emily did not care for your retelling when you first did this. “It shouldn’t be so hard to make it through a two hour movie.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen The Parent Trap,” Emily says, bristling as your fingers rub over a particularly sensitive area.

You apologize as you lay a fresh gauze pad over the wound. Your fingers move quickly as you unroll and wind a new roll of bandages to keep the gauze in place. When you finish, you wipe your hands off and gently massage the skin around her thigh knowing it helps to stimulate blood flow to the area.

Emily moans in response to the treatment. Her head lolls to the side and she peeks at you from behind long lashes. “I can’t wait to show you how grateful I am for your incredible nursing skills.”

You arch a brow at her as a smile quirks at the corner of your mouth. “Down girl,” you tease playfully.

Emily bends her opposite leg, raising her heel to curve around your body. She pokes her toes up under your tee shirt and your back stiffens as they touch your skin. You reach behind your back and grab her by the ankle, chastising her as you laugh and place it back on the mattress. “Emily!”

“What??” she asks, laughter tumbling from her full lips.

“We’ve not been cleared yet for that!”

She pouts in response and you clamber over her, carefully, so as not to disturb the injuries of her leg. You straddle her waist and lean down to place a soft kiss along the curve of her jaw. “Trust me, I want to get back to that as much as you do.” Your eyes drop to the swell of her breasts, her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her camisole. “But you and I both know neither one of us are capable of having gentle sex, and I don’t think our doctors would be happy if we did anything to make this take any longer than it already is.”

Emily groans in frustration. “Stupid doctors and their stupid orders.”

You laugh as you lean down to grab your dinners off her nightstand. Carefully, you lift your leg and roll over her body to your side of the bed; passing Emily her bowl as you do so. You reach down and pull the throw blanket up over both of you as you snuggle into the uninjured half of her body. She turns and places a kiss on your temple as she grabs the remote and clicks on the tv.

As she twirls pasta around on her fork, she turns to you and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says, eyes twinkling.

You smile in turn. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than with you here, right now, at this moment in time.”

“I love you,” she says.

“Not as much as I love you,” you answer.

“Impossible,” Emily promises.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #bau reader #the bau team #emily prentiss x female reader #fem!reader #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss hurt/comfort #emily prentiss drabble #soft!aaron hotchner #soft!emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotch fanfiction #derek morgan #penelope garcia #bau!reader #female reader #criminal minds angst #criminal minds hurt/comfort #emily prentiss headcannons #bau team #bau family

[uncpanda]

Something More

Prompt: Something More by Sugarland 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy 

Requested by: ANON 

You’re in the front yard, planting daffodils when the car pulls up. It takes you a few minutes to get to your feet, your pregnant belly makes movement more difficult these days. You glance over at the porch where Jack is playing cars with James. Despite being twelve years older than his younger brother, Jack never complains about spending time with his baby brother. In fact, he loves being a big brother. It’s why you’re pregnant again. Jack is in desperate want of another sibling, and Aaron had been in desperate want of a third kid. 

You let out a breath once you’re upright. You turn to face the people coming up your walkway, and then you hear Jack yell, “UNCLE DAVE!” 

You pause at that, and everything clicks together as you watch a group of people exit the car. These people are your husband’s former team. You watch as Jack’s head swivels between his two year old brother and the people who had been his honorary aunts and uncles. You toss your head towards them and head up the stairs of the porch. 

You hold out your hand for James, who happily takes it and lead him inside while Jack hugs everyone. You find Aaron on the couch surrounded by the papers he’s grading. “Aaron.” His head shoots up and he smiles at you. “You have visitors.” 

His brow furrows, before he gets off the couch he peers out the window and a very serious look comes over his face. You’ve never seen him look that serious. You place a hand on his arm, and some of the tension eases from his body. 

James tugs on his pants leg, and he swoops down and picks him up. He settles a giggly James on his shoulders before ducking out the front door. You watch from the doorway. You had met Aaron nearly four years ago. Of course, back then you had known him as James. He’d been your next-door neighbor; a handsome and kind single dad. He’d been older than you, but you’d been infatuated.

It had taken a few months for him to warm up to you. A month after that he’d accepted your invitation to dinner. There were things that didn’t make sense about his life, but you had a feeling he was being as honest as he could. It was only when you’d found yourself accidentally pregnant that he had sat down and told you the truth of everything. You’d been surprised when you didn’t feel any anger. You understood the lies and you also knew that there was no way in hell your were giving him or Jack up. And with his cover blown and the two of you tied together, you decided to get married and be enveloped into the witness protection life. 

Scratch had been found and captured in your sixth month. You’d been living in a small town in Florida. Aaron hated Florida. And when he got the call there had been a moment of elation, and plans were made to move back to DC and for Aaron to go back to work. And then they stopped. While Aaron still wanted to be back in or near DC he told you he wasn’t going back to the FBI. He was going to take early retirement. When you had asked him why, he simply shrugged and said, “I want something more.” 

Your growing little family had moved back to DC  and Aaron had gone back into law practice and started teaching at GW. He’d told you a lot about his team, and he’d surprised you when he hadn’t reconnected with his team outside of the job. 

You’d asked him about it one night, and while he’d held you close he’d admitted, “I’m scared I’ll get sucked back in. I want to be here for you and Jack and this little one.” His hand had stroked your nine month pregnant belly. And now, here you were two years later and Aaron was finally being reunited with his family.

You watch Aaron and Jack from the window. James is leaning forward, but he isn’t trying to interact with anyone. He’s in the toddler stage where he hates strangers. Instead, he’s clinging to Aaron’s hair. You know for a fact that that isn’t comfortable, the kid has a grip like you wouldn’t believe. There’s a twinge in your back, and you rub at it while Jack gestures towards the house. You take that as your que to head on out. 

It’s a bit of a waddle, and Jack is quick to run back and help you down the stairs; your sweet boy. And as you’re enveloped into hugs and greetings you can’t help but wonder how Aaron has stayed away from these people for so long. 

Aaron watches you interact with the team. He expects some sort of longing to take over; a desire for the old days. He admits he sometimes misses the weight of his gun on his hip or the feeling of his credentials in his suit pocket. But the overwhelming NEED to be out there chasing the bad guys is gone. 

His time in witness protection had allowed him to realize he wanted something more out of life. He didn’t want just a job, he wanted a family. He wanted to be there for Jack, and he had treasured those first few months just the two of them, but Jack had been growing up, and then he’d met you. You’d been an unexpected curve ball life had thrown at him, and he was so grateful. You’d provided him with love and understanding and someone to lean on. You were his sun, and his children were his moon and stars. 

And as James pulls on his hair, and Jack and Henry run off to go look at his comic books, and you connect with the team while rubbing your baby bump, he knows that he can be part of this family again, and he can do it without being sucked in. Because he has something more than the job now. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds headcannons #criminal minds drabble

[mggsv]

TALK TO ME

gn!reader x aaron hotch hotchner (18+)

Aaron who rubs your back

Aaron who sweet talks you directly in your ear

Aaron who has you on your stomach, back arched

Aaron whos fingers are so deep inside your sex, moving would take you over the edge.

Aaron who moves your hair from your sweat drenched face

Aaron who whispers how good you’re being for him

Aaron who promises to reward you afterwards if you take his fingers a bit longer

Aaron who promises to fill you up to the brim with his little ones

Aaron who can’t help but moan with you while you’re a mess into the silk sheets

Aaron who traces that sensitive spot with his other hand

Aaron who has your entire body shaking

Aaron who has you cumming so hard that your eyes roll

Aaron who calls you a good doll for being so perfect for him

Aaron who talks you through your orgasm

Aaron who replaces his fingers with his tongue

Aaron who lets his spit trail down your leaking sex

Aaron, who fucks you through your dumb fucked hazed with his big cock

#criminal minds #gender neutral reader #dom aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch smut #smut #aaron hotch hotchner #hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #hotch smut #aaron hotch headcannons #spencer reid #mgg #aaron hotchner #cm #sub reader #dom hotch

[piqtescue]

no words tbh

#young thomas gibson #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner aesthetic #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner icons #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x reader #bau #bau au #criminal minds #criminal minds au #criminal minds headcannon #aaron hotchner headcannon #hotch hc #hotch headcannon #behavioral analysis unit #thomas gibson edit #thomas gibson scene

[tojithesourcererkiller]

Imagine

Aaron Hotchner looking at you with the biggest heart eyes as he softly encourages you to info dump as he loves the way your face lights up while talking about a subject your passionate about while reminding him just how much he loves you…

“Oh I’m sorry I’m rambling again” feeling the heat of embarrassment raise up to your face you suddenly feel the soft pressure of a warm hand coming up to reach your face while the pressure of his thumb stroking your cheek bone you hear Aaron Hotchner let out a soft chuckle “don’t apologise” cutting himself off to place a small kiss on your forehead you look up to be met with eyes full of pure love and admiration “I enjoy hearing you talk so please continue”

#requesttojithesourcerkiller #asktojithescourcerkiller #x reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #Aaron hotchner imagine #headcannons

[leanteam43]

send criminal minds request plz i am begging you

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

send literally any request (EXCEPT NSFW.)

my hyperfixation is back in full swing >.< !1!

i mainly write headcannons/preferences and drabbles but am down to write a few one-shots!!! - 🌿

#criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds preferences #criminal minds drabbles #spencer reid headcannons #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner

[fictional-babes-inc]

Somehow people have started following me again which kinda makes me want to post again. 🫣

Anybody have characters or ideas for me to write about?

#should I start writing headcannons again? #fred and george #george weasley #charlie weasley #bill weasley #ginny weasley #bonestv #that’s 90’s show #jay kelso #aaron hotch hotchner #spencer reid x reader #harry potter fanfiction

[dungeons-are-too-cold]

Autistic Spencer Reid Head Cannon: Fuck the Latex Gloves ft. Autistic Aaron Hotchner

Spencer fucking hated wearing the lil latex gloves at the crime scenes when he started at the BAU. Not only was it a sensory nightmare, cuz the insides are like kinda powdery, but he struggled a lot with picking stuff up, flipping pages in notebooks and journals, and the fingertips never sat right because his fingers were so thin that they were always sort of just the right amount of in the way to be blocking whatever he was trying to look at. Gideon and Hotch both probably had to talk down a fuming Reid more than once because he was frustrated with the fucking gloves.

there was probably like a really frustrating day where he was already overloaded and running on very little sleep that when he struggled to flip through endless notebook pages at the crime scene he started to cry and it was the first time any of the team saw him yell and he screamed something like "I can't do anything in these fucking gloves!" and threw down the notebook and walked outside. Hotch found him later, crouched outside, head in his hands, with his gloves thrown around him, torn from how fast he tried to take them off, and when Spence finally looked up his eyes were all puffy and red. He told hotch that he can read so fast and that's the only thing he's really good for at the crime scene because it's something none of the other team members can do, and when he can't turn the page he ends up reading just as slow as everyone else would because it takes him forever to flip, and he should have just stayed at the precinct because he's useless with those fucking gloves.

Hotch first reassures Spencer that he is useful at the crime scene because of his insight, not just because he can read fast. He also tells him that he hates the gloves too, though, cuz he hates how the powder makes his hands feels and he was constantly dropping things when he started cuz they would slip out of his hands. He would def tell spencer that he used to practice wearing the gloves at home and doing things around the house, and is totally like "you could ask hayley, I like lived in these gloves, did the dishes, put away laundry, took out the recycling, all in the gloves so I would stop dropping evidence at the crime scenes" and he even offered Spencer a hydrating like hand sanitizer when they finally get to take the gloves off cuz they both hate the feeling of lotioned hands. It's just a real autistic spencer & autistic hotch solidarity moment.

Spencer would then go home and practice reading in the gloves all the time, started wearing them on the metro so he could still get his like tap card out quickly without dropping it, and he started to get a lot better at doing everything with them. Hotch had also given him his own little hydrating hand sanitizer so he could carry it with him and use it whenever he couldn't wash his hands directly after taking off the gloves. He was even really excited to show Hotch how much better he had gotten at the gloves by doing the little coin magic trick with them.

I feel like Hotch was extra proud of Spencer when he saved Elle and all those people on the train because he was able to do the trick with that tiny microchip IN THE GLOVES! and I just imagine Hotch like congratulating Spencer on a job well done and Spencer being so proud of himself for saving the day cuz he got better at wearing the latex gloves.

#god this turned out to be so long but I was just watching an extended scene with reid in the gloves and like I struggle so hard with them #and I feel like he would have too #also i didnt intend for this to be an autistic hotch headcannon too but I feel like theres a lot of lil traits they share #and they get along really well because of it #and its why he's Hotch's favorite and why he gets a bit of special treatment when he does his science magic and things like that #and its also why Hotch is very gentle when he's being direct with Spencer about his lil rants #and god I just love them so much #He's such a good unit chief and friend and mentor to Spencer #god i love them #criminal minds #criminal minds watch through #dr spencer reid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanon #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner headcanon #autistic spencer reid #autistic aaron hotchner #stories from the dungeon

[pastanest]

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist

“Where is all the content that previously existed on this blog?”

REQUESTS: Closed (but can be commissioned for)

> fluff (f) angst (a) suggestive (s)

Blurbs:

X

Headcannons:

(f) Dating Hotch Would Include

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #hotch imagine #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #imagine #imagines #headcannon #headcannons #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist

[kryptonitejelly]

omg do you have any thoughts on what sharing a form with lawschool!hotch would be like

Send more thoughts here.

I kinda got a bit carried away and turned this into a kinda headcannon like thing where there are hints of something between you and lawschool!hotch hehe, cos lawschool!hotch is my absolute love.

Lawschool!hotch to me = a younger, more playful hotch. Somehow, and because of the boarding school arc, I can’t shake the image of fratboy!hotch in my mind. He probably would have cleaned up (most of) his act by the time he hit law school, but I imagine he would still have a streak of something still left in him.

You would notice him the first lecture you have with him, which also happens to be the first lecture of the year for the first years. Sitting in the middle of lecture hall, lounging in his seat, hair floppy, notebook in front of him. He would be just oozing with a quiet kind of confidence, and you wouldn’t be the only one who notices him. I think he would be popular with both the guys and the girls.

If you catch his eye, he would smile, chuckling under breath as your cheeks turn red. He would remember you, eyes brightening with familiarity snd excitement the first day you slide into the seat beside him in your torts seminar. He would introduce himself to you as “Aaron”, although you hear all his other friends call him “Hotch”.

You would soon realise that despite his partying ways and the ‘I couldn’t care less’ attitude he seems to radiate, he actually is bright, and one of the most hardworking students. He puts in the hours, does the readings, prepares for his classes and generally takes school seriously.

Because of his frat boy exterior, people are hesitant to ask him for help or approach if they need, but as long as you ask, Aaron is always willing to help out and toss around ideas and concepts with you. He never assumes he is right though, and is more than willing to be convinced or told he is wrong - he’ll accept it, but he generally is right.

He would always be prepared when exam season rolls around, because he continuously does the reading and prepares for classes. You would whine to him and procrastinate, but he would force you to sit down in the library and do the work, dragging you up in the mornings and hustling you throughout the day, kicking you across the finish line of the year if he had to.

He would make sure you go out with him after the exam season ends, trying to get you wasted by plying you with alcohol but not consuming much himself, but always keeping a watchful eye on you, making sure no one touches you and that you generally steer clear of harms way. By the end of the night if you are too drunk, he would take you back to his dorm, bundle you up in his bed and fall asleep promptly right next to you. You would wake up in the morning to find yourself snuggled up against him and tear yourself away in shock, falling out of his bed. He would stir, and lazily peek out at you from the bed with a smirk.

He would drag you on a roadtrip with his friends the moment the school year is out, insisting that you relax before the next year comes back to kick you both in the butt, convincing you that next summer would not be as carefree because - internships. You would find both yourselves slipping away from the group, kicking your feet up and, watching one too many sunsets together. Your arms would brush against each other, skin touching and he would much to your giggles and protests, plant his head firmly in the crook of your neck insisting that he lay on you, or on your lap.

The first time you see Aaron in a suit, hair buzzed shorter (think Greg in Dharma and Greg, ugh Greg baby 🥺🥺) for one of the moots he is participating in you just stare. He notices and winks at you. It makes you flustered and you drop your note cards, for the same moot. He is a natural in moot court, and of course, his side wins. You lose, but happily, and blame him. He teases you about catching you staring at him in a suit and you get all blushy and run away making up some lame excuse.

Also, I don’t feel like Aaron would have started his running in law school. I feel like thats more of something he picked up maybe in practice, to keep himself focused and more grounded, or maybe in the FBI academy.

Bonus: If you had a boyfriend in law school, that was not him >:((, Aaron would want to be super critical about your boyfriend, grumbling to everyone else that he wasn’t treating you the way you deserved to be treated. He would try to be cordial to the guy when you are around, but leave them in the same room and he would become the thorniest porcupine / ice prince ever. He would be generally super protective of you, because the idiot might not realise he has a crush on you, and the day your boyfriend breaks up with you he would be there in a heartbeat, threatening to hunt the bastard down and beat him up.

#asks #send asks #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner thoughts #aaron hotchner headcannon #k answers #lawschool!hotch #fratboy!hotch #aaron hotchner x you

[fayesia]

~nsfw alphabet headcannons~

Aaron Hotchner

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hotch is a dad in the show so his parental instincts pull through meaning he’d be so good with aftercare, making sure you’re all taken care of physically and emotionally.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Hotch loves your ass whether it’s in your office pants or in the newest lingerie he spoilt you with. You love Aaron’s hands. easily distracted by them when you’re both on the job or when they’re wrapped around your neck and he’s pounding into you from behind.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Hotch loves spreading his cum across your ass, painting it all over you after he turns them a bright red.

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Hotch secretly loves dabbling in voyeurism, having a quickie in the utility cabinet when fellow agents are looking for either of you, while your moans are nearly heard by passers-by gets him off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they?)

Hotch is well experienced as he’s much older than you are but he’s always loved teaching you new things.

F = Favorite position

As an ass man Hotch loves to have you doggy style, hands either gripping onto your hips or around your neck pushing you into a deep arch against the mattress.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous?)

he wouldn’t be too goofy during sex but maybe before or after there would be some humorous moments.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they?)

Hotch is as well groomed down there as he is on his head, neat and tidy for sure.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment?)

Aaron is quite intimate except maybe when he’s really dominant and gets rough with you as a form of punishment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

On trips across the country where he must be away from you, the two of you might take the risk of mutual masturbation over the phone or he’ll have to jerk off to picture or videos you’ve taken in the past on his phone.

K = Kink(s)

Hotch definitely has a dominant side of him in and out of the bedroom and having you call him sir would have him fucking you ten times harder and faster.

L = Location (favorite places to do it)

you both do it mostly in the bedroom or hotel rooms but one of the most memorable times for the two of you would be when he bent you over his office desk and fucked you.

M = Motivation (turn ons)

Anytime Hotch sees you wearing tight clothes around the office or even when you’re out on duty in your uniform that hugs your curves perfectly, he can barely go about the case without being distracted. When you’re at home seeing you in a summer dress would drive him wild.

N = No (turn offs)

Hotch would draw the line at any age play.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

He would treat you first, eating you out until you cum at least once.

You love seeing him lose control and in his office when you’re kneeling under his desk he’s used to having you suck him off before hoisting you up and fucking you in his lap.

P = Pace (are they fast or slow, sensual or rough)

Hotch is usually intense and rough, but he’d make sure you were enjoying it and depending on the type of moment it is he could also be slow and gentle holding you close to him.

Q = Quickie (do they like them, how often do they do them)

You would like them more than Hotch but he wouldn’t be against them by any means. They don’t happen often but when they do it’s a spur of the moment and filled with a lot of passion.

R = Risk (do they like risky sex)

He would enjoy seeing you under his control like when you’re trying to keep quiet because of how hard he’s doing you, so the idea of risky sex is appealing to him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hotch would have a good amount of stamina so maybe a maximum of 2 rounds before he’s coming, but he would’ve made you cum a lot more times before he does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them on a partner or themselves?)

He wouldn’t own any toys himself but he wouldn’t be against using some of yours on you during sex.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Hotch would LOVE to tease you, if you’re r in public or in the bedroom he does not care.

V = Volume (how loud they are during intimacy)

They’re not that loud but god do they do things that make YOU so loud, easily masking over any of the noises he makes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

ceo!aaron hotchner x personal assistant!reader: he would use you as his own personal fucktoy during work and spoil you all the time when you aren’t together.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hotch keeps in good shape considering his career. He’s probably at least 7 or 8 inches erect.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Hotch isn’t always horny but when he’s around you his sex drive is very strong and he could go for numerous rounds.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

Hotch would make sure you were all taken care of, softly caressing you until you both fell asleep close to each other.

#smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #alphabet headcanons #aaron hotch x reader

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Spencer Reid x famous!reader Universe

(requests closed)

famous!reader moodboard

important notes

Spencer's age changed, so know he's born in 1989-1991 roughly

Set during 2016 (when they first meet)

No one leaves!! the team is made up of Spencer (obvi) Hotch, Rossi, Derek, Emily, Penny, and JJ

No Lila, Maeve still happens, and Spencer never goes to jail, George Foyet happens (it won't really come up, i'm just saying so when i'm not mentioning Haley)

the fic

(ordered in timeline order)

The First Meeting

The Follow Up

The Weeklong Date (pt.1)

The Weeklong Date (pt.2)

The Trip To Cornelia Street

extras

How each BAU member found out

BAU at the Rep Tour

BAU at the Eras Tour

BAU reactions to some of Y/n sadder songs

Spencer and Y/n headcannons [part one]

BAU reaction/my interpretation of TTPD

social media edits

Y/N and Spencer being spotted for the first time

Everything fans know about S/N at this time

~just comment if you want to be added to the taglist~

#spencer #reid #spencer reid x famous!reader #spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 07)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing, mentions and/or depictions of death, near death experience, usage of guns, mentions of injuries resulted from physical violence, mentions of strangulation, pregnancy, somewhat religious undertones (very minor), I think that's all?? Pls inform me if I missed any

Word Count: 3200-ish

Tag(s): @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @bruher @spiderlillie00 @f1lov3r @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI!! I can't believe we're finally at the end of Love Bugs OMG!!! Thank you so much for everyone who has stuck by this series through its ups and downs. I was initially planning to write an additional chapter to close off this story, but I realized that this is the right part to end it. With that said, I am open to taking requests of blurbs/headcannons for Love Bugs if any of you would like to see more from these two. Just send me an ask and I'll make sure to check it out! This story is my very first derek and criminal minds fic altogether, so it's pretty emotional to be saying goodbye to it. Again, thank you so much for reading Love Bugs and I hope you'll be around for any derek/other criminal minds fics I might have in the future ❤️ Don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek knew that letting Hotch take the wheel was a mistake.

He was already marching towards the driver's side back at the HQ's parking lot when the older man had stopped Derek before he could get in.

"Your head is not in the right place right now. The last thing we need is to get into a car accident when (Y/N) desperately needs our help," Hotch had reasoned.

Derek obviously couldn't argue with that.

But Lord, did he wish that he had actually argued with that. He kept internally cursing his boss for not going fast enough. Never mind if the speedometer was teetering towards 60 miles per hour, it still just wasn't fast enough.

A phone call from Spencer and JJ came in around 5 minutes before Derek and Hotch were supposed to reach their destination.

"His new office is empty," Spencer had said. "She's not here."

That new piece of information meant that you were being held either at the UnSub's home--where Emily and Rossi were heading to right at that moment--or the old office building that, according to Garcia, had once belonged to the UnSub's father.

Derek wished that the office was exactly where the UnSub had been holding you all this time. Not because Derek wished to be the one to find you first--of course not, he couldn't care less about that--but just because Derek would prefer it more if he was the one to face the UnSub and point the barrel of his gun at your abductor's head, watching as the fired bullet penetrated his skull before the scumbag dropped dead onto the ground.

As soon as the SVU pulled up to the driveway of the office building, followed by two police cars, Derek wasted no time climbing off his seat and out of the car. His steps were tenacious as he stomped towards the entrance, purposefully ignoring Hotch's frantic calls of his name.

"Hey, wait a minute, Morgan. Slow down."

Derek pushed past a frowning Hotch, fully intent on closing the twenty feet distance between him and the front doors. But Hotch's hand on his shoulder faltered his steps once more, and Derek couldn't rein his anger when he finally decided to face Hotch.

"What the fuck do you want, man?!"

"You can't just barge in there. We need a plan."

"A plan?" Derek scoffed. "She could be dead by the time we draw up your stupid plan."

"Morgan," Hotch's voice came with a warning. "You're not thinking straight--"

"Hell yeah I'm not! (Y/N) could be inside right now, fighting for her life, and you wanna talk plans?" Derek took a step forward, leveling his burning gaze with Hotch's eyes. "You're the one who caused us this mess, Hotch. Do you really want her blood on your hands, too?"

In the many years of him knowing Derek Morgan, Hotch never witnessed such fury in the man's eyes. These were the eyes of a man who had nothing to lose. A man who was ready to sacrifice everything because his whole world was at stake.

"You're staying behind me," Hotch said at last. "Don't do anything rash, or I'll be forced to have you sit this one out."

As much as Derek wasn't satisfied by those conditions, he knew that it was the best option he could have, so he relented.

Under Hotch's command, the group of six split into three pairs as soon as they stepped inside the treshold. They checked every room in the two story building, but they all came up empty. Once they were back outside, Hotch received a phone call from Emily and Rossi.

"There's no sign of them in the house as well," Hotch said, repeating the exact words that Emily had informed him over the phone.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he's taken her some place else. I'll call Garcia and see if she can pull up any other potential location."

As Hotch waited for the tech-analyst to answer, Derek began darting his eyes over the entire building once more. None of it made any sense. He knew that it was impossible, but something told him that you were close. You were nearby. Just a sliver away from his reach.

It felt like he had been staring at the building for an eternity when it finally dawned on him.

"Hotch," Derek called out, feet already moving again towards the front door, "this building has a basement."

Derek didn't wait for a response as he barged inside.

Behind him, the other five people scrambled to catch up with his pace. Derek went to recheck all of the rooms in that building, banging on suspicious looking panels on the wall and testing the integrity of the floor beneath him.

A clanking sound in the distance eventually tore his attention away. The mysterious noise was soon followed by a shout from one of the uniformed officers.

"We found this," the officer reported as soon as Hotch and Derek stepped into the furthest room in the building.

On the ground, a rusty metal bookcase lied haphazardly. Right behind it, a wooden panel on the wall was gaping. Derek locked eyes with Hotch, a silent confirmation, before Hotch nudged the panel wider with his shoulder.

The hidden room led to a flight of stairs leading them down towards a dingy basement. Hotch motioned for everyone to follow him as he stealthily moved towards a metal door on the far side of one of the walls. As Hotch grabbed its handle, Derek tightened the hold he had on his gun.

Everything else had transpired in a blur.

Derek only recalled seeing that horrific scene playing out in front of him for less than a split second--the image of that bastard putting his filthy hands on you--before his instinct kicked in. Two bullets from his gun; one to the shoulder and one more to the neck.

Derek barely even registered the gurgling sounds the UnSub was making as he rushed towards you.

Derek's heart was glass as he knelt by the chair, each piece shattering against his insides with every mark, cut, and bruise that he could see littering your skin. He still remembered the feeling of your naked skin under his fingertips. Soft and tender, like frosting on a cake. But now?

Now, it looked dull and lifeless.

With heart in his throat, Derek moved to touch your limp form. "Bug?"

No answer.

"Hey, (Y/N)? It's me. I'm here, Bug, please open your eyes," he pleaded. "Wake up, sweetheart."

The pressure in Derek's chest inflated. His palm felt ice on your face. His fingers around your wrist scrambled for any sign of life he could find, but there was none.

"Hotch! Hotch, she's not breathing!" Derek called out, a sentence made out of nightmares. "Help me get this off!"

It felt like an eternity until Hotch was able to hand Derek the metal cutter, which they then used to free you of your restrains. Your body slumped instantly into Derek's arms the moment they cut off the last metal cuff, and Derek tried not to dwell over the fact that you felt stiff and cold against him.

"You're okay, sweetheart," he murmured as he laid you down on the ground. "Come on, you're okay."

Those words kept repeating themselves over and over again as he started doing compressions on your chest. Prayers towards a God he hadn't spoken to for a while also slipped past his lips. Prayers for a miracle. Prayers for the heavens to allow Derek to take your place instead. Prayers for the universe to please, let him have more time with you, please, please, please.

"Morgan." Hotch's hand fell on his shoulder, but Derek never faltered. He kept on pumping your chest, willing for your heart--his heart--to start beating once more. "Morgan, the paramedics are here."

Reluctantly, Derek let himself be dragged away from you, giving room for the first responders to do their job. As he looked down upon his hands, Derek noticed that they had been shaking. Violently.

"Please be careful," Hotch spoke up. "She's pregnant."

"Clear," one of the paramedics announced before another one pressed the shock button on the defibrillator.

Derek stared helplessly at the flat line shown on the heart monitor.

"Again. Clear."

Every second that passed by was an inch of blade through his chest. Every second you teetered closer towards death was also his life undoing right in front of his eyes.

Derek thought it was over. His world was crumbling to ash all around him, stripping down the colors until all he could see was gray. He was standing on the brink of its wreckage when suddenly, he heard one of the paramedics yell, "We got a pulse!"

And just like that, Derek's knees gave out underneath him.

"Morgan!" Hotch caught Derek's shoulders, keeping him up before the younger man could collapse completely on the floor. "Hey, she's okay. She's gonna be okay."

Derek could only nod his head in response. Words tasted like lead on his tongue as he struggled to catch his breath. Tears streamed down his face like a burst dam after a rainstorm.

For a second there, Derek thought his world was ending.

But as he stared feebly at the paramedics wheeling your body away, Derek couldn't stop thanking the universe for giving him another chance. One more chance to be with you. One more chance to make things right.

This time, Derek was not going to let it go to waste.

Darkness was peaceful.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

But you had always wanted to be something.

With a heavy heart, you made the decision to say goodbye, to come back to the life that had been your constant for the past decades. To a world that, beneath all of the bad things you had witnessed in it, still had some good worth mentioning, too.

Like Derek Morgan, for example.

Despite everything that happened, you could never deny that Derek was a rare example of good in the world. And he was exactly the person who occupied your mind when you gradually regained your consciousness, letting yourself amble further from the promises you had rejected from the darkness.

When you finally opened your eyes, it felt like your body had been dragged through much more than mere mud.

Fluorescent lights blinded you almost instantly. You turned your head in order to escape the onslaught, but the pain radiating through your entire body made you whimper instead.

"(Y/N)." A gentle hand landed on your shoulder. "Hey, you're awake."

You blinked away the fog that had gathered in your vision, trying to make out the silhouette in front of you until it morphed into a recognizable face.

"JJ?"

"Yeah, it's me." She smiled. "How're you feeling?"

"Not particularly great."

JJ breathed out a laugh. "I figured."

You groaned quietly as you shifted yourself to a new position, JJ jumping in to help even before you asked her to.

"What happened, J?" you questioned once you had settled comfortably.

"I think that's a talk for later, (Y/N). For now, you need to rest."

"Please--" you grabbed onto JJ's wrist, "--I want to know. The last thing I remember was... was..."

Being strangled.

That was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark.

JJ's eyes flashed with understanding. "You were barely alive when help arrived. It was a miracle that Hotch and Derek got there when they did."

"Derek?"

The smile JJ gave you was full of hidden meanings. She gestured with her head towards the other end of the room, towards the direction you hadn't even once inspected since you woke up. A worn down couch stood against the wall, and on top of it, cramping himself into a position that was surely not comfortable, was the person you had been hoping to see since you opened your eyes in that dingy basement.

Derek.

He was sleeping with his arm draped over his eyes. He must have been tired, you thought. Or otherwise, he wouldn't have been sleeping so soundly in such an awkward position.

"How long was I out?"

"About two days." You couldn't hide your shock when you looked at JJ. "He never left, (Y/N). He refused to leave your side."

JJ's revelation compelled your eyes to stray towards Derek once more. You missed him. You were still missing him even when he was there, in the same room as you were, safe and sound.

As if she could dissect the content of your head, JJ spoke up again, "Do you want me to wake him up?"

"No, please. He needs the rest."

"Pretty sure he needs to see you more than he needs his sleep, (Y/N)."

Ignoring your protests, JJ circled the bed and approached the run-down couch in the corner. You watched with a drum in your chest as JJ gently shook Derek awake, smiling to yourself when you see him open his eyes blearily.

"Someone wants to see you," JJ informed, nodding her head in your direction.

It was as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside of him. The moment Derek saw your eyes looking at him, any trace of exhaustion he was previously feeling automatically dissolved in a heartbeat.

"I'll better step outside," JJ announced, already retreating towards the exit. "The others would want to know you're awake."

With JJ's departure, the atmosphere in the room instantly shifted.

Before you could process what was happening, Derek had seemingly transported to your side. Now up close, you finally saw the lines of fatigue etching on his face. His muscular shoulders drooped slightly as if the weight of the universe was forcing him to forfeit his energy little by little.

Sitting by the bed, Derek looked hesitant as his hand hovered over your own. You eventually took matters into your own hand, tangling your fingers around his until there was no room for escape.

"I've missed you," you confessed.

A watery laugh rumbled past his chest. In his eyes, a cloud of tears had begun to build. He stared at you with such fervent. The person who owned his heart, the one he thought would take it away from him to the grave.

"You scared me," Derek confessed as well. "I thought you were gone for good."

"It takes a lot more than that to get rid of me," you tried to joke, which, judging by the expression on Derek's face, was not something he appreciated very much. "Wait. Derek, the baby--"

"Is fine," he cut you off, preventing you from spiraling any further. "The doctor said they need to monitor both of your conditions for a few days. But for now, the baby is fine. So are you."

You released an appeased breath before dropping your head back on the pillow.

"How long have you known?" Derek suddenly asked.

The question was inevitable. You knew sooner or later it would come up, but that didn't mean you were not still taken back when it did.

"A couple of weeks," you replied. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I understand why you didn't." Derek smiled ruefully. "After everything I said to you--"

"We both said or did something we regret."

"Yeah. Me more than anyone."

"Derek--"

"No, Bug. You gotta hear me out." Derek took a deep breath, the frown between his eyebrows deepening as he stared straight into your soul. "I want you to know. I want to make sure that you understand how sorry I am for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I'm sorry I said all of those horrible things back in Iowa. But most importantly, I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.

"The truth?"

"I love you, Bug."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"I love you," he emphasized. "I don't know when it started, if it was before or after our arrangement began. I just know that I do. These past few days have been hell for me, Bug. I've watched all kinds of nightmares imaginable in the years I spent on this job, but none of them compare to what I felt when you were gone."

A stray tear escaped from Derek's eye, constricting your chest even further than ever.

It was the first time you had ever seen him cry.

"I understand if you want nothing to do with me after this. But whatever you want, I promise that I'll be there. For both of you." Derek's palm landed on your belly, right on top of the small bump that had just started to grow. "In any capacity you allow me."

Your whole body erupted in goosebumps following Derek's admission. His sincerity rendered you speechless. It seemed like hours later when you could finally find your voice again.

"Did you mean all of that?"

"Every word."

"Good. Because I love you, too."

Derek's expression faltered ever so slightly.

"I want every capacity you have, Derek. I want every part of you, every part you're willing to give because I need you. We both do."

Derek's smile, despite the tear streaks on his face, was the definition of relief and joy. He kissed your knuckles a million little times before leaning forward to claim your lips. It was a breath of fresh air to have his lips on yours after such a long time apart. Even then, Derek was still familiar. He tasted of home.

Hours later, the rest of the team stopped by to check on your condition and to congratulate the two of you over the little life that was soon to become the newest member of the BAU family. Once the crowd had dispersed, your hospital room fell quiet once again.

In the midst of that comfortable silence, you persistently tried to convince Derek to go to sleep in his own bed for the night.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"Derek--"

"Do you really think after what happened, I'm just gonna let you out of my sight? Hell no. I'm sleeping here. End of discussion."

"It's just one night, Derek. I'll be fine," you assured him. "You can't possibly be comfortable on that tiny couch. You should go home and get some decent sleep."

"The only way I can get a decent sleep is by making sure you're safe, Bug. So, please--" he tugged the blanket higher around your body, "--stop your yapping and get some rest."

You eventually yielded into Derek's incessant commands and allowed yourself to relax, not before giving him a very defiant pout that earned you one sweet kiss from the man.

It didn't take long for sleep to take over your body. But even once you had fallen into a very deserved slumber, Derek couldn't find it in himself to close his eyes. After the tornado that these past few days had been, a love confession from you was the best reprieve that someone like him could ever dream of. It still seemed so surreal that a part of him feared going to sleep just for the tiniest bit of chance that everything had, in fact, been a dream.

So, for one night, Derek figured that sleep could definitely wait.

For one night, Derek would spend his time thanking whatever higher power had listened to his prayers and sent you safely back into his arms.

The love of his life. The center of his universe.

His Pretty Bug.

Along with the Little Bug that was still growing life inside of your belly.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan angst #derek morgan smut #derek morgan series #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #shemar moore #dad derek morgan #love bugs

[mggsv]

Hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request a headcannon of the BAU team x Gender Neutral reader who is super tall like 7 foot?

This is so funny of course (i’m 5’2)

sorry if these suck too😭

-

I feel like everyone, and i mean everyone would have to adjust to your height.

With the ladies of the team it’s a fever dream, especially for Penelope. She likes to walk with you arm in arm just for the ride, although she absolutely despises looking up at you, It makes her laugh when you bend down just to talk to her.

Morgan comments about how you have the height but he still has the guns to drive ladies crazy. You have frequent arm wrestling matches just for him to prove his strength. However, you always smile at him while (quite literally) looking over his frame. It gets him every time..

When the Ladies hang out they always invite you, especially when they go shopping. They need someone to reach the shoes on the top shelf after all. It’s also always a treat having you with them, they can always come to you for things.

With Hotch is another story. You’re more with Jack than anything. He likes to “touch the clouds” which you have no problem with. You carry him like he’s an airplane everytime you see each other.

Rossi absolutely- absolutely hates it. He dislikes having to look up at you when he speaks. When he does talk to you directly, it’s with him standing up by Hotch’s office and you below deck. Each time you can’t help but laugh.

With Reid it’s another session about your height every time. Even during work hours he’s telling you facts about genetics, family traits and most importantly how your height is truly extraordinary.

#cm #i’m going crazy #criminal minds #aaron hotch headcannons #head cannons #criminal minds headcanons #rossi #david rossi #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #crack criminal minds #cm crack #im very tired

[piqtescue]

Aaron Hotchner

×Seattle circa. '95×

#HES SO BEAUTIFUL IM DYING #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #thomas gibson #bau #edit #hotch #hotchreid #criminal minds screencaps #criminal minds headcannons #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds aesthetic #aaron hotchner icons #young thomas gibson #90s aesthetic #criminal minds au #aaron hotchnee au #behavioral analysis unit