Hi love!
I wanted to drop off some more headcanons,
starting off with hotch hates haircuts. Always has. The clippers snag at his scalp and the buzzing sound whirring around his head is disorienting, the lights sting his eyes. The scissors always come too close to his ears, the cold metal and threat of a sharp slice freak him out. The water spraying all over his face is just plain demeaning and trying to describe what he wants despite having had almost the same haircut for 16 years frustrated him because every barber alive wants different lingo from him. He doesn’t even want to consider the blue gunge they clean the tools in between clients. Not to mention the prickly hairs under his collar no matter how careful they are to prevent it. Hotch Hates Haircuts™️, it’s an all around stressful event that tests his patience.
Until, reader starts cutting his hair at home. In his own bathroom, patiently using scissors instead of clippers, no harsh lighting, no water overspray into his eyes and ears and nose. Just slow, gentle hands around his head and temples, the occasional kiss landing on his forehead. It becomes a serene sort of experience.
hotch hates haircuts amen !!!
i love the idea of the reader/you cutting his hair so much. like, it's such a soft intimate loving moment, ya'know?
the first time you cut his hair, it's because you realise it's getting a bit longer than usual. you think it's really cute the way his hair flops over his forehead. but after a few weeks, you notice it's irritating him. he brushes it away as if it's burning his skin, an annoyed huff leaving his lips. after gently suggesting he go to the barbers, you become aware of just how much he hates getting his hair cut.
when you suggest cutting his hair for him, he's immediately against it. he doesn't want to be a burden but most importantly he doesn't want any reason to be annoyed at you, and the thought of getting overstimulated when you're simply trying to help him makes him feel sick with guilt. however, after much persuasion on your end (mixed with lovey dovey puppy dog eyes and lots and lots of gentle smooches all over his face), he caves in after a few days and decides to let you cut his hair.
he prepares himself for the worst, expecting that once it's over he'll have to go on a run to calm down or even go to bed early so that he can have a few hours alone. the thought of possibly shutting you out after you help him makes him anxious and he gets the urge to call the whole thing off.
when aaron gets home later that day, you gently lead him to the bathroom and show him your set-up. one of the kitchen chairs is sat beside the sink and a pair of scissors, ones you bought specifically to cut his hair, rests on the edge of the bath. when he sits down, you lovingly smile at him and press a soft kiss to his lips, cheeks, and forehead. as a last surprise, you pull out your phone and open an app before the overhead light begins to dim. it's a smart bulb you found when you went shopping earlier and aaron almost bursts into tears at how thoughtful you are.
the hair cut itself takes a while due to only using scissors but aaron, to his own surprise, finds it relaxing. he almost nods off once or twice, the feeling of your soft hands combing through his hair and resting on his shoulders bringing him a great sense of comfort. occasionally, you press a kiss to his forehead or nose when you find yourself standing in front of him, and the adorable relaxed smile on his face, combined with his pretty eyelashes resting against his cheeks as he rests his eyes, makes it worth it each time.
once you've finished cutting his hair, you softly push it back the way he usually does and smile down at him lovingly, feeling a twist in your gut at just how much you love him. he looks up at you - completely calm and peaceful and not at all overstimulated like he always is after a haircut - and he feels the exact same way. he gives you the most loving kiss ever and thanks you profusely, promising to make it up to you somehow and telling you how much you mean to him and how he never imagined feeling as happy as he does when he's with you.
after that, he never lets his hair grow too long.
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omg for a fic idea or fluff imagine maybe taking rocket to an earth amusement park/fair and he absolutely hates it XD
Omg omg okok I’ll do an imagine bc sadly I’m super bad at fluff (if you notice from my ao3 acc I have never touched the tag in my LIFE/hj)
Also warning you guys now, this imagine gives vol. 1 Rocket vibes (bc I’ve rewatched all 3 gotg films a normal amount to realize Rocket’s personality is always slightly different/more lighthearted with each sequel)
Also, the amusement park I picked was Universal Studios, enjoy :)
gif source <3 / masterlist!! / request stuff <3
“What the fuck are we doin’ here?”
Yeah, that was Rocket’s initial reaction when you both stop at the huge oscillating globe with the gigantic title of ‘Universal Studios’ wrapping around it.
You laughed, because he literally had no reason to look this grumpy at an amusement park but it was something you were used to by then.
“It’s an amusement park, Rocket.”
“Well I’m not very amused, you see,” he quipped sardonically.
This only made you snicker.
“Is my unamusement amusing you, humie?”
“That’s not a word!” You laughed.
“Fuck if I care.”
You and Rocket walk in eventually, and not even a minute of walking and Rocket starts getting bombarded for photos.
“No! Look lady if you don’t—”
“Everyone!” You yelled, holding out your hand in front of Rocket as if to protect him. “He’s not an employee here!”
Most people backed off, but there were some others that were still insisting that Rocket’s ‘cosplay’ was hyper-realistic.
Rocket at this point had more ‘important’ matters to attend to so you both decided to simply run off, Rocket scrambling on all fours as you book it to catch up to him.
“I don’t need you to protect me.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you put your arm over me like I was some wounded animal?”
“Because I was concerned for their safety, not yours,” you chuckled.
And, to your surprise, Rocket joins you in your laughter.
“Damn straight,” he remarked with a contented grin stretched across his face.
You guys eventually arrive to your first ride, and it’s the mummy ride. Rocket had already begun to scowl when he entered the area.
“What’s this?” He asked when you grabbed his hand and dragged him into the queue.
“The mummy ride. You’re not scared, are you?” You teased.
“We live in fucking space. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be scared of—”
Rocket screamed and practically cried non-stop on the entire ride, and when there were stops, a long, thundering string of curses were launched from his lips making parents with their kids glare at him after the ride was over.
You, on the other hand, were nothing but entertained.
“Oh my god, you should have seen your face! You were so fucking scared you couldn’t even—”
“Shut up! Fuckin’ hell you’d think they’d have windshields for that shit what the fuck was that?”
You laughed some more, but he didn’t stop you at all or comment on just how amusing this all seemed to you. He simply stole glances every time you laughed and you pretended not to notice for his sanity.
Next up; battlestar galactica.
The ride was outdoors so both of you could see the blue and red tracks very loosely intertwining with each other and having insane drops and loops. Every ten seconds was just another group of people lost to the thrill of the ride.
“Nu-uh. Nope.” Rocket was about to walk away but you hold him by the shoulder pad.
“You’re riding this with me, no exceptions.”
“Like fuck I’m doin’ that,” Rocket cursed.
“Oh come on! If you don’t come with me I can’t go!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I … I …”
Yeah, you didn’t wanna admit it but you had some of your own fears yourself. Any rollercoaster was doable as long as you had someone to wrap your arm around. You were kinda surprised when Rocket said nothing about you squeezing his arm for dear life in the mummy ride but now, there was probably no escaping it when he was looking at you so intently, eyes dragging all over your body as if he was searching for an anomaly in one of those inventions.
“Oh my,” he began teasingly, “you’re scared too.”
“No! I can do it I just—I can’t do it alone, come on Rocket.”
He grinned. It appeared it was his turn to be amused.
“Admit it, humie. You need me.”
You bit your lip.
“Rocket, stop being a dick and come with me.”
“Not until you admit that you can’t do it without me,” he repeated, your name falling out of his lips like he knew your legs grew weak at the way he says it.
You clenched your jaw, finally relenting with an audible, drawn out groan.
“Fine! You win! Rocket, please oh please I need you on this ride, please just ride it with me!” You said over dramatically, clamping your hands together before dropping them and slumping your shoulders in annoyance.
He couldn’t help but give a smug grin at your response.
He ambled in with his chest puffed out, hands shoved into his pockets as his ego had just been filled.
“Damn fuckin’ straight, humie,” he remarked. “You coming or what?”
You chase after him for the second time that day, not even realizing you were frozen in your spot.
Even after all that, it didn’t make him any less scared of the ride as he continued to scream and scratch at the shoulder restraints of the ride. By the time the ride was over, he was panting, his eyes darting around at the various workers who’s eyes widened at the sight of all the blackened claw marks on the seats.
“We gotta run.”
“Huh?”
Third time you chased after Rocket that day with the staff tailing both of you about the damages caused on the ride.
Needless to say, that was your one and only time going to an amusement park with your favorite trash panda.
He would never tell you this, but if you ever asked to go again, he could never gather the strength or courage to tell you no.
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