rain (he/they)

A little blog about my stupid thoughts and mainly criminal minds.

[the--evil-lesbian]

[criminalrainyxx]

why did i read "trench coat" as "french toast"-

[j-casper]

FRENCH TOAST. OMG.

[criminalrainyxx]

PFFT HI NOT ME BEING ON YOUR PAGE LITERALLY ALL DAY IM SO SORRY

[j-casper]

NO NO. IT IS GOOD. YOU SEEM LOVELY, FRIEND. <3

[criminalrainyxx]

lmao wait is this what it feels like to have mutuals :0

[j-casper]

omg,,,perhaps??? 😳

[criminalrainyxx]

(0-0)

[the--evil-lesbian]

I enjoyed watching these people become friends on my post :)

[xrainydazeteax]

yes, thank you very much for starting our friendship :D

[j-casper]

yeah, thank ya! :D

[j-casper]

Throwback to the start of our friendship :D @criminalrainyxx

[virescent-v]

Hey, can I request #92 pls. Maybe with a little angst but I’m leaving it to you🩷

hi hi hi, so sorry this took like...two weeks. life, ya know?

it started as something, and im not sure this is the angst you were really looking for (that really isn't my area of expertise i should work on that lmfao) but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Definitely Not Friends

Word Count: 2.7k+

Prompt: “friends don’t do this kind of shit”

Warnings: It's smutty, ya'll, but not my "normal" kind of smut

The repetitive nature of your ongoing…tryst with Emily was getting under your skin. It had all started off so innocently; just some casual flirtation between coworkers. Nothing that Derek and Penelope haven’t been accused of over the years. But before you knew it, you were spending more alone time with Emily than any of your other coworkers. Late night talks on the phone, dinners after long cases to unwind, Friday night movie nights, the list goes on. 

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Just two coworkers who saw some terrible shit every day who got on well enough to lean on one another. 

But then Emily started pushing the envelope. 

A brush across your shoulders as she was passing by. A squeeze of your hand before getting out of the SUV to catch a killer. Eye contact that lasted just a little too long. A lip bite that made your breath catch. 

Innocent enough things that you convinced yourself you were just imagining them. 

But then one night after a gut wrenching case, she kissed you. 

She had driven you home from the airport after getting back from a two week case in Minnesota. It was well after midnight, you could barely keep your eyes open, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to spend the rest of the night crying, eating your feelings in ice cream, or sleeping for the next six days. 

She walked you to your door, nothing out of the usual. You looked at her before going inside to say goodbye, but she engulfed you in the best hug of your life. Her arms around you were strong. Supportive. You could feel your whole body melt into hers. 

You’ve never felt more safe. 

When you pulled back a little to look at her, your eyes caught and you tried to convey everything you couldn’t find the words for. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

And then, she kissed you and she ran. 

You stood stupefied on your porch, watched her get back into the unmarked SUV before speeding off into the night. 

You didn’t talk to her for three days. 

At work, she acted like everything was normal. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to bring it up because you weren’t even sure what it was. Was it just a comfort thing? Did she have feelings for you? You couldn’t tell. Emily was so hard to read on a good day, let alone when your head was all over the place. 

A few days passed and it had seemed like everything went back to normal. You talked every day, had gone to a few meals together, and she came over for a movie night. 

Except this movie night was different, too. 

She was wearing a skimpier set of pajamas. A loose fitting tank top and the shortest pair of shorts you had ever seen. You knew for a fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra because her nipples were visible through the material. You weren’t sure how she hadn’t caught you staring. 

She sat closer to you on the couch than normal, too. Your sides were basically joined from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her warmth radiating from her to you, the nervous excitement making your body heat up even more in return. 

Again, you weren’t sure what was happening, but you were going to roll with it. The unknowing was thrilling in itself. 

Emily fell asleep halfway through whatever romcom you had put on, her head on your shoulder, her hand lazily resting on your thigh. 

You were too nervous to move, your breaths short as not to jostle her. 

You’re pretty sure you could die happy on this couch with Emily’s head resting on you. 

It was almost the end of the movie when Emily shuffled in her sleep, her head moving towards the crook of your neck, her hand traveling dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You could feel the heat erupt through your body, your stomach starting to twist into knots. You knew you should probably wake her, get her into your guest bed, and go to sleep. But you were enjoying her being this close too much. 

You could feel her breath against the side of your neck, the little puffs of air almost tickling. She grunted in her sleep, her hand tightening around your thigh, her nose nuzzling against you as she let out a sexy little “mmhmm.” 

Your mind immediately went to the gutter and you could only imagine her making that sound as she ground her hips against yours in your bed. 

You pressed your thighs together to stop the zoom of arousal that shot through you. You barely suppressed the moan that wanted to tumble from your lips. 

You finally gained the courage to wake her and get her to the guest room. Sleepy Emily was one of your favorites; she turned almost incoherent and klutzy and it was maybe the cutest thing you’d ever seen. 

As you were pulling the sheets up around her, she all but dragged you into the bed with her. She got you settled under the covers and immediately cuddled into you, making you into the little spoon. Again, you could feel her breath on your neck, her hand lazily drawing patterns on your upper thigh and hip. 

You felt yourself freeze as she sleepily mumbled, “Stop overthinking it. Go to sleep.” 

You woke up the next morning and she was already gone. 

Your life with Emily continued on like this for a month. Little things would happen that would make you question your relationship to her and then she’d act as if nothing happened and that you two were just really good friends. 

It was making your mind spin, giving you a constant headache. 

You were almost fed up with the constant see-sawing, ready to talk to her about what was happening, when you two first fell into bed together. 

Another bad case, a late night out at the bar with everyone, and too many shots of tequila. 

You woke up the following morning with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and fuzzy memories of the night before. All you could remember was the smell of her signature perfume, the feel of lips on skin, and sore muscles. 

You probably would’ve written it off, thought it was just your overactive imagination if it hadn’t been for the rather large bite mark on the inside of your thigh. 

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, especially since the memories were still alluding you. You probably would’ve tried to write it off as a random hook up if it hadn’t been for the fact that Emily had woken up in bed beside you, an almost matching bite mark against her collarbone. 

This time, it was a little harder to write off what had happened. Especially since you were both naked. 

You could feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish, an almost panicked look in your eyes. 

Emily cleared her throat. “Wanna get breakfast?” 

You were never more appreciative and pissed for her nonchalant attitude. 

“Sure,” you said, a sudden burst of confidence hitting you as you got out of bed to head to the bathroom without worrying about covering up. 

You’re pretty sure you heard Emily gasp as you closed the bathroom door, a little victorious smirk playing at your lips. 

Again, you two never talked about what happened. 

It almost seemed like a game. How many days you two could go before stumbling into one of these moments together. 

You made it thirty-six hours without snuggling on the couch for a movie. 

You made it thirty-seven hours without Emily’s hand finding your thigh. 

You made it eighty-eight hours without her kissing you after a night out. 

You made it one hundred and fourteen hours before she was back in your bed. 

Except this time, you were both sober. 

You had almost gotten yourself killed. Not on purpose, just a run in with one of the many psychopaths you deal with at work. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. 

But after he’d been placed in cuffs, Emily had this absolutely feral look in her eyes. Uncaged. Like she was seconds away from combusting. 

She drove you home. Like always. But the entire ride was silent. 

You made it into your apartment, the door barely closed behind you before she exploded. “What the fuck were you thinking?” She shouted. 

It made you take a step back. She’d never raised her voice at you before. Emily was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, her fists clenched at her sides. 

You were sure you looked scared, befuddled, bewildered. You couldn’t even process quick enough to say anything before she continued. 

“You almost got yourself killed! He had you pinned to the fucking floor! There’s bruises along your arms from where he touched you!” At this point, you could see Emily almost vibrating with her anger. But you were fairly certain she wasn’t actually angry. At least you hoped not. 

“I can’t believe you would be so reckless to walk into a building alone! You knew what he was capable of! How sneaky he’s been! But you didn’t care!” Emily started pacing around the floor, her eyes wild, but focused on her hands, her fingers twisting around each other. 

You could feel your own misplaced anger starting to race through your veins. “I knew what I was doing! I had cleared the room! I don’t know how he got the jump on me, but how on earth is that my fucking fault, Emily? We split up, like we do to cover the premises, and I drew the short end of the stick!” You let out a breath. “Why are you blaming me? Blame him!” 

She spun around to face you, her nostrils flaring. “I am! But I’m also blaming you!” 

You rolled your eyes, tossed your hands up,” Why? What did I do? Why are you mad at me and yelling at me?” 

“Because you didn’t wait for me!”  

Your eyes caught Emily’s. Beneath the anger, beneath her guarded shell, you could see the fear in her eyes. The realization that something worse than a couple of bruises could have happened. 

You tried to open your mouth, say something, but before you could, Emily muttered a quick “fuck it” before crossing the room to you, crushing her lips to yours. 

Before you knew it, clothes were scattered along the hallway to your bedroom. 

Emily tossed you back onto the bed, her body quickly making its way between your thighs. You quickly wrapped your legs around her waist, dragging her closer to you, tangling your hands in her hair as you brought her down for another heated kiss. 

Emily broke away from you, trailing her lips down the side of your neck, quickly finding the spot behind your ear that made you moan out loud. She spent a considerable amount of time there, making sure to leave her mark before moving lower down your throat, kissing across your collarbones, and down between the valley between your breasts. 

She wasted no time wrapping her lips around your turgid peak, taking satisfaction in the way it made you fist the sheets below you in your hands. She made sure to give the same attention to the other nipple, her hand making sure to not leave the opposite one alone for long. 

Emily could spend hours giving your breasts the attention they deserved, but she was almost as impatient as you seemed to be, so she kept making her way down your body, finding the sweet spots that made you whimper or sigh, making note of them for later. 

You could feel how wet you were already, but with Emily between your legs, you couldn’t get any friction to help the ache that was building. 

“Em, please,” you whispered, almost embarrassed by how much you needed her. The build up from all of the times she was just a little too close, the lingering touches, and even the thought of the last time you two fell into bed together (even though you unfortunately don’t remember much of it). It was driving you crazy. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you,” she smirked at you before swiping her tongue through your wetness. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your eyes rolling back a little, one of your hands shooting down to her hair to keep her there. 

Emily ate you out as if her life depended on it, as if she could spend the rest of her life between your legs. She took her time to explore every inch of you, figuring out what moves made you whine, which ones made your entire body shudder, and what made you grip her hair harder. 

It didn’t take long for you to climb towards the edge of your orgasm, but before you could fall over, Emily stopped and pulled away from you. 

The gasp, the outrage on your face almost made Emily laugh out loud. “I love being friends with you,” she snickered at you, a taunting glint in her eyes. 

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit,” you scoffed, flabbergasted at Emily’s ability, even with your juices all over her face, to ignore what was happening between you two. 

You could feel Emily pause, her body tight, afraid to move. She didn’t expect you to lash out, and she could tell you weren’t really happy with her, upset with her disregard of everything. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hands finding purchase on your hips, her thumbs rubbing back and forth a little. “I never knew how to…address this,” she shrugged. 

You nearly laughed at how small she looked, unable to make eye contact with you. She didn’t have an issue with having her mouth on your pussy two minutes ago, but now she couldn’t look you in the eye. 

“A conversation would’ve been a good place to start, Em. You made me feel like I was going crazy.” 

Her eyes finally caught yours and you could instantly tell that she really did feel sorry. Feelings just weren’t her thing. Before she could apologize again, you cut her off, “We can talk about it after you finish fucking me, Emily.” 

You watched her demeanor transform to something hungrier, cockier, feral. “Yes ma’am,” she mockingly saluted before connecting her lips to yours again, trying to convey everything that she was feeling. 

Her hand traveled down from your hip, stilling at the apex of your thighs, silently asking for permission. You nodded against her, your lips still connected in a heated kiss. 

She teasingly stroked your warm, wet pussy with her hand, gathering your juices on her fingers. She pulled back from your kiss, watching your expression as she slowly thrusted two fingers inside of you. 

You tried to keep eye contact with her, but after the build up of all of the little moments between you, it felt so good to finally have her inside of you. Emily slowly built up to an almost punishing pace, something fast, and hard, and exactly what you needed. Her fingers curled at just the right angle to hit that spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. 

Emily’s other hand made contact with your straining clit, rubbing tight, little circles to match her thrusts. You could feel yourself rushing towards that edge again, a breath away from letting go. 

“Come on, pretty girl. Let go for me.” 

Your release hit you like a freight train, your back arching off of the bed, your mouth open in a silent scream. You felt your muscles tense, the euphoria washing through you, before letting go and relaxing as Emily fucked you through your orgasm. You tried to catch your shallow breath, a light sheen of sweat across your flushed skin, before looking at Emily, your hands starting to dance across her skin. 

Emily’s own hands caught yours, catching the questioning look in your eyes. She kissed both of your palms before tangling your fingers together. “Later, baby. We should talk first.” 

Those words would usually cause a rush of panic to course through your blood, but something about the way that Emily was looking at you put you at ease. 

You took a deep breath, smiling a little at her, kissing her hands in return. “Yeah, we should.” 

She smiled back. 

And she didn’t run.

[canuck-eh]

this is a little silly but idgaf😭 going to see the new barbie movie with dbf!hotch and you dress up for it like everyones been doing and hes so fond of you and loves seeing you have fun and enjoying yourself 🥲

Hello, my sweets! I'm sorry it took a little while, but here's your little blurb/drabble/ficlet!

MINORS DNI

Pink

Pairing: Dbf!Hotch x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex/smut. Hotch is kinda reluctant to go watch Barbie but he trusts r and of course he'd love it and its takeaway message. Hotch wears pink (and we were robbed because this should be canon). Hotch has thots.

A/N: I avoided spoiling Barbie, Oppenheimer, or Ted Lasso (don't ask. OR DO! PLEASE I AM OBSESSED WITH ALL THREE!) Also, it's not your first rodeo... I didn't proofread this!

You looked beautiful in shades of pink, and he was more than happy to wear the pink shirt you’d gotten him for the occasion because it made you beam up at him adoringly. 

All the way over to the movie theater, he caught you sneaking a few glances. You kept looking at him in the car, and even more so as he walked side by side with you until you both reached the theater.

Aaron loved this about you more than he could ever put into words. Whatever the occasion, you made him feel special, and today was no exception. 

To be fair, he had his reservations about going to watch Barbie, but he knew your taste was impeccable so he trusted you. 

The last time he’d trusted you to choose what to watch, you’d both binge-watched the entire three seasons of Ted Lasso in two days, barely getting up or leaving the safety of his apartment for 48 hours. Sleep-deprived and content, completely invested and blissful, he had cried and laughed with you, and from then on, he had trusted you to pick anything he would watch because you always chose exactly what he needed. 

When you’d suggested going to the movie theater like so many other people would this weekend, he was more scared about running into your father who had mentioned earlier this week at work that he would be going to see Oppenheimer this same weekend, but Aaron had made sure to choose another movie theater than the one your father had mentioned, the one which didn’t offer the nice popcorn you so fondly remembered. You had reluctantly agreed to go somewhere else, but in exchange, Aaron would have to wear pink. 

Of course, he’d do anything for you, so he would have agreed to wear pink regardless, but getting you to look at him this way was incredibly worth it. He would keep that pink shirt even after today, and he’d wear it again if it made you look at him like that, like he was someone worthy of you and your love.

Wearing a pink shirt was a small price to pay because not only was he guaranteed not to get his ass handed to him by your father for dating you, he now got to watch you almost drool as he rolled up the sleeves of the pink shirt you had put on him earlier. 

Aaron smiled as he remembered how you had also taken it off him before making him book tickets for another showing, and he was more than grateful to assist to a later showing because he’d gotten to hear you moan his name in the same breath as your first “I love you”.

He had not replied on the spot as his mouth was busy getting you to utter sweet delicacies, but once you had pleaded for him to take you, he had whispered it back against your lips, he had muttered it on your skin until his hips stilled and he had buried his seed so deep inside you that it would drip out of you for hours. 

In fact, he was fairly certain that even if you had peed before leaving his apartment, he was still somewhere inside you, and perhaps if he was lucky, he was coating your panties as you walked into the theater. He loved knowing you were his, and he couldn't wait to find out when he got you back to his place tonight whether his cum still slicked your folds. He would make sure to--

Aaron shook his head and willed his thoughts away. He thought about his mother’s dry oatmeal to deal with the simmering desire in his lower belly, and when he was sure he had a grip, he planted a small kiss on the top of your head before you led him to the row where your seats were.

You grinned at him as you took your seats, and now that his fingers were interlaced with yours, he was delighted he'd get to drown in the many shades of pink this experience promised.

He had to admit though, his favorite shade was by far the one he was wearing because it would always be tainted with memories of one of the happiest moments of his life. 

[headkiss]

annaaa im rewatching cm again and reentering my hotch phase and u are my ultimate favorite hotch writer so may i please beg for something sweet with him? maybe like making dinner or doing some other activity together? of course this is totally absolutely no pressure at all thank u i love u <33

kait my love angel bae i am so honoured to be ur fav hotch writer 😭🫶 this one’s for u and i hope u like it!!! | 0.6k of fluff

Aaron can hear you moving about in the kitchen when he gets home.

It’s something he’s had a hard time getting used to, the intimacy of it all. The sound of pots clanging and spoons scraping dishes as you stir things. It’s the reminder of having someone there, of never really being alone. Sure, he’s not used to it, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He’s good at being quiet, has to be for his job, so he shuts the door softly behind him and toes off his shoes. Sneaking down the hall, he spots you through the doorway of the kitchen, your hair up, back of your neck exposed.

Hotch leans a shoulder against the doorframe and watches you cook for a little, the stress of the day sort of melting away as he does.

You only catch him when you turn around, jumping and dropping the spoon you’d been holding onto the counter. “Aaron!” His name is dragged out in a whine, “you’ve gotta stop doing that.”

“Watching you cook?”

“Using your agent feet on me.”

He huffs a laugh at that one, a smile spreading over his face freely the way they seem to spread around you.

“Whatcha making?”

“Just some pasta. You wanna help?”

You offer him an apron, the neck dangling from your fingertips. Aaron takes it easily, tossing it over his button up that he’d worn to work. It’s a funny juxtaposition, the crisp state of his shirt and the stained canvas he wears over it.

“Where do you want me, chef?”

Whenever Aaron’s gone, you tend to worry and worry. That he’ll get hurt, that he’ll get tired of juggling you and his work. Then, he comes home to you, putting on your apron without complaining, and you’re not so worried anymore, because it makes sense. Having him beside you makes sense.

You grin at him over your shoulder, now turned back to the boiling water on the stove, “there’s some veggies in the fridge if you wanna cut those?”

“‘Course.”

As he walks behind you to get to the fridge, he pauses to push a kiss into the side of your neck, his arms weaving around your waist. You lean into his touch like an instinct, like there’s a string that shortens whenever he’s near, tugging the two of you towards each other.

You’re lucky to get him this way. Where everyone else sees Hotch, you only see Aaron.

Conversation comes easy as you cook together, Hotch getting a cutting board and setting himself up at the counter next to the stovetop. Not the most functional spot, but it’s the one closest to you, so he chooses it anyway.

Aaron’s not one to open up quickly. He doubts himself, questions whether he’ll be too much for the other person, worries that they’ll get fed up with his scattered schedule and leave. And then he met you and things were different.

He’d had to cancel your second date because of a case, and you’d barely blinked, telling him on the phone that the anticipation will only make it so much better, that it isn’t his fault and you’d be there when he got back. You said all of the right things and he sent you flowers and that was the start of the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Now, you live together and your toothbrushes share the same countertop and it might not be perfect all of the time but it’s as close as possible, he thinks.

“Hey. Try this for me?” You’re holding out a spoon, a little bit of pasta sauce on the end, your free hand cupped underneath it to catch any that might fall. “Please?”

You never need to say please with him, Aaron thinks, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the way it sounds in your voice.

He leans towards you, bending to taste what you’re offering him.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.”

Hotch isn’t lying, but even if it wasn’t perfect, he’d still tell you it was. If only to see the way your face lights up with your smile, the way you bounce a little on your feet.

[rhombiee]

I just think the 10/10 Barbie movie would’ve been made SUBLIME if they had a blooper reel like the 2000s Barbie movies had

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Imagine…

BAU!reader being married to Hotch but keeping her maiden name to avoid assumptions and judgment. The team knows, obviously, but then a former colleague of Aaron’s from the Seattle office happens to be in town for a conference and wants to catch up over a drink. You can’t help but tease him, of course:

“Knock, knock,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to your husband’s office. With a glance at your watch, you ask, “Y’gonna be late for your date?”

Aaron looks up at you with a frown before returning his attention to his case file and mumbling, “Not a date.”

“Mm, my apologies,” you respond with a twitch of your lips as you approach his desk. You lean your elbows on the dark wood and rest your chin in your open hands. Batting your eyelashes, you amend, “It’s a meeting betwixt old coworkers.”

Aaron rises from his chair, pressing his fists against the desk opposite you and positively towering over your smaller stature. He meets your fiery gaze with equal defiance, then leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and mumbles, “Are you our resident Reid while he’s with his mom? Who says ‘betwixt’?”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” you taunt back between kisses of your own. “You collected coins; I played Scrabble. Now get going! Can’t leave a lady waiting for the Aaron Hotchner.”

—————

But WAIT! There’s more! Said agent gets a call while they’re out for a drink and asks Aaron and the BAU for help on a new case. Naturally, you all have to fly to Seattle together…

“Mama, you know this cabin is pressurized, right?” Derek teases with a nudge of your shoulder.

You mumble back around a sip of coffee, “Yeah, so?”

“So if you glare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole through the jet and we’re all gonna die up here.”

Emily snorts out a laugh and you steal a Cheeto from JJ’s snack (for which you’re met with a stern, “Hey!”) to throw at her. Emily collects the offensive projectile from her lap and pops it into her mouth with a ferocious chomp in your direction, receiving an, “Oh, bite me, Prentiss,” in response.

“Just find a way to slip in that you’re married,” JJ counsels, moving the bag out of your reach to avoid further retaliation.

“Or accidentally fall into his lap. Turbulence can be nasty, you know,” Emily offers as a follow up.

“Like that?” you deadpan, jutting your chin toward the scene at the back of the jet. Aaron and Agent Brandt are over by the coffee, and she’s just steadied herself using your husband’s broad shoulder.

“Or,” Derek counteroffers, tugging at the chain around your neck that holds your wedding and engagement rings while you’re out in the field, “put this rock on and go claim your man!”

“This is dumb. I’m being dumb,” you grumble, flipping open the case file and burying your head in it. “Can we get back to talking about this sociopath and not my high school-esque jealousy?”

“What’s happening? Did I miss anything?” Garcia’s blonde curls bounce up on the monitor before your group, ready for the next installment of this evidently riveting saga.

“Nothing is happening, Pen,” you respond with a sharp look her way, “and y’all need to get out more. Watch a romcom or something if you need some angst.”

“You all completely suck,” Penelope sighs dramatically. “My cup runneth empty in my lair!”

“Then go get yourself another cappuccino, baby girl,” Derek answers smoothly with that dazzling smile of his, perched on the armrest of your seat.

You feel his presence before you hear his voice, every atom in your body suddenly on high alert and keenly aware of everything that is Aaron. “Hey.”

You look up at him with an easy smile, determined to not let your unwarranted bitterness reflect on your work. “What’s up, Hotch?”

He squats down in the aisle beside you so he’s not looming over you and brushes his knuckles across your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender touch, given your current audience. “Do you have that travel bottle of Advil? Brandt may have been overzealous with the margaritas last night.”

“Yeah, it’s… in the side pocket of my bag,” you answer, brow furrowed because he tossed it in there this morning to ward off your inevitable headaches during the coming late nights.

“You’re the best, honey,” he murmurs, standing halfway to press a kiss to your forehead before returning to his full height and going off in search of the pain killer.

“‘Overzealous with the margaritas’, huh?” Emily teases, then starts singing the viral song about just how many margaritas are needed to perform certain acts that shan’t be discussed in polite company.

From across the plane, Dave glances at Aaron who’s rummaging through the overhead luggage bin, then turns his attention to you with a knowing gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks, and settle back in your seat before flipping through the case file in front of you. “So crime scene photos would suggest we’re dealing with a disorganized killer…”

[scienceisdope]

Follow us @scienceisdope because

[p0ssywhippedcream]

hotch asks? what about him getting a little hurt in the field but EMT trained BAU reader gets to patch him up and catches him staring at them (they'll blame his head injury, even though he's fine, but it did lower his inhibitions a bit)

CW: typical canon violence, minor blood, wounds

Home is in the bandaids you run your fingers over on his chest. Home is in your careful gaze focused on his pain. Home is in the breath of relief you allow every time he gets out of a risky situation unscathed that he pretends not to hear.

Home is immediately tugging him away from the sirens and the screaming, kicking unsub and letting Derek handle it. Home has flushed cheeks and concerned eyes and is pushing him to lean against the side of an ambulance as they worry their bottom lip.

“Y/n,” You briefly glance at his face, eyes widening at the light inside them before you look away and reach for your pocket, pulling out a mini flashlight. He groans quietly and tries to move his head out of your grasp but he’s forced to stillness as you check his eyes for a concussion. “I’m fine, he didn’t hit me that hard.”

His pupils are dilated but you get the sense they’re not from his injury that slowly weeps on his forehead, considering the flushed cheeks and shaking hands.

“He hit you with a bat, Hotch. Just hold still.” Then Home is leaving him for a moment as they gather a couple cotton balls and antibiotic cream. You return and press up closer then before to examine his wound before gently rubbing away some of his blood and dabbing at the cut. It’s small, definitely not too serious but it gave him a real bonk and he’s probably going to feel funky for a few days.

You let yourself exhale a bit heavier, knowing this is solvable and won’t damage him too badly. He watches as you go through the motions, adoration glowing in his eyes. You’ve got a determined look in your squinting eyes, your hair bounces a little as you lean off your tippy toes and reach into your pocket again.

Seeing how the height difference is completely obvious now, Aaron realizes he’d been forcing you to strain up to reach him and bends his knees, letting his back drag downward on the vehicle side.

You hardly comprehend this motion, too focused on the bandaids you’re wiping out and shedding of their outer layers. You stick them in a line on your middle finger, all three looking like pieces of tape as they dangle when you refocus on him.

“You need to be more careful.” You’re barely audible, but Aaron hears it, he hears everything you say.

He could remind you he’s the boss, he can handle it, time was on a crunch, etc but he knows that arguing wouldn’t help. It wasn’t a suggestion but more of a general statement to show him that you cared, you wanted him safe. And from the quake of your fingers earlier when you first saw his leaking hurt, he profiled it wasn’t just because he’s your superior.

You were so locked in on fixing the injury that the puppy dog eyes Aaron was making you go unnoticed until you glance down and your heart skips a beat.

His jaw is still tight, brows still furrowed and lips still pursed but his eyes are so soft and sweet, you wonder if you’ll get a toothache from his directed stare as his gaze drifts to your mouth. You watch him watch you, watch that when your mouth pops open slightly from shock his pupils track the movement with eager attention.

You remember that his wound is good now, completely covered and that you don’t need to be so close anymore. But his faint cologne and ragged breath keep you where you are. As your mouth closes, his eyes snap back up to yours and your blush goes unseen in the red and blue lighting.

You step back, giving him a moment to stand tall and clear his throat before letting him know he’s good to go and disappearing off to find Reid. You had some questions about head injuries that needed answers. As you retreat, you look back once to find he’s still as he was, eyes glued to your hesitant smile as his lips quirk just barely.

He reaches his hand up as you turn away, fingers waiting for their cue to feel his wound but he holds himself back. He wouldn't want to taint your love with his touch, ruin your goodness with his presence. He drops his arm, watching as the only pure home he'd found himself in smiled at a much younger, much kinder man and he wonders how he could try to love you when everything he holds shatters from the desperate grip he keeps. When the monster his father fostered with a bottle and a beating would spread from Aaron's liver to your soft eyes.

[greg-montgomery]

HII!! I'm here to bother you again, yes. (Also I don't know if you know this but I'm new to Tumblr so I don't really know how it works yet lol, like comments, why are they almost never there??😭 And I enjoy this inbox thing so much. I think you noticed, lmao)

SORRY I RUMBLED 😭

I wanted some support for this: like, imagine the accademic rivals with young!aaron in law school 😭😭 that would be awesome, BUT

IMAGINE CHALLENGE HIM IN A TRIAL 😭😭 he would be so hot, but you would be too 😭

Idk I just love law school and a mix of Hotch and Greg!!

baby you’re the opposite of a bother to me i love seeing you in my inbox!!!!! 💗💗💗💞💞💕💕

it took me a while to learn how tumblr works too!! it can be complicated 😭😭 about the comments, do you mean you make comments and they disappear? you can always ask me anything if you have any questions about tumblr!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

okay omg academic rivals with young!aaron 😫😫😫🦋 YES

the vibes omg 😫😫😫😫🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

he’s soooo hot, soooo smart, and such an asshole! he loves to challenge you but it’s because you’re the only one smart enough to compete with him 😏 and he loves it! he loves getting you worked up, he loves how flustered he makes you when he smirks at you, and he loves your smug face when you end up being right. you motivate him <33

and lawyer hotch??? omg being on opposite sides in a trial???? the potential for tension???? ahhhhh 🦋🦋

i LOVE this

[bellaveux]

how do i get this tattooed to my forehead

[escuerzoresucitado]

[criminalrainyxx]

gimme one

[fishandshesmygills]

my brother started calling our cat "doobie brother" which he then lengthened to "dubious brother" and has since morphed into "brother dubious" like he's some sort of fucked up little monk

[fishandshesmygills]

brother dubious

[ddejavvu]

hi i love your writing!! can i request hotch x reader where he did a press conference or something on the news (i just watched the halloween one in s10 he looked fiiiine) and then reader runs into him in public and recognises him ty in advance

Perhaps you should have taken his casual attire as a sign that he wasn't on duty, but you can't stop yourself from blanching at the sight of the man stepping up to the counter before you. Hotchner was his name? Agent Hotchner?

"You're the man from the news," You blurt, before he's even able to get his coffee order out. He looks somewhat taken aback, dark eyes widened slightly, and you're sure it's not often that he's ambushed by his baristas, and you clear your throat, "I- sorry, I just- I saw you last night on tv."

"Our press conference," He's skilled at overlooking your awkward interjection, nodding with the hint of a smile on his face, "I'm glad you were tuned in to the news and stayed safe."

"Did you catch him?" You ask, coffee long forgotten. You'd been a nervous wreck at the announcement of a serial killer in your town, a real serial killer killing real people like you, and you almost hadn't shown up for work today out of anxiety.

"We did," He nods, "He's safely locked away. And he will be for a long time, I promise."

"Thank you," You breathe, palpable relief in your tone, "Thank you, I- I can't even imagine how scary it must be to chase after people like that, but thank you for doing it."

His brows raise and his eyes flood with gratitude, something you hope is visible in your own gaze. Evidently, he doesn't get this very often.

"It's my job," He smiles fully now, settling into his place at the counter as customers come and go on either side of him, "There's no need to thank me."

"It's a job you chose," You counter, "I was really- it was scary, thinking that he was out there. That I might be next, that my friend might, that my mom might. I do need to thank you for that."

"You're safe now," He promises, and something about the honey-sweet tone of voice he uses makes you truly believe it.

"I'm sorry for holding you up," You apologize after a beat of comfortable silence, refocused on the screen in front of you, "What can I get for you, sir?"

"A medium coffee. Black, please." He recites, "And a cheese, egg, and ham sandwich, if you've still got any."

"That'll be all?" You verify, punching his order into the computer. He nods with a smile, already pulling out his wallet.

"Oh, no sir," You clear his total, pulling from your tip jar to cover the cost of his order, "I'd feel guilty for charging you. You helped a lot of people, your order is free."

"I insist-" He tries, moving his card towards the scanner, but you tug the appliance away.

"I insist," You stand your ground, "Please, I'm going to be able to get home safely tonight thanks to you, I have no problem giving you a free coffee."

"A sandwich, too." He reminds you, "You're very kind, but I can't take free food. Please, let me pay for one of the items?"

"My treat." You slide bills into the register, triumphant when his shoulders sag and a sheepish smile overtakes his face as he slides his card back into his wallet.

"Thank you," He returns your gratitude, eyes the color of his coffee somehow sweeter than sugar "I appreciate it. I meant it before, you're very kind."

You're happy that the breakfast sandwiches are stored behind you, because it gives you a chance to hide the way your face contorts into a bashful grin as you prepare his order. Now that the fear of being attacked is out of your head, you're able to marvel at the man's looks, something you'd tried tamping down to focus on bigger issues at hand. A smile suits him, and so does a t-shirt and jeans, and you're glad you got to see a side of him that isn't grim and grey.

"Thank you," He beams when you return with his order, simple enough that you'd made it while he stood at your register, "Have a great rest of your day."

"You too, sir." You nod, trying not to react when his fingertips brush your hand, and you applaud yourself for keeping your composure until he's safely out of the building.

That same composure breaks when you're emptying your tip jar for the day, counting out each bill to stuff them in your wallet and grocery shop for the week. A wad of them falls out that you're fairly certain you didn't see anyone drop off, and it's revealed to be three $20 bills with a stiff piece of cardstock in the middle.

You're momentarily horrified that someone dropped the wrong amount in, put in the contents of their wallet when they meant to leave a $5, but the name on the card hits you like a semi-truck.

SSA Aaron Hotchner.

Damn that man, he must have slipped the cash into your jar while your back was turned. You'd been trying to save him $7 for the coffee and the sandwich, and he treated you to a cart of groceries instead.

You flip the card to find his number, not sure if you're brave enough to call and give him a speech that's half thankful and half scolding. But there's pen scrawled on the back, and you squint to read the print.

'Don't try returning the tip, I won't take it back. Thank you for being so kind, and if you ever need a favor, you know who to call. - Agent Hotchner'

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Aaron makes you text him when you’re sad. Because he’s sometimes far away and it’s hard to pick up on these things if he’s not home for a week, so he has you text him, and then he’ll tell you to open his bedside drawer which is stuffed full of handwritten notes of reasons he loves you (and a separate box of ones from jack). And a dried flower from every bouquet he ever gave to you. He has Penelope stop by after work to bring you dinner and her favourite games to play with you.

Oh he definitely does 🥺.

He's so considerate having those things ready for you when you're feeling sad 🥺. They always make you smile when you read them and it always helps you feel better<3. Especially when you see the words that Jack had to correct or just completely messed up the spelling on because he's just such an adorable little bug hehe 🤭🤭.

Aaron always loves your messages so when you're not texting him as much as normal or your messages aren't quite you he can definitely tell that something isn't okay. He will ask you what's wrong if you don't tell him in what he considers a reasonable amount of time from when he notices something's off. But after some time you just start telling him straight away when you're not alright.

The flowers 🥹🥹 I love this! I would love to look at them 🥺🥺. They would still be so beautiful especially because they remind you of Aaron and when he gave them to you.

Penny!!!! I love her 🥹. She ALWAYS brightens you up! She's so cheerful and knows how to make you smile! And she's willing to do anything for you<3. I think she is protective of you and wants to take care of you of course<3. She gives you all the hugs! She will comfort you and get your mind off the bad thoughts and feeling better and brighter<3.

Aaron is just 🥺💞 I love him 🫶.

[animentality]

[idkmybffjillyy]

how i thought i would feel walking out of the theater:

how i actually felt:

[annakarenina]

ryan gosling is the only man ever likeeeee????