ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes
hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights
Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3
"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"
It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.
At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.
And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...
Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.
"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.
"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."
Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.
"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.
He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.
You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.
Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.
"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.
She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.
"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.
"Oh! Fancy wine."
"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."
You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.
"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.
"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.
Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.
And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.
It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.
He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.
"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"
"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.
Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.
"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.
He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.
"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."
He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.
Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.
A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.
You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.
He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.
It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.
"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.
"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.
"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.
"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.
And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.
"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.
"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.
"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.
You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.
"Hi, Jack."
"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.
"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"
"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.
You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.
He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.
hi! i loved your hotch x shy!bau! reader fic! would you ever make a second part? or like a continuation of shy!reader and hotch moments? ty! <33
yes yes i wanna keep writing for them so if you guys have anything in specific you want to see, lmk!!
hotch asks shy!bau!reader out for their first date
You stare at the papers in front of you, trying your best to narrow down the geological profile with Reid; trying harder to not let your thoughts wander and distract you. It's hard - Hotch offered to go with you to the new Korean BBQ place before JJ called in the new case. You keep waiting to hear him extend the same offer to the others - specifically Rossi who never turns away an offer to try out a new restaurant or Morgan who is always down to go out with the team.
Instead, he's talking quietly with JJ about Jack's new teacher, unable to do any more work on the case until the jet touches down.
"Okay, we can cross out this county," Spencer says, interrupting your thoughts and reaching across you to mark through a small section. Eyes flicking across the paper, you furrow your brows, confused by the choice.
"Why?" You ask, hand moving to stop his pen strokes before you double-think and let it hit the tabletop.
"Because it's too easy for him to hit if he wanted to. It's been too long, he must have no interest in the area."
"It's low income, exactly his MO. He might hit it later, once he realizes..."
"No," Spencer says, shaking his head before you can finish your sentence. He finishes blacking out the area with his Sharpie and caps the pen, not looking over at you. "That wouldn't make any sense."
Tounge caught by your nerves, you slowly nod your head instead, deciding to give the topic up for now. The next wall the team hits, though, you're determined to readdress the area.
Deciding you need a moment to yourself, you excuse yourself quietly and stand to move to the back of the jet. You stretch your arms above your head, rolling your head back to feel the stretch in your shoulders.
"What county?" Hotch asks, reaching a hand out to intercept your path as you pass him.
"Sorry?" You ask, breath catching on the word as his hand brushes your arm and loops loosely around your wrist. Next to him, JJ has fallen asleep against the window. You feel bad for her for a moment, remembering her talking about Henry's recent sleep regression.
"The county you mentioned to Reid - which one was it?"
"Morris," you say instinctively, still hyper-focused on his hand. His thumb swipes against your wrist bone twice before he lets you go, motioning for you to continue walking.
You think he's let it go and quickly move down the aisle to one of the couches at the back of the jet. When you settle down, though, intent on opening your own map, Hotch sits next to you and tilts his head so you can hear each other if you were to talk softly.
"What was your original thought about it?"
You're struggling to think, distracted by his proximity and low voice. The soft tones reach your belly, causing it to flip, The feeling is pleasant, even if it's entirely inappropriate.
"Sorry?" You say again, meeting his eye before quickly looking away to fumble with the map. Hands shaking, you manage to open it to the right state.
"There's no need to be sorry," Hotch says, voice firm but gentle. He reaches out and you think he's going to grab your wrist again but he instead taps a finger once against Morris County. "Your idea about the county - what was your original thought before Reid shot you down?"
"Oh. It's okay, Reid already said it doesn't make sense." You notice that Hotch opens his mouth to interject before you can finish and your sentence falters at the end. Still, his eyes watch you to make sure you're finished before he answers.
"I still want to hear what you had to say."
You explain your theory to him, then, talking quickly at first, stumbling over your words, before slowing down once you realize he's going to listen to everything you have to say. He nods, agreeing with your theory.
"I'll keep it in mind and give the information to Garcia. Thank you," he says, sincere, eyes locked on yours.
"You're welcome." You wait for him to get up now that you have nothing new to say about the case. While you were talking, you mentioned a few thoughts you had about the preliminary profile the team started on that you couldn't seem to find the space to add during the group conversation.
Instead, he settles further into the seat next to you, reading the map over your shoulder.
Something about his casual posture and the lack of his suit jacket fills you with enough confidence to ask, "Why haven't you invited anyone else to the barbeque place?"
He watches you for a minute, not replying as his eyes scan your face and posture. You've never been the best at body language when it comes to people you know, always a little too nervous to scan them the same way you might an unsub, but you know that Hotch is taking in any and all clues your body can give him before he answers. He seems to roll the words on his tongue, testing them out, before he answers.
You've never been the best at reading the body language of the people you know personally, but you still are considered an expert at it in interrogations, often requested to watch from behind the glass. That's all to say, Hotch seems nervous as he says, "I was hoping it could be us two unless you would prefer the others to be there."
The air leaves your chest and you feel unsteady and unbalanced even though you're sitting. Before you can overthink it, you're shaking your head no.
Hotch's face falls, a slight thing you would certainly notice if your eyes weren't glued to his face to ensure this wasn't some kind of sick joke.
"No, I want it to be just us," you say, quick before he can get the wrong impression.
The usual confidence Hotch carries reinflates in him quickly. He smiles, a slight tug at the corner of his lip that you again only catch because you're watching him so closely.
"Good," he says.
You two sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes after that, first just watching each other, and then, when you get embarrassed, comparing your case files and small map.
"To be clear," he says when Rossi and Spencer have started up a quiet conversation about chess - when his soft tones would be nearly impossible to be understood by anyone but yourself - "I mean as a date. If you would like."
Words lost, you simply nod, eyes wide and smile wider on your face. You think you can hear him chuckle softly but your face is too hot to look up and check.
your most recent bakugou post (the one about him being mean but not to you) has just explained EXACTLY why I like the moody angry characters in almost every media I consume and I’ve never been able to put it into words. its the special feeling you get when you know that the person you’re with would never treat anyone else anywhere close to as good as they treat you, it’s just ahhhhh so nice, love your work!! <3
yes!! he definitely has the sort of "i hate everyone but this one vibe"
and then i just love to imagine how his friends would react seeing him do something so simple but so un-bakugo, like linking pinkies with his s/o or kissing them on the cheek as he gets up to grab another drink.
the absolute shock of all of them. you know kiri would be demanding why bakugo isn't that nice to him and denki would demand to know what you did to him.
but just in general, i feel like there's a lack of appreciation for how he demands to be nothing other than the best - obviously he would take that sort of competitiveness into making sure his s/o never wants for anything under the sun
i just finished rereading some of your criminal minds shy!reader fics and i just wanted to say that i love them so so much. i will never get sick of the quiet, bookish reader and i love the way you write her.
hehehe thank youuuu I love shy!reader and I love that u guys love her too!!
Omggg so well!! We have a date planned to meet irl!! We’ve FaceTimed a few times, too. She’s someone I haven’t gotten tired of talking to and it’s soso nice to have notifications to look forward to hehe
