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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 3- Drunken Love Confession

Warnings: alcohol, the BAU being absolute menaces, less 'drunken love confession' and more 'this wouldn't happen if everyone involved was sober', getting together

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1592

Nothing good ever happens after 2 AM. It’s a universal rule, passed down by mothers to their children for generations. Everyone has heard it at least once; 2 AM is the time of mistakes and bad decisions and speaking without thinking, and that never leads to anything good.

The BAU equivalent is, Nothing good happens at Rossi’s mansion on pasta night after three bottles of wine. Or at least, it should be.

It’s nearing 2:30 AM, and you’ve counted not three, not four, but six empty bottles of red wine and countless beer cans on the countertop in the kitchen. By all known laws of the universe, it’s honestly a little weird that everyone is still laughing and chatting and having a great time with no problems arising.

Those with children have found babysitters, and are riding the high of spending the evening around adults. Everyone has a healthy buzz in their system; even Spencer, who originally gagged at the flavour of the Cabernet Sauvignon you’ve all been drinking, much to Rossi’s lack of amusement.

At any rate, you’re all good and buzzed in the living room- some of you sitting on the couch and loveseat, others on the floor- by the time Emily’s head snaps up, away from a conversation with Morgan, and she says, “Let’s play Spin The Bottle!”

“What are we, 14?” Morgan teases. “Alrighty. Pretty boy, grab an empty one and bring it over.”

Spencer starts to get to his feet, but he’s halted by Hotch’s voice. “No.” Everyone turns to look at Hotch, nestled into the loveseat you’re also sitting on.

“No? Come on. Leave the badge at the office,” Emily complains, cradling a glass of red to her chest.

Hotch just shakes his head. “No. We can’t play.” You all wait for an explanation while he takes a sip of his beer, then sets it down. “Someone kisses someone, and then the next thing you know, you aren’t getting along and it’s a problem in the field.” The explanation he gives while eyeing Rossi is slightly slurred, and you chalk that up to the beer he’s almost finished with.

“Or,” Penelope interjects, “We find love.” She draws out the word into several syllables, but Hotch isn’t faltering.

“That’s worse,” he says, and you see the crease of his eyebrows smooth out slightly before he delivers his version of a punchline. “Do you know how much extra paperwork that is for me?”

“Fine, fine.” JJ, the experienced mother and peacekeeper that she is, speaks over everyone’s chuckles. “Let’s pick a different game.”

“Ooh! We could do Truth or Dare.” Penelope wiggles her eyebrows at you. You don’t quite know what the eyebrow wiggle means, but you know you’re nervous now.

A long sip of red wine, and then you nod. “Let’s do it.”

Spencer, who has returned to his position on the floor- sitting next to the coffee table, holding wine with water mixed in, his legs folded criss-cross applesauce- speaks up. “Garcia, you should go first. It was your idea.”

Glee is apparent on her face as she points at you. “If we did play Spin The Bottle, who would you want it to land on?” She asks.

So that’s her game.

One confession from you weeks ago regarding harboured feelings, secret feelings, and Penelope is on the prowl at your first group gathering in months.

Before you can answer, Emily interjects. “You have to ask ‘truth or dare’,” she reminds Penelope. “You lose your turn. Derek, go.”

“Sorry, baby girl.” Derek gives Penelope a dramatic kiss on the back of the hand. “Hm. Hotch, truth or dare.”

It doesn’t take a profiler to observe the way your boss stiffens up. It makes sense that he does. He’s notoriously private, so he’s not likely to pick truth. But he’s the boss, the face of professionalism even while outside the office drinking beer at 3 AM, so he’s even less likely to do a stupid dare.

He takes a moment to weigh his options. “Truth.”

“Do you have a favourite one of us?” Derek waves a hand around the room, smirking at your boss like the two of them know something that no one else does. “You can’t do that dad-answer, either. You know, the ‘You’re all my favourite, I could never choose’ deal.”

Hotch's lips are pressed into a paper thin line by the time Morgan is finished speaking. “Yes, I do.”

The room explodes into a cluster of cacophony, voices shouting over each other so boisterously that you can’t tell who is saying what.

“What? You do?”

“Who is it?”

“Is it me? I bet it’s me!”

“Hey,” you hear someone say, loud enough to shush the room, and then you register that it’s your voice. “You asked if he does, not who it is. He answered the question.”

Your logic doesn’t seem to impress anyone, but it does shut them up. “Prentiss,” Hotch says after a moment- his professional boundaries haven’t ceased yet, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” She doesn’t hesitate.

“Try to go two pasta nights without suggesting we play spin the bottle,” he says drily, and you erupt into giggles at the look on Emily’s face.

You aren’t the only one; Derek snorts so hard his beer goes down the wrong pipe, and Rossi has to thump his back a few times before he’s breathing normally again.

“Fine.” Emily’s expression is sour, but she accepts her fate. Instead of arguing, she goes right for revenge. “Truth or dare, Hotch?”

“Can she do that?” You hiss to Spencer, but he just shrugs a shoulder.

Maybe you’re the only one with reservations about it because everyone else wants to know who his favourite on the team is, and that’s the obvious question if he picks truth again. Everyone looks excited, and Hotch lets them bask in it for a moment before, “Dare.”

He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place; you can understand not wanting to answer the question, but Emily’s dares are unpredictable at best and downright destructive at worst.

She’s definitely not at her best right now.

One slender finger taps her chin as though in thought, only to get an elbow in the ribs from Penelope. “Ow! Okay,” she hisses before resuming her normal speaking voice. “I dare you to kiss your favourite person on the team.”

The trepidation on his face does nothing to waver her smug grin. “This is hardly appropriate,” Hotch reminds Emily before he polishes off the rest of his beer. Maybe he’s preparing himself.

“You still have to do it.” She watches him excitedly, the team falling into silence as Hotch turns to face you.

You think you see Penelope and Derek’s hands join for a moment out of the corner of your eye- are they exchanging money?- but there’s no time to think of it before Hotch’s hand is on your cheek, gently cradling it as he presses his lips to yours.

He tastes like beer and something else that you can’t quite place, something you don’t want to bother trying to place right now. Instead of thinking about it, you pull him closer.

One of your arms wraps around his neck when he fails to break the kiss first, fingers running through the short hairs on the back of his neck as your lips glide against his. Kissing Hotch is nice, even nicer than you thought it would be, and you think it could go on for a very long time and you’d be very happy with that.

He pulls away first, his cheeks bright red as he clears his throat. “Uh…”

“Well, good thing I’m not your favourite,” Rossi jokes, and it helps to ease some of the tension. Hotch turns to Spencer, and the game continues.

The kiss doesn’t leave your mind for the next hour. You replay everything about it; the way he held you, the soft feel of his lips on yours contrasted with, well, everything about him. You certainly wouldn’t mind doing it again.

You sit there in a stupor for most of the evening, until you look around and realize that everyone has gone to sleep and Hotch is calling your name, over and over. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” He hesitates before touching your hand. “I didn’t mean to make you… I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Aaron.” The use of his first name catches him off guard, and you wrap your hand up in his. “Ask me.”

He raises one eyebrow at that, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “Truth or dare?” As he asks, he leans in slightly, your faces mere inches apart.

“Truth.”

“If we did play Spin The Bottle,” he echoes Penelope’s question from earlier, warm puffs of air hitting your cheek as he speaks, “Who would you want it to land on?”

You can’t help yourself; you bridge the distance, crash your lips into his as you find yourself in the same position from earlier. At least this time, you’ve got no audience. “You, idiot,” you gasp into the kiss, and Aaron smiles against your words before kissing you deeply.

“Idiot?” He pulls back to ask, eyebrows downturned in mock surprise even though he understands what you mean by it, and you both know it. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

You laugh aloud at that, one hand snaking around his neck to pull him close. He closes the distance this time, kissing you to follow his whisper of, “I love you too.”

Okay. Maybe sometimes, just sometimes, good things can happen after 2 AM.

Fluffy Feb masterlist | < Prev Day | Next Day >

Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch @chibsytelford @honeybrowne @formulapierre (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)

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spacecowboyhotch · 1 year

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summary: jake surprises you 3 times in the span of a few minutes.

pairing: gn!reader x jake lockley (hints of marc spector/steven grant)

warnings: canon typical description of DID, coffee mention, kissing

word count: 683

an: day 6 is coffee order!!! this is my first time writing for jake so PLEASEEEE be gentle 😭. thank you the marc’s girls server for making me sufficiently obsessed with jake. andddd happy name day to my dear @missdictatorme <3333.

fluffy feb masterlist | moonknight masterlist

You’re the coffee run person in this duo– though duo is the wrong word, since Marc shares his headspace with two other men. He is generally who you work with on missions– Steven prefers to stay out of this line of work the best he can and Jake. He’s solitary, not out of choice but out of mistaken necessity. Jake will take any mission he can and go on it alone to keep you safe because he would rather you not see him as a monster.

Which is why its a surprise when you step into their shared flat and recognize him. Its not just the way he walks—they all have a different gait to their stride— but its the way he clenches his jaw, the depth and darkness of his eyes. You are even more surprised when coffee is already sat on the kitchen island.

“You already got coffee?” You ask, setting down the to go holder with the coffee you’d just gotten down.

“Yes,” He says simply.

“But, you never get us coffee– none of you do.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” He says, as if its a complete explanation.

It isn’t but you have a more pressing question.

“Did you even know what to get me?” You ask, not unkindly. But you’re pretty sure out of the 3 of them, Jake has paid you the least attention.

He tilts his head, the corner of his lips quivering slightly, “Take a sip.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but pick up the cup sat lonely in the holder. The skepticism is wiped from your face when you take the first sip– it's perfect, your coffee order to a tee, though its never tasted this good when you order it.

Your eyes go wide as you take another sip, “How did you know?”

“We share a brain.”

“Marc knows?” You ask skeptically.

“Steven says to give him some credit.”

“Well…thank you. It’s perfect.”

His lips pull up slightly in the corner as he turns back to the computer in front of him, “You’re welcome.”

Before you can think about it, you’re crossing the space and wrapping your arms around him. Jake stiffens for a moment, unsure of what’s happening– but the two other men that occupy the headspace have their own opinions and he relaxes.

“I mean it,” You say firmly, turning your head to look at him.

Jake’s eyes meet yours. He’s never been this close to you, and never allowed him to look at you so thoroughly and unapologetically. The intensity of his gaze has your breath caught in your throat, but you are unable to move away, pinned by the depth of his brown eyes.

“So do I,” He rasps, eyes tracing the delicate curve of your lashes before briefly falling to your lips.

Your brain is screaming at you, willing your mouth to form words, to ask Jake to lean in just a bit more and press his mouth to yours but you find that you can’t. He can see the plea in your eyes though, feel your heart pumping quickly in your chest from where its pressed to his back.

In his mind there is nothing but silence– something he doesn’t get often. But it is clear what it means. Steven and Marc are allowing him to make his own choice independently. They’re letting him choose you for himself. That coupled with the desperation in your eyes has him surging forward, capturing your mouth with his.

His mouth is hungry and unforgiving, and you succumb to it happily, allowing his tongue to lick into the wetness of you. He hums at the taste of you that’s muddled with the sweetest of your coffee. At the sound, your hands start to explore in a way you wanted to so many times before, running slowly across the span of his chest and up into his curls.

“Did you mean that too?” You breathe with a grin when he breaks the kiss, chest heaving.

“Yes,” His eyes are hazy, still roaming your face as if he’s in disbelief.

“So did I.”

let me know if you’d like to be on my moonknight taglist!

moonknight taglist: @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch, @laurensprentiss

#jake lockley x reader #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #jake lockley blurb #doctorstethsfluffyfeb #doctorsteths fluffy feb #not cm #arson writes marvel

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yuly · 1 year

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Fluffy February Day 24: Candle

Aaron Hotchner x female reader

cw: mentions of grief and loss, childhood memories

-> In which Aaron takes it upon himself to keep the memory of your grandmother alive

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You've told Aaron countless times about the candle that reminds you of your grandmother and brings back the sweetest childhood memories. He listens attentively as you lay your head in his lap and describe how she would always light that candle whenever you came to visit, declaring it was a sweet scent fit for a sweet girl. The scent translated into a warm sense of comfort and serenity for you growing up. You’ve spent a good chunk of your adult life looking for something similar, but nothing comes close.

The end of February has always been difficult for you as it marks the birthday you and your late grandmother share. You enjoy talking about her, and sharing those memories makes you feel closer to her.

“Describe it for me,” he says softly. Your eyes light up as you rave about the creamy, fresh-scented candle that once was. Aaron always indulges you no matter how repetitive it may be, he knows how much it means to you. Each time you tell the story, it's like his first time hearing it.

After wrapping up a case in Denver, he stays back to stop by one of the most renowned candle-making facilities in the country. He spends three hours carefully selecting scents and crafting the candle to perfection, hoping it comes close to the original.

When you come home the next day, ready to hop into the shower, you stop dead in your tracks as the soft smell of gardenia and sandalwood transports you back to your grandmother's home. Suddenly, you’re a child again, tugging on her apron, begging for more raw cookie batter to snack on.

You immediately burst into tears, unable to move from the front door.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Angel?” he pulls you in for a tender hug and sets your bag down.

“Aaron h-how did you,” you hiccup between tears, overcome with emotion.

His shoulders visibly slump forward as he gently thumbs your tears away. “I had the candle remade according to your memories, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m-”

You interrupt him with a sweet kiss.

“I can’t believe you, Aaron, it's perfect, it's perfect.”

His dedication and undying love will never cease to amaze you.

#doctorstethsfluffyfeb #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #fluffy february #writer prompts #doctorsteths fluffy feb

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doctorsteths-fluffyfeb · 1 year

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hello friends! i'm so excited you're here. I've decided to put a little something together for us creatives for the month of February. This is open to all fandoms and creatives of all types, whether you write, make fan art, mood boards, or anything else! I'm so excited to see what you create.

Obviously February is a while off, but I wanted to get this posted for anyone who wants to get a head start on content for the month. Please know that all are welcome to participate in as few or as many days as they would like!

please read the rules here. This blog will reblog all content posted to the tag #doctorstethsfluffyfeb. You can also tag this blog in the work!

Prompt list under the cut

first date

honey

drunken love confession

moonlight

words of affirmation

person A knowing person B's coffee order

picnic

moving in together

pine

acts of service

formal event

jewel

getting unready

Valentines Day

quality time

person A washing person B's hair

holiday tradition

grumpy

vacation

physical touch

chill

kitchen

memory

candle

gift

family

snow

artists choice

#doctorsteths fluffy feb #for writers #for creatives #fanfic #fanfiction #writing prompts #prompts #prompt #prompt challenge

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originalsoulduck · 1 year

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February Fluff Masterlist (all the fics I could find)

This is very messy and I'm sorry, but I wanted a catalogue 🥹

Day 1 - First Date

@liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708907697991499776/pezds07fqimd

@honeybrowne https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708073752546705408/2w75xco1m6xf

@originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708071324061483008/3s8x8dcwirrj

@doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708071311727050752/oymjlp3euwuq

@spacecowboyhotch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708071299195469824/yhw28ivl93bf

@hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/our-very-first-blurb-yay-t/k8n8jlfwolx5

Day 2 - Honey

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708894704287219713/i2ko2xk650ra

@ssahotchswife https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/honey-fluffy-feb-day-2/lprlya84kuzt

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708172962751250432/gld33rr0oaxw

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708153620922826752/bnozug8g3bfh

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708144847756886016/s5a0k5al36lb

Day 3 - Drunken Love Confession

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708881770116939776/f0ncaz6273wq

@jayxox https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708354526104682496/katrkx1fmbiv

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708312276356218880/4tcmiw1nuj39

honeybrowne https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708286366221533184/syb7x4oumzj2

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708280446748966913/gdbdszd7hoaz

@hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708269500548743169/xvkrdbrn99al

Day 4 - Moonlight

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708868807387660288/xg2rm99oz4v4

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708402873595215872/zrzxwq6jrxms

spacecowboyhotch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708376967991492608/45iwq2mqfv5h

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708375548883320832/yxkerstd7kjc

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708364118031269888/guivzr7bl8bq

Day 5 - Words of Affirmation

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708855844678385664/v5p5zl68dusx

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708467585760493568/9upse1pjil9b

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708441751369793537/wvrr5bm7rv3g

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708428797345742848/nff5pti5s92c

Day 6 - Person A knows Person B's Coffee Order

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708830435177873408/3vhgwflfyyjg

ssahotchswife https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/coffee-dates-fluffy-feb-day-6/5xypvk5ubvi

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708610001097342976/vkdk8z1rywlh

spacecowboyhotch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708597021200760832/dtzdjxdca4xz

honeybrowne https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708584062990876672/hk4579c7pjg1

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708558162219925504/is99dpuctxk1

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708532341307506688/s6gh78jxa8pj

Day 7 - Picnic

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709140583703298048/519y9ir0tfpj

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708648738006220800/nsf91wnjkp9f

@hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708635925901688832/g761nlnqov9l

Day 8 - Moving in Together

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709127639566336000/ure3xozpkic1

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708765250200240128/kfvkt1t84t6l

spacecowboyhotch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708739455164514304/b17bgw496con

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708726497696940033/1cuk2at6cxwu

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708713547760287744/1xd15chpkp9v

Day 9 - Pine

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709270077623730176/yv0syayct4n0

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708828836326981632/fr57hym54l8x

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/originalsoulduck/february-fluff-day-9-this-was-utterly-silly/9dqw2q6rggpn

Day 10 - Acts of Service

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709257110717857792/dccn2jrgr170

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708998317174095872/v1fm67nfde4i

spacecowboyhotch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708946426139410432/xshirn5i9m52

Day 11 - Formal Event

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709231193433964544/556ptwbqrikc

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709037033871556608/imkmxxow0033

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/708985323890376704/sftjrzxx2xfx

Day 12 - Jewel

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709334754234859520/eymx6wu4kqgr

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709101716417740800/w9f52yn0v3oo

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709091961341132800/ympyenz1wu0p

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709062959535685632/bg06avdqqw2j

Day 13 - Unready

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709373517414744064/duxnc2qicljz

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709244205678067712/ppjg9up8c36i

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709218232831180800/3o1gl3w4sr6l

hotchsbitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709192460512952320/ldzkruhhrfxk

Day 14 - Valentine's Day

honeybrowne https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709347723258757120/nn9ygi2q60hc

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709321792565690368/gsdm7b6fgooo

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709308827741323264/7c0khzloo4vr

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709282920561590272/chq4y6o0dngl

liberacesghost https://at.tumblr.com/liberacesghost/day-14-valentines-day/o1swouy2munz

Day 15 - Quality Time

honeybrowne https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709451272672198656/h5l49rcuhwbi

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709412383674810368/30sy3tlj8ezp

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709399416580325376/ermoudxq4k9a

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709360670365335552/r87b2zrzi3oz

Day 16 - Washing Hair

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709464115999064064/08yp5hmkot2a

honeybrowne https://at.tumblr.com/doctorsteths-fluffyfeb/709438299378450432/rflwttk3y912

spacecowboyhotch https://at.tumblr.com/spacecowboyhotch/summary-marc-spector-is-a-softie-real/w6kp7vl7j2u1

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/originalsoulduck/february-fluff-day-16-you-need-to-relax/zlk4kfh3ngmz

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorstethoscope/709552904421425152/62tzdm1d03yb

Day 17 - Holiday tradtion

hotch-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/hotchs-bitch/fluffy-feb-day-17-holiday-tradition/6ad94k3uiloq

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/originalsoulduck/february-fluff-day-17-one-of-aarons/h7wj0zaw2edn

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorstethoscope/fluffy-february-day-17-holiday-tradition/qoj7e90cq8cs

Day 18 - Grumpy

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/hotchs-bitch/fluffy-feb-day-18-grumpy/m8ke6e061mdn

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/originalsoulduck/february-fluff-day-18-aaron-had-had-a-bad-day/8zyqr7xhb37i

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorstethoscope/fluffy-february-day-18-grumpy/fz3fwvq5l3ai

Day 19 - Vacation

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/hotchs-bitch/fluffy-feb-day-19-vacation/9vu9386ops2o

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/originalsoulduck/february-fluff-day-19-the-fireworks-boomed/8lhfrp5l15vf

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorstethoscope/fluffy-february-day-19-vacation/4e929w6fim2l

Day 20 - Physical Touch

hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/hotchs-bitch/fluffy-feb-day-20-physical-touch/5uolzr9pyggr

originalsoulduck https://at.tumblr.com/originalsoulduck/february-fluff-day-20-aaron-was-always/bzyu0hy9z3o0

doctorstethoscope https://at.tumblr.com/doctorstethoscope/fluffy-february-day-20-physical-touch/tkpi1wo8t8ox

Day 21 - Chill

Hotchs-bitch https://at.tumblr.com/hotchs-bitch/fluffy-feb-day-21-chill/h1l1liu6hsh4

#doctorstethsfluffyfeb #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #multifandom

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

Text

Fluffy Feb Day 27- Snow

Warnings: getting together, only one bed trope except I as the author provided 2 beds and they do it to themselves, Canada (which was supposed to be realistic but comes across as satire. No judging me unless you are also Canadian), some 18+ implications but nothing happens

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1k (i went crazy :/)

A/N: Honestly I've either made up or researched everything I've put in a fic about America so it was a nice change to just Know Things (although I am not from the province where this takes place). Also in my mind this is a continuation to Day 9- Pine

Once again, bonus points if you can figure out which Taylor Swift song I was listening to when writing this

Cases have taken you all over the country, face to face with some of the worst serial killers that America has ever seen. Much less often, they take you to Canada.

Specifically, in the case of a psychopath who skipped borders after killing in two states almost a decade ago and resumed his killing spree further north now, they occasionally take you to the middle of Nowheresville, Saskatchewan, Canada. In the dead of winter.

“Hey, folks.” The chief of police greets you all- well, most of you, since Rossi and Prentiss are already out on the field- with a friendly wave, shaking Hotch’s hand. “Chief McCartney. Sorry to make y’all take a trip up here, but we sure can use the help.”

“The FBI has been searching for the unsub for some time,” Hotch answers as their hands part. “The case has been assumed cold for several years by the Bureau, so we’re grateful you reached out. Two of my agents are at the latest crime scene already.”

“Where should we set up?” JJ asks, and the chief leads you to a conference room. “And, er, speaking of cold…”

You’re all very cold, just from the drive from the airstrip to the station. You’d seen people snowmobiling past the road, and JJ had marvelled aloud wondering how they could bear to be out in this weather. It’s not surprising that she’s the first one to bring up the chilly air in the precinct with her parka still zipped up to her chin.

McCartney snaps his fingers like he’s remembered something important. “Y’all must be freezing, eh? Let me rustle up a space heater, get you nice and toasty.”

The fact that he’s wearing a button-down shirt and a light jacket isn’t lost on any of the experienced profilers in the room. “You’re not cold?” Derek asks, half in disbelief. “Man, I grew up in Chicago and I can’t feel my toes right now.”

“We hit minus 30’s a few weeks back,” McCartney says, wincing. “Sorry, I didn’t even think of it. Guess we’re all used to it around here by now.”

“Minus…” You glance at Spencer, who’s locked and loaded with an answer.

“Negative 30 degrees Celsius is about negative 22, Fahrenheit,” he reports. “I’d estimate we’re closer to negative 31 degrees Farenheit, though.”

“He’s smart. Windchill’s pushing us a little under,” McCartney confirms. “I’ll go get that space heater. Y’all settle in, and I’ll have one of my officers bring over the files ASAP.”

You ‘settle in’ as best you can, poring over the case with your team while wrapped in thick sweaters and cradling to-go cups of coffee. They’re branded with the Tim Hortons logo from the traveller case that one of the officers brings for you along with the files and a box of donut holes labelled ‘Timbits’. The space heater sits in the corner of the room, slowly bringing the space to a temperature that you’re all used to.

Hotch takes the first sip of his coffee without adding anything into it, his face screwing up at the taste. “It’s not too good when it’s black,” the officer tells him. “Sorry, should’ve warned you. Try a double double, it’s way better.”

“Here, I’ve got it.” You take Hotch’s coffee from him, adding in two little packets of sugar and two creamer cups while he watches you. “Better?” He stirs it and takes a sip, deliberating.

The second sip must be miles better than the first. “It’s not as bitter. I think that’s all I can ask for,” he murmurs while he takes a seat next to you, and you smirk.

He’s wearing the same quarter-zip that made an appearance when you went to Alaska, and he seems relatively warm. Lucky him. The less-built members of your team, particularly JJ and Spencer, have rosy cheeks and keep sticking their hands in their pockets to warm them. Poor Spencer goes through several cups of coffee in mere hours, a weak attempt to warm himself from the inside out.

Nearing the end of the day, you all pack up your things. There haven’t been any more murders today, but the information gleaned from the crime scenes helps you add to the profile. The unsub has a pattern of striking each week, probably to gauge how close the investigation is to catching him during the cooldown period, and he hasn’t strayed from the pattern since resurfacing.

You trudge to the hotel across the street from the police station- this town is so tiny that you don’t think it’s made up of anything other than a main street and rows of suburbia housing- in the pitch-black, wind whistling by your ears and freezing them. The sun went down several hours ago even though it’s only nearing seven PM, and the dark doesn’t lift anyone’s spirits.

“Get some rest,” Hotch says while he hands out room keys in the hotel lobby, speaking over the sound of chattering teeth. It’s more of an order than a request. “We’re at the station bright and early tomorrow, and I want you all rested and ready to work.”

The room key in your hands leads you down a hallway to a door that you unlock right as Hotch turns the corner. “119, right?” He clarifies, and you nod. “Alright. You’re with me.”

“Sounds good.” Your voice sounds cool and even, and you’re sort of proud of yourself for keeping it together after finding out that you’re sharing a hotel room with your very kind, very attractive boss. You’ve shared a room with him before, but it’s a battle of willpower to appear normal every time.

The hotel room is decently nice, and it’s warmer than you expected. Two queen-sized beds share a nightstand, and there’s a desk with a coffeemaker on it pressed up to the wall next to the TV. It’s a standard hotel room, a setup you’re familiar with. The heater under the window is whirring, filling the room with blissfully warm air- almost too warm- that has you shedding your jacket as Hotch sets his go bag on one bed and his briefcase on the desk.

“No working,” you remind him, your tone as scolding as it is light-hearted. “Bright and early, remember?”

Hotch snorts at that, then takes off his quarter-zip sweater. “We’ll be six bitter coffees deep before the sun comes up,” he says, but you struggle to hear a single word out of his mouth when you see his biceps through the thin white material of his shirt. He’s been covered up all day, and you haven’t hit your daily quota of staring at his arms.

It’s been a hard day, particularly for that reason.

“I’m going to shower,” Hotch says after a moment, discarding his fleece on the desk chair. He picks up his go bag, and the bathroom door closes behind him a moment later.

By the time he re-enters, wearing flannel pajamas pants and a white shirt, you’re fiddling with the heater. It seems to be broken, and when you turn the dial to blow cold air in the room it only seems to come out a few degrees cooler.

“The blanket’s really heavy,” you warn as he gets into his own bed. You can’t believe you’re overheating at negative-a-million degrees, but the combined weight of the duvet and warm air blowing steadily into the room is reminiscent of falling asleep in Arizona rather than the snowy north. “Something’s wrong with the heater.”

“I’ll try to manage,” he responds with a dry smile before pulling the blanket over himself. It lands on him with a solid sound, thick duvet against chest, and a soft ‘oof’, and you count to three in your head before he says, “Okay, you were right.’

“Aren’t I always?” You pull your own duvet down when you get into bed, leaving yourself covered with the top sheet of the bedspread. He stays underneath his blankets, not shifting them while you reach out and turn the lamp off.

Falling asleep has never been so difficult. Without the thick duvet, you’re curled into a ball within five minutes when the slightly colder air fills the room. With it, you’re sweating so much that it’s a wonder you aren’t sliding right off the bed. One leg pokes out from under the heavy covers, but it feels like the only part of your body that’s at a closer-to-normal temperature while the rest of you overheats. You toss and turn, falling asleep briefly every once in a while for maybe ten minutes at a time.

It’s a little embarrassing, actually. Your blanket and sheet are lifted and shifted so many times that you have to hope you aren’t waking Hotch up, even when you move as quietly as possible. The only sound in the air is the wind whistling and fabric shifting, louder than you thought possible.

Around 1 AM, hours after trying to fall asleep, you’ve all but given up. You’re considering getting to work on the file by lamplight, or just stripping down naked under the thick blankets. What other option do you have?

That’s when you hear a grunt from the other bed, and Hotch’s outline shifts in bed. You can see him move around, lifting up like he’s flipping over his pillow. In the barely-there lighting from a streetlamp, you notice that his duvet is ruffled and partially folded over itself. It looks like he’s been tossing and turning, just like you.

“Aaron,” you whisper once he’s still. It’s quiet; he can pretend not to hear you if he’s close to falling asleep, and you won’t be offended.

When he responds, his voice is gruff and just as loud as it was in the precinct today. “Yeah?”

“Can’t sleep?” It’s a stupid question, you realize as soon as it leaves your mouth. He isn’t sleeptalking, after all.

He doesn’t call you out on it, but just sighs instead. “No. It’s not working too well for me. I’m really hot.”

Yeah, you are, you want to say, but the logical side of your brain beats the sentence back with a stick before you can say it out loud. “Me too. How do you think everyone else is doing?

“Better than us, I hope.” He sits up in bed slightly; you can tell from the rustling and the dim outline. “I’m sure Dave has some kind of temperature-controllable blanket with him.”

“Spencer probably researched the best kind of pajamas to bring,” you joke back, and Aaron chuckles at that.

“Morgan probably worked out before bed and didn’t need any blankets,” he murmurs, and you snicker.

“JJ and Emily are probably cuddling for warmth.”

Why did you say that? The high altitude- the provincial average is roughly 1700 feet above sea-level, Spencer would tell you- combined with the restlessness is probably getting to you.

Aaron clears his throat, and you cough. Neither of you seems to know what to say, so he speaks first. “As long as they don’t tell me anything. It’s a lot of paperwork, for that sort of… fraternization.”

“Well, I mean. If they’re just doing it to keep warm, that’s got to be an exception,” you point out.

“I.. suppose so, yes. As long as nothing further were to happen, two agents just trying to keep each other warm isn’t inappropriate. They… we all need to be professional.”

He sounds hesitant now, speaking carefully like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You wonder if he’s dancing around the same thought as you. If he is, is he trying to avoid it? Or does he not want to say it first?

“So, by that logic…” you trail off, waiting for Aaron to say something. He can say anything now. He can cut you off, bid you goodnight again, or even ask you to go bunk with Rossi, but he doesn’t.

The fact that he also isn’t exactly not encouraging you doesn’t disembolden you at all. “Yes?”

“Well. You know,” you murmur. “I’m just saying that if it’s completely professional… and if it’s helping them sleep, and therefore be more well-rested to catch a serial killer tomorrow…”

“What are you saying?” He isn’t really asking. You can hear his smirk as clearly as wind whistling through the trees outside your window. “I think you need to clarify for me.”

Your huff of annoyance is more forced than it sounds. “I’m saying that if we sleep in the same bed we might be able to actually sleep. Body heat, and all that.”

Aaron’s voice is softer now, less sure than when he teased you just a minute ago. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me,” you promise. The only sound in the room for a moment is both of you breathing, and you wonder if he can hear your heart thumping against your ribcage. What are you doing?

“Alright,” Aaron agrees after a long moment, pushing the duvet down to the foot of his bed. “Does it matter what side you sleep on?”

You get out of your own bed, and murmur, “No,” as he rolls over to make room for you. He lifts the top sheet up and you slide in under it, curling up. There’s still some distance between you, and you try to maintain it; he’s the one who’s concerned about things being ‘inappropriate’, after all. There’s no need for him to know that your heart is beating so fast that it feels like it’s about to jackhammer out of your chest.

“Goodnight,” you mumble as soon as your head hits the pillow. His body heat is like a furnace, warming you up perfectly from a foot away, and the thin sheet is warm like it’s been waiting for you to climb in. He says something under his breath- ‘goodnight’, maybe- but it’s been such a long day that you fall asleep in what feels like seconds without responding.

When you wake up to the sound of Aaron’s phone alarm, you’re much less than a foot away from each other in the warmest bed you’ve ever known. He’s curled up against your back, one of his arms slung around your waist to hold you to his chest. Previous experience with room-sharing tells you that he doesn’t wake up at the first alarm- he usually sets two or three, a few minutes apart- and you’ve got a couple of minutes to just be.

The sound of the alarm grates on you, but it must be on a timer because it stops ringing after a minute or so, and you relax back into Aaron. His cheek is resting against the back of your head, and you can hear his steady breaths in time with the rise and fall of his chest against you. It feels good, it feels right to wake up like this. You don’t want it to end, but you know that it has to.

When the second alarm goes off, he rouses with a little startle, like he doesn’t remember where he is. The arm around your waist tightens, just for a moment, as his body relaxes into yours. Soft as a whisper, you could swear that you feel warm lips brush the shell of your ear before he pulls his arm away and sits up.

The room is just as dark now as it was a few hours ago, and Aaron manages to fumble for his phone and quiet the alarm before he speaks. His voice is raspier than it was in the middle of the night when he checks the time and then says, “It’s almost a quarter to seven. Er, did you sleep well?”

“Very.” You yawn as you sit up, stretching both arms above your head. “I wouldn’t complain about a couple more hours, though. That whole same-bed thing works wonders.”

Aaron yawns too, turning away to grab his go-bag as he stands up. “I’m glad to hear it. You can go shower. I’ll change out here.”

“Deal.” You gather your own things when you get to your feet, disappearing into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Your mind is already on the case, pushing aside all thoughts of sleep arrangements and large arms holding you close in favour of your job. When you exit the bathroom, Aaron is already gone.

When you meet with the team in the lobby, you find out that he headed to the station right away to get ahead on the case. Everyone bundles up before walking back to the precinct; the walk is no warmer than it was last night, and fresh snow begins to fall just as you get to the doors of the precinct.

Once you find your way to the same room as yesterday, you find Hotch already there, dressed in yesterday’s fleece. He’s got a Tim Horton’s cup in one hand, and he sips it while staring, perplexed, at the geographic profile. “Good morning,” he greets everyone at once. “Reid, I was thinking. If we intersect his old hideout parameters from Minnesota and Georgia with his murders here, then…” their chatter fades into white noise as you turn your attention to the files lining the tables.

The first hour passes in a blur, the conference room lit only by harsh overhead fluorescents as you trade theories and examine new evidence provided by the local officers. The clock is just announcing the arrival of 9 AM, the sky beginning to brighten slightly, when you realize that you need coffee.

You’ve got the same setup as yesterday in that regard, too. One of the officers must have picked up a fresh traveller for you, evidenced by the steam rolling off of the coffee that Hotch is pouring for himself. “How’s it going?” He asks, stirring two creams and two sugars into his coffee.

“No big break yet, but I’m sure we’re close. We’re going to get this guy soon,” you promise, and Hotch nods at that. “I wanted to thank you again. For, you know. Helping me sleep last night.”

“It was no trouble,” he assures you, fiddling with the stir stick in his hand. “It was helpful for me, too.”

“And, hey.” You lower your voice a bit, and Hotch leans in to hear you better. “Maybe we can do it again tonight. You know, if that’s okay with you.”

He gives you a smile, that tight-lipped one you’re used to seeing around the office. “It’s alright with me. I just don’t want to… well, I’m your boss. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. It has no impact on my views of your professionalism.”

There’s that word again. You wish he could be a little less professional, for once. But he’s right, he’s your boss, and there are certain things he can’t say first. Your profiling skills tell you that he still wants to say them though. “Well, what happens in Canada can stay in Canada,” you half-jest.

“It can, if you want it to,” he murmurs. He still hasn’t taken a sip of his coffee, and he hands the cup to you while he pours a second one. “The sun will be coming up, soon.”

He’s right. Pale orange is streaking the sky through the large conference room window, tracing pink lines around the edge of the sun that’s just starting to peek up into the prairie sky. The snow is still falling, painting a picturesque image in the sky “It’s gorgeous,” you comment, taking a sip of your coffee. Without taking your eyes off the sky, you step a little closer to Hotch.

“Yes,” he agrees, holding his coffee in his right hand. His left rests on the table that your back is against, and it might be wishful thinking, but you think that he would wrap that arm around you again if there were no one else around. “It certainly is.”

----

“Longest week of my life,” Emily complains as soon as you’re airborne, a mere three days later. The unsub has been apprehended and is in federal custody of the country you’re returning home to. “But those beds were insanely comfortable. I haven’t slept that well in months.”

You and Aaron exchange a glance, a double-layered inside joke about why Emily slept so well and why exactly you both slept so well for several nights in a row.

The last four nights have brought with them some of the best rest of your life. You’ve grown familiar with the feeling of Aaron’s arms around you in the morning, and by day three he stopped jerking them away as soon as he woke up.

That was the same day he asked you out, his gaze averted while he fiddled with a gold-coloured coin that he had received as change when he went out to buy a coffee. You had agreed, of course, and had assured him more than once that it didn’t matter that he’s your boss. You want him, and you have for ages.

On the fourth day, just this morning, he had held you a little tighter when he woke up and rumbled, “Morning, baby,” against your ear. If he hadn’t felt your heart beating around in your chest before, he had certainly felt it then.

Despite the fact that you’ve got a date planned with the man you’ve been cuddling for the better part of a week, you’re ready to tease Emily for cuddling JJ, before Spencer chimes in.

“I thought that the beds were quite comfortable, also. According to Sheriff McCartney, they’re primarily a transit town, which runs on a completely different economic structure than a transit village. The economy depends on truckers and people on road trips or similar travel to sleep in their hotels and eat at their restaurants,” he explains. “It’s fascinating, actually; transit towns pour the majority of their resources into making sure travellers making one-night stays enjoy themselves enough that they take the same route on the way home, thus giving the town more business.”

“The only business I want from that town is the name of whoever supplies those blankets,” Derek says, grinning. “That thing was so heavy, it was like getting crushed to sleep. Exactly what I needed with all that cool air blowing in.”

“Your room wasn’t too hot?” You ask, your nose scrunching up. “I think the heat was broken in mine. It was just hot air the whole time, every night. Way too hot to sleep.”

“Ours was like that on the first night,” JJ recalls, and Emily nods in agreement. “It was awful.”

“Right?” You complain, sinking further down into your seat. Hotch is sitting to your right, his face an impassive mask while he watches the exchange. “Let me guess, you guys shared a… uh…”

Your teasing falters when the look on both JJ's and Emily’s faces tells you that, no, they did not share a bed, and you’ve just implied your solution to the heater problem. “We used the other blankets,” Emily says slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Didn’t you?”

“Oh! Oh, the other blankets. Yeah, the ones in the nightstand.” You nod along, your mortification growing in time with JJ’s smirk.

“They were in the closet,” she corrects you, obviously trying not to laugh. “I guess we know how you and Hotch stayed warm.”

You don’t need to look at your boss’- boss? Friend? Lover? You aren’t too sure right now- face to know that his cheeks are dusted rosy pink. “It wasn’t like that,” you protest to deaf ears as Derek whoops and high-fives Emily.

“About time,” he snickers at the look on your face. “So, when’s the first date?”

“It’s not-” you start to say, but Hotch speaks before you can.

“Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to him. He raises one shoulder and smiles, like What was I supposed to say? “Friday,” you relent a moment later.

Derek is still grinning ear to ear like a maniac, and even Spencer cracks a smile when Aaron snakes one arm slowly around your waist. The sun is rising on one side of the jet, and the orange glow illuminates his face.

For one suspended moment, everything is perfect. You’ve got a date for this Friday, you’re more well-rested than you’ve felt in ages, and your team doesn’t seem to care that you and your boss are much closer than you were a couple of weeks ago. It’s a blissful moment to you, and it’s only broken by Emily’s gleeful not-quite-a whisper to JJ. “Penelope is going to be pissed that she missed this.”

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 18- Grumpy

Warnings: established relationship, BAU reader, jealous Hotch, not much PDA but enough so that this feels a little OOC

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 427

“Hotch is grumpy.” Derek is the first one to clue you in when you return from the police station bathroom to the conference room.

Your team is so exhausted that you hardly know what city you’re in right now; this case has been running you all ragged, so it makes a lot of sense that Aaron is grumpy. He gets frustrated, and takes it too personally when he can’t help people as quickly as he wants to.

However, your eyes flit over to him and learn a very different story from the overworked Unit Chief deal you’ve been expecting. Aaron looks downright pissed, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as he glares… oh.

As he glares daggers through the LEO that has spent the better part of the last week trying to flirt with you and repeatedly asked you to ‘grab a bite before y’all head out’.

“Hotch,” you call out, your voice breaking through over the steady chatter of theories being exchanged, and he glances at you with a barely-softening gaze. He’s more than merely grumpy, it seems.

When he motions you over, you move in his direction within earshot of the LEO. You’re either about to make the situation much better or much worse- you can’t tell quite yet- but you know you have to do something.

“Yes?” He waits patiently for your reply, raising both eyebrows when you slide your hand into his. It’s very unusual behaviour for both of you, but you’re in the midst of uncharted territory here so you say the only thing that might make your boyfriend feel better.

“Since we had to cancel date night, I was thinking we should go out for dinner when we wrap up here. I’ve barely gotten to see you,” you complain, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see the LEO shift, then take a few large steps back towards the conference table.

Aaron chuckles at that; it’s highly uncharacteristic but of course, he knows exactly what you’re doing and you think he might be speaking a little louder than normal when he responds. “Whatever you want. Back to work now, okay? No dates until we’ve got this guy in cuffs.”

He lets go of your hand first, and you get back to work with matching repressed smiles on both of your faces. It may have been an unorthodox method, but the LEO doesn’t try to talk to you again and Hotch is no longer grumpy. Maybe you’re better at this whole ‘girlfriend’ thing than you thought you were.

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 2- Honey

Warnings: established relationship, farmer's markets

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 569

“Look, honey!” You raise your free hand to point, but your fiance is distracted by an arts and crafts table and doesn’t look over.

“Yes, dear?” He asks, obviously distracted.

You tug on his hand, the one that’s been linked to yours ever since the two of you entered the local farmer’s market an hour ago. “No, it’s honey. Look,” you insist, and Aaron finally lifts his gaze up from crocheted toques to see the booth of organic, locally sourced honey that you’re pointing at.

Ever the dutiful partner, he allows you to drag him over to the booth. “Look how many flavours they have,” you marvel, observing the neatly labelled jars. “Raspberry honey! How do you think they do that?” Aaron doesn’t get a chance to answer before you ask, “Do you think it actually tastes like raspberries?”

Aaron is well-versed in the art of doing anything and everything to make you happy. You know that, have known it for years, but it doesn’t make it any less special to you when he gets the attention of the older woman standing at the booth and says, “Excuse me. Do you have any sort of samples? My fiancee is curious about the raspberry honey.”

“Of course, sweet cheeks!” She turns to bustle around for something, and you take the opportunity to plant a quick kiss on Aaron’s nose and mumble, ‘sweet cheeks’ under your breath.

He just chuckles and pulls you closer, one arm around your waist when the woman turns around with a handful of popsicle sticks. She hands them to you, then motions to the row of jars that don’t have lids, towards the left side of the booth.

“These here are the sample jars,” she explains, waving a hand through the air down the line. “You can try whatever you like, just don’t use the same stick twice!”

You hardly need the warning, but you thank her nonetheless as Aaron and you move toward the open jars. Immediately you dip one stick into the raspberry honey, your eyes lighting up when flavour hits your tongue,

“Aaron, you have to try this!” You hand him a popsicle stick, discarding yours into a wastebasket near your feet. “It’s so good.”

“I’m not eating honey off a stick. I’m not a bear.” You frown at his rebuttal, ready to challenge it when his eyes drift past you. “I’ll be right back.” The sentence is abrupt, throwing you off guard.

“What? Where are you going?” He starts to walk by you, and you turn to face him. With a boyish grin on his face, he points at the homemade bread stand that’s three booths down.

“Going to get a couple of samples to put the honey on.” Aaron’s lips brush yours, and then he steps back. “I’ll be right back, baby. Try a couple more, and we’ll get your favourite once we’re done here.”

The crowd seems to swallow him up as soon as he retreats into it, but just moments later you see a head of inky-black hair in front of the bread booth. When he turns around, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a triumphant grin as he holds up a napkin with several small cubes of bread laying on top of it. You beam at him, delighted as he starts maneuvering his way through the crowd and back to you.

God, you’re a lucky woman.

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Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch @chibsytelford @honeybrowne (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 1- First Date

Warnings: sleep interrupted, angsty-ish start (sorry)

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 942

A/N: here we go!!! I’m crazy excited for this month; these blurbs have been a labour of love, and I really hope y’all enjoy them :)

When Aaron first asked you out, two months after moving into the apartment down the hall from yours, you were ecstatic. Of course you were.

After all, he’s tall and handsome and kind. He’s always quick to smile at you in the elevator, or make his son laugh. You’ve only seen the kid once or twice, but the gentleness with which Aaron treats him is a dead giveaway that tells you how cherished he is.

All in all, you were excited to go on a date with Aaron. You’ve been excited ever since he came over to ask for a cup of sugar and ended up asking you out instead. You’ve been excited for four months now, and that excitement is slowly waning into the understanding that he just doesn’t want to go out with you.

Why else would he cancel this many times, usually at the last minute? Why else would he only use your phone number to text you, abruptly getting your attention at the oddest hours of the night just to say ‘I’m sorry, something came up’, or ‘I won’t be able to make it tomorrow’, or ‘Can you collect my mail for a few days?’?

It’s hardly subtle anymore, and it’s getting harder to ignore the facts. He obviously regrets asking you out. He doesn’t want to make things weird, since you’re neighbours.

It’s a little confusing that he keeps rescheduling, though. ‘I have to work Saturday’ is always followed by, ‘But does next week work for you?’, until the day that it isn’t.

He cancels for the hundredth time, as he always does, at the last minute by citing a work emergency. No text follows, no attempt made to reschedule. Just ‘I’m going to have to work tonight’.

Maybe it’s the lack of apology, or the lack of response to your, ‘It’s okay. Raincheck?’ that makes you realize that you’ve given Aaron far too many chances by now. You won’t be going out with him, and you just have to accept that.

Well, you’ve officially got no plans for your Friday night. Eventually you go to sleep early with a frown on your face, and a phone that doesn’t ping with a text from Aaron all night.

———

You’re awoken shortly after 7 AM by a knock on your door. It’s so early that the sun is barely up, casting the room into a dim sunrise glow as you scramble to find a robe and get to the door before the knocking ceases.

When the door opens, it reveals Aaron with a bundle of flowers in one hand and the other poised to knock again. He freezes in position, but quickly schools himself into a smile and holds out the flowers. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” he greets.

The confusion on your face prompts him to continue speaking while you take in his appearance. He looks dishevelled in dark blue jeans and a black polo shirt, there’s dark bags under his eyes, and his hair is tufted up in the back. You’re so busy staring that you almost forget to listen to him.

“We just landed an hour ago. I didn’t feel right, cancelling on you again, so…” he holds the flowers out again, and this time you take them. “I was hoping for a redo. Can I take you out for breakfast?”

“You look exhausted,” is the first thing you can think to say, and he gives you a tired smile in return. “Are you seriously wanting to go out right now?”

“Yes.” The affirmation gives no room for argument. “I want to take you out. I’ve been wanting to for months, so I think we should take the chance while we’ve got it.”

One hand comes up to scrub over your face, wiping away traces of sleep. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“It is.” He looks back at you with eyes that narrow slightly, as though in realization. “You were sleeping.”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself on the doorframe with one hand. Aaron is still looking at you with a guilty grimace on his face, not speaking.

“I’ll tell you what,” you say after an agonizing silence, “You can take me out to breakfast. But,” you hurry to finish speaking before he can get too excited, “That has to be our second date.”

A slowly-growing smile replaces the guilt on Aaron’s face. “So, what should the first date be?” He asks, leaning against the side of the doorframe opposite to your hand. “Since you’ve got all these ideas.”

“I think we should take a nap.” You open your door the rest of the way, giving Aaron an in that he takes with a small step forward. “I barely slept, and you look like you don’t remember what a bed looks like.”

“That obvious?” He scratches the back of his head, and you smile as the bashful gesture as you usher him in to the apartment.

“Very obvious. Besides,” you point out as the apartment door closes and Aaron takes your hand in his, “What kind of restaurant is open this early on a Saturday?”

You aren’t sure about this whole date thing, not at all. His work schedule is unpredictable at best, he’s obviously got a wildly different sleep schedule than you, and he’s got a kid. Are you ready to be a parent, if it ends up going that well? You aren’t sure.

But when Aaron tilts his head back and laughs aloud at your comment- whether it’s from exhaustion or thinking you’re just that funny, you can’t be sure- you know that you’ll do whatever you can to make this work.

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Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 10- Acts of Service

Warnings: established relationship, love language communication

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 577

Even before you started dating, you knew that Aaron wasn’t vocal when it comes to emotions. He’s quick with physical affection when you’re alone, but other than that- especially in public- he can be, for lack of a better word, stoic.

Sometimes you have to really remind yourself that he loves you, and it’s just in his nature to act like this. Easy affection and public touches aren’t in his DNA, and it’s something that you find yourself able to adjust to with time; or at least, you try to.

Your partner isn’t a profiler for nothing. It doesn’t take long for him to notice you pulling away from hugs swiftly, or the way you stop trying to kiss him in public.

“What’s going on?” He asks one night when you’re out on a walk together, both of your hands in your jacket pockets instead of attempting to grab onto his. “Did I do something?”

Nonchalance rolls off the tongue easily; you’ve gotten used to this. “You don’t like it when I try to touch you,” you say instead, and Aaron stops in his tracks with a sigh. You stop as well, and he grabs your hands from your pockets by the wrists.

“I like you,” he challenges, holding your hands between his. “Just talk to me, sweetheart. What do you need from me?”

Your shoulder rises and shrinks in the world's most half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. I just like being… reminded that you like me, I guess.”

Aaron isn’t one for PDA, not at all, but he presses his lips to yours right there on the walking trail. “Then I’ll remind you,” he promises.

And he does.

The next day, you wake up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of sizzling bacon. When you shuffle out to the kitchen, Aaron gives you a closed-mouth smile. “Breakfast is ready,” he says. “I’m going to get ready for work; make sure you take some extra food for lunch.”

“Thanks, baby.” You press your lips together in a smile, ducking your head as he passes. Breakfast tastes delicious; it’s always extra-good when Aaron cooks it.

By the time you’re finished eating, Aaron is in the bedroom getting dressed for work and the shower is unoccupied, so you hop into it. The water is perfectly warm, soothing away every ounce of exhaustion and refreshing you for the day.

When you get out you wrap a towel around yourself and head to the bedroom to get dressed. You typically plan out your outfits the day before, and you’d mentioned today’s outfit of choice to Aaron last night. It’s a pleasant surprise to see it laying out on the bed, ready for you to step into.

Aaron is back in the kitchen when you re-emerge. He’s stirring sugar into your favourite coffee thermos, and you’re fiddling with the necklace you can’t get a hold of the clasp on. “Thank you,” you say to him, and you hope against the odds that your gratitude is being conveyed.

“I’m happy to do it, sweetheart. Anything to remind you that I love you, you know that.” He leans in for a swift kiss, and takes the opportunity to take the necklace from your hands. “Turn around.”

As he drapes the necklace over your head and clasps it together, you let out a content sigh. Aaron Hotchner might not be a vocally affectionate man, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t downright adored.

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 12- Jewel

Warnings: established relationship, sugar daddy hotch, mentions of sex, feelings of guilt (aka I addressed my main issue with sugar daddy fics thx)

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 923

A/N: you can find a visual for the watch here, if you want it. If I do say so myself, it is an incredibly sexy watch and it makes me want to write a pt 2 to my watch blurb

Having a sugar daddy is completely new to you. It’s new to Aaron too, but after meeting on a sugar daddy site the two of you had agreed to give it a try together.

All these handbooks and websites and Tiktoks about how to get money from an older, well-off man, and not one of them had warned you about the guilt. He wants to give you his money, wants to buy you things, but there’s still a twinge in your stomach every time Aaron pays for dinner or gifts you a new dress.

“Do you just feel like you’re buying me?” You ask bluntly one night when the two of you are lying in bed. You’ve just had sex- very good sex, for the record; Aaron totally knows what he’s doing for someone who hasn’t fucked since he was married- spurred on by the lingerie you’d bought with his money today. You’re spent, breathing heavily and trying to come back down to earth, and you’ve totally ruined the mood.

You can feel Aaron’s frown before you can see it, and he pulls his face out of the crook of his neck where he’s been laving you with kisses. “What? Princess, what are you talking about?”

The crease between his eyebrows begs you to smooth it, so you do just that with your thumb before letting your hand rest on his cheek. “I don’t know,” you say, but that’s not true so you try again. “Do you think I’m just here for money? Like you’re just buying my company, or sex?”

Understanding dawns in Aaron’s eyes. “Am I?” He brushes a chaste kiss to your jaw.

“No.” The question feels more like an accusation, and your answer is as quick as it is firm. “I like spending time with you. I like you.”

“Then we’re okay,” he promises, “because I don’t think you’re just here for my money. And even if you are…” he averts his gaze, and you run your fingers through your hair twice in the time it takes him to figure out his thoughts before speaking. “The money is just what brought you to me. I’d do anything for you to stay, and if that’s using money, then so be it.”

The money is just what brought you to me.

It’s a sentence that bounces around your mind and lets you spend several days ruminating on it. You didn’t quite know what to say to that in the moment- you still don’t, to be honest- but it’s a perfect way to summarize how you feel, too.

At some point, it clicks for you; the way to show Aaron that you aren’t with him for his money is to spend money on him, isn’t it?

That’s how you wind up at a local jeweller, looking through different necklaces and rings and a few anklets geared towards men. You end up settling on a watch, a Submariner Date Rolex with a sapphire faceband and diamond hour markers.

It’s nothing you could ever afford on your own, but Aaron spoils you so much; it’s going to feel so good to repay the favour. The saleswoman talks about the watch, gives you stats about it you can’t hope to understand- 18k gold? Swiss made? Rolex calibre of 3135? You hardly understand a thing she’s saying, but you understand ‘31 jewels’ well enough, so you swipe your credit card and try to act like you know what you’re doing.

Aaron comes over that night around the same time he normally does. Instead of getting dressed up and going out, the two of you have decided to spend the night in, cook dinner together, and watch a movie.

Sometime between your second glass of white wine and watching Aaron sing along to classic rock into a whisk while he makes spaghetti sauce, your heart starts to ache. Even if his question the other night was rhetorical, how could he ever believe that you would give up this if he didn’t have money?

Your plan to wait until after dinner is thrown out the window. Instead, you replace the whisk in his hand with a Rolex box and place a kiss to his cheek. It’s almost comical, the way Aaron’s eyes widen when he reads the box. “Princess, you really didn’t need to,” he protests. “You should save your money, you don’t need to waste it on me.”

“The money,” you remind him, bringing up his other hand to help him open the box, “Is just what brought you to me. Take a look.”

Aaron’s face flushes as he takes in the watch, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he presumably tries to figure out what to say. “I love you,” is what he settles on, and he says it in a voice that’s as thick with emotion as it is hoarse.

“I love you more.” You laugh aloud when he pulls you into his arms, discarding the box on the counter as he kisses you deeply.

“That’s an expensive watch,” he says when you finally break apart, and you beam at him.

“It’s worth it. I don’t regret it.”

“I know you don’t.” He chucks your chin gently, smiling broadly as he shakes his head. “But I’m going to be paying your rent for months now.”

“I’d take you, money or not,” you tell him, and you mean it. Your face splits into an even wider grin, and you wrap your arms around his neck. “This is just a really great side bonus.”

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 11- Formal Event

Warnings: established relationship, none

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 502

“I just don’t see why you want to go,” Aaron confesses from the driver's seat, his hand sitting on your headrest as he reverses the car. “It’s just some stuffy banquet. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”

Your jaw drops in fake indignation, sparking amusement in his eyes. “How could you even say that? It’s a stuffy banquet where my husband is being honoured for his services in the FBI!”

“That, too,” he mumbles. “Just let me know when you want to leave and we’ll get going, okay? The award shouldn’t take long; I don’t even need to be there to accept it, really.”

“If you don’t think I’m going to take a thousand pictures of you giving a speech and holding an award, I don’t even know why I married you.” He soothes the fire in your words by taking your hand in his own and pressing a kiss to it. “I’m just excited for you, you know?”

“I know you are, but this really isn’t a big deal,” Aaron promises. “You’ll see when we get there.”

He is such a liar.

The banquet hall is beautiful, decorated with FBI colours and the insignia on white-marble walls and columns. The massive space is illuminated by several chandeliers, and there’s a large stage with a podium on one side of the room near tables that are decorated with white tablecloths, vast floral arrangements, and namecards. The other side of the room- the much larger side- seems to be a dancefloor where everyone is mingling now, holding crystal glasses containing wine and whiskey that are being passed around by servers.

Aaron leads you in with an arm around your waist, steering you to one of the tables closest to the stage as you gape. “This is us,” he murmurs, gesturing to your names at two of the place settings. “I’m going to go say hi to a few of the higher-ups. Do you want to come with me?”

You spot a couple of his coworkers at a nearby table- Emily and Penelope, not quite friends of yours yet but certainly close enough to be comfortable with in this vast space- and shake your head. “I’m alright. Go polish elbows, or whatever you do.”

The chuckle that leaves Aaron’s lips is music to your ears, and he brushes a kiss to the back of your hand. “Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. And remember, as soon as you want to leave…”

The FBI would probably frown against you smacking your husband’s shoulder, but your hand twitches with the urge. “You wish. We aren’t leaving until you dance with me.”

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Hotchner.” He smiles at you, the smile you know he rarely wears at the same time as one of his suits, and drops your hand before retreating into the crowd.

Meanwhile, you make your way toward Emily and Penelope, grabbing a glass of wine from a server’s tray as he passes. You aren’t leaving this building until Aaron has to drag you out.

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 6- Coffee Order

Warnings: platonic relationship (if I had another 2k in me they would have fucked in the broom closet though), BAU reader, mentions of arson case

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 665

When you’re on a case, you require caffeine. It’s a plain and simple fact, akin to how oxygen is required for breathing. That means that whenever necessary, any member of the team is ready to make a pot of bitter precinct coffee that you all have to swallow down. No matter how awful it tastes, you’ve always reasoned that caffeine is caffeine.

At least, that was your reasoning until a series of arsons lands you in Kansas at a precinct with some of the worst coffee you’ve ever tasted in your life. “It’s like drinking tar,” you had complained to Emily on the first day, your voice lowered so as not to insult any LEOs.

She had smirked at you and tipped her mug in your direction. “Tar tastes better than this,” she joked, and that was the end of the conversation.

For all your work in body language and human behaviour, you don’t work hard to have a poker face when it seems like no one is watching. The next few days contain countless cups of coffee lifted to your lips, each swig followed by a grimace. How can the officers stomach this stuff?

You don’t figure it out. On day four, you’re at the precinct with Spencer going over the geographical profile to work in the location of the newest fire while everyone else is spread between the morgue and the crime scenes. Your colleague is stirring his tea, mumbling something under his breath about equidistance while you scroll through police reports of interest that Garcia has sent your way.

“How is it going?” Hotch’s voice enters the room before he does, commanding attention before his presence can. When he steps through the doorway, your mouth waters at the sight of the Starbucks cup clutched in his left hand.

“It’s going well, actually. We found two points of intersection between the fires that could be a potential hideout or location of significance to our unsub, and if we cross-reference that with our profile…” You love Spencer, but you’ve been stuck in this room with him for two out of the four days you’ve been in this city and you’re half a ramble away from losing your mind, so you close your eyes and try to tune him out momentarily.

They don’t reopen until Spencer has fallen silent and Hotch speaks up to ask him a question. The Starbucks cup is sitting on the table in front of you now, your precinct mug nowhere to be seen. ‘Aaron’ is scrawled on the cup, but familiar handwriting has drawn a neat line through that and written your name underneath.

You’re hesitant, but Hotch catches your eye and gives you a nod midsentence so you reach out to wrap a hand around the cup. It’s warm, the perfect temperature for a Wichita November drink.

When you take the first sip, you tip your head back and allow the flavour of the coffee to sit on your tongue. It’s the same thing you order every time someone goes on a real coffee run, but Hotch is never the person collecting that information. How did he know?

Paying no heed to the conversation between the two men, you butt in with one hand raising the coffee. “You didn’t have to do this, Hotch. How much do I owe you?”

He shakes his head, sparing you a quick glance. Hotch never looks at you for longer than a moment at a time; as far as the members of his team go, you’ve been operating under the assumption that you fly under his radar for the most part.

Apparently, that’s not true. “Nothing. I can’t have one of my best agents drinking tar on the field, can I?” He shoots you a wink that’s just between the two of you, completely missed by Spencer as the younger agent turns back toward his profile.

In turn, you smile at him and bring the cup to your lips. Under his radar, indeed.

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 8- Moving in Together

Warnings: established relationship, implied mentions of sex

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 250

“That’s the last of it.” Aaron drops a large cardboard box onto the pile that has taken over your new kitchen. “Ready to start unpacking? Or should we take a little break?”

Arms wrap themselves around your waist from behind, and a trail of kisses is dragged up your neck from the nape to the ear. “Break for what?” You ask teasingly; you know what he means.

“Nothing in particular.” Aaron nips at the shell of your ear, “though bedsheets would be handy if we can unpack those first.”

You turn in his arms and sigh. “I still don’t know why we both had to move. This is just so much stuff, we’ll be walking around boxes until next summer.”

He chuckles, the noise low and rich and soothing. “Because I don’t mind moving my things. And this place is much nicer than your apartment.”

“Aaron!” You complain, but he’s quick to kiss away the indignation on your face.

“I know,” he soothes through a laugh, “I’m the worst. But there’s a Thai place down the street, so let’s get some dinner for now, relax a bit, and we can worry about unpacking tomorrow. Deal?” One of his thumbs strokes your cheekbone, and he gazes at you with all the love in the world while he wraps his other arm around you.

It’s enough to make you misty if you let it, so you kiss him instead as he leads you to the one couch you’ve got set up. “Deal.”

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 14- Valentine’s Day [Breaking Up Slowly]

Warnings: established relationship, Jack, PDA (scandalous), BAU reader, mentions of sex

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 941

A/N: this blurb is also considered to be part of the Breaking Up Slowly universe, set a couple of years before the events of BUS. It’s also crammed full of Easter eggs to prove it, lmk if you spot any <3 (you do not need any prior knowledge of BUS to read this)

On your second Valentine’s Day together, Aaron wakes you up by pressing approximately a thousand kisses to your face. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he whispers when your eyes flutter open, and you return his sleepy smile with one of your own. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Good morning,” you whisper back, giving him a kiss. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well. So well, that I’m wide awake now.” He goes back to peppering you with kisses, covering your face and neck and shoulders. When you feel the slow grind of his hips against yours, you groan quietly. “Think we’ve got a few minutes?”

“We’d better,” you mumble, but life is so unfair that Aaron has two fingers in the waistband of your underwear when the bedroom door flies open and Jack flings himself between the two of you. “Good morning, buddy!” You try your best to sound chipper, but the look you and Aaron exchange says it all. You’ll finish this later.

“Morning! Can we have pancakes?” He asks, wiggling around until Aaron wraps both arms around his son and sits up with an overdramatic groan.

“Did you grow?” He asks Jack, who shakes his head and giggles at the question. “I think you did. You were definitely smaller yesterday.”

You lean in to kiss the top of Jack’s head. “He’s growing up to be big and strong like his dad. Alright, Jackers, are you gonna help me make breakfast while daddy gets ready for work?”

Jack nods excitedly, squirming his way right out of Aaron’s arms. He clambers off the bed and shouts, “To the kitchen!” before dashing off, and you sit up with a groan of your own.

“I’m on breakfast duty, I guess.” You yawn dramatically, and Aaron smirks at you. “Jess is still okay to watch him tonight, right?”

“She was happy to,” your partner assures you as he gets up and starts towards the bathroom, “Just as long as we promise to give him a sibling.”

The thought of having another kid, a kid of your own, is ludicrous. That’s a conversation for a different day further down the road, so you just snort a laugh to yourself before going to meet Jack in the kitchen.

Breakfast ends up being pancakes made with red food dye, and Jack ‘helps’ you by using cookie cutters to make them into heart shapes. You all eat quickly- you and Aaron end up forgoing your morning coffee on the balcony, but that’s okay- and then it’s off to work and school for all of you.

Aaron is dropping Jack off, which means you get to the office before he does. Your desk, much to your delight and amusement, houses a bouquet of red roses in a vase with a little envelope tucked into them, a simple heart in Aaron’s crooked scrawl drawn on the front. The inside of the card is short and sweet; you wouldn’t expect anything else from your partner.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Thank you for letting me love you. Forever yours, it reads, with Aaron’s familiar signature underneath.

The card goes right into your desk folder of sticky notes and various other writings Aaron has either given or left for you, and then you turn your attention back to the vase of flowers in the center of your desk.

They’re on obvious display which is cute but takes up a lot of space, so you move them to the corner of the desk and get to work. You’re halfway through a consult when you feel a presence behind you, and the smell of cologne, coffee, and icing hits your nose a moment later.

You turn to find Aaron standing there, holding a breakfast donut and two coffees from your favourite shop. God, you love him.

“Thank you, honey.” You stand up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Neither of you is big on office PDA, but agents are just starting to trickle in and it is Valentine's Day, so exceptions are bound to be made. “You’re spoiling me.”

“You never let me do it any other day,” Aaron retorts, a smile playing on his lips. “Speaking of, I was thinking that we could go out for dinner tonight. You can wear that new dress and give me a chance to show you off. ”

“Cupid’s on the clock already,” Emily comments as she passes by the two of you on the way to her desk, and you ignore her save for a quiet laugh at her comment.

Aaron hands you a coffee cup, one of his eyebrows raised in question as though he thinks you’ll say no to his dinner offer, and you raise yours in return. “On one condition.”

Your donut is set on your desk, and Aaron narrows his eyes as he passes his coffee cup to his other hand and pulls you in by the waist. “Name your terms,” he murmurs, and you know that he’s just trying to be quiet and keep from drawing attention to the two of you, but he’s being so sexy that it’s taking everything in you not to kiss him.

“Hmm… you have to be my Valentine.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, and Aaron tilts his head back to laugh. It’s beautiful, vulnerable in the way his eyes crinkle and his neck exposes itself and his laugh touches your ears. It’s gorgeous, and it’s something you wish the bullpen saw more of; your favourite side of him.

“Sweetheart,” he says once he’s finished laughing, a final chuckle slipping through his lips, “I’ll be your Valentine as long as you’ll have me, and for a few years after that, too.”

You hope he’s right.

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Breaking Up Slowly tags: @jori21 @simpingfortoomanypeople @mynotesapptbh

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