I Will Never Forgive Y'all For Some Of Ur Theories

see arguments where people are like ‘will could still be bi’

honey did you SEE the way he physically recoiled when that girl played footsie he was yearning for a hall pass during that moment

Weird ass Vance head cannons

Oh girl- he probably like pinball more than you 💀/j

Nah but fr hes not going to give up pinball just for you if you want to come watch him play he's okay with that just don't fuck him up when he's trying to beat his high score

He would be like really protective of you but not to an excessive point he doesn't really like pda

If you're on your period I pray for you because this boy does not know what to do he'd probably be that one dude to send you "ayo what size is yo pussy"but it's fine because he still comes back with the right stuff (he would probably yell at anyone if they ask him if he needs help💀)

Idk why but I'm getting mater from cars vibes from him 💀

He probably wouldn't cuddle or do any of that shit with you maybe on special occasions but wouldn't just do it to do it

He has a burning hatred towards elfs idk why he just looks like he'd hate them

I'm not sure how old he is but I'm going to say he's around probably 15 or 16 and he probably has a car he has so many speeding tickets istg(he's gotta get to his sexy pinball machine 😻😻)

Ok so like this is my first writing thing on here so sorry if it's dogshit😭

Anyways send request and please don't point out any typing errors

I made this callout meme for me and me specifically

wenclair brainrot anyone? dress designs by @tanuki-pyon

hate it when people who hate certain stardew valley bachelors are like “why would you go for [bachelor/ette] of all people” like mf why would ANY bachelor/ette go for YOU??? the farmer is out here fishing for 12 hours straight, standing and staring in front of people’s doors until they exit their rooms, and doesn’t even have a fucking bathroom at max house upgrade. you can dislike them all you want, but you should be honored elliot, haley and shane are even willing to look your farmers way to begin with, let alone share a house and bed with you

🖤💘

this is so fucking funny like “steve harrington has GOT to STOP being a MANWHORE”

hi honey! I'm watching criminal minds and I'm very sleepy and I've been thinking about hotch and I thought I'd send something in

Would you be interested in writing something where the reader grows progressively more tired through a case (Maybe sleep deprived or from all-nighters) and because reader is so tired she progressively more touchy because she has no filter? Like she keeps resting her head on Aaron's shoulder and touching his back as she walks by him. And like this isn't usual for reader but Aaron doesn't mind because he thinks it's cute and is love with reader.

sleepless

cw; fluff!!!!!!!!!!!

you've gained an immunity to coffee. you must've, or the department's supply was straight decaf.

you attempted to pour another cup, it being your fourth, fifth? helping of the day. at this point, the days were colliding together; it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began. you, all of you, hadn't slept in at least thirty-five hours, and while everyone was seemingly managing their lack of sleep, you were close to delirious. you could barely hold yourself upright; a small yelp escaped you as a hot droplet scorched your skin, a swig of coffee missing your mug altogether.

abandoning your drink, you redirected yourself back to the department's conference room, where aaron and the rest of the team had been throwing ideas around for the past three hours. the past three, long hours.

aaron. you'd so much rather prefer to be tangled up in bed with him, sleeping comfortably in his arms. you'd be embedded into his side, a leg thrown across his waist, clutching onto him as if he were about to slip through your fingertips. maybe he would even be shirtless, allowing you to feel his muscles flex around you as he held you in his sleep, strong and secure. his skin was soft, much softer than anything you've ever encountered. that was much more tempting than discussing who-had-done-what and why-they-decided-to-do-it.

instead of opting to settle into your empty, waiting chair- it wasn't nearly as inviting- you stood behind aaron's chair. you draped your arms around his shoulders, hands falling in front of his chest, your face only a few inches away from the crook of his neck.

aaron froze slightly at the initial touch, but relaxed in his chair as he recognized it was you. he was still exhibiting a stiffness in his composure, as you were in front of your colleagues and officers could enter the room unannounced at any moment, but he didn't have the heart to push you away, especially not when his heart belonged to you. and besides, he wouldn't deprive himself the contact. he's missed you, despite the fact you hadn't been a few feet away all day.

he peeked back as much as he could manage, his eyebrows taking form in their signature furrow as he made an observation. he also immediately took note of your exhausted state, surprised that he hadn't already done so sooner.

"no coffee?"

"hm? oh, i must've forgotten." you murmured, taking a breath. your next words escaped you in a yawn, "you smell good."

aaron's ears immediately flushed at your words, and derek nearly snorted out a laugh, he had managed to cover his mouth just in time.

you were aware enough to know derek was making fun of you on some account as you heard his snicker, giving him the stink eye. "what?"

"nothing." derek's mouth formed in a line to prevent himself from smiling, skimming through the file placed in front of him. "nothing at all."

as everyone fell back into conversation, you could feel yourself beginning to nod off. you had been mindlessly tracing patterns along aaron's chest, and the repeated movements were enough to lull you to sleep, finding a relaxed, comforting ease within it, his dress shirt soft against your fingertips.

"aaron?" you whispered, loud enough only for him.

"yes?"

"i was thinking about you shirtless earlier."

aaron's jaw tightened, eyes quickly darting around the table to make sure no one heard you but him. "oh, were you?"

"yeah." you sighed out happily, the image coming easily to mind. "you're so pretty, you know that? i could look at you forever."

his lips pulled into a small smile, barely a laugh escaping him. "thank you sweetheart, i could say the same to you."

"no, don't say that just because i said that, you're only saying that because i said that." you whined gently, tiredness finally claiming your mind. you laid your head more so on his shoulder, the angle was awkward and strained your neck, but you were too tired to care. "let me compliment you. just you."

just as he was about to answer, spencer inquired for aaron's input, causing your conversation to cease. while aaron answered, you couldn't help but admire him; his prominent jawline, his long, dark, beautiful eyelashes, and his voice was like silk to your ears. soft, captivating and familiar.

sudden movement caused you to startle, knocking you back into the real world. the team had all begun packing up papers, exiting the room before you could put together what had just happened. not that you could to begin with, you had been oblivious to the entirety of the discussion.

"sweetheart." aaron stood up slowly, in attempt to prevent you from losing balance against his chair and reaching for you once he was on his feet. "i think it's about time you finally got some rest."

"no, 'm fine." a yawn betrayed your words, clutching onto the sleeve of his suit jacket. "i don't wanna leave you."

"get some sleep, for me, please. can you do that for me?"

"yeah, of course i can." you caved right away, easily persuaded as it was him, your words slurring a bit in sleepiness, "i can, just for you."

"thank you darling," he laughed softly, taking off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders.

"aaron? did i tell you that i love you today?" you asked as he guided you out, clumsily tripping over your own feet.

"every day sweetheart, you let me know every day.” there was a gentle look in his eyes, a hand on the small of your back. “now c'mon, i'll drive you to the hotel."

queer comfort

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

contents/warnings: single mom reader, bau!reader, brief mentions of typical cm violence, mutual pining, coworkers to lovers (no arc completion)

based off this post

You’ve been held at gunpoint. You’ve been beaten, battered, and bruised within an inch of your life. You’ve been threatened, harassed, and abused. Yet there’s no fear as debilitating as what you’re feeling now, when you look around the crowded room and can’t find your toddler anywhere. 

She knows not to run off. As much as you withhold from her about your career, her tiny ears unprepared for the horrors you face, you’ve told her a thousand different ways not to leave your side. And she’d been doing so good, her little pudgy fist clasped in the fabric of your dress until midway through your conversation with Emily. You’d reached down to feel her pigtails after she’d dropped your dress, content that she was still there even if she wasn’t holding onto you anymore. And yet, here you are, childless and panicking.

You start ducking into open rooms, figuring that she wouldn’t have shut the door after her if she was wandering into them. She’s nowhere to be seen, though, you don’t catch a glimpse of her black-ribboned hair or her blue-dotted dress.

Your shoes hit the scratchy carpet with urgency, and you feel many-a-head turning to face you. You don’t feel like explaining, though, not when your little girl is loose in a government building.

Government buildings are no place for children. Too many people have guns, and, though they won’t be turned upon her, she’s more than likely to be morbidly curious about one left lying around and end up worse than seriously injured. Or she could get into an elevator and lose herself among the maze of floors and desks. Or she could walk straight out the front door into traffic. Or she could lock herself in a bathroom stall. Or she could stumble upon photos she shouldn’t be seeing, crime scenes and corpses strewn about less child-friendly areas of the place.

Or, you find out, as you head for Hotch’s door, intent on pleading with the man’s parental instinct to aid you in your search, she could be dancing with your boss.

She could be on her tip-toes, ruffled socks bunched up around her ankles and mary-janes toeing Aaron’s sleek black work shoes. She could be stretched all the way to his waist, her arms hung above her head as she grips one of his thick fingers in all of her tiny ones. She could be grinning up at him, baby teeth on full display as her hair bounces to the beat of the song he’s making up. You’ve never heard him hum before, nor have you seen that fond of a glint in his eyes, but he’s beaming down at her, a happy little tune flitting through the air from his throat. He’s jutting one foot out after the other, tie swaying against his chest as he gives your daughter the dance of her, admittedly short, lifetime.

Neither of them have noticed you hovering just outside the crack in the door, and she looks down just in time for one of her shoes to slip from his own. Her weight goes with it, but he holds steady to her hands, pulling her upright until she can latch her foot onto his again.

“Woah!” She gushes, giggling with exhilaration. 

“Woah,” He parrots, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” She nods, a slight lisp invading her words from her pacifier habits, “You’re strong, Uncle Aaron.”

“Well I have to be,” He muses, and though he’s no longer humming, the song lives on as he continues moving their feet in sync, “Just in case someone needs protecting.”

“I think mommy needs protecting sometimes,” Your daughter decides, and your cheeks grow hot at the mere mention of yourself, “She runned into my backpack yesterday and tripped!”

He doesn’t correct her poor grammar, nor does he point out that she was probably the one to put her backpack in a less-than-ideal place. All he does is raise his eyebrows amusedly, nodding at her statement.

“Well, maybe you could start protecting her.”

“How?” She stares up at him skeptically, unsure why the man is insinuating that a three year old can be so heroic.

“I think you should put your backpack somewhere where she won’t trip over it,” There it is, the parental voice of reason, “Maybe on a chair? Or the couch?”

“I think you should do it.” She blazes past his suggestion, typical for a child who doesn’t understand responsibility for their actions. He seems to notice the cliche as well, chuckling mirthfully, “Alright. If I see any backpacks on the floor, I’ll save her from them. Deal?”

“Deal.” She grins toothily, squealing as he lifts her straight into his arms from only his grip on her hands.

Her legs curl effortlessly around his waist and you worry about her shoes staining his shirt, but you’d seen a grape juice stain on his tie only days before, and you remember that your kid isn’t the only one crawling all over Aaron. You rush down the stairs when they begin heading for the door, posing as if you’d just began your ascent by the time they swing the hinges open.

“There you are,” You try acting relieved, though the panic you’d felt only moments prior is long gone, replaced by sticky-sweet adoration, “What, did Hotch lure you away with candy?”

“Just my natural charm,” He defends, squeezing her where she’s curled around his hip, “And a dance move or two.”

“A dance move,” Morgan repeats teasingly from the other end of the room, a few downcast smirks shot from the rest of your teammates, “I don’t recall you ever teaching me any of those, boss man.”

“You’re too big to stand on my toes.” Aaron laments with a goofy smile towards your daughter, who giggles at the thought of her big, strong Uncle Derek balancing on Hotch’s feet.

“Well if we don’t visit Auntie Penelope soon,” You accept the arm that your daughter throws out to you at the mention of her bubbly godmother, taking her from Hotch’s strong arms, “I’m going to be given a very long lecture, and you’ll be given one less cookie than usual.”

“Only five?” She gasps in real, palpable terror, fingers clenching in the fabric of your dress once more, “Let’s go!”

The bullpen shares a chuckle at her dramatics, and Reid steps aside from where he’s aiming to ask Hotch a question at the base of the stairs. You’re crossing your own desk, intent on ducking into Penelope’s lair for a chat, when Hotch’s voice rings out across the room, urgent and strong.

“Y/N!” He doesn’t often use your first name, and that’s what gets your attention the most. You turn towards him, bewildered and hesitant to take another step.

“Backpack,” He points down at the floor where you’re about to step blindly, a tinkerbell-themed bag discarded in the middle of the walkway. You eye your daughter rather unimpressed, but her attention is focused solely on Hotch, who’s already engaged with Reid.

“Pick it up,” You groan, holding your daughter’s waist and angling her towards the floor. She giggles jovially at the headrush she receives from being held nearly upside-down, and her little arms reach eagerly for her belongings.

Once she secures the backpack and deposits it on your desk rather than in your path, you tuck her back against your hip. She’s got her chin hooked over your shoulder, out of your eyesight, which means that you don’t catch the thumbs-up that she throws towards Hotch. You don’t happen to notice the wink that he throws her back while Reid’s head is ducked towards a paper he’d brought along, another one of his rare smiles aimed at her as he holds up his end of the bargain.