When He

when he

that's adorable

Reader burning herself (neck area) with her straightener or something and Hotch thinking it's a hickey that HE didn't leave, he doesn't straight up accuse reader or lash out though. (I also love jealous Hotch)

Aaron's fingers were picking desperately at once another, a nervous habit that he hadn't ever encountered before. His nails were splitting from how much he'd been poking and prodding at them throughout the day, but now that he was finally in bed, hearing you shuffle around in the bathroom, it was worse.

It was worse, because you'd come to bed in your shorts and t-shirt. And he wouldn't have the gracious, but flimsy cover of your turtleneck to pretend he hadn't seen what he'd seen.

He knew that he left a lot to be desired in a romantic partner. Hell, in a partner of any kind. He was stubborn, grouchy, and scarred. He was not young, wild, or free. He had obligations, reservations, and issues. So, when he'd spotted the unfamiliar hickey on your neck earlier, he had been disappointed but not surprised.

It was on your sweet spot, too. Whoever had given it to you had clearly known what they were doing. Aaron's lips curled into his mouth, his teeth digging into them as he envisioned another man's lips over the spot he kissed so often.

He hadn't even realized he'd been zoning out until he heard a sharp hiss come from the bathroom, his brows furrowing as he waited for an explanation. Even betrayed by you, he worried for your safety.

"Babe?" The word felt heavy on his tongue, and he knew it might very well be the last time he referred to you with it, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," You sounded anything but, peering warily out at him from the bathroom door, "I got hot water on my burn, 's all."

"Your burn?" Aaron sat forward, peering at your face to see what spot you'd accidentally grazed over with the washcloth, "Where?"

"Um," You gestured broadly to your neck, "Did you not happen to notice the massive welt on my throat?"

"A.. A burn?" Aaron felt his mouth dry out, tongue somehow heavier in relief than it had been in crisis, "It's a burn?"

"Yes," You giggled softly, "You thought you did that?"

"No, I just-" Aaron shook his head, tension leaking out of his frame as he smiled sheepishly at you, "What happened? How'd you burn yourself?"

"Straightener." You mumbled, pressing gently against the red mark on your skin and hissing once more, "Fuck, that hurts."

"Stop touching it, then!" Aaron scoffed lightheartedly, "Just finish washing your face and come to bed, Y/N. I need a hug."

forgive yourself. forgive yourself for all the versions you couldn't become. forgive yourself for the wrong things you said. forgive yourself for not knowing any better at certain point of your life. for fucking things up so much that the grief still haunts you. forgive yourself for the darker and shadowed parts of you. you have to learn to integrate all parts of you, even the ones you desperately want to disown. it'll be alright.

early signs of bisexuality (canadian cartoon edition)

réel

"Sir" not in a masculine way but in a "heavily armored knight with an ambiguous gender and a very large sword" sort of way.

smoliv is adorable

WHO IS NAMING THESE?