#Aaron hotchner fanfic
Note
Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3
ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k
“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.”
“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.”
“I understand, but–”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.”
You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?
“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself.
The door opens while you’re looking through your bag.
“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?”
You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.”
“Did you call them?”
Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden.
Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull.
“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks.
You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top.
Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ?
“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly.
You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.”
“We really don’t have time to waste.”
“I know, but my blood sugar–”
She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”
“Clearly not!”
“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.”
The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed.
You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.”
If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.”
Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?”
“You want to chew it for me?” you ask.
He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.”
He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick.
“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.
“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth.
He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut.
In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?”
You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.”
“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?”
“No,” you say apologetically.
“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.”
Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”
“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”
“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.
“How did you get so low?” he asks.
“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?”
“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.”
“Don’t usually get so dizzy.”
“When was the last time you were below seventy?”
“Don’t know,” you mumble.
Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?”
He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke.
You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard.
By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her.
You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.”
“I understand.”
You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.
He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.”
“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble.
He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.”
“What do I get in return?”
He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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Welcome Home
Aaron Hotchner x reader
warnings: language, smut, minor daddy kink, lots of praise.
Coming home from work had always been a form of relief for Aaron, knowing that his day was done, and he was able to relax at least a little bit before doing it all again tomorrow. But this Friday was different, this Friday not only was it a guarantee that he had two days off, he also wasn’t coming home to an empty apartment. Moving in together had been a very easy decision, he no longer had to worry about making a stop at his place before yours, didn’t have to triple check his go bag was always packed and he got to come home to you already in your shared space, happy as can be.
Almost every night this week he had come home to find you in the midst of an IKEA challenge or putting up some nice decorations. Which is exactly where he found you tonight, standing on a chair on your tip toes pinning up fairy lights over the patio window with your favourite playlist flowing through the room. As he put his things down, stepping out of his shoes and hanging up his blazer a smirk took over his lips at the actual sight in front of him. You’d clearly showered recently and chosen to tug on one of his oversized tee shirts instead of actually getting dressed and it appeared the shirt was all you’d bothered with. Your arms outstretched over your head caused the fabric to rise up, the curve of your ass poking out from beneath it as you secured another pin.
Aaron undid his tie, tossing it to the island as he started to undo his shirt, rolling up the sleeves while he crossed the room. Reaching out his hands slid over the curve of your ass before settling on your hips and he chuckled at the way you jumped, turning around when you felt him press a kiss to the small of your back. You were perched on the highest tips of your toes attempting to continue the chain of lights without toppling off the chair.
“You want some help with that?” He smiled softly and you let out a huff of a laugh.
“I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“Looks like you were pretty focused.” He nodded toward the lights, and you laughed again.
“I guess. And yeah, I can’t seem to reach it.”
With one clean swoop Aaron picked you up from the chair, resulting in a squeal escaping your lips before he set you on the ground and placed a kiss to the top of your head. You watched with a smile as he effortlessly stepped up onto the chair and was able to reach the spots you never would have been able to.
“That even?”
“Looks perfect.” You smiled as he stepped down from the chair, your hands coming to cup his cheeks so you could press a kiss to his lips, “thank you.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.” You shook your head, taking the chain of lights back from him, “it was just the part above the window I was struggling with. Go grab a drink, relax.” You squeezed as his hand, shifting the chair to the left before you climbed back up on it and he was left to wander down the hallway.
Doing as you suggested he got comfortable, changing into a tee and sweats, tossing his work clothes into the hamper and padding back down to the kitchen barefoot to find you humming along to the music as you continued your task. He found a pack of his favourite beer in the fridge, cracking one for himself and grabbing one for you, placing it on the bookshelf you were beside before he dropped into the couch with a satisfied sigh.
The two of you caught up briefly, talked each other through your day while he scrolled through his phone, though his attention mainly remained on you. Since plugging in the string of lights the room and thus you, were bathed in a nearly angelic glow as you continued to work. Every time you moved the shirt simply dared to show more skin and he knew you could feel his eyes on you by the way you kept shifting, the little glances you’d toss over your shoulder to him with an almost shy grin, your cheeks heating. At one point you bent over to grab another hook from the bookshelf and he felt his cock twitch in his pants at the sight of your pussy fully exposed to him.
“Careful…” He warned, a playful tone in his voice and you glanced over your shoulder with a quizzical look on your face.
“I know how to use a hammer.” You replied with a laugh, gesturing to all your previous work and he chuckled, taking another sip of his drink before he stood up to cross the room.
“I know…” he murmured, his hands ghosting up your thighs and your breath caught in your throat. One of his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him while the other travelled up your back, tangling in the roots of your hair, “but I do hope if someone else was to be helping you with this you would at least put some panties on.”
“Aaron…” you giggled, swatting at the hand on your hip. “I had actual clothes on when the guy came to install the dryer.”
“Oh so it’s just me you like to tease?” He smirked, his hand leaving your hair so both of them could trace patterns on the back of your thighs.
“Obviously.” You let out a sigh, your eyes beginning to flutter at the way he massaged your skin, hands creeping up higher under the hem of the shirt, just daring to brush your pussy.
“I think the rest of this can wait.” A steady arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you from the chair once again and he yanked you flush to him, the bulge in his pants apparent against your ass, “now you know just how wild you drive me.”
“Mmhmm….” You nodded, your body relaxing against him, your lips falling open as he started to grope your chest through the thin fabric, pinching your nipples until they were hardened and you were grinding back into him.
“Open your mouth.” His hand softly squeezed around your throat before gliding up and two of his fingers sunk in between your lips.
You sucked the digits deeper into your mouth, tongue swirling around them, coating them with saliva as he slowly thrust them in and out of your lips. With his other hand steady on your hip he backed the two of you up to the center of the living room where the nest of pillows and blankets was still tousled on the ground from your movie night the previous evening.
Aaron’s fingers slipped out of your mouth and you let out a whine in protest, one that he chuckled at as he pulled his shirt off over his head. His hands found the hem of your stolen shirt, tugging it up and off, dropping it to the floor.
“Relax honey.” His dry hand caressed at your cheek, “there’s no chance I’m done with you yet.” He pulled you to him, kissing you deeply, tongue surging into your mouth and you let out a soft moan into the kiss.
The fingers coated in your spit snuck between your bodies, lazily rubbing at your clit while the other one started to toy with your chest. Cupping the flesh, pulling louder moans from you when he started to pinch at your nipples, flicking at them as they hardened in the cool air. His arm wound around you, hoisting you up just enough that your weight was on him as he squatted and gently dropped onto the pile of blankets and cushions before he lay you down on them. His lips broke free from yours and he left a pathway of kisses down your neck, nipping ever so lightly, pulling a breathy sigh from you.
“Aaron…” you whined, “don’t tease.”
“Never would sweetheart.”
His hands smoothed up your thighs, spreading your legs for him before his fingers found your pussy again. They slid through your folds, coaxing out your wetness, smearing it around your pussy, circling around your clit until your chest was heaving and you were nearly panting. His thumbs slid up your pussy, spreading your lips apart and he could see it fully glistening in the low light.
“Such a gorgeous pussy honey.” He cooed, “and who does this pussy belong to?”
“You daddy.”
“Smart girl too.” He smiled softly down at you watching the way your eyes fell shut when he slid two of his fingers into your cunt. “So wet already… have you been thinking about this all day?” He asked, pumping his fingers in and out of you, “waiting for me to come home and find you indecent? Just so I’d fuck you?”
“Yes…” you breathed back, your hand reaching out in search of his free one, fingers interlacing when you found it, his thumb softly stroking over your knuckles. “Wanted to be all ready for you, surprise you.” You were already finding it hard to focus on your words, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as they stretched you out.
“You’re so good for me sweetheart. So thoughtful.” His fingers curled inside you and your breath hitched in your throat, “making sure I have something so gorgeous to come home to… something so sweet.”
With that he shifted onto his stomach, his tongue lapping up the juices around your opening while his fingers continued to twist and scissor inside you. He couldn’t help but groan over your taste, cock twitching in his pants as he shifted up and his mouth latched around your clit.
“Fuck!” You gasped, your hands threading into his hair, holding his face between your legs and you could practically feel the smirk on his lips as electricity sparked through you.
Aaron’s tongue varied between tracing patterns on your pulsing nub and flicking it with the tip, your fingers scraping at his scalp as the pleasure built higher and higher. He picked up the pressure right as his hand picked up the pace, fucking faster into you.
“Oh Aaron…”
Not wanting to let up he merely grunted against you before humming and the vibrations had you gasping, your pussy pulsating around his fingers.
“M’gonna—” You whimpered, feeling the heat about to burst through your veins and his head nodded, rubbing right where you needed it as his fingers curled up, pressing hard on your g-spot and you cried out, “fuck!” Your hips jolted up off the blankets, thighs shaking around him as he gently fingered you through your orgasm.
“That’s it honey…” he cooed, “so fucking pretty for me. Such pretty fucking sounds.”
Your body still trembled, little whimpers and gasps leaving your lips that were heaven to his ears as the aftershocks crashed through you. You were always so gorgeous when you came for him, splayed out on display, legs spread, pussy dripping all because of him, tits swaying as your chest heaved, body coated in a shimmering of sweat, that blissed out look of pure pleasure and desire in your darkened eyes.
He slipped his fingers from you, bringing them up to his lips and he caught the way you tugged your lower lip into your mouth, a greedy look in your eyes as you watched him suck them clean. He nearly made a show of it, groaning before letting them pop from his mouth.
“So fucking sweet.” He praised, “almost wonder what I should do with you next.” He smirked at the way you instantly pouted, letting out a soft whine, “what sweetheart?”
“Need you.”
“Yeah…” his hand came back between your legs, palming at your puffy cunt, “need what? My fingers again?” One slipped in, but only for one thrust, “my mouth? Or something else?”
“Your cock daddy, please!”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Aaron grinned down at you as he shucked his sweatpants off, positioning himself between your legs. His hand wrapped around his cock, thumb smearing the pre-cum around it as he let out a soft groan, “fuck… you always get me so hard.” He thrust his cock through your folds, coating it with your juices, “you feel that honey?”
“Yes…” you whined, your hips rocking towards the touch, “please…”
“Please what?” He raised a brow in your direction as he continued his movement and you whimpered.
“Please fuck me!”
“Good girl.” He leant over you, pressing a kiss to your needy lips as he lined up his hips and his cock sunk into your warmth. You both let out satisfied moans at the sensation, his cock slipping all the way into you until his hips were seated against yours and he could feel your cunt clenching around him already. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Move.. please.” You whined, your arms wrapping around him, nails digging into his back as you pulled him to him.
Aaron kissed the side of your neck gently before pulling back until only the tip was left and he plunged back into you, earning a gasp from you at just how deep he was. Your legs eagerly wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper into you and he made a home in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he started to pant. He set a steady pace, just fast enough to have you shivering and whimpering in his arms but still slow enough to savour it, to make sure you were feeling every inch and every drag of his cock deep in your pussy, to get it wetter with each thrust of his hips.
From the angle he was fucking you, each movement of his body brushed against your clit, the double sensation having you seeing stars already, pleasure tingling under your skin. One of your hands threaded through his hair again, holding him impossibly close as he continued to thrust into you. You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the movement getting larger anytime you let out a particularly loud whine. He loved the way you clenched around him, the sounds you made, knowing he was the one who was making you make them, that he was the only one who could pull sounds like them from you. Each thrust of his hips he could feel the wetness where your bodies met getting larger, the slick around his cock growing, the sounds getting more indecent with every pump.
“Oh god Aaron!” Your nails started to claw at his back, “s-so gg-ood.”
“Always take me so well.” He grunted back, his hips beginning to snap harder and faster into yours, earning a breathy gasp from you as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.
Your pussy was dripping, the squelching noises coming from it echoing through the living room and every time Aaron drove his cock deeper into it you felt new sensations, your entire body tingling, starting to shake with pleasure. The coil was building deep inside you, higher and hotter with each thrust and your eyes scrunched shut, a string of whimpering swears leaving your lips. Aaron groaned loudly into your ear at the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him before his mouth latched onto your neck, teeth sinking in before his tongue lapped over the spot to soothe the burn and his lips began to suck at your sensitive skin.
“Fuck!” You cried out as the trembling in your body blew into a full blown spasm and you hit your peak, pussy clenching down even harder around Aaron as he grunted, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through your orgasm.
“God sweetheart.” He muttered, kissing your neck before sitting up on his haunches to chase his own release. He picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and faster into you and with just how fucking drenched your cunt was it wasn’t long before he was groaning loudly, his cum spilling into your pussy and he dropped over you again. “Fuck…”
Your finger tips gently tickled up and down his back, your other hand coming to his head, scratching at his scalp as he panted above you and you finally managed to catch your breath. You pressed a tender kiss to the side of his head, letting out a very satisfied hum and in return he let out a breathless huff, leaving a kiss on your collarbone. He pulled his head up, his hand coming to caress the side of your cheek as he left a featherlight kiss on your lips and you smiled up at him.
“You okay?” He murmured.
“Perfect.” You replied, stealing another kiss before he gently rolled off you.
Aaron adjusted a few of the cushions and blankets so you would both be comfortable, pulling a blanket over the two of you as you instinctively curled into his side, resting on his chest. His arm wound around you and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, a small smile on his cheeks as he admired the decorating you’d been doing. The soft light cascading perfectly over the living room for a moment like this.
“You certainly know a thing or two about welcoming a guy home.” He teased and you laughed.
“Figured I could start off strong with what I know you love.” You shifted so you could see his face and he chuckled.
“Well what I love is you, doesn’t matter what form it comes in as long as I get to come home to you every day.”
“You’re a sap, you know that right?”
“Absolutely not.” He grinned back and you playfully rolled your eyes before leaning up to kiss him softly.
“I love you too.”
_______________________
@svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @niyizh @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @ssaaaronhotchnerr @speedynana @tgskitten @madamsnape921 @aaronandemilysbitch @mrs-ssa-hotch @boimlers-gonna-boim @nachofriess @khxna @tinyprettyangel @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @acctualdeemon
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#welcome home#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner fanfic
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aaron hotchner would be such a sap when it comes to celebrating your accomplishments. he's just such a proper gentleman in all aspects of his life, and that, of course, extends to your relationship. he's obsessed with spoiling you, cannot for the life of him think of a good reason why you shouldn't be spoiled, so he takes it upon himself to do it for you, especially when you work as hard as you do. whether it's a promotion at work or a graduation of some sort, he has reservations booked at the nicest restaurants, the prettiest outfit laid out for you. it's not to be flashy, you know that. it's because he thinks you deserve the best, only the best. he is an acts of service man, and he loves to spoil.
#i know his dick is big i just know it#im graduating today so i wrote this to reconcile that aaron hotchner will not be a part of the celebration#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner criminal minds
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Office Sleepover 2 - A.H
a/n: had sm fun writing this one yall
im so down bad for him ugh
masterlist
‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧
part one here!
pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)
warnings: reader flashes hotch AGAIN, drinking on government property lmao, drunk reader, suggestive comments
wc: 3.2k
You were restless, to put it simply. Every conceivable activity within the BAU had been exhausted, and you had explored every nock and cranny of the office, leaving no corner untouched. At this point they should start paying you for tour guides because you'd be an expert.
You were bored, frankly, and lonely--the team had been on a case all week and you were stuck here. How Garcia managed was beyond you--the walls seemed to close in on you as stir craziness took hold. You kept busy with work, offering as much help as possible while staying put, but it really wasn't the same.
You missed the team, and a particular member's absence you felt just a tad more, though you wouldn't admit it. Thankfully, they were supposed to be back any second now. While Penelope had a special place in your heart, the thought of sitting through another round of her and Kevin's awkward flirting was almost too much to bear. Without Hotch to keep it in check, it was all the more excruciating.
"Bye, Kevin," you chimed in unison, your voices intertwining just as the door clicked shut behind him.
Once you were sure he wasn't coming back, you shot Pen a knowing glance, arching an eyebrow as you pointed one of her fuzzy pens at her.
"Ease up on the death stare, will ya?" Penelope chided, as she wheeled her chair back to her computers, her finger twirling towards you. "You get so broody when the boss man's gone."
You lobbed the pen in Penelope's direction. "No," you replied with a huff. "I get broody when the whole team leaves me behind."
"Gasp," Penelope declared, placing a hand over her heart. "Can you believe it? They're genuinely concerned for your well-being. The audacity!"
"Okay, but seriously, what's the bigger priority here--my life or my sanity? Because it's a fine line," you said with a shrug, pushing your chair back dramatically.
But, before the chair could gain any momentum, you found yourself abruptly against the wall, your head cushioned by an unexpected softness. Without a moment to comprehend, your chair was spun, your eyes growing impossibly wide as Hotch's belt appeared abruptly in your line of sight. You raised your eyes to meet his.
"Your life, I would wager," he said evenly, "but then again, I might be a little biased."
You sprang to your feet, too quickly, your foot catching, sending you lurching forward. Almost instantly, Hotch's hand was securing around your arm, preventing you from landing straight on your face.
"Oh, Hotch, sir, hi," you said, flustered and slightly disoriented. "I didn't realize you guys were back."
"We just got back," he said, his hand falling away from your arm, and you hated yourself for how you felt a subtle coolness that replaced the comforting heat of his touch. "Do you have those reports I asked for?"
"Oh, absolutely, they're ready at my desk," you assure. "I'll bring them to your office in a sec."
As he nods and exits, your scoop up your belongings from Penelope's desk, raising a finger. "Don't even say it, Pen."
You ignored the way she cackled as you left, moving to your desk to grab the needed papers. You attention was captured by Spencer and Emily standing by her desk. Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around them both, pressing them against you.
"Ugh, I missed you guys so much."
They both laugh, their hands taking you in quickly as you lean against them.
Emily grins, ruffling your hair as she nudges you. "A week away and you're this clingy? We'll have the start weaning you off us, huh?"
"Don't tease," Spencer starts, his hand resting on your shoulder, "But out of curiosity, how many times did you check our desks while we were gone?"
"Too many times to count," you admit begrudgingly, a sheepish grin on your face. As you glance up, your eyes catch Hotch's through the glass pane. "Oops, almost forgot why I came down here."
Approaching Hotch's office, you tap on the door frame and enter. "Here ya go, sir." you offer, extending the documents toward him.
Your fingers lightly touch as he takes the papers, and for a moment, you're rooted to the spot, the brief contact sparking a surge of disarray in your senses. God, it's almost beyond belief that one man could have this kind of effect on you.
Hotch nods his acknowledgement. "Thanks," he murmurs. As you pivot to leave, he adds, "Could you sit down for a moment?"
You cast a teasing look over your shoulder. "I hope I'm not in trouble," you say. His expression doesn't change. "Wait, am I? Because that would definitely be enough to push me over the edge, sir."
"No, you're not in trouble," Hotch assures you. "I've received updates concerning your case."
You lowered yourself into the chair, hands perched in your lap, your eyes wide as you met his gaze. "Please tell me it's good news because I'm starting to forget what my own bed feels like."
"You've been here just over a week," Hotch states, matter-of-fact.
You blow out a breath, arms crossed over your chest. "Hotch, it's scary at night."
He clears his throat, "Anyway, it's good news. We've got a lead on the hitman, though it's not the all-clear you're wanting."
"Well, that's something at least," you concede with a nod. "But I don't get why I can't be involved in this investigation."
As Hotch opens his mouth, you jump in, deepening your voice to copy his. "Because you're too close to it."
He regards you steadily, clearly not amused.
"Yup, okay, I'm done, sorry, I'm leaving now," you relent, getting to your feet quickly and striding towards the door, but a hand beats you to it, closing it abruptly and effectively barricading you in.
With a quick turn, you ended up flush against the door, Hotch's hand resting against the wood just above your ear. You felt like you were short-circuiting, your eyes growing wide as they met his. He says your name, but it doesn't quite register--too engrossed in the heady scent of his cologne, the pressing warmth of his body, the nearness of his chest, so close that an inch's movement could mean a soft kiss to his neck. Not like that would be totally inappropriate or anything.
"What?"
"I said, I'm worried about you."
You wanted to kiss him, man, you really wanted to kiss him. You bit the inside of your cheek to refrain from doing so.
"Why?"
It was barely audible, more air than sound, not daring to disturb the space too much, afraid of him suddenly becoming aware of just how close he was.
"You're very quick to make light of things, to make jokes, but I'm asking you to be real with me here. What are you feeling?"
His hand left the door, settling on your shoulder, his thumb hovering just shy of the hollow of your neck. Unconsciously, you found yourself leaning into the gentle pressure.
"That sounded sarcastic, Hotch," you noted, your tongue briefly sweeping across your lips, which seemed to dry out as you talked. "You're not implying my jokes need work, are you?"
His lack of response and narrowing eyes made you cave.
"Okay, fine, Hotch. You want the truth? I'm scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I have nightmares every night? That I can't sleep?"
Your breaths came faster, teeth meshing tightly as you stared up at your boss. His hand found your cheek, his thumb sketching a path across your skin that ignited a trail of goosebumps over your whole body, making you hyper-aware of your every pore.
"What can I do to help?"
Stay with you, kiss you, fuck you--numerous thoughts ran raced through your thoughts, but none of them seemed wholly appropriate.
"N-Nothing, Hotch, really, I'm okay. It's not something that can be fixed, which is why I didn't say anything. Plus, everyone on this team has been through worse. I can handle it. I'm tougher than I look."
"I know you are, but I—," his words were cut short, a sudden knock at the door silencing him mid-sentence.
His hands fell away from you, but the sensation lingered, the heat of his touch seeming to brand you, marking where he had been. You ran a hand through your hair in an attempt regain some form of composure, just as he opened the door to reveal JJ.
Her eyes darted between the two of you, finally focusing on Hotch. "Sorry, guys, I have that footage from the press conference--is that what you needed?"
"Yes, right." Hotch nodded, pulling the door open further for her, then returning his attention to you, observing your flushed cheeks and uneven breath. "We'll continue this later, okay?"
"Yeah," you exhaled sharply before ducking out of the room.
You need to get a grip, or maybe a Xanax, probably both.
Once the office had emptied, leaving you alone, you sat pitifully on your bed. It was Friday, but there was not much cause for celebration when you were stuck here, surrounded by stale office air. You sprawled out on the mattress, tracing the patterns of the popcorn ceiling overhead. If someone didn't figure out this hitman situation, you were going to take him out yourself.
Not really, that would definitely be a death wish. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of muffled shuffling outside your door. Sitting up, you slid into your slippers and stepped out into the hallway.
"There she is!"
You snickered as Penelope extended her arms with jazz hands, while JJ and Emily lifted their arms to show off their wine stash. Gratefully grabbing a glass from Emily, you pulled them all into a group hug. "I can't help but feel like we're about to be the subject of a very specific memo from HR after this."
Giggles from JJ accompanied the wine pouring as you stepped back. "Hotch is surprisingly on board we this—encouraged it even. Can you believe it?"
Warmth dusted over your cheeks at the thought. You wanted to kiss him even more, if that was even possible.
"Trust me," Penelope insisted, shaking her head as she paused for a drink. "I wouldn't dare cross HR again. Once was more than enough."
You wanted to say you were a classy gal, confident in your ability to drink responsibly--it was only wine, after all, not Everclear. But as the night went on, your voice rose a decibel too high, your balance a bit unreliable, and your displays of affection way too unrestrained.
You were already a touchy person, ask any of your team members, but with a few drinks, you're giving high school sweethearts a run for their money in the PDA department.
Your arms were flung around JJ's neck, peppering her cheek with kisses as you sang along to whatever music Pen was playing in between smooches. JJ was laughing, tilting backward on her heels, nearly knocking you both over.
"I love you guys. So so much." you said, each word stretched and muddled as you reached out to Penelope, who happily linked her fingers with yours.
"You are so drunk!" Emily accused, her palms squishing your face as she chuckled.
"'M not," you protested, words stifled by compressed cheeks.
She freed your face to grab more wine, Penelope not far behind, as you situated yourself on your desk chair.
"You know who I also love?" you questioned to no one in particular as you slid your phone out of your back pocket. "Morgan, Reid, Dave, and--,"
You paused, your nose crinkling as you bit down hard on your tongue.
"And?" Penelope pressed, brows raised as she looked at you expectedly.
"Hmm?" You hummed innocently, blowing a kiss her way as you shrugged off her question. "I'm gonna call Morgan."
Your eyes darted down to your phone, only to find the room swirling like a carousel. It took a heartbeat to register--someone's voice was already coming from the speaker.
"Hello? Morgan? How'd you know I was going to call you?"
"It's Hotch."
Your eyes grew comically large, a hand flying over your mouth, smothering the laughter that threatened to fall. "Hotch! It is so late! Why are you calling me?"
You shushed the group with a finger to your lips, the girls' curious eyes on you as JJ practically crawled towards you to eavesdrop.
"You called me." He paused. "Are you okay?"
"Hotch," his name was more of a whine than anything as you tossed your head back. "I'm fine, like, the definition of A-Okay. I'm with my friends and we're all kinds of okay."
You shot Emily a thumbs up.
"Good. Okay." Another pause. "Maybe drink some water, yeah? No more wine."
You gasped. "Agent Hotchner, I am a federal agent of the government. I know when I should be cut off."
"Oh, my god, get her off the phone."
You don't know who said it, but it sent you spiraling into another round of giggles, the phone slipping through your fingers while JJ pounced on it.
"Hey!"
She held up a hand, keeping the device just out of reach.
"Yeah, she's pretty drunk." JJ said, then frowned. "Hotch, listen she's more of a lightweight than we realized." You slumped against the chair. "Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."
JJ ended the call and placed it back into your hands. "I cannot wait until you remember this in the morning," she sang, before casting a glance to the others. "Also, a heads-up--Will's almost here."
"No!" It came out louder than intended, almost a shout, as you stood, sending Spencer's pens tumbling. "Whoopsie." You latched onto Penelope, murmuring, "Stay here, don't leave me."
Penelope's laughter rang out, her hands cradling your head. "Worry not, I've set the security guy straight--if you get even a scratch, I'll make him regret the day he was born."
"See, this is why you're my favorite," you whispered.
"Heard that."
Will eventually texted JJ, letting her know he had arrived. As the they waited by the elevator, the doors slid open to reveal Hotch standing there. A squeal escaped you, matched by his single raised eyebrow surveying your condition.
Your cheeks were painted a rosy tint, hair in a delightful tangle, and your shirt hanging askew off your shoulder--you were an adorable spectacle of disorder, and he found himself suppressing the small smile that threatened to reveal his amusement as the other girls filed into the elevator.
He had made them promise not to leave until he got there, not keen on the idea of you being left alone like this. It might have been an exaggeration, but when you butt dialed him and he heard the sound of your slurred speech it had him envisioning all sorts of worst-case scenarios. Sure, he had seen you drink during team nights out, but nothing like this.
"Hotch!" You shouted, moving to him with a rapidity that might be, well definitely, was ill-advised.
He stood motionless as you looped your arms around his neck. You smelled so nice--a sweet hint of vanilla instead of the anticipated alcohol. After a brief hesitation, his hands slowly found their way to your waist.
"What are you doing here, silly?" You ask, pulling back just enough to see his face. "Wait a second, please don't say we have a case."
A subtle smile played on his face, his hand not budging from your back. "No, there's no case."
"Oh, good," you murmured, your head bobbing lightly in approval. The light touch of your fingers at the base of his neck spread a warmth through him. "You want a drink? I think there's still some wine left."
"No, I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat and taking a step back. "I think you need to get to bed."
Your hands lingered at his neck, softly exploring his hair as you looked up with a smile that made his pulse race unexpectedly.
"Is that an order as my boss or a suggestion as my friend?"
He raised his brow. "Both?"
"Well, okay," you shrugged as you took a step back. "Wanna see my room? I don't think you've seen it yet. Everyone else has."
Without giving him a chance to object, you dashed down the hallway. He trailed behind with reluctance, knowing just how dangerous this could be for him. He was all too aware that he shouldn't be here, let alone in your room in your current, wine-fueled state.
You fumbled for the light, fingers slipping before finding the switch as you stumbled into the cramped room. It was pink. Very pink. The pullout couch was lost beneath a mountain of pillows, excessive by any standard. Your closet was bursting, and a collection of gadgets and gizmos had overtaken the room, but he liked it, a lot.
Your collapse onto the bed sent pillows scattering to the floor, his mind wandered about the unseen details of your bedroom at home, and even more so, the thought of what a shared space between you two might look like.
A sigh escaped him as he stood over you. "How about changing into your pajamas first, hm?"
"No thank you."
"You're going to hate yourself if you wake up in jeans tomorrow."
"Fine." You pouted, propping yourself up on your elbows. "Top right drawer please."
He shot you a look but obliged anyway. There was something about that puckered out bottom lip that made him think he'd do just about anything you asked, like he was putty in your hands. Pulling out the most conservative pair of pajamas from the sparse selection, he made a mental note to ask about that later.
"Thank you," you said with a smile. He really liked your smile. "You know, you're really such a nice person, Hotch. Or—Can I call you Aaron? Just tonight?"
He felt a sudden emptiness in his chest as the air was knocked out. "You can call me Aaron. Just tonight."
A high-pitched squeal escaped you as you began shedding your clothes. He offered a stifled cough, quickly averting his gaze and nudging the door closed with his free hand.
"Well, Aaron," you said plainly, "I really like you."
The effort it took for him not to pivot on his heel was immense, particularly when your voice sweetened like honey at the mention of his name.
"You're a great boss."
"I like you too, Agent."
"No, you don't, well, I mean—you can turn around now," you said. "You like me, but I really like you. It's not the same."
As he turned to face you, he could sense his cock twitching in his pants, a physical reaction to the sight of you fumbling with your shirt, your tits exposed in full view, as if begging to be touched.
"Christ," he hissed, gripping the ends of your shirt and yanking down. He was sure you were going to hate yourself in the morning. "You're not making sense, and I think you need to sleep it off."
"Yeah," you replied, your eyes warmly meeting his as you gave him a lopsided smile. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in such casual clothes, Aaron. You look very handsome."
He needed to get you to bed before he did something he'd regret. He softly nudged your shoulders backward, offering no verbal response. You surrendered to the motion with complaint, your remaining strength insufficient for anything else.
Softly, he settled to blankets around you, taking a moment to study you, with the intention of memorizing you completely (even the part of you that was far too drunk).
"Goodnight, Aaron."
He summoned all his restraint to keep from crashing his lips into yours. He smoothed back your hair, allowing himself that as he shot you a tired smile. "Goodnight."
He hadn't even touched the doorknob when your plea reached his ears. "Aaron, I—, will you stay with me?"
And who was he to deny you anything?
taglist: @chronicallybubbly
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fanfic#hotchner#ssa hotchner#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#Spotify
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something more
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
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Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.
“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”
“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.
“I should really get this done-”
“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’
“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”
He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.
“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.
“Okay, put me to work, boss.”
“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.
He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”
“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.
It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”
And he still wanted to check on you.
“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”
“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.
“Get in here, Hotchner.”
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.
So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”
You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.
“Who taught you that one, huh?”
“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”
“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”
And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”
“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”
“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.
“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.
“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”
“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”
“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.
“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”
“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”
You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.
It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”
His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”
You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.
“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”
Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.
It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”
“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
“We fell asleep, but we landed.”
“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”
“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”
Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”
He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”
“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”
“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”
Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.
“Really?”
“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“
“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.
“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”
“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”
“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.
“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.
“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.
On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.
“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”
Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”
Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.
-
You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”
“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts weren’t so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.
“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”
Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”
“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”
“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”
“If you say so, Hotchner.”
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”
“Learned from the best,” you say.
You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, you’re on a mission to change that.
While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”
Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”
You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.
“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”
For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.
“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”
Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.
“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.
It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
“Finally,” from Emily.
“About time,” from JJ.
“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
༄
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
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wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife
"How could you cheat on your wife?"
Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.
All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.
"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"
She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.
Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."
And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.
Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"
She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.
"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.
"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.
"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"
"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.
She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."
It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"
"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."
A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.
"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"
That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.
"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.
"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.
"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."
She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"
"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.
"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."
"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.
"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."
"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.
"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"
"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.
"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.
"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."
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won't you be my sunshine-a.h.
a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!
Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man.
This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.
The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.
Which isn’t to say that he has one.
There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk.
It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.
That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership.
Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you.
He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself.
“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning.
He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks.
“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”
She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection.
He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone.
He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation.
He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically.
It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this.
“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting.
“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride.
“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”
It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth.
He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips.
“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic.
It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?)
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner imagines#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner blurbs#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotch fic#hotch#hotch x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner x bau!reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#ssa aaron hotchner#agent hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fic
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i can see you
pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader
summary: "here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”
content warnings: jealous!hotch, reader is a panther (aren't we all), bathroom sex, mirror sex, p in v, sexual tension, unprotected sex (r mentions being on birth control but wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, spanking, hair pulling, choking, dom!hotch, sub!reader.
word count: 3.9k (y’all this was not supposed to be this long lmao)
notes: day 18 of @hotchfiles marchhotchness 'self-image' but also HEAVILY inspired by this post from @softhairedhotch because it made me go FERAL and i love jealous hotch (but pls lmk if taking inspo was okay!!) this is also my first hotch fic ever so pls lmk ur thoughts or any other feedback <333
aaron hotchner was not a jealous man.
he had no right to be jealous over something that technically did not exist or someone that technically was not his.
and although he only had himself to blame for that, he really did wish that you were his. and as much as he was telling himself not to be, he was jealous.
but it wasn’t the typical jealous where he watched you be approached by someone much younger than him—someone your own age instead of his—and by someone who already had him beat in reciprocating that flirtatious energy you often used on aaron himself.
no, this type of jealousy was one that was boosting his ego and making him feel lightweight, albeit the fact that it still made him see red.
it was a typical night out with the rest of the team, all of you having agreed that the eight of you were in need of a couple of drinks after some long weeks of paperwork and back and forth cases.
you were all engrossed in the conversation, but you had left the table to get yourself another refill on your drink and had taken far too long than it normally would have, the rest of the younger members—all besides reid—having decided on hitting up the dance floor throughout the time you hadn’t returned to your seat.
it was practically natural for aaron to look for you in a crowd, but what he hadn’t expected to find was you, sitting in a bar stool on the right side of the bar, being hit up by a man who had to have been a couple of years older than aaron himself.
the front hairs of the man’s head were peeking of several grey hairs, paired with a matching grey beard and an overall radiance that screamed of that older man type that you were apparently into.
the sudden revelation made aaron feel dizzy, the confirmation of your attraction towards older men making his pants tighten as he watched the way you stared up at the man with that sultry look of yours—the one where you were somehow able to perfectly mix mischief and innocence seamlessly together.
while you had used that look on aaron countless times before, times where it had been only you and him alone in his office, way past working hours, he had never done anything about it. but, god, as he watched you do it to someone else, out on the open, there was nothing he was currently regretting more.
aaron’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt someone kick him from underneath the table he sat at, whipping his head to the person in front of him only to find rossi staring at him with a smug look on his face.
he cleared his throat, “what?”
aaron mentally cringed at the way his voice wavered.
“you gonna be done being jealous anytime soon and make a move or are you just gonna sit there throwing daggers at the guy?” dave asked, brows raised.
he took a long sip from his drink, trying to avoid the question for as long as he could as he tried to compose himself, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,”
rossi rolled his eyes, “oh, please, aaron. you don’t have to be a profiler to notice the way you can cut the tension that’s between the both of you with a butter knife,”
aaron’s brows furrowed.
“you have all the confirmation you need right there,” dave pointed his thumb behind him, signaling at you and the man, “if that’s not enough for you, then i’m declaring you helpless at this point,” he let out a sigh, standing from his seat, “i’m going to get another drink and if i find you still sitting here, wallowing in your thoughts after getting my refill, i’ll go up to them and encourage her to go home with the man.”
aaron’s fists clenched at the thought. at the thought of you sprawled on the bed of another man, wearing that same look you had on just now and staring up at him as you—
his body acted faster than his brain did, and before he even had the chance to process what he was doing, he stood from his own stool, not allowing for another moment to pass by as he stormed over to where you and the man were sitting.
from your side of the room, you can see aaron make his way over to you through the peripheral of your vision, the excitement of finally getting a reaction out of him making your heart skip and your thighs press together as you took into count the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.
the pressure you put on your thighs didn’t do anything to relieve the ache you felt in your core as he reached where you sat, coming to stand behind—was his name michael? although the stranger you had began talking to was definitely older than him, aaron was a good several inches taller, towering over the both of you.
he cleared his throat, cutting michael off from whatever he had been talking to you about as he turned around with a raised brow. aaron’s expression didn’t falter, not sparing a single glance at the man as his eyes landed on you, “y/n, can i speak to you for a moment?”
you mentally rolled your eyes. ever the formal one.
michael scoffed from in front of him, angling his body so that he was able to properly glare daggers at your boss, “we were in the middle of a conversation here, if you don’t mind?”
although your attraction for aaron skyrocketed in comparison to the man you had just met, you were thriving off of the jealousy radiating off of the one you wanted the most, the ache in your stomach only growing.
before aaron had the chance to shoot out a reply, you set your hand on michael’s forearm, giving him a small, but sad smile, “i’m sorry, michael,” you butted in, jumping off of the bar stool, “i’ll be right back, okay?”
another scoff comes from michael’s direction, “whatever,” he grabs his drink and rolls his eyes, “don’t even bother coming back,”
ew.
this time you actually rolled your eyes, grabbing at your drink and drowning the rest of it. you shrug, “older men are always a hit or miss,” you mumble, setting the glass down.
aaron’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, a firm but gentle grip on it as he pulls you close to him, “let’s go,” he seethes in your ear.
you hide a smirk as you follow behind him, letting your body practically flail as you struggle to keep up with him. when he notices your staggered pace, he matches his footsteps with yours, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist as he guides you through the crowd and towards the hallway that lead towards the bar’s restrooms.
the both of you gave a silent thanks at the fact that there was no line, the hallway scarce and dimly lit with the exception of a few people standing together against the walls, either flirting or talking.
“what are you doing?” you ask, standing behind him as he knocks on one of the doors, his grip on your waist still very much present.
“you’ll see,” he mumbles, yanking the door open by the knob after no one replies and pulling the both of you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.
you try to take a good look at the interior of the bathroom, trying to guess if it was a good enough place to do whatever the two of you were about to do.
a faint gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard press into your ass, immediately melting as one of aaron’s big hands comes to rub at the side of your leg, right below your hip. his whole body comes up behind yours, his other free hand coming to your stomach to press you into him.
“aaron—” you try to speak but get cut off as you let out another gasp, one almost like a sigh, as the hand that was rubbing at your leg sneaks further up and wraps itself around your hip, aaron’s thick fingers digging into your skin despite the material of your shorts that blocked his hand.
aaron dips his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath and the faint touch of his lips against the lower part of your jawline sending shivers down your spine.
“is this okay?” he asks softly, a total contrast from the vice grip he had on both your front and hip.
you nod quickly, your hand coming up to your right where he held your hip to wrap around his own.
“use your words, honey,”
the pet name makes you whimper and your thighs clench in spite of the fact that you were standing up. you let out a ragged breath as he awaits for your answer, the hand that was pressed to your stomach furthering down until it was right above your pelvis but below your tummy, pushing you further back until you could feel how hard he actually was.
you whine, your other hand coming to wrap around that one, too, “yes,” you sigh, “it’s okay,”
aaron presses his lips into that same spot below your jaw, gently and lovingly before whipping you around so that you were facing him and pushing you up against the counter.
not even giving you a chance to process what he had just done, his lips crash onto yours roughly, making you moan directly into his mouth. your bring your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and tugging.
aaron hisses, slapping at your thigh in a firm way that had you let out another moan.
“aaron,” you whine, pushing up into his chest out of desperation.
he hums, “do you want my attention now?” he asks through the kiss, “don’t wanna go back and talk to that guy you were all over just a couple of minutes ago?”
“no,” you mumble, huffing as he breaks away from you to wrap his fingers around your chin.
he chuckles as your lips form into a puffy pout, “here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”
“no!” you whine again, your arms dropping from around his neck to wrap around his bicep, squeezing at the muscle to try and pull him closer to you, “just you!”
his confidence was beyond what it normally was, feeling you squirm from against him yet still wanting his touch, “really? so you weren’t planning on going home with that man? all those times you touched his shoulder or the times he would touch your thigh meant nothing?”
“yes, they didn’t mean anything!” you huff, “you’re the one i want to go home with all the time!”
aaron’s heart clenched at your confession, knowing that deep down you really did mean all the time. he had just never been sure if you truly were interested in living a joint life with him. up until now, that is.
he brings his hands to your back, right by your shoulder blades as he connects your lips once more. your shoulders relax and you lean into him with earnest, squeezing at the muscle from his bicep.
you hum, satisfied as he begins to run his hands up and down, resulting in the fabric of your shirt lifting with every time he went up, eventually ending up in nothing but rolled up fabric under his palm. he breaks the kiss once more to toss your shirt over your head and near the sink’s counter, leaving you in only your shorts.
aaron stared at your bare breasts, not expecting you to have not been wearing a bra despite the tight shirt you just had on.
you shiver under his gaze, opening your mouth to say something before he lowered himself and quickly attached a mouth to one of your breasts, the other one coming up to grab and squeeze at it. you moan, gripping onto the marble counter for support as he presses sloppy and wet kisses to each breast.
his fingers come to undo the button of your shorts, hooking them inside your panties before shoving both articles of clothing down your legs, signaling you to kick them off of you. you toed your shoes off as well, leaving you completely naked and bare for him while he remained fully clothed.
he turns you around gently, bringing you face to face with the sight of you completely stripped in the mirror, the image making you clench your thighs together once more as you stabilized yourself on the sink.
aaron’s hands soothed all around your body, a whimper leaving you at the feeling of his calloused hands groping at your breasts before moving down to your soaking pussy.
as if on instinct, you spread your legs open for him, practically inviting him to dip his fingers into your folds and inside your entrance. the thickness of both his index and middle fingers stretching you out. you knew you had always loved his hands for a reason.
a moan bounced off the walls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, moving torturously slow before he began to pick up the pace. you could feel your slick drip onto the floor and probably onto the rest of his hand, but all you could focus on was shamelessly bucking your hips into your hand and spreading your legs for even more access.
“you’re soaking, honey,” aaron says, hand coming back around to squeeze at your breast again, leaving you gasping as he pinched your nipples.
you whimpered, “just for you,”
“‘just for me?’” he repeats, “not for anyone else, right?”
you shake your head no, pussy clenching around his fingers, “j-just for you, aaron,”
his hand left your breast to smack at your ass, making you jump, “good girl,”
with that, he takes his fingers out of you, a throaty whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. you arched your back into him, but immediately stilled at the sound of him removing his belt filled the room. you watched from the mirror in front of you as he undid his pants button, reaching past his boxers to pull out his cock.
oh shit.
your mouth dropped at the sight of his dick spring out from where it had been confined, your slick hole clenching at nothing at how big he was. you knew that aaron hotchner was definition of big dick energy, always wondered what he was secretly packing, but now you wondered if you were going to be able to take it all.
he was thick, veiny all around with girth too thick that it hurt just looking at him. as much as you could tell you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, it excited you far too much.
you gulped, meeting his eyes in the mirror, landing on his hungry gaze, “is it going to fit?” you ask quietly, trying to bring your legs back together.
“we’ll make it fit,” he says, sounding confident of himself, a hand coming to stop you from closing your legs, “will you let me know if it’s too much?”
you take another look at his cock before giving him a determined look, “i will,” you nod.
he nods back, angling your head with his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth.
you give into him easily, arching into him until you feel the tip of his cock slip through your wet folds and line up with your entrance. you had taken dick before, but never this big, so as he gave you one last look, you took a deep breath before feeling him sink into you.
you gasp, already feeling full by just the tip, though the slickness of your pussy helping you in adjust.
“still good, honey?”
you nod again, too busy focusing on how his length was stretching you out further than his fingers had.
smack!
aaron’s hand landed another spank on your ass, making you snap your heads toward him with a confused, dumbfounded expression. he glared, “use your words.”
you huffed, doing your best to not roll your eyes, “still good,” you replied, going back to focusing on how full your pussy already felt, “is it in yet?”
“almost, baby,” you whined again, pushing your ass back onto him and earning yourself another inch inside.
humming in delight, you felt aaron begin to move, setting a slow pace as he inched himself in and out to get you used to the length that was already inside you.
“aaron,” you sighed, “give it all to me,” you pleaded at him through the mirror, “i can take it,”
he studied your expression, all needy and flushed as you tried to buck your hips further back to fill yourself up more, “let me know if it’s too much,” he warned.
you nodded eagerly but didn’t get a chance to reply as he shoved the rest of his length inside, the tip immediately hitting that one spot. you gasped loudly, the feeling of his whole cock inside you awakening a hunger inside of you, “fuck,” you moaned, dropping your hands so that you were resting with your elbows on the counter, “please, aaron. move,”
he hesitated for another moment, and just as you were about to look behind you, you felt him begin to move, pistoling his hips into your ass roughly.
you let out a shriek, your hands grabbing at anything you could reach in order to stabilize yourself as he began to mercilessly pound into you from behind. he slipped his dick in and out of you each time, your pussy hugging the veiny length each time he did.
the sounds your juices made due to you being soaked vibrated against the room each time his hips hit your ass roughly, and it only edged you on further.
“a-aaron,” you moan, breasts jiggling against the cold sink as the girth of his cock stretched you out, “aaron! oh, fuck!”
you thought you had felt good getting his attention when you were back flirting with the guy, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his dick slamming into you.
from above, aaron grunted and groaned, fingers and nails digging into your hips harshly as he pounded into your perfect pussy. he loved the way you clenched around him, taking it back perfectly each time he slipped back in.
his hand reached for your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against him with your back still perfectly arched. he dropped his hand from your head to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into the sides.
you gasped, not having a choice as you looked at him through the now foggy mirror, the image of your body rocking with every smack against your body only adding onto the sensation.
“such a perfect pussy,” aaron grumbled into your ear, “this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it sweetheart?”
you did your best to nod regardless of how weak your body felt, of the way you could feel your slick drip down to your thighs or the way you were drooling from your open mouth, “belongs to you, aaron,” you mumble, surprisingly coherently despite the way he was choking you.
“yeah, it does,” he grunts, free hand coming to grab at your stomach again before pushing against the spot where his cock was evidently sliding in and out of you, making you squirm, “this greedy pussy belongs to me. not to that bastard you were flirting with, right, honey?”
you nod again, eyes stuck on the tummy bulge you currently displayed, your hole clenching at aaron’s cock even tighter at the way the indent disappeared when he slipped out versus when it reappeared when slipping back in.
“feels so good, aaron,” you mumble, saliva dropping from your lips and onto your pointy, practically rock hard nipples that jiggled with each thrust.
“yeah?” he asks, breath hot against your ear, “taking it so well for me, such a good girl,” he praises, hand leaving from your stomach to slither down to where your bodies connected.
you let out a squeal as his middle finger slipped through your finger and his index began to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the feeling making the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.
you babbled aaron’s name like a loose mantra, bodies rocking together as he quickened his pace after realizing that you were close to orgasming, hand tightening around your neck and finger rubbing even faster than before.
“c’mon, honey, come for me,” he encouraged, “come all over my cock, pretty girl,”
it was all the confirmation you need to let yourself go, body shaking and aaron’s name being repeated as you chased the high, glad that he was holding you up with his hands as your whole body stuttered.
the feeling of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him violently made aaron groan, sweat dripping down his body as he began to reach his own high just from the way your body reacted to orgasming from his dick. from the way he was fucking you and from the way he was naming you as his own.
you could feel his pace falter from behind you, lazily meeting his pace as you tried to encourage him to finish, “come in me, aaron, please,” you whined, needing to feel him fill you up to the point where his come would leak out of you, “fill up my pussy, aaron,”
he gave you a look of unsureness through the mirror before you nodded at him, “i’m on the pill. it’s okay. please,”
that had been all the confirmation he need for him to finish inside you, his cock twitching inside you as his seed filled you up, making you moan as you rode out your own orgasm, still clenching tightly around him.
you giggled at the way his body practically toppled onto yours as he tried to catch himself, bodies pressed together as he held onto the counter with his dick still inside you.
he snaked his hand around the side of your face as his breath evened, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and shutting up your whines as he pulled out from inside you with a kiss to your mouth.
“jack’s at a sleepover today,” he says after a few moments of silence.
you inch an eyebrow at him, watching as he leaned over to grab some toilet paper, snatching some off the holder before wiping himself clean of you and wincing at the sensitivity as he wiped gently at your own folds and thighs, “is he now?”
he hums, tucking himself back into his boxers and quickly buttoning his pants to help you put your own clothes on, “he is,” he grabbed your discarded shorts and parties from the floor and signaled you to lift your legs, “we can go home and i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and ask you to be go on an official date with me in the morning,”
your heart pulls as he buttons up your shorts for you, reaching for your shirt, too, “i’ll only say yes if we keep going when we get home,” you admit, making him freeze in his movements.
he pinched your nipple.
#marchhotchness#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid#david rossi#derek morgan#penelope garcia#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#maddie’s stills
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LATE NIGHTS • A. HOTCHNER X READER
innuendo / allusion to sex; soft, domestic, and fluffy; gn!reader; shaving the other person; mentions of a case but no details; ~1.3k words; i think that's it!
Aaron knew he was busy. More than he’d like to be.
More often than not, he would come home to you asleep on the bed, clear signs of your defiance and attempts to stay up visible in the bedroom — lights still on, a book open and un-bookmarked next to your hand, jewelry and socks still on.
He expected much of the same today, creeping in quietly as he put up his gun and badge before taking a shower in the guest bath, using clothes he’d left in the guest bedroom.
Sometimes, he prefers sleeping in there. He doesn’t like to wake you up, and since he always rises early, he’ll slip into bed before your alarm or make you breakfast and apologize with gentle kisses for his absence.
There’s a sleepy, muffled voice but he hears it, dropping the towel he was using for his hair on the counter. The hallway light has flickered on, and you stand sleepily at the entrance to the bedroom.
“You’re home,” you mumble, heaving a happy sigh and wrapping your arms closer around your shivering body. “I thought I heard you come in, and then, the shower, I was sure…”
“Hey,” he breathes out, like the illusion will break if he speaks any louder, stepping towards you. Aaron waits. You wait before letting out a heavy sigh and shuffling forward. “You weren’t asleep?”
“You were gone for over a week, Hotchner,” you scold, voice thick with emotion as you nuzzle into his chest and take in the lingering scent of his body wash and shampoo. “I missed you. Sue me.”
“There’s no grounds for that,” he exhales the words in a rush, smiling fondly as you trail your fingers over his arm before reaching up to his jaw, running your thumb over the beard growth. “I missed you, too, sweetheart,”
“I know,” you smile. “Your phone bill is going to be even worse than normal this month,” you tease, voice light and pleasant. He missed it more than ever on the flight home, unable to justify calling you so late.
He hums, pressing a fluttering of kisses to your hairline. “Bed?”
“You’re not done getting ready,” you state it like it’s obvious.
And to you, he guesses, it is. Even with the time apart, you knew him better than anyone.
“Really? Why do you say that?” He can’t help the teasing lilt to his voice.
“I can smell your aftershave in the bathroom, the beard growth is more than you like — ever —, and your hair is still dripping.”
Aaron realizes then the water is dripping onto your skin. He tries to step back but you cling firmly to him, arms wrapped around his waist. You walk him into the bathroom and sit him on the closed toilet lid, tilting his face by his chin.
He lets you guide him with your fingers, staring up at you with a soft smile.
“You look…” you pause, not knowing the words. “Nothing. Can I?”
You pick up his razor and he nods, lashes fluttering as his gaze follows your lips when you purse them in consideration.
“First…” he interrupts, and you hesitate, putting the razor back down.
“First?” You echo.
Aaron tugs you closer, sliding a hand under your shirt and resting his warm palm on the cold skin of your lower back, smiling as he feels the goosebumps erupt under the gentle traces of his thumb.
Your eyes close without much thought and he kisses you deeply, sweetly, and he knows it’s just as overwhelming for you as it is for him. At least, he hopes, and the soft sigh that he swallows confirms it enough for him as you straddle his lap.
He kisses you until his lungs burn for air and he doesn’t back up far, forehead resting on yours as he swallows every sweet breath and soft sound from you.
“I look like I’m in love with you,”
You blink at him before realizing he was finishing your thought from earlier. “You are,”
He grins. “I am,” he affirms, quickly schooling his face to be neutral as you carefully put shaving cream and wet the razor. “Be careful,” he cracks an eye open to look at you, rewarded with the very pout he wanted to elicit.
“You get hurt more at work than here, my love,” you mumble. “The worst that’s ever happened is me scratching your back up or you burning your hand on a pot. Be still,”
Aaron flushes. He likes when you mark him, and you both know it.
The casual intimacy in your warm weight on top of him as your fingers gently and delicately caress the contours of his face combined with the way your breath ghosts over his skin is maddening. He thinks his heart might explode out of his chest.
It’s the longest few minutes of his life, and he finds himself holding his breath without realizing, sighing and relaxing once you lean back.
“There’s my man,” you coo. “Shaven and sleepy-eyed.”
“I’m not bright-eyed?”
“Never,” you laugh. “Well… sometimes, actually. You can be youthful and sweet.”
“Can be…” he mumbles bitterly, but there’s no bite like he intended, not as sleepiness crawls into his voice.
“You’re always kind, Aaron,” you nudge your nose against his. “But you don’t like to show it. And I like you as you are, you know that.”
He squints against the bathroom lights, suddenly far too bright and overwhelming. Your features are soft and bright with love, and he leans down to press kisses to your collarbone.
“Aaron,” you say sharply. He looks up, offended. “In the morning. You look dead on your feet.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You’ve spent too much time with Reid.” You climb off him. “C’mon, up, up. Plenty of time for kisses later.”
He follows you blindly, grateful that you flick off the lights, even if it makes him stumble to keep up with you in the darkness you’ve plunged him into. You shove him onto the bed and he looks up at you, wide-eyed.
“Thought you said in the morning?”
You scoff. “You’re impossible,” you find a clean pajama shirt and use it to towel his hair dry, knowing he would whine about the chills once the ceiling fan cooled the water. “Go on, get comfortable,”
With a huff, he leans back, watching you flutter about and put up your book, take off your jewelry, put his phone where it can charge and be close in case he gets a call.
His frustration vanishes once you strip, but one warning glare is enough to silence the innuendo on his tongue. When you turn, he realizes it’s one of his old shirts, one he wore on one of your first dates, threadbare and exhausted.
“You look…” Aaron pauses. He’s not huge on compliments, hates the way he trips over the words. He lets you climb in next to him and kisses you, no deeper intention. “I love you,”
“I love you, too,” you promise. “Always will.”
He nods, and when you make him into the little spoon he feels like crying. He’d told you — a lot — how hard this case was, and the gentle tracing of your fingers over his spine washes away everything.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
He can’t manage words back, throat choked up, but he squeezes your hand. You smile and kiss his shoulder blade.
“I better wake up to your gorgeous face,”
“You got it, boss,” he murmurs, letting sleep wash over him in waves. The last thing he remembers is your fingers lacing with his.
to all my hotch fans..
#my works#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner fanfiction
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the sweetest sin of all
aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader ||
summary: in the midst of investigating a serial killer who chooses victims based on the seven deadly sins, aaron hotchner finds himself entangled in more than just the case (inspired by hozier's new song 'too sweet'):
word count: 3.4k
warnings: heavy tension, hurt comfort, crossing professional boundaries and general talks of CM violence and murder (nothing graphic):
a/n: hi! i wrote this entire thing for a friend, but maybe you might enjoy it too! this is my first piece of writing on this new blog so if you like feel free to like, reblog or even just let me know! and hopefully if it goes well there'll be more soon!
a/n update: it went well, here's part two!)
From the dim lighting of the office it was almost impossible to tell the exact lateness of the night. His watch consistently ticking, remained a steady rhythm. He ran a hand across his face, his tie undone and lying, long discarded on his desk. The first few buttons of his shirt undone, unbuttoned and an almost vulnerable step away from his usual armour. Papers containing violence were spread haphazardly and with chaos across his desk. A nearly forgotten glass of strong neat whiskey sat in place of his usual bitter coffee.
His team had been on the case for nearly a week, and Hotch felt they were no closer to catching the Unsub. The whole team was feeling the pressure. The profile told him they were dealing with a moral enforcer, a highly organised, violent offender with a clear mission. It should have been easy for them but bodies seemed to be continuously appearing and everyone was feeling uneasy and frustrated.
He was drowning in the details of this case, the Unsub's pattern ever-present in his mind. He thought of the remaining sins - envy, wrath, and lust - and something burned deep within his chest. It was a dangerous game they played, one where the stakes were higher than any case he'd ever worked on.
Being head of the team he felt the responsibility more vehemently than the rest, and he was doing something he’d promised the team he wouldn’t. He was letting it get to him.
There’d been four victims so far, each killed to match one of the seven deadly sins. So far his victims had been; gluttony - an overzealous upscale restaurant critic who binged food that he slated publicly, greed - a high-profile stock broker with the inability to control his obsession with obtaining more of his client's money, sloth - a wealthy trust fund baby who squandered their university scholarship out of laziness and pride - a wealthy woman with a shopping addiction who frequented beauty salons and had an intense social media presence flaunting herself.
Each victim came from a different geographical area of the city and Garcia hadn’t been able to uncover any crossover between their lives where it might have been somewhere they could have met the Unsub. There were no leads and the team felt at a loss.
Knowing the Unsub was three victims away from the end of his mission, Hotch knew they were close to losing him if they didn’t catch a break soon. He’d sent the team home to get some sleep and told them to be ready bright and early the next day. Yet Hotch couldn't bring himself to leave the office, hoping the crime scene photos might uncover something he'd missed. He thought everyone had listened to his orders until he was drawn away from the graphic images in front of him by a gentle knock at the door.
"Come in." He croaked harshly, the hours of not speaking catching up to his vocal chords.
It was her. Of course, it was her.
She always had a way of pulling him from the edge, of grounding him when the world became too much. In the chaos and uncertainty of their work, she was his constant, his unwavering beacon of light. She was his solace, his calm in the storm, and in that moment, he allowed himself to get lost in her.
She was like honey, dripping out and pooling where flies could get stuck on the intoxication and drown. He could feel it, the danger she could be. If he’d been a man less controlled he could see how she could be his every downfall and triumph. In her, he saw a reflection of all his desires and fears. She was every strength and weakness. In the moment, he couldn't help but want to drown in the intoxicating allure of her, his deadly and dangerous, yet irresistibly sweet sin.
‘I’m heading home for the night…’ Her voice trailed off in a quiet hush to match the silence of the office.
The creases in his forehead from pouring over crime scenes and endless theories seemed to smooth out. He breathed out hours' worth of tension in a single breath, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn upwards so quickly that unless she’d been a profiler paying attention she might not have noticed. The way his body language shifted was subtle enough to the untrained eye, but not to her. He couldn’t conceal himself in his controlled, cold-edged front as well as he usually could when she was around.
"I gave those orders hours ago." He mused, leaning back in his chair, the breath of a sigh dying on his lips.
She gently shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. "I thought you might be used to me defying your orders by now, Hotch. You should take your own advice, didn’t you promise to stop working so late," she replied, a glint in her eyes that held an irresistible challenge. Their playful banter was a welcome change from the dark seriousness that he’d been so consumed by moments ago.
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief waiting for his retort.
"I didn’t promise anything." He huffed.
She didn’t wait for an invitation, she didn’t need to. Crossing the threshold of his office and making her way to the imposing desk of the Unit Chief.
She’d not seen her boss look so troubled by a case in a long time. Her gaze was drawn to him as his elbows leaned against the desk, his usually impeccable suit dishevelled. She noted the way the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of the man beneath the stoic FBI Unit Chief. It was a stark contrast to the man who was always put together, always in control. Yet, in that moment, he looked anything but. Not yet unravelled, but on the edge of it.
She moved further into the office, she was not someone who second-guessed her decisions. She walked with confidence, and perched herself on the edge of his desk, letting her legs dangle over the edge her black work trousers tight across her thighs. She rested her hand on the desk, dangerously close to her Hotch’s, mere centimetres.
His gaze shifted from the papers in front of him and followed the contours of her face, lingering a moment too long on her lips. He swallowed hard, his mind flickering with thoughts he'd held at bay for far too long. But he was Unit Chief, and professionalism might as well have been his middle name. He lightly shook his head, feeling the back of his eyes burn from the focus he’d had all day.
Hotch wasn’t one to open up, he was always controlled but around her, there was a tug at the stitches of his personality.
‘I have a bad feeling about this case.’ He hummed, the night breeze catching against the window. He could smell her perfume, mixing with the scent of burnt coffee and paper. He dare not think about it too long.
He reached across his desk and grabbed his near-forgotten whiskey, downing it in one drag. He bent towards where her legs were hanging over his desk, motioning for her to lift them. She drew them up towards her chest and he opened the drawer beneath her pulling an expensive-looking bottle from it and refilling the glass, this time handing it to her. Their fingers grazed slightly with the exchange. His warm, hers icy cold - meeting to form the perfect temperature.
‘We have no leads. I always trust the profile, but this case… We’ve got nothing.’ His eyes watched her as she swirled the liquid around the glass, her eyes watching it splash against the sides. He sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands before leaning his head back, a deep exhale exiting his thin lips.
‘We’ll get him.’ She said confidently, something shifted in her tone. It was like a dagger's sharp edge, certainty dripping off it like blood. He almost believed her, but she could see the already dim light dissipating from his dark eyes. She felt sympathy pooling in the tips of her fingers. If she didn’t hadn’t been holding their shared glass she might have reached out and touched him so that it could bleed from her into him, so that he would feel less alone.
She leaned back slightly, her eyes searching his. It was unclear what she was searching for in them. He couldn’t read her entirely, even with all his years of profiling. When she smiled, he felt his heart catch in his throat. It was like looking directly at the sun. Burning and bright hot.
‘You should follow your own orders… And for once so should I. Go home. Get some rest.’ She downed the liquid with a swift tip of her head. Hotch watched the curve of her neck as she moved and the way she licked her lips catching a fallen drop of liquor. She laid the glass down on the desk, allowing her hand to brush over his. His skin crackled with electricity.
She moved with grace as she climbed down from his desk. That one moment shared more intimate than she’d expected it to feel, with their proximity, the lateness of the hour and the unusually undone Aaron sitting at his desk.
His eyes followed her every movement, skin stinging as if he’d been burned. She was halfway to the door before he heard himself call out to her. It almost didn’t sound like his own voice.
‘Wait. Don’t go yet. Come here.’ His voice was firm like it always was, but there was a depth to it that she hadn’t heard before. One she’d always longed for. His eyes glinted with dark hues as he watched her turn from the door. He almost breathed out in relief.
She had an unreadable expression. One that set the blood in his veins on fire. She lowered her head, and with it, her eyes darkened. He stood from his desk, making his way over to her with steps that felt dreamlike. Their eyes met with an energy never shared before and once in front of her he reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear so that he had an unobscured view of her whole face. The same face that had the power to completely undo him.
Her eyes widened slightly as if surprised by his gentle touch, but at the same time, there was a knowing in them as if she’d been waiting for it all along. She remained still, and his heart pounded in his chest as he looked into his eyes, an unspoken conversation passing between them. It felt like any words would have made the moment less intimate.
His hand lingered against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his touch was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of his office. Her skin felt like it was burning under him. The silence between them was palpable, filled with the yet unspoken words and emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. Hotch, usually so controlled in his feelings suddenly felt so unsteady. His heart beat suspiciously with the feeling that perhaps he’d crossed a line.
‘How do you know?’ He whispered, eyes scanning hers as if he were a detective trying to uncover the evidence that gave her certainty. In the light of the office, she looked like she’d been hand carved, art that he’d been lucky enough to be in the presence of. He traced his thumb over her lips, eyes heavy with a mixture of desire and something else she couldn't quite place. It was a dangerous gesture, one that could endanger his whole career.
'I trust you, and that’s all I need to know that we’ll get him.' she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes glazed with a devotion that almost made him groan. The conviction of her words pierced his wavering confidence. He’d gone from feeling almost hopeless to buzzing with determination.
He let his hand fall away from her face, but the warmth lingered, an almost promise that what she’d been sure she’d felt moments ago had indeed been real. Reality swarmed his brain, aware of the situation he’d almost found himself in. He straightened up, posture contrasting his relatively dishevelled exterior.
"You’re right, you should follow my orders. Go home, get some rest. I told the team we’d start fresh in the morning," he instructed, a softness in his voice that was rarely displayed. But she didn’t move, and he didn’t either.
He watched her eyes for any sign of discomfort, the tension in the room was palpable, an electrifying current that Hotch didn’t dare to break. Silence blanketed them, only broken by the ticking of his watch. It was a solitary reminder of the passing time, yet the urgency of their case had fallen to the back of his mind.
‘Close the door.’ She instructed, using the same authority that Hotch usually spoke with. The change in dynamic almost made him falter, but with a small smirk, he moved towards the door. He’d been aware of the power imbalance he held in his position but with the tone of her voice, there was a subtle shift in the air between them. She moved back towards his desk with certainty. Moving his name tag so she could perch to face the dark space of the office.
Their eyes met across the room. She tilted her head to the side, examining his body language. As he locked the door behind him, the air seemed to constrict around them, the room becoming a world of its own where only they existed. The only sound in the room was the soft click of the lock and their breathing. It echoed throughout the office, bouncing off the walls and settling into their bones. The tension escalated, but it was different now, charged with an anticipation that neither of them could ignore.
He might have been unit chief, but right here, right now, she was in charge. The line between professional and personal blurred dangerously as their eyes locked, a promise of something more hanging in the balance. The air was charged now, they were poised, daring each other to make the first move. They both knew that they were on the precipice of something dangerous, something that could have dire consequences professionally.
Yet, the pull was too strong to ignore, and for the first time, Hotch allowed himself to teeter on the edge, his resolve tested by the powerful undercurrent of desire that crackled between them. Tonight, they were not just colleagues, they were two individuals drawn together by an irresistible force. In the room, the undeniable chemistry that had been simmering under the surface for far too long had nowhere to hide.
On the desk, she rested each hand palm down to the side of her thighs and opened her legs wider to create space for his body to fit. She moved her head in a motion for him to step forward. Hotch couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, pupils were blown wide from more than just the darkness of the room. How long had he craved something so forbidden, how long had he denied himself the idea that this could ever happen?
As he moved closer to her, he couldn't help but think about the deadly sin of lust, a strong passion or longing that was deemed sinful. Here he was, teetering on the edge of crossing professional boundaries, something he’d never done. The balance of energy in the room was no longer solely from the stress of the case, it was about them - about her. He could have tried to argue that it was, but no jury in the state would believe him. If this were a trial, he was about to be found guilty.
The Unsub's deadly pattern echoed in his mind - the three sins he’d yet to kill for; envy, jealousy over another's life or possessions, wrath, a violent anger driven by hatred, and finally, lust, a powerful desire that can become all-consuming, much like the craving he was experiencing in that very moment. Looking upon her he felt envious of anyone who had ever been allowed to touch her, he felt wrath for anyone who had ever wronged or hurt her, and most of all he felt lust. He definitely felt lust, his desire for her taking over all his senses.
Was he caught between duty and desire? No, he had no doubt in his mind. The sheer intensity of her shared gaze and the way she was beckoning him forward smashed the boundaries of their relationship. He’d never seen her in this light, never dared to allow himself to think of her like this. But now she was in front of him how could he ever deny himself something so sweet?
Hotch had always been a man of control, a man who kept his emotions in check. But in this room, with the charged atmosphere heavy between them, he felt his resolve wavering. He was caught in the powerful current of the desire for her that he’d managed to keep at bay. He didn’t want to be in control anymore.
He closed the distance between them, fitting himself between her legs, his hands landing on her hips as he looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She brought one hand off the desk to hold the waistband of his suit trousers, tugging lightly.
“Are you finally going to kiss me, Agent Hotchner?” She asked, voice dripping with honey. Sweetness laced with danger that hit him right in the chest like a bullet.
She was an intoxicating mix of all seven, a deadly sin in her own right. She was his lust, his unending desire. She was his gluttony, the one he wanted to consume endlessly. She was his greed, the one he wanted all for himself. She was his sloth, his reason for inertia. She was his wrath, the one who could ignite a fire in him like no other. She was his envy, the one he admired and coveted. And she was his pride, the one who made him feel like he was on top of the world.
‘You will be the ruin of me.’ He breathed, his eyes almost black. He looked down at her taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and satisfaction. He was entirely wrapped around her finger. Tonight, he decided, he would willingly drown in this sweet sin, consequences be damned.
‘That is entirely my intention.’ She chuckled and he groaned, a guttural sound that felt foreign to him.
"Only if you promise not to tell the team," he murmured, a playful undertone to his voice.
As he leaned down to capture her lips with his, he knew without a doubt that this was a deadly sin he was willing to commit. It was both sweet and intense, a perfect reflection of their now complicated relationship.
Her lips tasted of the whiskey they'd shared, sweet with a hint of burn that left him wanting more. She tasted like a curse, sickeningly sweet as if to cause him decay. He deepened the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. He was standing on the cliff of the unknown, and he was more than willing to jump and fall headfirst.
As he pulled away, he couldn't help but study her face. He’d come face to face with endless serial killers, and been in the presence of pure evil. But he’d never been so close to something so dangerous. She was a temptation he couldn't resist. Sweeter than any apple in the Garden of Eden. He traced the contours of her face with his fingers, his gaze never leaving hers.
He could still taste her on the back of his tongue, sugar and shared whiskey burning. He’d never been so certain that he’d been willing to trade his control for the intoxicating sweetness that was her. She was a forbidden fruit that was too alluring to resist, and Aaron Hotchner had no more resistance left in him. Not now he’d tasted something so delicious.
After all, wasn't life about balancing the deadly sins and virtues? Tonight, he chose to sin.
(you can now read part two here!)
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#aaron hotchner x you#criminal minds fic#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds hotch
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Can you do hotch and pregnant!reader where they’ve been trying for a baby for awhile without success and he comes home from a mission to a pregnancy announcement?
pregnant!reader, 1k
Trying for a baby with Aaron is undeniably a good time. He’s the kindest man you’ve ever met. He loves you intensely.
There’s been a lot of intimacy (crassly but obviously), ten times as many kisses, and a heap of disappointed hugs to mellow it out.
“We aren’t in any rush,” he’d said last time, in the midst of a post-test back rub, his voice soft and comforting as always, “we just need to take our time. You’ll wish we took a little more time once it happens, I promise.”
When you do find out, you’re overjoyed. He should know logistically that it was possible for you to find out while he was away, and he shouldn’t be surprised, but you’re hoping he will be anyhow. He looks moody walking up the path to the house, a little less when he notices you and Jack sitting on the porch swing with a jug of lemonade on the glass table. You take Jack’s glass.
“Hey, buddy!” he says, laughing as Jack jumps from the swing and rushes across the porch to tackle his legs in a hug. “Hey, buddy,” he repeats, gentler, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“Let me go put my stuff in the safe, okay? I’ll be right back.”
He sends you a glowing smile and heads inside. Jack runs back to the swing and uses your leg to climb onto his cushion, turning his face up to yours. You can’t decide if he looks more like Aaron or Haley.
Haley, you think after a few seconds. Jack has eyes like hers, big and round but with thick lashes in the corners that make them seem sparkly.
“Are you gonna tell him the secret now?” Jack whispers.
“Yes, I am. Do you think he’ll be happy?”
“So happy.” Jack nods. “Like me. I can’t wait to have a brother.”
“Or sister,” you say, putting the lemonades down on the table.
“Or sister, but I want a brother.”
Aaron returns in time to catch it. “You can’t choose, buddy, it happens at random.” He’s ditched his suit jacket inside, rolling his sleeves to the elbow. His first port of call is to pick Jack up and hug him like he’s something fragile. He guards Jack from the sun, turning half from you, and covers the small boy’s back with his hand. “You okay?” he asks. “You had a good time? Sorry I said I’d be back yesterday, but I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”
Jack laughs into his dad’s neck. “You’re back today.”
“You missed both of my questions, bud. How are you?” Aaron asks.
“I’m excited! Y/N’s gonna tell you a secret!”
You grin. Aaron turns to you expectantly. “Oh yeah? And you can’t tell me?”
“Noooo,” Jack drags out.
Aaron manoeuvres around the table, sitting on the porch swing next to you, the hooks creaking as he settles. Jack gets comfortable on his lap, eyes flashing between you and his dad excitedly. It’s as good a place as any to tell him the news, sunshine on your faces, his hand working behind your back.
You smile at him before you start to speak. You can tell he already knows. “I found something out this morning.”
“Yeah?” he asks, clutching at your back. His hand can’t stay still suddenly. It’s like a massage. “You are?”
“Yeah, I think so. The test says so. I took one of those strip ones first and it was two lines, and then I took a Clear Blue and it says one to two weeks.”
“You’re pregnant,” he says surely, his lips turned up into a line, his smile as bright as you’ve ever seen it.
“With a baby!” Jack supplies.
“I’m just worried it’s too early.”
“Honey, if the test says you’re pregnant, it’s not too early. How many did you take, just two?”
“Four.” You nod, pulse going hard in your chest, you’re that happy.
“Four,” he says, leaning in slowly to give you time to tilt your head. You close your eyes, smiling too much to kiss back as Aaron presses a loving one to your top lip, then just below, a pressure on the seam of your lips that makes you laugh. “I think you can be confident in their accuracy, then.”
He kisses you again, then Jack. “What do you think about that, Jack? Y/N’s pregnant! She’s gonna get a big tummy.”
“Like Mrs. Lundy?”
Aaron cuddles him up to his neck. “Yeah, exactly like Mrs. Lundy. Wow. What should we do to celebrate?”
Something in his voice has changed, turning scratchy and raw. You duck your head to peer at him through the shadow of Jack’s head, flummoxed by the sudden appearance of wetness in his lashes.
“Aaron,” you murmur.
He nods into Jack’s hair.
“You are happy, right?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says, hugging Jack like he’s scared he’s gonna move away.
You aren’t sure what he’s thinking about, if he’s happy or sad, though it’s probably both, but you know he loves you. You wrap your arm behind his head, the other around his arm where he holds Jack. “You know what four tests means?” you ask, giving his back a good rub with your knuckles.
Aaron’s eyes blink open. He doesn’t cry, to your relief, he only leans forward to kiss you all over your closest cheek. “What does it mean?”
“It means I’m gonna have four babies, duh.”
“Four?” Jack asks incredulously. “No way. Dad, I am not having four brothers. No way.”
“What’s wrong with four brothers?” Aaron asks. “You’d only have to share your room with two.”
“No way!”
“We’re kidding, baby,” you say, taking Jack in where he sits on Aaron’s lap. You’d have been perfectly happy with just him and his father, but you’re ecstatic for another baby to bring up. Jack will make a good brother, and Aaron’s a great dad. “It’s one brother or sister. You’ll have your own room no matter what.”
He sighs in relief that’s too big for his body. “Oh, okay. I’m excited again then.”
Aaron gives the porch swing a rock with his leg. “Me too, buddy.”
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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I just know Aaron loves thighs.
Just thinking about having your boss holding your hips and carefully grinding you on his (clothed!!) boner is rotting my brain.
Oh and imagine the way his eyes would dialate whenever seeing you sit down next to him on the plane ride home when ur wearing a very form fitting pair of jeans that makes ur thighs look sooooo squeezable!! Hotch would have to clear his throat, tear his eyes away from the way your thighs just doubled size, and get his hands busy writing paperwork.
I just need some thigh obsessed Hotch in my life rn :((
#x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic#jules writes 📓🖊#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfic#beard!hotch#beard hotch
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my favorite brand of aaron hotchner/thomas gibson photos are the ones that look like it was taken by his gf (me!<3)
#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#thomas gibson#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner imagine
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Aaron Hotchner x reader
warnings: language, smut, daddy kink, squirting, slight exhibitionism, derogatory dirty talk and lots of it, fingering, oral, minor cum kink/play, a little bit of ass play, and lets be real there's no plot.
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When Aaron got home he found you in the kitchen, putting away dishes, half dancing around to the playlist echoing from your phone. The window was open wide, letting the fresh spring air into the house and at first he smiled, happy to be coming home to this. Then his head tilted as he took in your ensemble, tight light grey leggings that he could practically see your pussy through and when you spun to put away a couple of spatulas he became very aware you didn’t have a bra on underneath the white crop top, your nipples peaking through the fabric at him. The utensils found the way to their proper spot and you shot him a grin,
“Hey.” You caught your lower lip between your teeth as you took him in, always loving when he was dressed down, this time a dark tee and jeans.
“Hey yourself.” His hand wound around your waist and he greeted you with a kiss, his tongue instantly surging into your mouth. You let out a little giggle, turning back to the counter to finish what you were doing, “I thought you had errands to run today?”
“I did.” You replied with a shrug, putting down a stack of plates and closing the cabinet. Aaron wrapped an arm around you from behind, his hand warm on your bare midriff and his lips hit the side of your neck, “you didn’t wear this out, did you?”
“Just to the post office.” You gasped when his teeth sank into your shoulder and his free hand spanked the globe of your ass.
“So you were being a dirty little slut then?” He growled into the shell of your ear, “letting everyone out there see what’s mine?” A hand snuck under your shirt, pinching at your nipples and you couldn’t help but whine, arching into his touch, “and no panties? You just want everyone to see the shape of your pussy?” His free hand grabbed between your legs before spanking your cunt and you mewled, “get them fantasizing about how pretty it is?” He continued to palm at you through the impossibly thin fabric while his lips graced across your skin, “when you know who it belongs to, right?”
“You daddy.” You moaned, grinding down onto his hand and you could feel yourself tingling already.
“Good.” He spanked your pussy again, pulling another whimper from your lips, “then get yourself off like the useless slut you want to be today.”
His hand settled between your legs, cupping at your pussy with the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His other hand continued to roam under your shirt, groping at your tits and rolling your nipples between his forefinger and thumb.
“Well, get going.” He urged, “I wanna see how wet you can get these pants.”
He squeezed at you, his fingers practically slipping between your pussy lips through the fabric. You let out a low moan, your head rolling back onto his shoulder as you began to grind down onto his hand. You sucked your lower lip into your mouth, biting back a moan as Aaron’s other hand continued to massage your chest, playing with your nipples. His lips traced across your skin, starting out soft, ghosting over your neck, nipping at your earlobe,
“Such a greedy little whore you are.” He husked into your ear, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’ve been thinking about this all day haven’t you?”
“Mmmhmm…” You whined, rolling your hips harder against his hand, “need you daddy.”
“Yeah?” He jeered, grinding his hand hard against you, cupping you as you let out a groan, “you’ve been so patient this week, I bet you’re absolutely aching for my cock, aren’t you? Little cock slut you are, you love it when I use you.”
“Oh fuck Aaron…”
Your eyes fluttered shut as the heat began to fire through your body, your cunt pulsing around nothing as you felt your wetness building, your breath caught in your throat when Aaron bit into your neck. He knew exactly where to make a home with his lips, the spot that made your entire body shiver when he so much as touched it. He drove you absolutely wild and he knew it.
“God look at you,” he chuckled darkly at the whines escaping your lips, how you picked up the speed of your hips, pushing back onto his hand as hard as you could, chasing your peak, “rutting like a bitch in heat.” Pleasure coursed through you, your cheeks heating as the coil got tighter and tighter within you and you rocked down faster onto his hand, your moans getting louder with each roll of your hips. “You gonna come for daddy?”
“S-so close!” You groaned and he pinched your nipple, hard, while biting into the crook of your neck again and your body shuddered before your hips stilled. Aaron laughed, lifting his hand from between your legs, turning you in his arms to get a look at the small damp spot on the fabric of your pants.
“Oh come on,” he scolded, “I know you can do better than that. Such a desperate little whore today, you should be soaking.”
Pinning you to the counter, he hoisted you up onto it, spreading your legs wide for him, bracing your feet on the edge of the counter and his hand found your clit through the damp fabric. He didn’t hold back, knowing you were still coming down from your first orgasm, rubbing furiously at it, the friction of the fabric just enough to have your legs trembling almost immediately.
“Fuck! Fuu-uck.” You moaned, your head falling back as you felt yourself pulsing, your clit throbbing under his fingers. He pushed against your harder and you were crying out as you hit your high, thighs shaking as you squirted, juices drenching the fabric.
“That’s my good little slut.” Aaron praised, pinching your clit for extra effect and you gasped, the fabric was dark with your cum, and when he moved his fingers they were slick with wetness. “Look at you, making such a fucking mess already. Open.” He brought his fingers up to your lips and you obeyed, letting him thrust them into your mouth and all you could do was moan over the taste of your juices, tongue swirling around them as you sucked them clean.
Aaron slid his fingers out of your mouth and before you could even catch your breath enough to beg for him he leant over, his mouth wrapping around your pussy through your pants. His tongue lapped at you, groaning over your taste, the vibrations causing you to rock your body forward, eager for more.
“Oh god…” You muttered, your chest beginning to heave once again.
“Think you can get off again like this?” He asked with a grin, a brow raised in a tease in your direction and you whined, hand gripping at his hair.
“Please… need you.”
He mouthed at you again, nuzzling his face between your legs, pushing harder when your hand grasped at his scalp. As much as he wanted to torture you, drag it out as long as he possibly could, he also couldn’t wait to get his mouth actually on you, to really taste you, get your juices properly smeared all over his lips. His hands reached up to the weak seam of your pants, digging into the fabric before he easily ripped them apart, tugging at the fabric until your cunt was fully exposed.
“Aaron!” You gasped out, eyes wide and he simply scoffed.
“I’ll buy you new ones.” He grunted, tugging the fabric away from your body, “ones that don’t show off this pretty pussy as much.”
Without a second thought he dove in between your legs, hands tight on your thighs to keep you spread open for him. His tongue lapped through your folds, flicking against your clit and you gasped, pleasure shooting through you at the feeling of him finally on your body without a barrier. His mouth wrapped around your pussy, sucking at one of your lower lips before moving to the other one, then pulling them both into his mouth. His tongue delved as far as it could into you, licking up as much of your arousal as he desired.
Your nails dug into his scalp, practically every breath you exhaled was accompanied by a moan, your skin prickling with desire. With every stroke of his tongue his nose bumped against your clit and you couldn’t help but rock your hips toward his face, panting harder with each thrust. While he was incredibly talented with his mouth and every ministration was pulling more pleasure to your core, it simply was not enough right now.
“Please… please daddy…” you panted, “need you to make me come.” He growled into your pussy and you gasped at the sensation the vibrations sent rocking through you, “more.” You whined, “please, please…fuck! Please.”
Knowing exactly what you wanted, Aaron shifted his mouth upwards, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and two fingers easily slid into your dripping cunt. The tip of his tongue traced around the swollen nub, flicking at it slowly at first, picking up the speed and pressure as your whines increased. He matched the pace with his fingers, fucking them skillfully into you, twisting them around, twirling them so they hit every inch of your inner walls. He sucked particularly hard on your clit, fingers curling just right and you moaned even louder.
“Oh god! Fuck!” Your hand shot from his head to sneak under your shirt, groping at your chest, pinching at your nipples, “just like that! Fuck…” your eyes scrunched shut as the pleasure got hotter and hotter, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat, “gonna make me come!”
Aaron increased the pressure of his mouth, tongue flicking at your clit even faster and his fingers curled up again, rather than just thrusting he kept them rather still so he could rub back and fourth over the sensitive spot inside your throbbing pussy. You clenched down around him, your juices coating his hand and he knew you were close, your thighs shaking around him. He groaned against you and you shuddered, pussy pulsing around his fingers, squeezing him so tight you almost forced him out as you moaned loudly, your hips rocking up to push against his mouth while your orgasm washed over you. You felt the gush of wetness, gasping as your body shuddered once more and Aaron chuckled, your juices leaking down his arm, droplets already dripping onto the floor between you. He always took pride in being able to make you squirt and with the track record he had going today he certainly wasn’t going to stop there. As he pulled his fingers from your drenched cunt his tongue lapped up as much of your cum as he could, teeth sinking into the skin of your thigh.
“Such a messy little thing you are.” He growled as he stood from between your legs, “you like that? Making a mess of everything?” He cocked a brow in your direction and all you could do was attempt to catch your breath. “Answer me.” He demanded, his hand suddenly spanking your pussy, your clit throbbing when he did so.
“Fuck!” You yelped, nearly whimpering at the dark look in his eyes, “yes daddy. Love when you make me squirt.”
“That’s what I thought.” He spanked you again before his hands gripped the waistband of your ruined leggings, tugging them down your legs and tossing them in the direction of the garbage. “Keep those legs spread.” His hands roughly shoved your thighs back open, pushing you back on the counter, “little sluts don’t get to decide when they’re done and I’m definitely not finished.”
You let out a little whimper, your lip nearly quivering as you looked at him and he chuckled darkly, a smirk on his lips while he tugged your crop top over your head, leaving you bare before him. Somehow that turned you on even more, being completely naked while he was still fully clothed, in the middle of the kitchen as he had his way with you. It was almost like he could sense it, catching the way your cheeks flushed, the way you practically pouted up at him and his lips split into a grin as he grabbed your chin.
“Quite the exhibitionist aren’t you? I should just fuck you on the front step next time, let everyone on the block know how much of a fucking slut you are. But you’d probably like that too much, wouldn’t you? You’d just fucking love to show off, let everyone see your tight little cunt dripping with cum.”
He dropped your chin, taking a small step back as he surveyed you before his hand wound back and then came down hard on your pussy. You let out a quiet yelp, your body shivering at the painful pleasure surging through you.
“Whose pussy is this?” He growled.
“Yours!” You whined back, your clit already throbbing when Aaron spanked it again.
“And who makes you feel this good?”
“You do daddy.” You whimpered.
“Are you a dirty little whore?” Spank. “A needy little thing?” Spank. “A pathetic little slut?” Spank. “Answer me.” Spank. “What are you?” Spank. “Say it!” Spank. Each hit a little harder than the last, his fingers coming away a little more wet and sticky each time as your arousal built back up.
“I’m a dirty whore.” You whined out, your breath caught in your throat as he spanked your pussy again.
“That’s right.” He cooed.
“I need you daddy. Can’t come without you.”
“So what are you?” He asked, spanking you once again and you whimpered.
“I’m a pathetic little slut.”
“That’s right.” Spank. “You are. Going out dressed like that. Only I’m allowed to see you like this.” Spank. “Only I’m allowed to touch you. Understood?” Spank.
“Yes daddy.” You cried out, your pussy was absolutely throbbing. Pulsing around nothing as you ached for him to do something more, juices leaking down your legs you were so turned on you could barely focus.
“Good girl.” He praised with one last spank, this one directly on your clit and you shuddered, letting out a low moan.
Aaron stepped toward you and you braced yourself for another spank but instead he shoved thee fingers into your pussy and you let out a satisfied groan. He filled you so perfectly, fingers fucking into you, curling right where you needed them, stretching you out so wonderfully your eyes fluttered shut. He thrusted them into you, flicking them out every so often, pulling your wetness out with him as he did so, watching the droplets hit the floor. “God you’re such a pathetic slut, just a hole for me to use.”
“I am daddy!” You begged, “just for you. Only for you. Need your cock. Please!” Your whining became more insistent as the pleasure built up inside you again, feeling stuffed with his fingers moving faster and harder with each breath you let out. His free hand reached up, wrapping around your throat and after only two squeezes of his hand you were coming again, pussy juices drenching his hand as you shook in his arms.
“Yeah?” He raised a brow, releasing your throat, “you want me to fill you up? Stretch out that tight pussy with my thick cock?”
“Mmmhmm.” You nodded, panting, body still twitching as your nerves fired off pleasure through your limbs.
Aaron grabbed your hips, yanking you off the counter and flipping you over, bending you over it. He grabbed one of your legs, bending it and raising it up onto the counter, spreading your pussy open for him. He let out a low groan at how you glistened in the sunlight, just absolutely drenched and fluttering for him already. He was straining against his pants, hard and throbbing when he undid his belt, pulling his cock out. He pumped it a few times, smearing the bead of pre-cum across his length.
“You’re gonna take it like a good slut, right?” He asked, rubbing his cock against your folds and you nodded, a gasp leaving your lips when he rubbed the tip through you, teasing you, coating him in your juices. “That’s what I thought.”
With one swift thrust of his hips he buried his cock into you, letting out a grunt at how tight you were, how good you felt around him. His hand pressed against your lower back, keeping you pinned to the counter as he set a brutal pace, cock plunging into you fully with each thrust of his hips. It didn’t take long before you were a whimpering mess, barely able to make out words as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand tangled into your hair, yanking your chest up and his cock managed to hit even deeper within you.
“Oh god…” you moaned, pussy clamping down around him, “feels… s- soo good.”
His free hand cracked down on the globe of your ass and you whimpered, “louder! I want the whole street to know who you belong to.”
“Fuck! Daddy!” This one was louder, “oh god, don’t stop!”
“Who owns this tight little cunt?” His breathing was starting to get laboured, feeling you squeeze around him, the squelching sounds coming from you enough to make him twitch and throb already.
“You do daddy!” You cried out, “this pussy’s all yours.” You could barely keep your eyes open, the feeling of his body on yours, his cock stretching you out perfectly, you could feel every ridge and vein. Your entire body was on fucking fire already.
“Who makes you feel this fucking good? Hmm?”
“Oh fuck! Aaron!” There was no holding it back anymore and you honestly didn’t care who heard, the man was making you see stars. “make me feel so good. Love your cock.”
“Gonna fuck you stupid.” He grunted, thrusting harder into you, watching the way you were starting to shake. He spit onto your ass, letting the saliva drip down to your tight hole before his thumb began to circle it and you let out a moan. He eased his thumb into it and your moans got louder, pussy clenching down around his cock.
“Oh fuuckk..” It was guttural, deep in the back of your throat and he just knew the effect he was having on you right now, hips snapping into yours sharper and faster with each thrust.
“You like that?” He teased, his thumb fully seated, “want me to fuck your ass too? Let my cum leak out of all your holes?”
“Yes!” You cried out, “oh god yes daddy! Fill me up, please!”
“Little cum slut.” His word were accented with a particularly harsh thrust and you yelped, your body falling back down onto the counter. You whimpered out, each thrust of his cock pulled a louder whine from you, your hands clawing at the counter, your pussy pulsing again and again, squeezing around Aaron tighter and tighter.
“I’m gonn—gon come.” You choked out, fire shooting through your body and Aaron spanked your ass with his free hand before it wrapped around your hip, finding your clit and starting to rub.
“Want you to squirt for me again, come on my cock like the whore you are.” His fingers were already covered in your slick, “let everyone hear how pretty you sound when you come.”
“Harder.” You choked out and the next thrust sent your hips pushing into the counter sharply, his fingers pressed heavier against your pulsing nub, your cunt clenching around him as he throbbed inside you. “Oh god daddy. Fuck! FUCK!”
With one final cry you were shaking between his body and the counter, thighs trembling as your pussy squeezed so tightly around him he let out a loud swear. His thumb slipped out of your ass so he could grab your hips, bracing himself to chase his own peak, pulling you back onto his cock harder with each thrust. The point where your bodies met was soaked, juices and sweat coating both of you, it was only a matter of minutes, listening to you whimper, feeling you flutter around his length in aftershocks before he let out a loud grunt and his hips stilled. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his cum painting your walls, the way his cock pulsed inside you. He squeezed at his cock, making sure you’d gotten every last drop before he pulled out.
“Such a good little slut.” He purred, his fingers moving between your legs, scooping up the mixture of cum and shoving it back into you.
You gasped, your back arching up, sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d pulled from you already. You couldn’t help but shudder as he fucked his cum back deep inside you. It was only once he was satisfied and had caught his own breath that his fingers left you, his clean hand soothing up and down your back and he gently nudged your stiff leg off the counter, pulling you up into his arms, your back flush to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you.
“Holy fuck Aaron.” You groaned; your throat nearly hoarse and he chuckled, kissing the side of your head.
“You alright there sweetheart?”
“Fucking perfect.”
“Good.” He turned you in his arms, smiling down at you before he leant down to kiss you softly, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking at your skin. “Quite the mess….” He teased, glancing down and you laughed.
“Remind me to mop the floor tomorrow.”
“I mean, I did cause it, I’ll do it.” He offered with a grin and you laughed again, popping up on your toes to kiss him again.
“You’re too good to me.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He shot you a sheepish grin and you cocked a brow at him, your head tilting in confusion, “when I came home Mrs. Henderson was out gardening.” His eyes flicked toward the very open window that faced the neighbours yard and you gasped, swatting at his chest.
“Aaron!” You scolded, “well now we are definitely skipping the next block party.”
“If fucking you stupid is all I have to do to get out of those, then you can guarantee it happening every time.” He smirked and you laughed, shaking your head at him.
“I’m not gonna argue that.” You murmured, lips curving up into a grin as he kissed you again.
“Now how about we get you into a nice bath? Hmm?”
“I’d love that.”
________________________
@unsubologyy @alexusonfire @svushots @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fanfic#hotch x you#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner smut
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I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?
i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!
You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.
And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.
That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.
Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.
The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.
He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.
It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.
The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”
“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.
The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.
You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.
“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”
They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.
He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.
“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.
“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”
He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.
It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.
Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.
“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.
“I didn’t want them to burn.”
You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.
“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.
Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.
There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.
“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”
“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”
The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.
“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”
“Okay, I'll bring them out.”
“Don’t forget oven mitts!”
He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.
Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”
“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”
“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”
He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.
“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”
The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.
He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.
You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”
“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”
“You’re cute.”
A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.
By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x bau!reader#aaron hotchner imagines#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner blurbs#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner request#aaron hotchner requests#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds hotch#criminal minds imagine#hotch criminal minds#agent hotchner#hotch x reader#hotch x you
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Wait Omg the thought of bau!reader and Aaron being secretly married but reader forgetting to take their ring off?? (Opposite to Spencer’s LOL). Everyone instantly zeroes in on it like ?????
You're not sure why you're on the receiving end of Prentiss's cheshire cat grin, but she's somewhat of an office prankster, so you assume that when you open the top drawer of your desk, a rubber band will fly out and whack you in the forehead. When no such thing happens, and JJ greets you with her own wide-eyed smile, you know something's wrong.
You retrieve the handheld mirror that you keep stashed away in your purse, trying to appear nonchalant as you glance over your face for any possible makeup smears. There's no smudges of eyeliner down your cheeks, mascara isn't dotted on your eyelid, and your lipstick is perfectly lined around your mouth; nothing is wrong.
You reach up to flick a wayward strand of hair away from your eyes, nothing big enough to attract the stares you're getting, but undesirable nonetheless. When you do you catch the glint of your wedding ring in the fluorescent lights of the bullpen, and your stomach drops.
That's not supposed to be there.
You snap the mirror closed and slide the ring off of your hand but it's too late, and both girls are snickering at your piss-poor attempt at concealment.
"Sooo," JJ hums, leaning over her desk with her chin propped on her hand, "When were you gonna tell us about that?"
"It's just a ring," You scoff, shoving it into the depths of your purse. You'll regret that later, when you're digging through napkins and lotion to find it, but for now evasion is key.
"Please," Emily scoffs, "That rock looks like it could pay my rent five times over. Are you seriously married?"
"No!" You gush, and you're sure they regret phrasing it as a question, because it gave you the opportunity to lie in answer, "No, I am not married, it's just a regular ring."
"Yeah, that's why you hid it from us," JJ drawls, "Morgan, did you know about this?"
"What?" The man's head pops up from his desk, "What do I know?"
"JJ, please-" You beg, but Prentiss is the one who answers, "Y/N's hitched!"
Derek's brows shoot comically high on his face, "Married-hitched?"
"No! I just wear rings sometimes," You insist, "Guys, I'm not married, this is ridiculous!"
"No one wears a ring that big unless it comes from a man who's equally endowed," Prentiss winks, that devilish grin on her face ever-present, "Come on, don't make Penelope deep dive, who's the lucky man?"
"What am I deep-diving for?" Garcia peers around the corner of the kitchenette, and you shoot Rossi a pleading look where he stands behind her. He'd been on his way back to his office, but apparently your drama has piqued his interest.
"She's married." Derek jerks a thumb at you, and it actually drops Garcia's jaw; you've always delighted in how cartoonish her reactions could be. Now, though, it provides enough silence for Rossi to speak, setting one of his hands on Penelope's shoulders.
"Don't waste your talents, Penelope. You don't need a deep dive to figure it out."
"Dave," You start, your voice sharp, but JJ cuts you off.
"Come on, you told Rossi before you told us?"
"She didn't tell me," Dave shakes his head, amusement glimmering in his eyes. You know he's absolutely ecstatic to be the one to let the cat out of the bag, and you resign yourself to slumping back in your chair as he changes the BAU forever more with two meager words: "Hotch did."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner one-shot#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner headcanons#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner hc#aaron hotchner hcs#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner dialogue#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction
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