#aaron & the family he's found all by himself
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hii idk if you’ve done this already but can u make a ff about the team finding out that spencer reid has a girlfriend - idm if it’s at his house where they visit him and find you answer or if you go to his workplace , i wanna see their reactions tysm !!
summary: the bau team meets spencers secret girlfriend
cw: secret gf, fluff, awkwardness, fem!reader
notes: thank you so so much for requesting, hope you enjoy!!!
Spencer Reid wasn’t answering his phone, that was a bad sign. While Reid wasn’t a big phone guy, he always made sure to call back, or at least text back if he missed a phone call. So when Penelope called him, to let me know that she, and the rest of the team, were downstairs, waiting for him so they could drive up to the beach, as they had planned a couple days earlier; and he didnt answer, or call back, she got worried.
“What if he’s hurt?” was all she had to say before she and the rest of the team were making their way up Spencer’s apartment complex stairs and up to his door.
Derek knocked on the door, Aaron couldn’t help but reach up to where the gun would usually be placed, only to wince when he realized it wasn’t there.
“Shit!” Derek hissed, jumping back in shock. He turned around to everyone’s concerned faces, “There was someone there!” he pointed to the peephole.
Emily stepped forward to peek into the peephole, only to stop midstep when she heard the sound of multiple locks being unlocked.
The door opened to a woman standing awkwardly in a Hello Kitty pajama set. The team stared at the woman confused, she stared back. “I..” JJ tried, “I think we’re at the wrong apartment?”
“Oh.” the woman muttered, awkwardly taking a step back before slowly closing the door.
The team stood in silence for a couple of seconds, confused and disoriented. “What…” Emily sighed, looking at Hotch for directions, but he was just as lost.
That was until he heard the sound of his name being called behind him. Turning around, he was faced with the sight of Spencer Reid walking toward him, his arms full of grocery bags, his face concerned.
“Is there a case?” he questioned, pulling out the key from his back pocket, and opening the door that a couple of seconds ago had gotten shut in their faces.
“No?” Derek managed out, his eyebrows furrowed, he peaked behind the door, where he got sight of the woman who had then awkwardly crept back into the apartment. She was behind Spencer, peeking over his shoulder.
“Beach day,” Emily mumbled, walking into the apartment, now with Spencer’s permission. She watched Spencer whisper something into the woman’s ear, whose eyes widened in immense shock. “Remember?” she and the others sat around Spencer’s living room, shamelessly watching the woman.
Spencer looked back and forth between his found family and the woman he loved. With a hand on her back, he presented her like a prize. “I forgot about the beach. I’m sorry.” he didn't seem sorry, “But this is my girlfriend.” he gifted them your name, smiling once you spoke up, “I’m sorry for not introducing her sooner.” again, he didn’t seem sorry.
“I’m um, sorry,” you started with a frown, “For shutting the door in your face.”’ you pointed at the door with an awkward smile.
After a moment of silence, Derek spoke up with a chuckle, “Pretty boy doesn’t talk to his girlfriend about us?”
You smile at Spencer’s deep blush, “No he does.” you laugh, “But he’s very adamant about me not opening the door to strangers.”
Anyone would be in our line of work, Aaron thought but he decided not to ruin the mood, so he kept it to himself.
“And I didnt know what you guys looked like, so…” you trailed off, hoping you didnt just ruin your first impressions with Spencer’s closest friends.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie!” Penelope took the lead, “It’s great to be cautious, do you want to join us at the beach?”
#spencer reid drabble#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x you
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omg part two for hotch scrolling through your ig pretty please 😭😭 like IMAGINE penelope gathering the rest of the gang so they can collectively stalk your instagram and she accidentally likes one of your pictures while lurking
Penelope isn't often scared of Hotch, because the man has a soft spot for her, and she knows it. But now he's staring at her with a stern glare, something she's not usually on the receiving end of. She shifts on her heels, strangely speechless.
"Sir? Is everything okay?"
He lets her suffer in silence for a moment longer, then gestures towards his phone face-up on the desk. It's lit up with a text notification, and she faintly recognizes the name that it's attached to.
Y/N Y/L/N: Isn't this your computer whiz?
"Open it." Hotch instructs, his voice unfailingly calm, which sets Penelope even further on edge. She reaches out with a trembling finger to tap on the notification and it opens your thread, the screen entirely consumed with a screenshot you'd taken of your instagram. Sure enough, in your notifications page is a note: baby_girl_penny_g liked your photo.
"Um," Penelope stalls, and despite her rampant creativity, she can't bring herself to fib, "Well, I- the tags were-"
"There were no hashtags," Hotch stops her in her tracks, "The only way you could have found that photo was on her profile. How long ago was that posted?"
Penelope scrolls to the bottom of the post even though she doesn't want to, and mutters "2018."
"Five years ago. Five-" Hotch steels himself before he gets too upset, pinching the slim bridge of his nose, "Garcia, did Morgan tell you about this?"
"it wasn't his fault," She pleads his case, "I could tell there was something on his mind! So I got him, like, super drunk, and we-"
"Penelope, this was none of your business." Hotch speaks over her. He doesn't like cutting her off, but he knows her, and she'll talk for hours just to try and weasel her way back into his good graces. He watches her squirm with a stern expression, hands folded on his desk while he clenches his jaw.
"I won't tell anyone else." She promises weakly, and Aaron raises a single eyebrow at her. Secret-keeping is not her forte, and they both know it.
"Okay, so-" She crumples, "I- I totally will. But Hotch, we're gonna be happy for you! I'm already happy for you, you deserve this! You deserve love, even if you try to use this job as an excuse not to find it! You found it, and you should own it."
"I purposefully did not share the status of my relationship with our team. It was meant to be private."
Penelope regains some of her boldness now, even in the face of Hotch's scowl, "Well tough shit, Hotchner! We love you, and we were all there when you lost Haley! We watched you die inside, and we deserve to watch you live again! We are part of your family, Hotch, whether you like it or not, and we're not gonna walk away just because you get snippy with us! So help me, Hotch, I will handcuff myself to you until you realize that we are here. We are here, and we love you, and we always will! You can tell us about your life, because we want to enjoy it with you."
Perhaps she shouldn't have been so forward. Perhaps she shouldn't have said the H-word, or brought up Hotch's infuriating tendency to distrust people's care for him not out of malice, but out of self-loathing. Perhaps she should have hung her head and apologized, but Penelope Garcia is headstrong, and she does not fear the tense wrath of Aaron Hotchner simply for loving him.
For a moment, she worries that she's flaunted a red cape around a bull. Reid's words echo in her mind about how it's nothing to do with the color red, and everything to do with the movement of the fabric, but now is not the time, Doctor Reid, thank you very much. She waits for him to charge, knows he'll withdraw now that she's faced him with the terror of being known, of being cared for, and she can feel her heart sink to the nearly-numb heels of her feet.
Then something in his jaw shifts, and he glances away from her, blinking.
"Thank you." He murmurs, and she thinks she may have heard him wrong.
"What?" She whispers, and he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, caving it in.
"Thank you. For being firm with me." He clarifies, "I... I'm glad that you're here."
Tears spring to her eyes and she nods vigorously, incapable of speech but overflowing with emotion. He swallows, clearing his throat, "In the future, please do not stalk my romantic partners. And... in the future, I will introduce you, so that you don't need to stalk them."
"Okay," She grins through her misty eyes, letting him steer the conversation back towards his comfort zone, "Okay, Hotch. We love you. And- and we're really happy for you, and can I please go and tell the others?"
He laughs despite himself, and doesn't bother steeling himself into composure anymore. He grins, "Fine. But leave out the details of her most recent posts, please."
"The ones where she talks about being sore in the mornings?" She fixes him with a devious grin, already making for the door intent on shouting the news from the rooftops, "I won't say it in the bullpen, 'cause Reid couldn't handle it, but I'm totally gossiping with the girls about it, Hotch."
#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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ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ
Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader
Type: Fic
Word Count: 1.9k
Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.
Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!
A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess
Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le
Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb
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It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.
He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).
So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.
“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”
And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.
Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.
He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.
Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.
Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.
“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”
“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”
“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”
Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.
It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”
The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.
“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”
Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.
“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”
It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.
A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.
“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”
The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.
“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”
Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”
It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.
Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.
“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.
The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”
Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.
“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.
The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”
“And when she do call?”
A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”
“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”
They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.
“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”
“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.
“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”
“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.
Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.
“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”
The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.
Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”
And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.
A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”
Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel.
“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.
“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”
“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”
“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”
“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”
“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”
“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.
#black reader#black tumblr#black spiderman#spiderman#spiderman itsv#spiderman btsv#spiderman atsv#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman beyond the spiderverse#spiderman atsv x black!reader#spiderman atsv x reader#spiderman x reader#miles morales prowler#prowler miles morales#prowler miles#earth 42 miles x black reader#earth 42 miles morales x reader#42!miles x reader#42!miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles fluff#earth 42 miles morales x black!reader
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Little White Lies
18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader
Summary: Readers sister is having an Engagement/Christmas party this year and her cousin will be there. With her new fiance. Who is reader's ex. The only logical thing to do is to show up with her own new boyfriend... who isn't really her boyfriend. He's her boss.
Warnings: fake dating, mutual pining, idiots in love, flirting, teasing, there's only one bed, love confessions, getting together, oral sex (fem receiving), condom use, p in v smut, meeting readers family
Word Count: 5.3k
She sits in the corner of the jet, facing Aaron in the two-person seat near the entrance to the cockpit. She’s sat there with him on almost every trip for the past 3 years. He’s good company, not too talkative, he gets her drinks and he gives her little smiles every so often. It’s relaxing to sit with him… however, tonight, she’s not in a good mood and he can tell.
He looks at her all concerned and then looks around at the others to assure they’re all busy. “Are you alright?” He whispers. Keeping her business between them.
She shrugs, “My sister’s been texting me. Her engagement party is coming up and I promised I’d go but I just found out that my cousin and her fiancé are going to be there…”
“Do you not like her?”
She shakes her head, “it’s complicated.”
“I’m all ears?” He reminds her.
She sighs, “Her fiancé is my ex-boyfriend. She slept with him while we were still together… I was in the academy and he was apparently lonely all by himself and didn’t have the time to travel here to see me so he fell into her bed instead.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hotch says, concern all over his face and disbelief in his voice. “That’s awful, why would your sister invite her?”
“Because my parents are paying for it and all the family gets to go, no matter what,” she scoffs. “It’s to show off, nothing more.”
“You know…” he tilts his head to the side and his brows go up as he thinks, a pondering look on his face that’s quite amusing. “You could bring someone with you, someone to prove to him that you’ve moved on and you’re in a much better place now?” He suggests.
“Yeah, like who? Morgan?” She teases, laughing slightly.
“Or me?” He offers. His brows were still raised but the softest, most sincere look on his face. She’s never seen him look so… so affectionate. So careful. Unless he’s with Jack. This is his ‘I love you like family I’ll do whatever you need me to’ look.
“Yeah,” she gives in. “That would be nice… it’s December 22nd. Would you be able to take time away from Jack that close to Christmas?”
“Where is it?”
“they’re having it in New York, that’s where my sister lives now,” she explains. “I’m taking the train up the night before, I have a hotel room booked but I could stay with my sister and you could have the room for the night?”
“Could we switch to a double queen?” He suggests.
She shrugs, “I can call and find out?”
“Okay,” he nods. “Jack’s with Haley this Christmas, I see him boxing day till New Year's Day and then he goes back to her.”
“We’ll have to bring him home something,” she suggests. “We can even go a bit early or stay later if you want to go shopping a bit in the city?”
“He’s always said he wants M&M’s with his face on them,” he teases. “It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll tell my sister to expect another person,” she says as she pulls her phone out. “Do I tell her you’re my boyfriend?”
He nods, “Whatever you want to call me, I’ll be it for the weekend.”
—
She tells him to pack a suit and obviously an overcoat to stay warm in the cold New York air. The party they’re going to is going to be on the top floor of this really expensive restaurant, they’ll have rooftop access and there’s free drinks. It’ll be the fanciest non-FBI party he’s ever been invited to.
The team doesn’t know they’re going together, everyone has the next two weeks off unless there’s something serious like terrorism or multiple bodies dropping, or a kid going missing. But it’s not often their Christmas breaks get disrupted. So they pack up on the 20th, everyone takes the elevators down to the garage together and they say goodbye before their vacations.
He meets her at the train station the next day at 11am, their train leaves at 11:20, and he comes with snacks and coffee. Always in dad mode, he knows what it’s like to go on a long trip with someone who’s hungry, it’s not always fun. They have a little booth together, the trains are mostly empty this close to Christmas. Everyone’s either where they want to be already or taking last-minute flights. So it’s quiet, they get to look out the window together and she shares an earbud with him, with her phone on shuffle, exposing him to a whole bunch of new music.
And she has a nap, head on his shoulder and wrapped around his arm. It’s not the first time this has happened, he’s let her sleep on him on the Jet and they’ve had to share beds in hotels before. He’s hugged her after rough cases and when she’s just sad… she’s his family. Everyone on the team is. He just feels it a little stronger for her.
He rests his cheek on her head, looking out the window with a smile on his face. Excited to pretend to be her boyfriend for the next 2 days. To have her hang off his arm, to dance with her… maybe even steal a kiss or two to really sell it. And he can’t wait to see her dress, or how she does her hair or if she’s going to wear makeup? She doesn’t get all dolled up for work, but he’s seen her dress up for the bar and events for the bureau and he thinks she is so, so beautiful. Always, but especially when she puts on lipstick and her good perfume.
He’s been harbouring this little crush on her for so long that he’s not really sure how much longer it can stay a secret.
They arrive in New York at 6pm. The hotel they’re staying at has a restaurant and Y/N, being the genius she is, booked a reservation for 6:30. They have enough time to put their bags in their room and head back downstairs, but their room is wrong.
“They told me they could switch to two queens?” She complains as she sees just one bed. A King bed.
“Did you specifically say two queens or a double queen?” He teases. “Cause a double queen might make them think you want a bigger bed…”
She groans, holding her hands over her face, “Oh god, I fucked up.”
He gently rubs his hand on her back, “Hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind sharing for 2 nights, there’s lots of room in there. Plus… it might be good for playing pretend.”
She smirks, “my boyfriend would sleep in the same bed as me.”
“and enjoy it,” he pulls her in for a hug and rests his chin on her head while she snuggles into his chest where she feels safest.
—
After dinner, they walk around the city a bit. She still has to get her sister something and she has a registry at some fancy store nearby. They get hot chocolates and stand close together as they walk, hands brushing each other but not holding, no matter how much she wants to hold his hand. So she rubs her knuckles against his and waits for him to be the one to finally give in.
It takes a while, they walk down the block and explore two stores but he finally takes her hand in his, fingers interlocked, as they cross the street. And he doesn’t let go once they’re safely back on the sidewalk. He simply guides her towards the store her sister is registered at and they head inside, closer than ever before.
“Hi, can I help you with anything?” One of the workers asks with a genuine smile on her face.
“my sister has a registry here,” Y/N explains. “It should be under Lindsay and Connor Higgins?”
She’s taken to the register and handed a list, everything they want is on it. Some crossed out as they’ve already been purchased, but a decent amount of things are still there. A lot of it is pointless, fancy shit but she likes to think she knows her sister well. She knows what would actually be used by her and what would just be a decoration to prove she had good taste.
Her sister works really hard at a very important publishing company, she’s gone to work by 6am and home no later than 8pm most nights. She lives on coffee and wine to wake her up in the mornings and relax her at night. So she gets her an espresso maker and some crystal wine glasses. But when she goes to pay for them, Aaron reaches out and pulls the wine glasses towards himself. “I’ll get these, I can’t go without a gift.”
She smiles, “you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he assures her.
They pay, they get a decorative gift bag each and head back outside to the cold. He reaches for her hand again and she lets him, smiling over at him. “You’re taking this assignment very seriously.”
“Have you ever known me to slack on the job?” He teases.
She bumps her shoulder against his, “No, I guess not… and I guess this is helping, it’ll look more real in front of everyone tomorrow.”
“It won’t be that hard,” he assures her.
“Why, 'cause I’m so loveable?” She jokes, not believing the words that leave her mouth.
“Yes, actually,” he nods, smiling over at her.
She just laughs, not thinking he means it as anything other than familial. “Thanks. You’re pretty great too when you’re not telling me what to do.”
“I don’t boss you around that much,” he laughs too. “Dave teases me all the time about how much nicer I am to you than the others.”
“Well, I am your best agent,” she shrugs with a proud smirk. “You wanna go back to the hotel or is there anything you want to do tonight?”
“We can go back,” he agrees, leading them in the direction of the hotel already. “I’m going to need some good beauty sleep to make your ex jealous tomorrow.”
“Ha!” She laughs, raising her hand that’s carrying the bag to cover her mouth as she giggles. “Yeah, no you don’t. You’re like a million times hotter than him, it’s not a fair fight at all.”
“Yeah, okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief.
“What?” She looks at him like he’s crazy. “Do you not think you’re hot?”
“Not exactly…”
“I knew you were funny but that’s hilarious,” she jokes. “You’re very, very hot. One of the hottest men I’ve ever seen in my life, like People magazine should be reaching out to you for sexiest man of the year. You’ve been on the news enough times, surely the public will agree.”
He laughs at the compliment, “Thank you, I guess… I guess I should trust your judgement here the way I do everywhere else.”
“Yes, 'cause I’m never wrong,” she reminds him.
They keep joking around, teasing each other until they get back to the hotel. Up the elevator and into their room. They leave their gifts by the door and Aaron lets her take the first turn in the bathroom to get ready for the night.
She takes off her makeup, she washes her face and does her skincare routine and he knocks, “Are you okay in there?”
“Yeah, you can come in,” she announces, still fully dressed.
He opens the door slowly, “You’ve been in here 10 minutes already I thought you were just changing?”
“Nope, skincare is important,” she smiles at him, massaging the moisturizer into her face. “Want some?”
He smiles, “Sure, why not?”
“Wash your face first, get a new face cloth over there,” she points and steps out of the way of the sink. “My face wash is right there.”
She watches him wash his face carefully, smiling at him through the mirror with so much affection behind her eyes. He’s so cute when he gets soft like this, she could easily see them having a life like this together. Getting ready for bed together, doing their nighttime routines and falling into the same bed. Night after night. Forever.
Once his face is washed he looks to her, “How much moisturizer do I use?”
“Want me to do it?” She offers.
He nods, “please?”
“Sit down on the toilet lid,” she instructs and he moves over there quickly.
She opens the jar again and takes a decent-sized amount onto her fingers, she puts the jar down and smiles at him, “It might be cold.” She dabs it on his forehead, cheeks, nose and chin and then starts to rub it in for him. He closes his eyes and sighs as he leans into it. “Like it?”
He hums, nodding slightly, not wanting to talk incase he accidentally got cream in his mouth. She just smiles, adoringly, loving that she gets to have moments like this with him. “You’re so cute…” she whispers.
He chuckles, finally looking at her again. She cups his face in her hands, “all done.”
“You’re cuter.”
“What is happening here?” She asks, completely serious. “Are you just a good actor or—
“I was in a few plays,” he teases. “But no, I’m not acting.”
“Do you have a thing for me?” She lights right up. “Oh my god, you do?”
“And you call yourself a profiler,” he shakes his head. “Yes, okay? I like you. I think you’re wonderful and beautiful and everything I want— is that what you wanted me to say?”
“Get up,” she says, pulling at him.
“Why?” He asks as he stands.
“So you can be taller than me when I kiss you,” she teases. Grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in.
The kiss is soft at first, cute and sweet… but then they get needy. Years of close proximity and bubbling feelings and “what ifs” all coming to the surface. He cups the back of her head with one hand and holds her lower back with the other, holding her flush to his chest as his tongue makes her acquaintance.
She accidentally moans as his hand goes down to cup her ass and he smiles against her. He pulls back slightly, noses brushing. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to do that.”
“Really?” She can’t believe it.
He smiles before he steals another kiss, and another and another and before they know it he’s backed her out of the bathroom and all the way to their king bed. He has her on the mattress, hand on her back and the nape of her neck as he cradles her and hovers over her. His tongue on hers, their chests pressed together, and her hands on his back with her nails desperately clinging to the cotton.
He eagerly moves to kiss her neck and while it feels so good, she’s worried about what is about to go down. Sure, she hoped for this. She thought maybe they’d have a few drinks at the party tomorrow and stumble home and fall into bed together and regret it in the morning but this… admitting to liking each other while completely sober, was not on her mind at all.
“Aaron,” she whispers, hesitation in her voice.
He pulls back, “something wrong?”
“Are we going to regret this?” She worries.
He cups her face gently, his body weight still on top of her, it’s oddly comforting to feel so trapped under him. “I know I won’t, but if you will, then we stop. I never want you to regret your time with me. I never want you to be uncomfortable with me. I never want to lose what we have… so if that means we never have more than a friendship, I'm perfectly okay with that.”
“I have tried so hard not to love you for the last year and a bit that we’ve been friends,” she admits. “If we go further and you change your mind, I’ll never recover.”
“I won’t change my mind,” he says, confident as ever. “I want you to love me as much as I already love you.”
His thumb caresses her cheek while he talks, he looks at her with the most affectionate look she’s ever seen on him. He’s so handsome all the time, but this look. The softness, his big brown eyes, the way he smelled like her face cream and he kept looking down at her lips like he was dying to taste them again… she’s always believed him when he speaks, but this is different. He’s opened his chest and handed her his heart and he wants her to hold it and keep it safe... forever.
“I love you,” she admits, tearing up because this is so unreal. “I love you so much, Aaron.”
He kisses her again, so gently, breathing her in and savouring every moment. Sure, it’s not their first kiss, that happened 10 minutes ago, but this is the first kiss they’ll have being openly in love with each other.
She kisses him again and again, never wanting this to end. She wraps her legs around him, she holds him closer than ever and he lightly moans against her. She starts to work at his shirt, unbuttoning it so she can get her hands under it. She wraps her arms around him, touching his hot skin as he breaks the kiss and moves down her neck.
“I love you, so much,” he reminds her again.
“Show me how much?” she whispers right into his ear.
He pulls back, delicately looking into her eyes, “are you sure?”
She nods, “more than I’ve ever been before.”
He gets his shirt off, and he pulls her forward to pull hers off too. Through kisses and rolling around, his pants are off, then her’s. Behind her, he kisses her spine while he unclips her bra, pushing each strap off her arms with kisses to her shoulders, he cups her breasts and kisses up to her ear again, “lay down.”
She listens, he gets between her legs and peels her underwear off. Raising her right leg, he kisses her knee and down her thigh, as he gets on his stomach, he looks up at her for permission and all she can do is nod because this seems unreal. His big beautiful brown eyes are looking at her from between her legs as he kisses the most intimate part of her body and she’s in heaven.
She’s died and gone to heaven. The train must’ve crashed and she’s in her own personalized forever with the man of her dreams…. But it didn’t. This is real and happening and she should be enjoying it.
She grips his hair, and her back arches as she moans into the contact, he’s so fucking good with his mouth because of course he is? Is there anything this man can’t do?
Full of love and zero expectations or worry, she feels herself getting closer to an orgasm so much faster than she has with anyone else ever. Not even herself. Normally she’s so in her head, so nervous and worried or barely being taken care of… this one just sneaks up on her, trembling through her, she grips his hair a little tighter and moans out his name, “Oh, oh I’m cumming, I’m— oh!”
He laps up every last drop as she rides it out, overstimulating her slightly, and he can tell. He pulls back with a grin, proud of himself and enjoying the way she looks so fucked out like this.
He kisses back up her tummy, between her boobs and then hovers over her while she’s still catching her breath, “hi…”
She smiles, “Hi?”
“Ready for me to show you the rest?”
“There’s more?” She teases, “You love me more than that?”
He laughs, “Yeah, that was just a taste…”
She pulls him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. “Mm, a good taste.”
“You’re telling me,” he growls. “I could do that every day for the rest of my life.”
“And I’d let you…”
He kisses her again, cause if he doesn’t, she won’t stop teasing him.
Kissing him while coming down from her high, feels unreal. She’s floating on a cloud, and might as well be on drugs— it feels too good, she moans against him, legs wrapped around him, she never wants to let him go. He kisses the side of her mouth, “baby—
She hums, pulling him back in for another kiss.
He pulls back, “I can’t fuck you with my boxers still on.”
She sighs, pretending it’s more work than it is, “Fine, take ‘em off.”
He shakes his head with a smile as she lets him go and he’s able to push his boxers off. “And I need to grab a condom—
“did you bring condoms?” She sounds shocked.
He nods, “yeah… I didn’t expect anything, I just always have some in my toiletries bag.”
She watches his cute ass jiggle as he walks towards his bag, he squats to undo the zipper and she tries not to laugh at the view of his balls dangling but it’s so endearing somehow? He’s real and there and he’s about to rock her world.
He’s quick to grab what he wants, he rips the condom open with his teeth and tosses the wrapper to the floor as he rolls it on right beside the bed. She watches carefully, eyes scanning his whole body. She hasn’t really had a good look at him while naked yet, he’s been pressed against the bed or on top of her. But damn.
“Jesus,” she whispers under her breath.
He smirks, “what?”
She waves her hand around in his general direction, “You just walk around with all that under your suits every day?”
He shakes his head again, “I could say the same thing about you.”
He crawls back onto the bed, between her legs again, one hand on the bed as he hovers over her, “you okay with this position?”
She nods, “perfectly okay with it. It’s a very underrated position.”
“Mhm,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss her again. One hand on her hip, he grinds himself against her, “Ready?”
She nodded, watching as he lets go of her hip to grip himself at the base, she spreads her legs a bit more and he taps her clit once just for fun but it makes her whine, “Don’t tease me.”
“But you can tease me?” He asks, head right at her entrance, about to push in… she nods and that’s when he does it. Watching her head tip back with a silent moan. “Now I know how to get you quiet.”
He goes back to rest his hand on her hip but she reaches for them and interlocks their fingers, instead. He bottomed out and dropped to hover over her once more, bringing their interlocked hands over her head.
She reached up to kiss him, but Aaron pushed into the kiss and made her settle into the pillow once again. It honestly felt like a movie scene, the first time between two star-crossed lovers. He pulled out ever so slightly before thrusting in again, she gasped against his mouth. Aaron trusted more while she pushed her hips into it as well, an offbeat rhythm developed in pure ecstasy. She let go of Aaron’s hands to snake them around his waist, to run her fingers over the soft and slightly chilled skin of his back. Feeling the bump of his spine Aaron ducked into the crook of her neck, placing kisses along her collarbone.
He changed the position of his thrust as he wrapped his arms under her, arching her back ever so slightly to reach the bundle of nerves that left her a quivering mess. She, in response to the added pleasure, ran her sharp nails down Aaron’s back and he groaned at the feeling, “do that again.” he requested.
“Like that?” She asked, dragging his nails down him once more.
“Yeah,” Aaron moaned, dark and deep. “Mark me… where no one can see it, only you know tomorrow.”
So she does, she runs her nails over his back with more intent, knowing there will be 8 red lines spread down his back in the morning. Just then, he starts to kiss lower, down to her boobs, where he sucks a mark that shouldn't be visible in her dress tomorrow… he wanted to mark her just as bad. But his kisses quickly return to her neck and lower ear.
“Aaron,” she moans out. “Go a little faster?”
He does as she asks, keeping that loving feeling but picking up the pace. The feeling of pure bliss overtook her body with each thrust, warm chills ran through him with each brush of his thumb on her clit. Every kiss to her neck and squeeze around her waist made her feel like she was on fire. The hairs on her arms stood up, and goosebumps formed along his forearms. Aaron kissed from her neck to her nipple and took the hard nib into his mouth causing her to moan like she never had before.
“Aaron,” she panted, pulling Aaron’s face back up to his.
His eyes were absolutely blown out in pleasure, those chocolate wonders he used to stare into were now replaced solely by the pupils. She ran her thumb across Aaron’s cheek before reaching to the nape of his neck to pull him into another kiss. Open mouths pressed together, hot air on each other’s faces as they panted to the pleasure.
She was in heaven.
Her orgasm bubbled in her stomach, “are you close?” Aaron whispered right beside her mouth, kissing her cheek lightly after.
She hummed, unable to speak with the mass amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Aaron fucked into her a bit harder, a tiny bit faster, hitting her G-spot dead on each time to the point the nerves in her thighs were quaking uncontrollably.
She was so close, Aaron used 3 fingers to quickly rub over her clit before she threw her head back with a shout. Cumming with her eyes pressed shut, pleasure coursed through her body stronger than she’s ever felt before.
Nothing had ever made her cum that hard, ripping through her like her soul was leaving her body. She dug her nails deep into Aaron’s skin holding him close to his body while he kept thrusting.
A high-pitched gasp left his lips, close to her ear as his hips sputtered into hers one last time. She still hadn’t opened her eyes, her breath rigid, she felt winded. Aaron had stilled as he came inside of her and then collapsed into her, deadweight lying on her.
But she didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. She wrapped herself around him even tighter and kissed the side of his head, “I love you, too.”
He kisses her neck, “I can’t believe I was afraid to tell you…”
“Silly man, we could’ve been doing that the whole time,” she teases him again the first chance she gets.
He huffs a little laugh out of his nose, smiling against her. “We can do this all the time now.”
“Mhm,” she squeezes him a little tighter. “I hope you know this means we’re dating now. I don’t just fuck anyone. Especially not my boss…”
He manages to push himself up to look at her, and the look on his face says it all. “Yeah, I know… and I’ll handle the paperwork when we get back.”
—
They get all dolled up together, between kisses and flirting and teasing… they end up fully dressed, presents in hand, on their way to the party. They hold hands the whole cab ride over, up the elevator and into the booming restaurant.
It’s entirely booked out for her sister’s party, on the top floor of a fancy building. It’s completely catered, there are fancy waiters walking around with trays of hors d’oeuvres and expensive champagne. They have their gifts taken from their hands upon arrival and their hands are instantly filled with a drink. She looks around, looking for the first person she knows well and spots her mom and dad over on the other side of the room.
“Come with me, I have some people I want you to meet…” she says as she leads him through the crowd.
He’s nervous but more excited. She gets to show him off and this isn’t a lie. He really is her boyfriend and they are in love and happy and this is everything he’s ever wanted. With his hand around her waist the whole time, shoulder to shoulder, he meets her parents and her sister. He shakes hands with her dad and her new brother-in-law, he gets hugs from the mom and sister, they’re looking at her with eyes that he can hear. They’re saying how much of an improvement he is to the last guy, they’re amazed at how handsome he is, and he blushes slightly in response.
“So how long has this been going on?” Her dad asks.
She looks up at him and smiles, “Not long, but we’re really happy.”
“The happiest,” he agrees, stealing a quick kiss from her that makes the women swoon.
“You know, this is fantastic,” her sister announces. “I was worried you’d be upset to see Brad and Cameron here together but now you have Aaron and they’re not even coming anymore. Something happened… I don’t even think they’re together anymore.”
“Oh?” She’s completely shocked to hear that.
“Once a cheater always a cheater,” her brother-in-law says under his breath with the roll of his eyes.
“We see it all the time at work,” Aaron agrees. “It’s pathological. They crave attention so intensely that they’ll do anything to get it, to the detriment of the people they love. They cheat because for a moment they’re the most important person, they’re attractive enough to get who they want and powerful enough to get away with it. And even when it blows up in their face they can play the ‘you wouldn’t be this mad if you weren’t so obsessed with me’ card.”
“That’s Brad,” her dad agrees. “Good riddance, honestly.”
“Let’s just leave it there,” her mom announces. “We’re here for Lindsay and Connor.”
“It’s been lovely to meet you Aaron, but we have a lot of people to mingle with,” Lindsay announces and Connor sighs. “We’ll talk again later?”
“Sounds good,” Y/N lets them head off and then she’s just with her parents. “Um, I’m hungry… Aaron, did you want to go raid the snacks?”
“I’d love to,” he agrees. “It was lovely to meet you both.”
“We hope to see you again regularly?” Her mother throws in.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he assures, “you should get used to me.”
She manages to pull him away from them, a little overwhelmed and so in love with him. She gets him to an empty corner and looks up at him like he’s crazy, “did you seriously say that?”
He nods, “What part of last night didn’t you understand? I’m madly in love with you. I would marry you tomorrow if it wouldn’t take the attention off your sister.”
She just laughs, shocked and amazed that he just said that. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
She shakes her head in disbelief, “o-okay… but you still have to ask me. I don’t need anything big and extravagant and I’d like to maybe pick the ring out with you if you want but—
“You want to?”
She nods, that teasing smirk he loves so much plastered on her face, “I don’t just want to be your work wife, Aaron.”
“We’ll revisit this in the new year… I need Jack to know about this and be okay with it before I spring a step-mom on him,” he explains.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#hotch smut#hotch x reader#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine
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A New Daddy
Aaron sighed as he kicked another rock down the walking path. He found himself here a lot nowadays. It offered him some much needed peace and a place to think about his life. In reality, Aaron was overjoyed. His wife was due any day and he’d be a father soon. But Aaron was anxious. His dad was not much of a father and left the family when he was young. And because of that, the soon to be father was worried... what if he was a bad father? What if he messed up something? He never had a real role model. With another sigh, he sat down on the edge of a small pond and started skipping stones. As he looked out over the lake, he didn’t register the strange glow coming from the stone in his hand.
“I just wish I’ll be a good dad.” He whispered as he tossed the stone.
He watched as the stone hopped across the pond and with each hop glowing slightly brighter. He was fixated on the strange glow- it was perhaps one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. But his amazement quickly subsided as he felt a cool breeze pass over his bare skin. Wait... bare skin!? Aaron jumped up and looked down at his naked form. He quickly covered his junk and looked around in terror. Where’d his clothes go? What if someone saw him? Wait... since when did his chest hair look like that? Aaron watched as the light dusting of chest hairs that adorned his toned chest started to darken. And as they darkened, more started to sprout across his pale skin. He raised his hand to his chest, confirming that these new growths were real, but quickly yelped in surprise when he noticed the same wiry dark hairs sprouting across his arms.
“I need to get help.” He whispered, turning his attention away from the thick pelt that was growing over him, “Where’s my phone? Fuck did that disappear to? I’ll just need to ask someone... anyone...”
Aaron took a step forward to start his search and cried out in pain as his foot touched the ground. It felt like all the muscles in his body were contracting. He watched through teary eyes as his calves and thighs exploded with muscle- thickening and becoming large like tree trunks. He winced as he raised his arms and watched as his previously thin and toned musculature started to thicken. His forearms were first, followed by his biceps and triceps, which were becoming padded with thick layers of muscle and fat. While incredibly painful, he was amazed. What guy doesn’t dream of having muscles like this? But this wasn’t natural and he couldn’t do anything as his body continued to transform against his will. Aaron watched as his flat, but now hairy abdomen, pushed out with layers of fat. He’d never be called “beanpole” again, he realized. But just as his stomach was blossoming into a firm muscle gut, his hairy chest was following closely. He packed on layers of muscle and fat to his previously toned chest. All the while, a pleasure was building from nipples, which were becoming larger and perkier. Aaron let out a silent cry as a cold sweat washed over him and his muscles relaxed.
“I... need... help...” He breathed out, flipping over and forcing himself up.
He stood unsteadily on his thickened legs. He was certainly taller than before. And as he tried to reorient himself, he became unbalanced and fell to his knees. He met his reflection in the still pond water. It was still him. His light dirty blond hair, kind eyes, and youthful face. But... but he couldn’t help but noticed that his stubble looked slightly darker. And before he could do anything, he watched with dread as his facial hair became darker and started to form into a manly beard. He couldn’t turn away as he watched his dirty blond hair fall from the top of his head, until he was completely bald. And then a new feeling washed over him as his skin became tougher and weathered as his body aged rapidly.
“No... fuck no.” He whispered as he turned away from his new reflection, “This... how did this?” He winced at how gruff and deep his new voice was. This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. He felt tears in his eyes as he looked down as his hairier, older, and thicker form.
And suddenly the world spun around him- shifting and changing rapidly. The now older man felt his head spin as the world around him changed. He was no longer in a park, but instead what looked like a home workout room. Weights and equipment scattered all around him. And as the world stopped spinning, he attempted to regain his footing, but fell with a loud bang.
“Fuck!” He shouted, his deeper voice again causing him to wince. He quickly looked around, but everything seemed to be tinted darker, “Sunglasses?” He whispered as he caught sight of himself in the gym’s mirror, “What am I wearing?” It looked like some type of leather harness wrapped around his chest, causing his muscular pecs to be more pronounced, “At least I’m not naked anymore.” He mused, looking down at the white jockstrap that covered his dick, “Where the fuck am I? I need to find Amy and get help...”
“Daddy?” Aaron froze when he heard the high-pitched, feminine, yet decidedly male voice. He turned and locked eyes with the man, “Oh my god, daddy are you okay?”
Aaron’s eyes widened as the younger man ran towards him, wearing nothing more than a light-blue jockstrap. Each step causing the platinum blond man’s ass to bounce. Aaron was mesmerized, his eyes fixated on the guy’s massive bubble butt. How perky and jiggly it was. How much he wanted to squeeze it. Wait? Squeeze it?
“I don’t need you.” Aaron spat, picking himself up, “Get away from me!” Wait... why was his cock growing? He wasn’t into men? Or their sexy asses. Sexy? Aaron gripped his head, “Wait... no... stop...”
“But daddy, I just want to help you.” The twink bit his lower lip and walked up to Aaron, “And you’ve been working so hard.” He traced his hands along Aaron’s hairy muscular torso, “Please daddy, just a taste.” He moaned as his hand slipped under Aaron’s jockstrap.
Aaron’s mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. He was going to be a father... but wasn’t he already a daddy? A daddy? A damn good daddy, right? But didn’t he like women? Wasn’t he married? Why would he be married? Since when was he ever with a woman? Since when did he ever want to be with a woman?
“Please daddy.” The twink moaned as he pulled down the jockstrap, freeing Aaron’s cock. And he didn’t protest.
As the twink wrapped his mouth around the older man’s cock, Aaron’s mind spun even faster. It felt so good, so much better than any time with a woman. And as he looked down at the slut on his knees, his ass jiggling with each thrust of Aaron’s monster cock, a new feeling washed over him.
“Deeper, boy.” Aaron commanded, gripping the back of the twink’s head and forcing his cock deeper, “Show daddy how much you want it.”
The twink obliged and Aaron threw his head back in pleasure. His spinning thoughts were settling down. His new identity taking hold. He was a dom daddy. A good daddy for his little slut. Nothing before this mattered- nothing ever mattered, just this. Even his old self was becoming content, quieting down and falling into a state of blissful pleasure. After all, he just wanted to be a good daddy? Wish granted, right?
“God damn, boy!” Aaron shouted as he came, sending torrents of cum down his slut’s throat. He sat down on the workout bench, while his slut breathed heavily.
“Oh daddy, thank you.” The twink moaned, “You’re the best daddy ever.”
Aaron smirked, “Damn right, boy.” He smirked at himself in the mirror. Fuck he looked good. A true man. His attention turned back to his slut, “Now boy, are you ready for round two?”
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drunk dial [aaron hotchner x reader drabble]
in which reader butt-dialed hotch on a girls night, leading to him confronting her on her doorstep the night after with a raging problem in his slacks. (cw; just pure filth tbh, praise, piv sex, bau reader, interwork relationships, fem!reader, aftercare) (w.c. - 2.3k)
masterlist ♡
Hotch held a tight ship at the BAU. He was a man known for enforcing every rule, no matter how tedious, with an iron fist; even when he fought the urge to break protocol himself, whether that be on the basis of family or other personal matters.
When he found himself on the doorstep of one of his employees after an unfortunate butt-dial on your end, every ounce of restraint he had left slowly began to leave his body.
"Hotch," You gasped, your eyebrows furrowing and your mouth hanging slightly agape. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," He affirmed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I... wanted to let you know I got your call last night."
Your face only grew more contorted. "Call?" You echo, confused. After a moment of silence, your face paled, recalling the events of the night prior. "Oh my god. Did I drunk dial you? I'm so sorry. I was out with the girls and-"
"Not exactly," He interrupted. "May I?" He inquires, gesturing to your apartment.
You nod, opening the door fully and allowing him inside. "What... What did I do?" You ask defeated. "If I caused you any trouble I'm so sorry."
Despite his incessant need to console you, to let you know everything was okay and that the reason he was there is, in fact, not because you were in trouble - he enjoyed letting you suffer a little. Perhaps a bit sadistic, but not the worst thing that would happen tonight, he thought.
"You dialed my cell last night," He began, his voice calm as ever, "and I answered. But it didn't appear you knew I was on the other line, or that you called at all for that matter." He continued, tone unwavering.
You stayed silent, face pale and fidgeting with the skin on your nails.
"If I recall, you said you would 'fuck Unit Chief Hotchner senseless,' does that ring a bell?" He teased with a low laugh. "If drunk words are sober thoughts, then I figured I should pay a visit."
You were no longer ridden with anxiety, but a new, more chilling emotion, that sent a wave of heat through your body. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that if the offer still stands, I'm happy to take it."
"Really?"
"Really."
He stood still in place, not moving nor speaking so you can play the cards. If he interpreted the situation wrong, he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to lose one of his most prized agents.
So you did what you'd been wanting to do since you first stepped foot in his office just under a year ago.
You took a step forward, grabbing his tie and pulling his face into your own, crashing your lips together in a passionate and hungry kiss. His hands clawed at your waist, smushing your body impossibly closer to his while he grinned wickedly into your mouth.
You wasted no time pulling him to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you while he pushed you against the firm piece of wood, careful not to accidentally ram your back on the doorknob. His lips found yours again, and in a rushed and clumsy manner he began to undo his tie. You shrugged his blazer off for him with a low laugh which he mimicked.
"Eager, are we?" He teased, breathless and panting.
You smiled, your fingers finding the buttons to his dress shirt and fumbling them apart. "How could I not be?" You replied, looking up at him through your lashes. "My boss who I've had an unspeakable crush on just said he wants to fuck me."
He chuckled again, shrugging his shirt off while his own fingers the found the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and running his hands up your back to unclasp your bra in a practiced fashion.
"You should've told me sooner," He said lowly. "I've been trying to find an excuse, something to justify these wildly inappropriate feelings. And that drunk call..." He trailed off, sliding the bra down your arms and removing it from your chest, exposing your breasts. You shivered.
His lips dove to your neck and you threw your head back against the wall with a high pitched moan. He let his hands wander, moving from your shoulders to your forearms then finally gripping your hips. He took his time and trailed wet, sloppy, hard, kisses down to the top of your breasts, only pulling away to admire the light bruises he left.
"Fuck Hotch," You whispered, biting your lip.
"None of that," He scolded, standing straight again and looking into your eyes with a primal hunger. "Aaron. You're calling me Aaron tonight."
"Aaron," You echoed, the word foreign on your tongue. "I want you, Aaron."
His name on your lips felt like heaven to his ears. He smirked, guiding your body to sit on the end of your bed. He stood in front of you, never breaking eye contact while he worked thoroughly to unbuckle his belt. Something about the silence of the room being broken by the clang of the metal stirred something hot in you.
"Say it again," He demanded, letting his slacks pool at his ankles and stepping out of the fabric. He kneeled down, untying the loop of your sweatpants and tugging at the waistband.
"Please Aaron," you begged, eyebrows furrowing. "Need you. Need you to fuck me." You pleaded again, now lifting your hips so he could slide not just your pants, but your underwear as well, off.
"Atta girl." He praised, discarding your sweats on the floor. You reacted just as he wanted, a small whimper falling from your mouth when his words reached your ear. It didn't take him long to stand back up, pushing you down on your back while he stood between your legs and hovered over you. "You like that, huh?" He teased. "Gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you?"
You were rendered speechless. The stark contrast of the words you heard on a day-to-day basis compared to this... If you didn't know he'd be touching you in minutes you would've already begun to play with your clit. "Y-yes," you stuttered. "Wanna be good. Please."
He palmed himself through his boxers, the first time you'd actually looked at the tent that had formed. He tugged them down, springing out a cock so thick you worried about it fitting inside of your poor body. You audibly gasped, leading him to laugh at your reaction. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're stretched out first. I'm not that mean."
You smiled up at him, your cheeks hot and your mouth almost watering. He trailed his hands down your body again, taking in the sight before him. "So beautiful," He murmured. "So, so, beautiful." His eyes glanced back up to meet your own. "I could never stop myself from wondering what you were hiding beneath those horribly conservative work clothes," He admitted. "Much better than what my imagination ever conjured up."
"So you've thought about me, then?" You teased, goosebumps covering your body at the image of your boss getting fired up in bed late at night, imagining the same things you had touched yourself to many times before.
"Every night," he replied with a cocky grin. His hand traveled between your legs, letting one of his digits slide through your folds to collect the already pooling wetness that now satiated his fingers. "Already so wet," he commented.
He never broke eye contact as he slipped his middle and ring finger into you, making sure to memorize every contorted feature on your face. They were thick and long, beating some of the men you'd had before in size with his fingers alone. You gasped, eyebrows furrowing as your head hit the back of your bed.
"Eyes on me," he commanded, leaning down to press his chest against yours and propping himself up with his free hand. "Come on, I know you can do it."
You strained your eyes to stay open as you made contact with his, mouth falling agape as he began to move them in and out of you slowly. His wrist made contact with your clit, his arm stilled between the two of you while his hand continued its work diligently. "O-oh my god," you murmured, "Aaron. So good. Feels so good."
He pumped them in and out a few times before scissoring them, prying your walls apart in a way that made you whimper beneath him. "Such pretty noises," he remarked.
You almost came right there, but you knew you had to hold on for him. Still, your hips bucked against him in a needy manner. "Aaron," You gasped, struggling to keep your eyes open. "Please," You sorely begged.
"What is it you need?" He taunted. "Use your words."
You whined. "You," you gasped, "need you inside of me. Need your cock Aaron. Please."
"There we go," He smirked.
He pulled his hand out and stood back straight, letting the fluid drench his fingers and cover himself in a few long pumps. "You sure?" He asked, raising his eyebrows while he continued to touch himself.
"God, yes." You groaned. "Been wanting this for so long. Please."
He lined himself up with your entrance and began to push himself in agonizingly slow. The second the head of his cock made contact with your cervix his head threw back and a loud, guttural, groan escaped his lips. "Fuck," He cursed, continuing his descent. "Shit sweetheart," He mumbled through his teeth.
"Aaron," You moaned. "O-one second," you pleaded, your walls clenching around him instinctively. "Need a second."
His head lowered and he looked at you with concern. "Of course," he replied formally. "Take all the time you need. It'll be better when I start moving though, okay?"
You nodded, gasping. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before looking back up at him standing over you. His face was flushed red, the muscles in his arms protruding and leaving a heavenly sight for your eyes. His hands wandered to your thighs, holding them open and squeezing the supple flesh beneath his fingers. You smiled, nodding at him, giving the silent 'okay' to move again.
"Doing so well," he praised. "So good for me. Knew you could do it."
He began to pull back, leaving half of himself in before pushing his hips forward to meet the same spot. He groaned, now beginning to pick up a slow yet deep rhythm that made you feel dizzy and hot.
"H-harder," you gasped. "You can go harder. Please." You asked again.
"Don't need to ask me twice," he joked, his hands moving to your waist and gripping tight. He pulled all the way back, snapping his hips forward again and hitting deep inside you. He pushed and pulled with his movements, the sound of skin slapping filling the room mixed with degenerate sounds that are more than unprofessional.
"You feel so good," Aaron gasped. "So fucking good, sweetheart." The constant praise made you clench down on him, a groan eliciting from his throat. "Love when you do that," he began, "drives me crazy. Been driving me crazy since I first saw you."
"G-gonna come Aaron," You warn, moans spilling from your mouth while he continues his relentless pounding.
"Yeah?" He says, "where do you want me, princess?" He groans.
The pet name alone made you whimper, eliciting a smirk from him. "Inside," you say through a moan. "On the pill. Need you inside."
He picks up his pace, slamming impossibly harder into your bruised cunt. He grips you harder, sure to leave hand-shaped bruises tomorrow. "Go on sweetheart," he urges. "Be a good girl, come for me."
That's all it took for you to yell his name, releasing yourself on his cock while he grinds his load into you, slowing his movements and letting you ride out your orgasm. He grunted your name repeatedly, toppling down on top of you so his weight is pressed on your body.
"Oh my god Aaron," you gasped, your eyes half lidded. You bring your hand to his face, running it up to his hair and wiping the sweat off of his forehead. "So good. Felt so good."
He grins, breathing heavily while his cock sits inside of you. "Did so good for me," he whispers, his own hand coming to rest on your cheek. "Such a good girl. So perfect."
You smile at the praise and let your body fall limp. He pulls himself out of you with a groan and you whine at the loss of pressure in your hips. "Need you to go to the bathroom," he says, grabbing your discarded panties and wiping the leftover cum spilling out of you. "Don't want you to get a UTI."
You whine again, sitting up with foggy eyes. "O-okay," you stutter, beginning to bring yourself to your feet but immediately toppling down on the bed again. He's quick to be by your side.
"Careful," he chuckles. "I'll walk you to the bathroom, hold on to me, yeah?"
You nod, gripping his forearm while you lead him there. It's not nearly as awkward as you thought, just intimate and loving. It's clear that tonight was much more than a fling.
When you arrive back in your bed, he slips in beside you and you give him a confused look. "Shouldn't... Shouldn't you go home? Jack," You whisper, your head in and out of consciousness.
"He's on a school trip, I'm not leaving you tonight." He reaffirms with a smile. "C'mere." He wraps an arm around your shoulders while you roll into his side, your face buried in his impossibly perfect chest. "You did so well tonight, honey."
You can't muster a response. Your brain is only occupied with the thought you'll get to sleep next to him tonight, so you hum happily and almost instantly fall asleep in his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your hair, lips lingering for a moment when you go limp in his arms. He smiles, a large and genuine smile, holding you protectively before falling asleep himself with the knowledge he has you to himself after nearly a year of pining.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader smut#aaron hotchner smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x reader smut#criminal minds#criminal minds smut
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [MAYDAY] ❞
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader.
summary: you've never seen hotchner so mad at you. but maybe it's a good thing.
content warnings: power imbalance. age-gap. suggestive. most of these are more of a if you squint kind of deal.
word count: 800+
a/n: not the best but i'm not gonna keep working on it whateverrrrr
you fucked up and you knew it, a terrible mistake, a rookie mistake at that. prematurely telling a victim's family the squad had found and detained the unsub and then having to deal with a father getting into the precinct gun in hand when it was leaked said unsub was getting released without any charges.
containing him took all of your strength and derek's help, but having to admit to hotch's angry face, brows furrowed, that you were the reason that it happened... that was soul crushing. your legs had been trembling from the moment he asked, his we'll talk later in a tone you've never heard directed at you doing nothing to help your nerves.
the ride back to the hotel after the actual unsub was captured was a quiet one, so quiet you almost think you're off the hook. aaron looks almost serene while driving, but you should've known better, you should've known he was just holding off.
the minute his hand gripped your wrist and followed you into your room you knew it though, he really wasn't the type to say something and not follow up on it.
"what were you thinking!?" that's probably the first time he raises his voice at you and your heart sank. what were you thinking? on how to bring some comfort to the family. so you weren't really thinking, not the way that you should have. you don't reply, it makes his eyes darken even more, as if you not trying to defend yourself made it worse. "innocent lives were almost lost today because of your lack of professionalism!"
lack of professionalism? supposed to be a nicer way to tell it was because of your big mouth, but it somehow made you feel worse. you were a good agent, you did a good job. you wouldn't have been transferred there two years prior if that wasn't true. he was making you feel small, when usually working by his side made you feel like a superhero of some sort.
"i'm sorry, hotchner, i don't know what else you want me to say." your voice is much lower than his, your arms are crossed in front of your chest as you rub your hands on them, trying to find some sort of comfort in yourself as you dealt with the disappointment coming from the man you secretly harbored only the sweetest of feelings for.
he notices it of course, aaron always notices the small ways your body shows what you're feeling, so his hands go through his hair and he's frustrated so he huffs loudly and he should just drop it off, he knows it, but you're his soft spot and he has to remind himself of that to avoid letting you slip up, you have too much potential to let it go to waste. "being sorry doesn't save lives."
"i know that i—"
"you have to follow protocol." the way he interrupts you makes your eyes water and you know soon enough you're going to be a sobbing mess if he doesn't stop talking. you're not even a crier, so that's about to become much more humiliating if it happens in front of him. "they exist for a reason, you can't just do whatever you want, especially if it's something st—" it is your time to interrupt him.
but with a kiss.
your arms are dropped to your sides, your feet slightly tipped to reach his lips with yours in a act of courage, yes, but mostly despair.
he could not see you cry. seeing you mess up so bad was enough. you couldn't let him think you couldn't handle the job, the scolding.
and that was definitely not your brightest idea, but the way he doesn't even flinch before kissing you back with much more hunger than yourself, his right hand to your throat and the left pulling your waist shows you that maybe you should've done this much earlier.
you melt into his arms and you can feel every muscle on his body tense up when your hands grab onto his waist. his lips only leave yours when he can sense your trouble breathing, but aaron doesn't do anything else that could separate you two, his hands stay glued to you, his eyes almost hypnotized by yours as you worked on catching your breath.
"you're really terrible following rules, huh?" his mockery is followed by his teeth pulling on your lower lip ever so softly, but it still earns him a quick moan from you.
"yeah but..." you stop yourself to gather just a bit more of courage before closing in on him, your lips brushing against his face as you got closer to his ear, your voice a whisper only, as if it made your following teasing less wrong. "i'm very good at following orders."
"i'll be the judge of that."
#lari writes sometimes#aaron x reader#aaron x you#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds x reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch imagine#hotch scenario
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Spencer Reid x she/her!reader
A/N: inspired by this post by @shy-taylorsversion !! hope you like it sweet! ♡
warnings: references to Maeve but nothing too specific
I Can See You
It was as though fate herself was playing the cruellest joke in human history, the day you joined the team. Spencer’s heart was beyond scarred, it had been locked away under every wall he knew how to craft within himself, for his own safety. And yet, with no more than a glance, you began to disarm him.
The team spotted the sparks almost before Spencer did, in the way they acknowledged that he reached to shake your head in greeting; a gesture he typically avoided at all cost. It was the wide eyes from his chosen family that made Spencer realize his body had acted on its own accord, without any consideration for his mind, or heart.
“Doctor Spencer Reid, uh, pleasure to meet you.” He had cleared his throat in his attempts to hold your gaze, a task he had not anticipated to be anywhere near as challenging as it turned out to be.
And the way you had smiled at him? That was the first splinter, in the very first wall that surrounded Spencer’s heart.
It was not drastic enough for Spencer to notice right away, and by the time that he did, it was too late. Anyone would think your moves to be calculated, but the worst part of it was that Spencer could see that your actions and words were completely without ulterior motive.
It is simply who you are, much to a genius’s absolute dismay.
Naturally, Spencer tried to deduce exactly what this immediate connection was on the very first meeting. He sat at his desk with a concentrated frown, and within 15 seconds, he had formed a hypothesis: it was a basic biological attraction, something found in primal creatures, not civilised beings, and certainly not ones with three PhD’s, but if he had to admit that he had animalistic desires on occasion, that was favored over this meaning anything more. With a satisfied nod, he rose from his desk and tried his very best to continue with his day.
He had ventured down the hall of the BAU office, with the intention of retrieving some files he needed to work on, and he was determined to not even remotely acknowledge that you were walking down the very same hallway, in the opposite direction. He did not notice your hair, or your eyes, or the way you walked, the softness found in your smile, and his eidetic memory had definitely not stored each and every detail.
Aaron Hotchner was giving you a tour of the office, Spencer surmised; he absolutely did not strain his every thought to tuning into the conversation in an effort to learn more about the wonder that was you. The width of the hallway allowed for you and Spencer to pass each other without any contact whatsoever, but when your gaze lifted to catch his, neither of you made any effort to increase the distance between you. Instead, you had smiled at him - again, his heart skipped a beat as it reminded him - and the two of you walked, neither one hearing Hotch’s continuing tour of the office as you neared each other. Then your sleeve brushed his. The contact was gone as quickly as it had arrived, but Spencer knew he had goosebumps beneath his suit jacket, and he couldn’t help wondering when he looked over his shoulder to find you doing the same, your eyes locking once again; did you feel it, too?
Only once safely behind the front door of his own apartment, could Spencer Reid regain the ability to think straight. It was foolish, he told himself. A workplace romance? He shook his head as he shrugged off his suit jacket, his gaze lingering momentarily on the sleeve you had brushed against. There was no substance to it, Spencer’s objective brain enforced, need you be reminded of the statistics surrounding workplace entanglements? It was simply the proximity; he had never worked with someone he found so physically attractive before, that was all this was. His mind just needed to adjust to your presence. His eyes were just latching onto the most attractive sight they could find, after forcibly reliving the loss of the love of his life. This was not love, Spencer concluded, it felt nothing like what he had felt for Maeve. The physical weight of the anxiety and stress he had experienced, the secrecy, the pain; all of that was missing, and that was what Spencer understood love to be.
This was foolish, he reminded himself. As of tomorrow, he would put a stop to this, whatever this was.
Spencer walked into the BAU office with newfound purpose the following morning, prepared to focus on his work and nothing else, which would not be a difficult task. Not in the slightest. He was a professional, after all, and you-
“Good morning, Spencer!”
You were already sitting at your desk, and you were smiling at him - the very same smile that Spencer had noticed you had not given anyone else on your first day.
And, like a fool, Doctor Spencer Reid’s eidetic memory jettisoned his previously formed plan of nipping whatever this was in the bud, and instead, he smiled right back at you.
It would be fair to say that he has been a lost cause ever since. His mind has crafted a permanent residence for you, where thoughts of you swirl at a constant rate, and he has allowed such a heinous development; shocking, really. The worst part? Spencer has managed to maintain professionalism, because everything between you is mostly unsaid. It is longing glances, lingering smiles, subtle touches that nobody else would notice; save for the team of profilers that you both happen to work with everyday. You have found your footing within said team and formed fast friends, almost like you had always been part of said team, but you were still such a new and pleasant sight to Spencer each and everyday. You had not seen him through any emotional turmoil, you saw him as he was from when you knew him, and you liked what you saw, in the same way that he liked what he saw in you. There was a mutual understanding, a reciprocated tension that you were equally, acutely aware of.
By now, Spencer knows that when he says something particularly clever, he need only glance at you from the corner of his eye to find you already looking at him with stars in your eyes. By now, you are accustomed to trying to beat Spencer into the office each and every morning, because whoever arrives first will prepare the other’s choice of beverage for the morning, which will be left on their desk in time for the other’s arrival, without a word, but with a complete understanding. By now, the rest of the team are used to sharing eyerolls and exasperated sighs as they watch you and Spencer dance around each other in such a ridiculous, but still undeniably sweet way.
You are something new to Spencer. He doesn’t have to overthink about your safety outside of dangerous cases, he doesn’t have to worry about where he stands with you, because one look is enough to reassure him. Whatever this is, it is something different. It brings about a relief to the stress of the job; the same peace a hot bath would provide, Spencer finds in every smile you give him.
But, at its core, this is unsaid. The layers to it are secret, even with what the team are able to infer from what they can see.
While his brain is focussed on the case at hand, that same little space in Spencer’s mind is alive with thoughts of you. Today, he has been tasked with working the geographical profile with Blake, who is obviously very aware of what is forming between you and Spencer, but elects to say very little about it, given how sensitive the topic could be to Spencer’s still raw heart. That said, she can’t help noticing or smiling at the way Spencer’s gaze continually drifts to the door of the small office within the local police department that they have been working all day, as though willing you to walk through it.
“I’m sure the interviews are going well.” Blake chooses her words carefully, referring to what you have been tasked with, rather than you directly, in an effort to perhaps allow Spencer to open up, just a little.
He frowns at this, trying to convey confusion as he refocusses his gaze on the maps in front of him, running his fingers over them.
“(Y/N) is very good. Knowing her, she’ll come in here in a few minutes saying ‘don’t worry, guys, case closed, we can all go home because there’s a rerun of Doctor Who that I can’t miss’.” Blake tries again, this time using a joke referencing a shared interest of yours and Spencer’s, which pulls the desired smile from him, though he doesn’t lift his eyes from the maps.
A moment of silence passes, in which Spencer considers his own words with equal care, before he decides to respond to what he feels is the most important section of Blake’s last sentence.
“She is…very good.”
Feeling somewhat reassured by Blake’s words in a strange way, in her validating the obvious chemistry between you and Spencer, he finds it easier to continue to working. Of course, he still glances at the door out of habit, wishing for no more than a glimpse of you walking past it, if that’s all he’s allowed for now, but he is focussed on his work. He is a professional, after all.
That is, until his ears - finely tuned to deciphering your voice even in a sea of others - pick up on a distressed tone from you. While the wall between you prevents him from being able to piece together any words, the discomfort he can hear is enough to bring Spencer up from his seat.
“I need to update Hotch on some details of the geographical profile that could assist with the interviews he’s conducting.” Spencer blurts out hurriedly, picking up a random case file without looking at it before rushing out of the room, once again not mentioning you by name, but making his intentions crystal clear to Blake.
She doesn’t question anything, but there’s a knowing smile on her face.
Spencer is out of the door in an instant, his eyes locking onto you a few feet down the hallway, seemingly caught in an uncomfortable exchange with a local police officer. The way your arms are crossed over your chest is enough for Spencer to understand exactly what is going on, and when your gaze gravitates to him, he sees you visibly relax, a soft smile spreading across your face. The local cop continues his attempts at sweet talking you, until he sees your expression and follows your gaze, seeing Spencer stood down the hall with a case file in hand and a frown that could challenge Aaron Hotchner’s. Clearing his throat awkwardly, the local police officer skulks off, and you breathe a sigh of relief, walking over to Spencer and smiling up at him.
“Find anything?” You ask him, gesturing to the case file in his hands, which is now crumpled in his almost white knuckles.
“What? Oh, no, I just- you sounded uncomfortable.” Spencer babbles, his mind shifting from a possessive fury that he’s never previously held for anyone, before settling into a peace that only the subject of that possessive streak can bring.
“I was. Thank you for saving the day, as always.” You smile up at him, and with a rush of confidence, you make a gesture of standing on your tiptoes to kiss Spencer’s cheek as you pass him, and his brain short-circuits.
It takes a whole three seconds for Spencer to regain his 187 IQ points, at which time he looks over his shoulder to find you at the other end of the hallway, mirroring his action with a beaming grin. He stays still - mainly because his brain has not recovered enough for him to trust his ability to walk - but his mind conjures up a beautiful daydream of him strolling right up to you, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you until both of you collapse from lack of oxygen. His hands holding your face, your hands in his hair, his body pressed against yours, holding you up against the wall as your knees attempt to buckle under the weight of what would be the most passionate kiss in human history, Spencer is more than certain of that.
“Are you coming, pretty boy?” You call out to him, abruptly forcing him back into the present.
An interesting choice of words, considering.
“Where?” Spencer asks you, in turn, a smile playing on his lips.
“Lunch!” You state, like it’s obvious.
Spencer glances at his watch, bemused. “It’s 3pm!”
You shrug, but your smile is widening as the amusement grows. “Yep, and I haven’t had lunch, so, you coming?”
Spencer rolls his eyes and refrains from giving you yet another lecture on remembering to take a scheduled lunch break to ensure you have the amount of energy required for maximum efficiency while on the job - which is, obviously, his way of reminding you to eat regularly because he cares about you, not because he cares about your ‘maximum efficiency on the job’.
He quickly pokes his head through the door to the little office, tossing the crumpled case file back on the table where he had previously been sitting.
“Just going to get lunch.” Spencer tells Blake, and she raises an eyebrow.
“Lunch? At 3pm?” She questions, much like he had, and that only makes him smile again.
It isn’t just a smile, though. It’s a bright, wide grin that takes up Spencer’s whole face, making the corners of his eyes crease, and then he disappears without a word, because his expression is explanation enough.
As silly, and as common as it is, after having lunch with you, Spencer’s smile is unwavering for the rest of the day. Yours is too, resulting in both of you receiving teasing remarks from the members of the team that you have been working with, away from each other in the hours that have passed since.
By the time Spencer shuts himself in his own hotel room for the night, his mind is fried, and as a consequence, he cannot withhold thoughts of you to that one corner of his brain. Instead, he sees you standing in the middle of his hotel room, walking up him with a smirk he’s seen time and time again in his dreams. He feels your palms on his chest through his shirt, loosening his tie as his lips ghost yours. His shoulders rolling as you help him take off his suit jacket, discarding it on the floor before his lips fall on yours. And he can see you waiting for him on his hotel room bed, as though you were really there, and had already been there a thousand other times, on a hundred other nights. Oh, how he wishes.
Shaking his head, Spencer forces himself back into the present, into the newly depressing sight of his otherwise empty hotel room. He removes his suit jacket with a bitter expression, knowing you would do it so much better, but alas.
Realizing there is absolutely no way he can sleep in this state, Spencer rolls up the long sleeves of his button-up shirt, kicks his shoes off, and settles in the armchair in the corner of his hotel room. He retrieves his favorite copy of ‘War And Peace’ and decides to reread it to unwind. Just a bit of light reading.
That is, until approximately 10 minutes - and just under halfway through the book - later, when there is an unexpected knock at the door.
Deciding to place ‘War And Peace’ on the physical bedside table and mental backburner, Spencer rises from the armchair and crosses the threshold of his hotel room. The moment he opens the door, his heart leaps right out of his chest.
There you are, in your pajamas, hugging your laptop close to your chest with a smile that Spencer wholeheartedly believes could persuade any man to do anything and everything for you.
“‘The Impossible Planet’ and ‘The Satan Pit’ were rerunning tonight, and we haven’t finished the case in time to watch them, so…” You lift your laptop in a wordless gesture, stars shining in your eyes, and Spencer Reid has to seriously consider whether this is a dream.
His perfect girl, arriving at his door because she wants to watch Doctor Who with him? Surely, fate jests.
“You are an impossible girl.” Is all Spencer can manage to say, a smirk on his face when he sees the recognition in your eyes at his own Doctor Who reference.
“Ooh, you can’t say things like that to a girl, Doctor!” You giggle, knowing you’ve got him right back with a reference of your own.
With that, Spencer invites you into his hotel room, and just like so many times before, you fall asleep with your head on his chest as the end credits roll on your laptop screen, an ever encouraging score from Murray Gold being the soundtrack to Spencer’s longing glance down at you as he brushes your hair away from your face. With a kiss to your forehead and one arm holding you in place, he turns off your laptop and sets it down beside the bed, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you to him in a gesture of affection that was foreign to him before you, but is now second nature.
Spencer never understood what it was to fall asleep with a smile on his face, until he started falling in love with you.
By the time the team is boarding the jet home, you are all beyond exhausted, but relieved in equal measure. Another case closed, another life saved, and another trip home. As opposed to the typical night flights you tend to catch, Penelope managed to secure the jet in time for everyone to be on their way home by midday. So, instead of a silent jet occupied by sleeping FBI agents, Hotch is living vicariously through Rossi and Derek’s latest tales of seduction, you are gossipping with JJ, and at the other end of the jet, perfectly in your line of sight, Spencer is sitting with Blake, unable to resist glancing over at you every so often.
Blake has that same knowing smile on her face, picking up on more than the rest of the team has, given the almost maternal bond she has formed with Spencer, and she decides that this time, she’s going to speak less carefully.
“Spencer, what is the statistical likelihood of history repeating itself?” She asks pointedly, but quietly.
Spencer frowns. “Well, that depends on a number of variables. Technically, it would be impossible to provide an exact statistic, because there are an infinite number of possibilities at every point in every sequence of events that there can ever be, but for history to repeat itself in a direct pattern, it would be incredibly unlikely. Why do you ask?” He rambles, very much enjoying this question, this challenge to his analytical mind.
“Have you ever asked a girl out before?” Blake answers Spencer’s own question with a question, something she has previously reprimanded him for.
And Blake’s question is enough to freeze a genius in his tracks.
He doesn’t have to think about it, he knows the answer, but his confusion and shock makes that one word difficult.
“No.” Spencer says after a moment’s pause.
“Then, to reduce your own anxieties surrounding history repeating itself, why don’t you change that and create an entirely new chain of events for yourself?” Blake suggests, giving him a small, encouraging smile.
As always, she knows exactly what advice he needs to hear. Blake is right, if Spencer does ask you out, what’s unfolding between you and him will truly be unlike anything he has ever experienced before, meaning it cannot possibly end in the same way, the same tragedy cannot befall him if he takes the path he has been so afraid of treading.
“How?” Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper, because he’s vulnerable now. He needs help from a friend, a friend he trusts with a situation that is as precious to him as this.
Grateful that he’s taking her advice on board instead of dismissing it, Blake nods, leaning forward in her seat on the jet.
“Do whatever feels right to you, because it’s you, exactly as you are, that (Y/N) smiles at like that.” Blake says simply, sitting back in her seat and watching as Spencer’s gaze flickers to you again, knowing from the look in his eyes that he’s just received that very smile from you, and that is the only encouragement he needs.
Nodding to himself, Spencer stands up and rushes to the jet kitchen, walking past you and brushing your sleeve with his as he does.
From where you sit with JJ, you can’t help glancing over your shoulder at Spencer, curious as to what he’s doing in the jet kitchen and why he’s trying so very hard to hide whatever it is that he is doing.
No more than a few seconds later, Spencer walks past you again, returning to his own seat at the other end of the jet, but not without very discreetly dropping a small, folded piece of paper into your lap. With a smirk, JJ turns away to look out of the jet window, granting you some privacy as you unfold the piece of paper, your hands trembling ever so slightly as you scan over the page, and Spencer’s own shaky handwriting.
“Meet me tonight?”
Grinning, you lift your eyes from the note and to its sender, who is already staring at you with a mixture of hope and anticipation in varying shades of hazel. From across the jet, you nod at him, and he nods back at you, biting back a disbelieving chuckle as he looks down at his lap shyly, avoiding your eyes.
You want to ask when, where, and how he wants to meet you tonight, but the excitement within the unknown is even better. For the rest of the flight home, you and Spencer exchange expressions of yearning that exceed even your usual standards, and it’s very clear that whatever this is, it’s about to come to a head.
When the jet lands back in Quantico, the team rise from their seats and stretch their limbs, retrieving their overnight bags and heading for the door. You and Spencer fall back in a silent understanding, and he wraps his large hand around yours to take your bag and swing it over his shoulder, giving you one of his signature charming smiles and ridding you of every coherent thought you’ve ever had in the process. With his hand free once again, his fingertips graze yours as you step out of the jet and head back into the office, sparks flying to such a severity, Spencer considers alerting the pilot of a problem with the jet engine.
Much to your mutual dismay, the team is tasked with case reports the second they set foot into the office again, given it is not officially the end of a working day and there is no better time to complete a report than when the case is still fresh in your mind; not everyone has an eidetic memory. And so, your equally yearning glances continue, this time from across the office, as the hours tick by and the anticipation between you grows.
As the hours tick by, Spencer grows restless. He checks his watch, and debates with himself as to whether 6pm can be considered ‘tonight’, before he decides he no longer cares for such technicalities. With his legs bouncing beneath his desk, he quickly writes out another note, then picks up a case report and practically flies over to your desk, dropping the piece of paper on your keyboard before walking out of the glass doors and round the corner, down a hallway that takes him - begrudgingly - out of your sight.
Confused and excited once again, you open the scrunched up note and scream internally.
“Please follow me in 10 seconds and bring your case report - doesn’t matter if it’s finished.”
You stare up at the clock on the office wall, counting the slowest ten seconds of your life, and then the gravity of Spencer pulls you from your desk to fulfill your secret mission. Clutching your incomplete case report to your chest, you try to walk past your coworkers desks as casually as you can, but you can’t help feeling that the room of profilers that surround you are acutely aware of every little tell. You wouldn’t be surprised if they can hear the irregularity in your heartbeat right now.
With trembling hands, you reach for the handle of the glass door and push through it, rounding the corner and immediately freezing on the spot. Halfway down the hallway, Spencer leans against the wall, his case report hanging from his hand loosely at his side, his other hand in a tense fist in front of him as he frowns down at his watch.
As though sensing you, Spencer’s head turns, and when he sees you, he sighs deeply.
“12.5 seconds. I thought you might not be coming.” He says quietly, his words soft and his relief palpable.
An interesting choice of words, considering.
“Sorry, I tried to walk slowly, didn’t want to give anything away.” You explain, your voice as quiet as Spencer’s had been, the distance between you already closing on its own accord.
He shakes his head, but his eyes never leave yours. “No need to apologize. I’m certain they’ll know something’s going on, even with our efforts.”
You can’t help chuckling at that, nodding up at him as he walks closer and begins to tower over you, all words suddenly losing their meaning. In what can only be described as a silent, instinctual mating dance between two equally besotted creatures, with each step Spencer takes towards you, you take a step backwards until your back gently hits the wall, your gazes locked in an indescribable heat, lost in a tension that cannot be defined in any kind of eloquence.
Case report still hanging loosely between Spencer’s index finger and thumb, he closes the space between you until there are only centimeters separating your face and his. With each inhale, you taste each other, smell each other, feel each other closer than ever before, and the primal attraction that Spencer had been foolish enough to believe he was too rigidly sophisticated to ever experience slaps him in the face with a rather rude awakening, but it is a welcome one. His curls touch the skin of your forehead, and you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself, but when Spencer’s free hand moves between your bodies to uncurl one of your hands from its fierce grip on the incomplete case report you clutch to your chest, to place your palm flat against his shirt, over his heart, you forget your own name.
“You know, researchers from the University of Chicago analyzed people’s eye movements as they viewed black and white photos of both couples and attractive strangers to judge whether the people they saw were eliciting feelings of sexual desire or romantic love, and the results revealed an interesting pattern; when the subjects judged a stranger as depicting feelings or romantic love, their eyes stayed fixed on the stranger’s face. However, when the subjects felt the photo was exuding sexual desire, their eyes strayed over the rest of the stranger’s body. The co-author of the research said that by identifying eye patterns that are specific to love-related stimuli, the study may contribute to the development of a biomarker that differentiates feelings of romantic love versus sexual desire, and an eye-tracking model may offer a new avenue of diagnosis for routine clinical exams in psychiatry and/or couple therapy.” Spencer rambles, bringing an enamored smile from you that makes his heart sing. You are always so interested in every single thing he has to say; where others roll their eyes and cut him off, you listen, and you adore him for exactly who he is.
“The reason that I’m telling you this,” Spencer continues, “-is because scientists found that the subject’s judgment can occur in just half a second, suggesting the way we categorize whether we feel lust or love for new people is innately automated.” He wets his lips with his tongue.
“Is this your sciencey way of telling me that, despite it typically being perceived as illogical, you believe in love at first sight? That’s quite controversial for a man who is so often analytically inclined.” You muse thoughtfully, your smile unwavering as you look up at him.
“I didn’t. Not until three months, four days, 9 hours, 12 minutes and-” Spencer checks his watch before meeting your eyes again, “-27 seconds ago.”
You cannot believe Spencer is daring to ask your brain to perform what is nothing short of a miracle in the form of basic mathematics when his lips are almost touching yours.
“You mean…when I…” You can barely form words.
“At the exact moment when you walked into the office on your first day, yes.” Spencer nods, his forehead brushing yours.
The palm that is still pressed to Spencer’s chest through his shirt moves to feel his tie, as though holding onto something for support while the Earth beneath your feet shifts and he is the only thing keeping you here; which, in fairness, he very well might be.
Quite suddenly, the tension between you is suffocating, having long surpassed boiling point, and your breaths are as shallow as his.
The case report held between Spencer’s index finger and thumb is hanging by a metaphorical thread, his other hand lifting to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips caressing your cheek as he drinks you in.
“Can I kiss you, (Y/N)?” He whispers, the boldest words he has ever spoken.
“Yes.” You breathe, without missing a beat, and Spencer does not waste another second.
In one swift motion, the case report falls to the floor, both of his hands coming to cup your face as his lips take yours, your hands holding his to keep him there. Spencer’s body presses into you, acting on a primal instinct that goes beyond his understanding, kissing you like a man starved of physical affection all his life, and there’s far more truth in that than he cares to admit. When one of your hands reaches for his messy curls, Spencer sighs into the kiss, lowering his hands to grab at your waist, squeezing your hips gently. The kiss is its own infinity lived and shared, the two of you only parting for air, but your bodies remaining intertwined, the sound of your heavy breaths echoing down the hallway until you’re both laughing, your foreheads pressed together and an insurmountable love in your eyes.
What this is, is different. You don’t know every detail of Spencer’s past or pain, in the same way that he is yet to know yours, but you have every intention to learn about each other, with this as your foundation. This, without the physical weight of anxiety and stress, with a different kind of secrecy, and free of pain; this is a mutual understanding, a reciprocated attraction beyond what Spencer thought was possible for someone like him. You are different, different to him, different to every person he has ever known, and he has no doubt that he is much the same when compared to the people in your life, too.
You are different, you are new. You are a breath of fresh air that he will never grow tired of breathing.
And he will always, always see you, in every conceivable way that you’ll allow him to.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#imagine#imagines#fanfic#fanfiction#headcannon#headcannons#Spotify
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With Neighbors Like These
Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)
Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader
Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)
TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present
Word Count: 2k
The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.
Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different.
The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.
He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”
You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.
“Feeling lonely, already?”
“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”
“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.
He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.
Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing.
“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.
“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed.
“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”
“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?”
“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.
“... so you’re a bad influence.”
The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly.
You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”
His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.
“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.
You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”
Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs.
Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again.
“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”
Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.
He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear.
“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”
You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.
You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.
“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit.
“Are you trying to make me lose control?”
You nodded in confirmation and he growled.
He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.
“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance.
“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”
His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”
You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff.
He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open.
“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.
“Better?!”
He whined again. “Not exactly.”
You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”
The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.
It was torture but he was damn good at it.
When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.
Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood.
He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.
When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.
With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.
“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.
He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs.
“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.
He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”
“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”
He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”
“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.
“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”
He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”
You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”
“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile.
“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”
@hornyhornyhimbos
NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner smut#post season 12 aaron hotchner#criminalminds#criminalminds fanfic#criminalminds fic#criminalminds smut#smut#mdni#minors do not interact#not beta read#my gifs#hotch is a dilf#also i hate the title but who cares we're here for the smut#milla writes n*s*f*w*#or rather... milla doesn't know why she's writing hotch stuff#i have a strong suspect someone is brainwashing me with all that talk about him#not naming names you know who you are
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dance until we're bones
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader
summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.
a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier
wc: 17.1k
warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one
Hotch can barely stay awake.
He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point.
It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel.
He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there.
Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always.
Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.”
“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?”
“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”
“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.”
Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”
“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”
“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.”
“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says.
Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”
“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes.
“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says.
“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.”
“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”
“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs.
JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.”
Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.”
-
The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.
The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene.
It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house.
They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.
It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control.
All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.
Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.
They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it.
They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.
Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.
Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything.
First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect.
“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.”
“What has he been charged for?”
“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail last year, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”
“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”
“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”
Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”
“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs.
They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind.
The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.
“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.”
“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.
Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.
You.
Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.
You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford.
“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.
He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.”
Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?”
Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”
“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?”
Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.
“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says.
You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”
You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…”
You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house.
It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all.
Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.
“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.”
“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?”
He nods. “I had a change of heart.”
You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.”
Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”
You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.”
Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.”
“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.
“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”
“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”
“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”
And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things:
Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be.
Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school.
“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.
“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts.
“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”
“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says.
You glower at him, but you stay silent.
“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.”
“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”
“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”
He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.”
“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?”
You nod. “He lives with me.”
He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.
“Why is that?” Hotch asks.
You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.
“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”
“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.
“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.”
“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.”
“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?”
Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you.
“Really?”
He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him.
He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her.
And he didn’t even know when she died.
You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad.
“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says.
You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.
“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.
“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.”
Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.”
His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.
“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.”
Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.”
“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.
“No.”
“Do you want them to?”
“...No.”
You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.”
You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”
“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”
You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.”
Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.”
“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says.
You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.”
Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.”
She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.
Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again.
“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up.
“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?”
“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.”
“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.
“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”
Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”
“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”
Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret.
“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”
Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”
“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”
“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.”
Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case—
He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.
You’ve changed a lot. So has he.
And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.
That’s the only thing that should be on his mind.
-
“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.”
“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”
“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”
“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!”
Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.”
“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts.
They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”
“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”
You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief.
“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”
You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe.
“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused.
“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”
“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.
“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”
Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”
“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”
“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”
“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”
“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”
“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”
He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.”
“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.”
“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses.
You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once.
“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”
“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”
“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.
“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”
“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”
You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.
“You’ve got that right.”
He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on.
“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”
“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”
“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity.
“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”
Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs.
Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.
“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”
“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.
“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”
“Looks like it.”
You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.
(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)
-
You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.
Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.
You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.
They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing.
All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people.
And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.
You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you.
Because god— what are the odds?
What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother?
It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years.
It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time.
If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.
Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”
“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you.
“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.”
“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.
You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.
“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?”
“Not one for small talk,” you remark.
“I never have been.”
“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.”
You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now.
You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.
“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”
“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.”
“Rent or own?”
“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”
“What inspired the move?”
“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.”
“And home is?”
“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.”
“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says.
“Sources can lie.”
Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.”
Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.”
He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up.
You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had.
You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.
“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”
“None of those sound like questions,” you say.
“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.
“I don’t know,” you admit.
“You don’t know,” he repeats.
“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.”
“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.”
“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.”
Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?”
“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.”
“You didn’t tell him—”
“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?”
He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.
“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.”
“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.”
“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.”
“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?”
“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.”
“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply.
Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.
“And you’re wrong, by the way.”
“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken.
“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.”
And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you.
“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.”
“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.”
“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”
“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.”
“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.
“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.”
Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.”
You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.”
“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.”
You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.
“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“You know th—”
Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.”
The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.”
He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.
“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”
You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking.
“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.”
“The profile—”
“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.”
“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly.
He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this.
For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right.
You have to be right.
The room feels even colder.
Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do.
You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him.
-
Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.
“She does not like you.”
“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie.
“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.”
“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands.
Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor.
“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.”
“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”
“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.”
“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him.
And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him.
He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things.
“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”
Morgan frowns. “Explain.”
“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”
“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”
“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.”
“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again.
“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.”
“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.”
“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”
“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.
“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.”
Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.
“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.”
They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.
“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.”
Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.
He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”
You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch…
Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore.
Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.
“They sent a new one in,” you say.
“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”
You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.
“I can imagine.”
He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off.
“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.”
“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.
He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.
The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time.
Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks.
When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”
He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”
“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks.
“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says.
She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”
Hotch isn’t sure yet.
But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.
-
Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier.
It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once.
You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron.
You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard.
You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you.
It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.
You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed.
Aaron says your name, and you hum.
“Are you listening?” he asks.
“Of course,” you say.
“Your eyes are closed.”
“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?”
You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.
“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully.
Your eyes open and you frown.
You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.
It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.
“Yeah? What’d she want?”
“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”
You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.
“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”
“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.”
“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?”
He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”
“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.”
Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?”
“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.
You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.
But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.
“Go for it,” you finally say.
He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?”
“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.”
You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you.
“Thank you,” he says.
“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.”
He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder.
“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.
You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.
Sometimes you need reminders.
“I love you too.”
-
“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.”
“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs.
Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.
No one expected this to happen so soon.
The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt.
Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work.
An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation.
Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved.
He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it.
Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.
Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.”
He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”
“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.”
Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.”
“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on.
“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.”
-
The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.
JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.
The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information.
“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.”
“What are they?” Hotch asks.
“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says.
“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks.
“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.”
“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”
“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.”
Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.”
“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests.
Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.”
“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?”
“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.”
“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully.
Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.”
“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.
“And?” Hotch asks.
“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.”
Hotch frowns. You?
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.”
“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again.
“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.”
“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.”
“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.
“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.”
“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.”
Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.”
Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.”
“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.”
“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.”
“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.”
“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.”
“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.”
“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.”
“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says.
“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”
“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods.
Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him.
“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says.
“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks.
“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.”
And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.
“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”
“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.
“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?”
“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.”
“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.
“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?”
He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—”
“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.”
“What would I do without you?” he asks.
“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.”
“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up.
Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.
Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze.
“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind.
“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.
“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”
And he does.
-
You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.
Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale.
A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.
Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.
It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff.
Of course you have to deal with this now.
Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.
“You’re already packed.”
You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.”
“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning.
“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask.
His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.
“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks.
“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?”
His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.”
“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.”
Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.
“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—”
“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”
“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.
“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?”
“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head.
You take the box from him and smile thinly.
“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”
-
You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.
You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.
“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”
His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”
“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.”
“They haven’t been back, have they?”
You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail.
Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”
“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.
“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.”
He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.
“Did you go to class today?”
“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.
“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”
“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”
“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.”
His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”
You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”
“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit.
“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.”
“I agree with you,” he says.
“That’s it,” you muse.
Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.
“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.”
“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.”
“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?”
You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”
“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”
“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”
You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.
“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”
“I think? I was in jail, so.”
You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.”
“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”
He frowns. “What’d you say?”
“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.”
“What have they said about me?” he asks.
“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…”
You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.”
You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.”
“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.”
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.”
“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.”
You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home.
“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”
Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.
“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”
Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before.
You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard.
Then, there’s nothing.
-
Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.
The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at.
It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims.
If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”
“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters.
“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”
“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?
You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that.
It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him.
It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.
Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that.
Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”
“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?”
“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.”
“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.”
“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”
Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching.
“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”
“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”
“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”
“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up.
“What?”
“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”
Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”
“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”
Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.
And now…
Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not.
“Thank you, Garcia.”
“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?”
For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.
“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.”
“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.”
“Thank you,” he says.
“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly.
Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.
“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.”
His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words.
-
It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why.
You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes.
Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.
Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?
Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—
“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.
For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze.
“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.”
“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.”
Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.
You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.
You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.
And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now.
“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.”
He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.”
“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?”
“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.”
“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.”
“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.”
“I’ve always believed in you,” you say.
He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”
You shake your head. “That’s not true.”
“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.”
You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.
“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”
You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.
“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?”
“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!”
“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.”
“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”
“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.”
All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to.
Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly.
When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget.
Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.
You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here.
You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now.
“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.”
“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.”
He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.”
He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.
“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”
Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.”
“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says.
“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”
“Put the gun down,” he repeats.
“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.”
“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.”
“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?”
“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.”
He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you.
“Put the gun down,” another agent warns.
“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”
“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.
“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?”
“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.”
Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.
“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.”
“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.”
“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”
“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”
“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?”
“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.”
Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.”
“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.”
“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.”
“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.”
“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”
“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.
“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.”
You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you.
And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.
There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground.
You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you.
Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him.
Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force.
Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead.
The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.
Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”
A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms.
“I know.”
Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.
“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.”
You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers.
But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron.
“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!”
You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours.
“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.
He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete.
“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.”
And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.
It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.
-
You wake up in the hospital alone.
You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you.
The real surprise is that you wake up at all.
Lucas is dead.
He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.
You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real.
You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life.
You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.
Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all.
You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life.
And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind.
He was going to kill you.
Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU.
Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.
The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him.
“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.
But there’s relief there, too.
He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside.
“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.
Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.”
“And how long have I been here?”
“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.”
You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”
“How bad was it?” you ask.
Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…”
“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.”
He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.”
Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.
“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”
“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?”
Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”
Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.
“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.”
“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.”
“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”
“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.”
You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!”
“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.”
“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—”
You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same.
“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper.
You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.
“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.”
“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues.
“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”
He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number.
“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.”
You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner.
“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.”
“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…
Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together.
“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.”
“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.”
“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.
“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.”
“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.”
Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.”
Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.
“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.
“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.
“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.
Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.
“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.”
Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down.
“Okay.”
And he stays.
This time, he stays.
#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it#i wrote 15k words in 5 days#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner imagine#sadie writes
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quest
one
you never expected to be here. sitting at your shared home with your husband while he was out screwing someone else.
aaron wasn’t the type. he was a great man, a traditional man, a caring and loving man. but he was also just a man.
you knew he still loved his ex wife and would do anything for her. but you never expected he’d cheat on you with her.
they had a great relationship. dated in high school, was each others first relationship, first kiss, first time. they got married two years into college and settled down once they finally had their careers.
haley soon decided she wanted to be a traditional stay at home mom someday. she ended up quitting her job while aaron supported them both and when he decided to switch his career paths she supported him one thousand percent.
soon enough they got pregnant and welcomed the most adorable little boy in the world, jack hotchner.
unfortunately aaron chose work over his family. haley couldn’t take it anymore and decided on a divorce. four years later he met you.
aaron never thought he’d move on. he loved haley. she was his world. losing her made him lose apart of himself. he was a broken man for so long.
dave was the one who encouraged aaron to move on and date. he needed to get haley off his mind and start to live his life the way he should. maybe he shouldn’t have listened.
a year and a half in aaron proposed. he was so in love with you. he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you in his arms. you were so good to him, good to jack.
the two of you wasted no time getting married. deciding to go to the courthouse and sign the papers the very next day.
but two years into this marriage he had changed. he was cold to you. he didn’t even look you in the eyes anymore. he’d come home, get in bed, and go to sleep. no hello, no kisses, no hugs, nothing!
up until recently. he felt more chipper, kinder, his spirits were lifted. he came home with flowers and chocolates. he kissed you good morning and come home to make love to you. it was like he was himself again.
you should have known better. it was a clear sign he was cheating. he felt guilty so he shut you out at first. realizing he did, he decided to be a bit more present. showing you with gifts and love. god, how could you be so blind.
you found out from emily. she had caught them in his office one night. they begged her to keep it between them. she did for a while.
but emily felt guilty too. she had to tell you! it was the right thing to do.
not knowing what to do when she broke the news you just smiled and told her you’d handle it. she was scared what that meant. but she trusted you wouldn’t hurt a fly. all the years of knowing you, she knew you’d never harm anyone.
she also knew you loved jack. you’d never harm anyone he loved. and you wouldn’t.
but you knew this would break his little heart. you couldn’t face aaron! you couldn’t tell him that you knew to his face, no! so you packed up your things, grabbed your notebook, and now you’re currently writing a goodbye letter to aaron and one for jack.
aaron was away for work. he’d got a call and had to travel for a case. you knew by the look on his face it was a bad one. he’d most likely be gone for a week. once he’s back you knew he’d try to call.
but by then you’ll block his number, contact penelope, and make sure she hands aaron the divorce papers.
you didn’t want anything from him. you just wanted him to be happy with haley. it’s what they deserve, happiness. and if you weren’t his happiness, if you weren’t his everything, you refuse to take that from him.
aaron sighs. he was ready to go home. this case took a toll on him this week. he just wanted to be with his wife.
he had missed you. you were on his mind the whole time he was gone. and fuck, did he feel guilty.
the last few months he’s been cheating on you with haley. at first he thought it would be best to get a divorce. work things out with haley and possibly be a family again. him, haley, and jack.
but he loved you! god he loved you. not like he loved haley. no! he didn’t love haley like he used to to anymore. he just missed his old self. she reminded him of his high school years.
he knew it was selfish. he shouldn’t do this to you. you deserved better.
being gone away from you this week has made him open his eyes. aaron was gonna end things with haley, tell you everything, and hope you’d forgive him and wanna work this out.
arriving home felt so different. aaron didn’t know why but he had this uneasy feeling. when he unlocked the front door to his house it was quiet.
all the lights were off and it was no sign of his wife. he was very confused. normally you’d have the kitchen lights on, leaving a note saying dinner is in the fridge while listening to a bit of jazz music while you read a book on the couch.
but it was quiet. dead silence.
aaron got nervous until he saw a note on the kitchen table. sighing, he walks to grab it happily. not knowing what was coming.
dear, aaron. by the time you get this i would most likely be gone. i know about you and haley. i suspect something but i pushed it down because it was no way you’d do that to me. but you did. i want you to know i don’t blame you, im not even mad at you. im hurt, sure. i wished i was her. maybe you’d love me half as much. but it’s no competing with haley. she was your first everything and you never forget your first.
i just want you to know i love you. ill always love you babe! you meant so much to me. and that little boy you got, he is my world! the last thing i wanna do is hurt him. just—tell him whatever you have to, okay? but make sure he knows this isn’t anyone’s fault. make sure he knows that no matter what i will always love the both of you.
let haley know i don’t blame her either. sometimes you gotta let your true love go to realize you were always meant to be. she let you go and now she wants you back. now im letting you go, my love. i hope you two have a very great life. i will love you forever aaron hotchner.
your love, yn hotchner
#aaron hotchner x black!reader#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x fem!reader#hotch x black reader#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x you#hotch x you#hotchner x reader#Spotify
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Hi Rome! I hope you're well 😊
Would you be able to write something about reader constantly trying to snuggle up with Aaron because they just love how warm and affectionate he is with them? They love that only they get to see this side of him and it makes them feel so so special. And Aaron loves the physical contact and the fact that he's not always the one trying to initiate it. He loves that they want him just as much as he wants them<3.
I think Aaron's love language is definitely physical touch once he's comfortable in a relationship ❤️.
Hi Sweetheart! I am so honoured to write this for you. I love this fic so much now!! Also I can only hope this fills the prompt for you <3
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader.
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: Aaron is a nervous MESS. This is enough fluff to kill a family of four. Mentions of sad moments in Aaron’s childhood, also, Jack doesn’t exist here. Not well proof-read.
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When the spark lit the fuse.
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Aaron Hotchner had been in love before, he’d had his fair share of dates in high school with one milkshake and two straws, he’s cared for a handful of people enough to watch over them, offer them his jacket when they looked cold. He’s even been married before, he’s loved someone deeply enough to stand up in front of everyone in both of their lives and devote himself to this person, forever. Of course, it turned out their ‘forever’ was cut short. But in any case, Aaron Hotchner swears up and down that he has been in love before, he’s experienced love before, so why does it all feel so different with you?
Looking back on all his years of dating and courtship and marriage, he sees now that those were all a more distant kind of love. Touchless. A game of push and pull with very little actual contact ever made. He had a partner, a lover, but never someone by his side. They always moved in sync, but never in tandem. That’s what’s been different with y/n, he supposes.
It wasn’t an overnight change, for Aaron Hotchner to go from a man who would reach out and hold your hand if the setting was appropriate and you seemed to really need his support. He’s always been shy in showing his affections, particularly in front of those he holds close. Maybe that was his father’s influence, always rousing at him to detach himself from his parents. Even going as far as to send him to boarding school because Aaron was too quick to seek his mother’s comfort for a boy his age. ‘For a man’ As he was so-called. He was fourteen.
In any case, Aaron’s always been all too careful with when and where he shows his affections. He can’t pinpoint exactly when or where you were able to tear down those deep-seated insecurities and shames of his, but you did it.
It all goes back to before you even asked Aaron out. That’s right, you asked him. Yet another reason his journey with you has been in stark difference to the dyssynchronous relationships he’d previously held so close, he wasn’t the only one putting himself out there. He wasn’t the only one taking steps to be closer to you, each step he took, he found that you had taken a great stride to meet him in the middle. He had never had someone match him each time he tried to deepen his relationships, let alone to have someone else taking the steps first.
But, before you asked him out and changed his way of living and loving forever, you were just a bright spark in Aaron’s dark days. You worked the reception desk at Quantico’s FBI field office, you saw the tired, dreary faces of every agent that walked in and out of the building’s doors morning and night. You took your position very seriously, offering each dreary agent a bright smile as you greet them each day. Aaron couldn’t help but notice you, like a moth to a flame, each morning after peeling himself out of his bed, he would run on autopilot, styling his hair, shaving, picking out a tie, packing himself a sandwich he probably won’t touch for lunch. It was all done without so much as a moment’s consideration, until he reached the tall doors at the front of the building. He suddenly becomes all too aware of the fact that he may have coffee breath, and his hair at the crown of his head is sticking out in every direction as he catches his reflection in the glass. He straightens his tie, smooths down the lapels of his collar and tries desperately to remember how exactly one pulls their mouth into a natural looking smile. Dear god, you make him so frazzled he even forgets how to act like a person.
All of his efforts to prepare for his fourteen foot walk to the elevator doors are never enough to stop your warm “Good Morning, Agent Hotchner!” from drawing all the air he was once capable of holding in his lungs - out of his mouth, jaw hanging slack where it once sat tightly drawn. He manages to draw in enough air for a rather strangled “g’morning.” as he presses the elevator button.
He raps his fingers against the handle of his briefcase as he eagerly awaits the metalling pang of his exit strategy arriving. He doesn’t hear you swiftly springing out of your seat and bounding around the desk over to him until he swears he can see the haze of your halo appear in the reflection of the steel doors beside him. He turns to look at you, partly in shock and partly because he really can’t help himself from stealing another look at you at every opportunity.
“Sorry, Agent. You just have, um. Here. Let me get this.” You lay a warm hand on his chest as you take his tie in your other one, using your nail to try to pick off what must be toothpaste off the sleek black fabric. Aaron feels a churning heat rising from his chest up his pulsepoint on his neck and spreading into his cheeks as attention is brought to the burning sensation of your hand against his hammering heart.
That was the first of a hundred small moments the two of you shared, in which your hands found a home against Aaron's body and his whole world became set in motion. Of course, he knew deep down that the Earth had been turning for billions of years before your soft hands barely caressed his skin and set his nerve endings on fire. Rationally, he knows that, but it’s like he’s experienced so much in his lifetime, it isn’t until your body makes contact with his own that he begins to feel the world around him.
It wasn’t long before Aaron began yearning for more of your delicate touches. He still denies to this day that he started planting feathers in his hair or roughing up his tie before setting foot into Quantico each morning. Of course he wouldn’t intentionally smudge some of his morning oatmeal on his lapel so that you would lead him by the arm behind your desk to the sink and dab it out of the fabric for him. The highly regarded, frankly, very busy SSA Aaron Hotchner would never spend time in his parked car scrubbing his rough hands over his own eyebrows, trying to get the long hairs to sit scraggly against his stern brow. That’s just preposterous. Ridiculous. As ridiculous as the way time would come grinding to a halt as you’d set your gaze on the scraggly brows in question, moving your eyes down to look into the swirling pools of chocolate and honey gazing back at you. Aaron would feel the flicker of a thousand nerves lighting up over his scalp as you brush down his angry brows with your thumbs, your other fingertips finding a home on his temples for stability.
When you finally did ask Aaron out, he was so wonderstruck your bottom lip actually darted out in a sort of tearful pout, thinking he was rejecting you or that you had embarrassed yourself and misread all of his lingering stares and increasingly radiant smiles he cast your way each morning. Thinking you had just imagined the regret in his voice each night he said goodbye, you thought he had been sad to leave you. Wanting to say so much more, but his silence now spoke for itself. You’d been wrong.
Aaron felt so frozen in his own body as his every impulse to tell you yes, YES, he would love to go out with you died in his throat, suffocated by the sheer volume of joy coursing through him. As your hand fell from the cuff of his coat you had clung to, and your eyes dart to the ground, turning your head away from him, Aaron manages to regain a skerrick of control over his own body, reaching out a hand to wrap around your bicep, turning you back to him as his cheeks warm and begin migrating towards his ears, making his beloved crows feet appear beside his glistening eyes. Yet again, he denies that there were tears at the notion of someone asking him out, of you asking him out after all this time, but you know what really happened.
“Y/N, nothing would make me happier.” Aaron’s dry mouth finally regains the ability to work normally. You seemed to now be the one standing in a daze, his hold on your clothed arm still sending the same trickles of lightning throughout your body that Aaron had felt through his own before, each time you’d held onto him.
As one date turned into many, and weeks spent together bled into months, Aaron could feel himself changing. Growing. You had come into his life and taken the wool from his eyes, showing him what a love can be like when the two of you want to foster and nurture it, carrying it between the two of you through your lives, even as it changes and evolves. The two of you aren’t carrying separate entities alone, but instead your hands are intertwined around something beautiful burning between you.
Aaron didn’t notice some of the more underlying changes in himself, he knew he could feel and see rays of sunshine warming him from within, he didn’t realize the sun was only able to find him because you had dismantled the walls he had built, that were casting him into darkness all of these years.
Aaron, however, was not the only one to notice these changes. After a rather successful third date, the two of you had planned a fourth. Sadly, a life of chasing serial killers and child abductors and otherwise scummy members of society got in the way, and Aaron had to reschedule you more than a few times before you two lovebirds finally got to go on another date. You were so excited when Friday night finally came around and Aaron had not been called on another case. You wanted desperately to run into the elevator the minute the clock struck five and pull Aaron by his coat out of the office and into the night, but sadly your coworker was running late to relieve you and take over the front desk. Luckily, Aaron was just as eager to meet you, and he felt ten squinting, profiling eyes on his back as he shut his office door at 5:02. He dropped his briefcase between his shoes to pull on his scarf and his coat before his long legs carried him, gliding down the stairs to the bullpen with a hint of a smile gracing his relaxed features.
“Hotch, I must be seeing things. Are you actually leaving this place on time for once? Is your office on fire? Did you accidentally forward your snarky email to Dave to Strauss by mistake?” Emily was the first to retort, leaning back in her seat and not trying at all to hide her amusement.
“No, everything’s fine, Strauss’ contact address in my emails is unmistakable. I learned that lesson years ago. I have some… plans tonight. Can’t be late.” Hotch offered Emily a smirk, quirking his eyebrow up towards his hairline as he ran a hand over his tie. A new tie, Morgan notes.
“Oooooooh no way. Ain’t no way my man has a date tonight! Aight, bossman. Take that fancy new tie of yours and show your friend a good time.” Derek offered a toothy grin, reaching his fist up for Hotch to bump as he breezes past, still not slowing to make conversation.
Hotch accepts Derek’s fistbump, much to the younger agent’s surprise, he expected his comments to get under Aaron’s skin more than anything. Hotch makes it a rule never to encourage prying into his personal life, but maybe he’s content enough with said personal life to allow a little prying these days.
Hotch reaches the elevators, pressing the button for Ground Floor as he offers his bewildered team a wave.
“Goodnight, agents. Please let me find this unit still in one piece on Monday. Remember to lock the doors when you leave, no parties, and no loud music after nine.” Hotch stepped into the open doors with a smile gracing his features and his team was left in what can only be described as shock.
“Okay, tell me I’m not hallucinating. Did Hotch leave this place willingly, of his own accord, on time, with a smile on his face and jokes? He’s got jokes all of a sudden?” Emily was blinking slowly as if to clear her vision, at the others who all appeared equally stunned by their boss’s sudden change of habits.
“He has been in a better mood lately, last week when Penelope kept referring to the previous case notes as ‘the tea’ Hotch made no efforts to correct her. The last time she tried referring to an unsub’s criminal record as their ‘bio’ he looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel trying to stay calm asking her not to call it that.” Spencer chimes in.
“Hold your horses, pretty boy. Go stake out the South windows in the briefing room and see if you can see our happy camper heading out the front door, I gotta go get babygirl to see this. She’ll never believe me otherwise.” Derek bounced away in a jog towards the batcave, retrieving the BAU’s most renowned gossip monger to delight in their boss’s new developments. Meanwhile JJ, Emily and Spencer moved quickly to the window in the round table room.
Derek and Penelope just made it in time, Derek pushing Penelope to take longer steps, her stilettos the only thing preventing her from sprinting to the window. The front doors of Quantico swung open, six floors down, a large arm holding them open as two heads of hair, tightly embraced, floated out of the tall doorway. The hand holding the doors is revealed to be their boss’s, holding onto his briefcase and shouldering a larger sage green bag, presumably belonging to the individual who’s seen leaning their head on Aaron’s free shoulder. His arm tightly snaked around their waist as their own arm disappeared under the shielded warmth of his long coat, wrapping around his back in a sort of walking embrace. Despite the awkward angle the team has of the couple six floors below them, they look to be talking animatedly as they walk, Penelope squeals as Aaron presses his lips to his lover’s temple leaving a warm kiss against their skin.
“How- How?! How long has this been happening? Quick. Profilers, profile! What do we know? Who is this mysterious fallen angel in our midst? Oh my god. We have to go to my lair tonight! I have to track down these star crossed lovers and see how compatible they are and oh! My god-” Garcia is cut off by her own gasp as she sees you and Aaron stop by the car, where he puts your bag in the backseat before bending down on his knee and taking your ankle in his hand, guiding your foot to his thigh where he ties your hanging shoelace. You’re still talking, your hands gesticulating wildly as you recall the events of your day to Aaron, who has long since finished tying your shoe, and is now just watching you talk, still pinned down by your foot, he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, even from six storeys up, on the opposite side of the carpark, Emily swears she can see a glimmer in her boss’s eyes as he watches his date talking. The lights on the outside of the building behind you, making you look like an angel to him as your ‘halo’ illuminates the signet of the FBI on the face of the building.
“So this is why he’s been religiously applying chapstick lately. I thought he was just becoming really sensitive to the wind.” JJ offers, Penelope jumping up and down and clapping her hands together in a silent celebration before clutching her necklace in front of her heart.
“He also changed his haircut this month. I have seen that man enter this office on the first Monday of every month with the same high and tight crew cut for like, three years now. This month he kept the top longer, damn we should have seen right through that.” Emily sounds almost disappointed that the team failed to see the lover effect in full force.
“Hmm, making it easier to grab onto?” Derek asks with a smirk. “My man.” Penelope’s hand comes up to whack the back of Morgan’s head in retort. Spencer stands, looking bewildered by the comment and by the sudden violence.
“Wait a minute. Do they work in this building? I know that face.” JJ questions.
“Yes! That’s it, they work at the reception desk! They always say good morning even when it’s technically 12:09pm. The worst time, though, they even said good morning to me at 2:35! Must have been having a long day.” Spencer laughs to himself, the rest of the team not finding his exact timekeeping anywhere near as funny as he seems to.
“Oh boy, I will have to ask them what bossman’s like on a date tomorrow when I come in. This is too good an opportunity to resist. Maybe we can bribe ‘em with a latte from down the street, babygirl we gotta find out how they like their coffee.” Derek wraps an arm around the blonde, trying to appeal to her pro-level social media snooping skills for assistance.
“He looks happy, guys, like, lovesick puppy level of happy. Maybe we just leave this alone, let them… come to us when they’re ready?” Garcia offers, sounding surprised at her own voice offering to stay out of someone’s business.
The others all seem to agree with their chirpiest team member that the only way to let Hotch continue being their happy, joking, playful boss is to make sure this person stays in his life, and the best way to do that is by letting them be. Of course, this won’t stop them all from racing towards the South window the next time Hotch leaves work on time, but he can’t exactly punish them for looking, can he?
Things continue in this fashion for a few weeks, and the team marvels each time at the amount of physical affection their boss is comfortably showing in a semi crowded carpark, bustling with agents coming on and off the clock. He’s become less and less shy about letting his arms find home around your waist each time the two of you stroll out of the building. It isn’t until your ninth date was rescheduled for the second time that the team got to see the two of you up close. Aaron’s team was working around the clock to find the source of a classified information leak in a neighboring bureau department.
You got off work, your smile falling when you saw a text from Aaron that he was probably not making it out of the office at 5, let alone before dawn the next morning. So, you set off to the chinese takeout place a street away to fetch his team some fuel. You got an assortment of mains, sides, chopsticks and cutlery, and a bag so full of drinks you thought the handles would break, sending eight cans of carbonated sugar to explode against the pavement, spraying everywhere. Luckily, you were able to double bag the contents and successfully bring it back to Quantico and up to the sixth floor.
The elevator doors opened and it was like setting foot inside a life-sized beehive, agents whizzing past you in all directions, manilla folders being passed around and stacked haphazardly on desks where phones rang and rang with no free hands to answer them.
You manage to weave your way through the hustle and bustle and into the bullpen, where you spin around, looking for any familiar face when you spot Aaron and his team in the conference room, blinds half drawn to occlude the whiteboards from sight through the glass. You knock against the door to the conference room with your knee, not having so much as one finger free to knock on the wood. Your heart is racing with the excitement in the room, though, the agents all seem to be radiating a sort of anxious feeling so potent it feels like the air is thick with TV static. The door swings open, revealing a very wrinkled Aaron standing before you. You feel the sharp, anxious twinkle of the static clearing from before your very eyes like fog meeting sunlight as Aaron looks behind you, looking left and right before he smiles at you and pulls you into the conference room, closing the door.
“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Are you alright?” Aaron asks you, placing a hand on each of your shoulders and looking at you to study your face.
“I’m fine, love! I just thought you guys seem so busy, you could use some dinner.” You raise the bags in each of your hands, seeing Aaron’s frown lines fade and his dimple appear in their absence as he and his whole team smile over at you. Aaron takes the bags from your red hands, surprised to find they’re both so heavy as Morgan clears some space on the roundtable for the food. A wave of ‘thank you’s wash over the room as Dave, Penelope, JJ, Emily, Spencer, Derek and even your Aaron all show you their gratitude at the offering of fresh, hot, food on what was bound to be the longest night they’ve worked in months. Aaron pulled you into his side as the team each introduced themselves to you, shaking your hand excitedly as they all failed miserably to hide the fact that they already knew your name and exactly why you’re here.
You open all the containers of food, explaining all the options you brought and which ones are meat-free for Penelope and offer each agent a drink with a smile, feeling Aaron’s gentle hand resting on the fall of your shoulder as you hand spencer a knife and fork you got specially for him and Aaron asks you if he can get you a plate ready. The team is starstruck, both at your display of kindness and thoughtfulness for every member of his team, and at how comfortably you seem to fit right against your boss. The two of you are practically joined at the hip, each time Hotch asks you a question his hand finds your knee or your arm or your waist to brush over it and get your attention. After a full minute passes of his hands staying away from your body, you move your wheely chair closer to his, looping your hand under and around his bicep, elbow resting on the armrest of his chair as he engages with a conversation with Reid and Dave regarding how exactly the leak of this information stands to gain anything from it.
Once Aaron’s scarfed down his plate of food, his free arm lays over the back of your seat, curling around your far shoulder and rubbing there as he checks in with you if any of the information you’re hearing has upset you at all. He offers to find some place to sit alone with you if you’re uncomfortable for another ten minutes or so before he has to go back to the investigation.
Emily and Penelope are sitting at the opposite side of the table, completely in awe as they watch their boss who’s usually known to move almost like a statue, very calculated and still. If he’s undisturbed long enough he can actually often appear as if he’s not even breathing or blinking when he’s hard at work. But here, he moves so naturally with you. The two of you have a way of reassuring one another without a word that you’re there for the other and you’re okay without so much as making eye contact.
Garcia audibly gasps when you lean in to place your head on the slant of Hotch’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment as most of his team is engaged in a conversation about the possibility of a team of people being responsible for the leak when Hotch looks down at you, a smile of unbridled adoration donning his face and he cranes his neck to kiss you on the crown of your head. In front of everyone. In the middle of a meeting about an emergent situation, her boss found enough joy in his heart to smile widely and kiss you, while you’re nuzzling your own smile further into his neck. She never thought she’d see the day her compartmentalizing, dedicated to a self-destructive degree boss actually found someone that loves him so freely and so openly that he’s actually comfortable enough to do the same.
“Garcia, is everything alright?” Aaron asks, Penelope is ashamed that her audible surprise has dragged the happy couple out of their special moment as both of your eyes are blinking back at her, concerned.
“Everything is just swell, sir. Couldn’t be better, actually.” Penelope smiles, beaming with pride and eyes darting between the two of you.
“For the record, Garcia. I agree.” Hotch offers his own proud smile and a wink as his voice lowered to a whisper, half of the team not registering the interaction as Spencer was rapidly scanning seven files at once with the wave of his hand, looking for the exact time logs from the door to the evidence storage facility on the nights in question.
From that one fateful evening onwards, you became a staple attendee at any and all BAU family functions. The team had loved you from the moment they met you, for you had changed their stoic, slave-to-his-desk boss forever. You had changed him slowly and so kindly that he had seen it happening all around him and still didn’t care to question it.
The whole team, even the young doctor Reid noticed the difference between Aaron and his past partners compared to you. How when you entered the room, Aaron’s hands would start to seek you, and you’d find him, letting him hold onto you. You knew his past experiences had made him paranoid of losing those he loves, and you don’t mind one bit proving to him that you’re still there. They all noticed how whenever you or Aaron laugh at something the group said, your eyes find each other to see the other smiling, feeling free. They all grew to love seeing the two of you moving in the same spaces, your bodies never falling out of step or losing their harmony. No matter how stressful Hotch’s work gets, you can always find a way to soothe his stresses away, with a hand kneading at his shoulders or a gentle thumb grazing against his cheekbone, your hold cradling his face. You made Aaron feel okay with looking possessive, or small and delicate, or just looking like a man in love. You showed him it’s okay to need reassurances and that he’ll never have to be the only one offering them again.
You’ve shown him a love that burns so brightly he doesn’t mind loving you publicly or in private, loudly or whispered in a longing ear. Aaron Hotchner loves you freely, without restraint. He loves you on your quiet mornings just as he loves you from behind a karaoke mic at a crowded bar. His love for you grew too fast and too beautiful for him to contain it anymore. He will tell you he loves you in every language he can. Because from the first time the two of you made contact, like flint on steel, there’s been a spark. He’s glad you were brave enough to reach out and take hold of it, the two of you keeping it safe, because now the heat from that flame keeps you both warm even on the coldest nights.
tagging: @montyfandomlove , @pastanoodles11 , @ssamorganhotchner, @hotchnerbau , @hotchs-babygirl , @ssa-tahlia-obsessions , @p0ssywhippedcream , @14buddy22 , @elenamoncada-ibarra , @supercriminalbean , @ssaspencerreidswife , @levithestripper , @beehive16,
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The Lesson of Reality
[Rick Grimes and Child!Reader]
Synopsis: You accidentally get a lot more “experience” than what Rick had planned.
WC: 3080
Category: Slight Angst, S6!Rick (no TOWL spoilers) {TW — Gore, Violence, Walkers, Blood, Death}
There’s so many fics about Daryl being a father figure that it’s about time that Rick had his Joel Miller moment (especially now that all the episodes of The Ones Who Live have aired). So have fun with this cute Protective!Rick moment.
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They say when times are tough, people can rise to the occasion and show their true colors. For some, it's an opportunity to prove they can survive the hardships and come out the other side stronger, wiser, and more experienced. Then there is the scum of the earth. They will take any opportunity to steal, kill, and hurt others while they try and make it out unscathed.
For Rick, he wanted you to be part of the former. He always saw your potential to become a fighter—a survivor. Hell, you made it this long by yourself, after all. You had to learn and adapt to the world.
And given your age, it was a hard thing to accomplish.
Your innocence didn't help, either. On one hand, he wanted to keep you as innocent and childlike as possible for as long as he could. The world was already a shit-show. The least you could do was still have the mentality of the child you were supposed to be. Being only ten years old, it was the right thing to do.
But then he remembers what the world was like now. If he let you live with that naivety, it'd get you killed. And it didn’t matter how intelligent you were because even if it saved your ass a few times, it won’t forever.
The fact of the matter is you were going to be hurt no matter what. And you had to be prepared for it.
He had already shown his own son, Carl, the harshness of the new world. He didn't want to do it, but the world left him no choice. And he couldn't deny the boy the means to defend himself and his family.
And even if you weren’t his kid, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do the same for you.
He just needed the right time to teach you… to remind you that Alexandria isn’t the safest place on the planet.
The perfect time came when the Wolves attacked the group, and the gates were broken down.
After all the tragedy and loss, and Alexandria started to rebuild and strengthen their walls once again, Rick decided then was the time to toughen you up.
And thus, there you were, sitting on a tree stump as Rick stood in front of you, knife in hand, and Daryl beside him.
Eugene was also there, but he was standing to the side, watching with mild curiosity.
“You sure ‘bout this?” Daryl asked, looking from you to Rick, brows furrowed in concern. “It’s good takin' 'em outside the walls, but now? After everything that just happened, I mean? The people need yah right now, man. And the last thing we need is for the lil' squirt here to get hurt, too. Yer already lookin' rough as it is."
"I'll be fine, Daryl," Rick replied, his eyes not leaving yours. “Besides, I won’t be gone long. It’s just a quick look around. In and out, and then I'll be back. Two days, tops.”
Everyone around you seemed to be on edge, with the attack on the walls still fresh in their minds. But you?
Well, you were too busy staring at the shiny, shiny knife. Excitement shone in your eyes as your fingers twitched.
Truth be told, ever since Daryl and Aaron found you alone, wandering the woods and eating raw squirrel, and brought you to Alexandria, you felt as if something was missing.
You had never been the most social kid. You had the bare minimum amount of friends at school. None of them stuck around after you were pulled out of school. You had no close relatives that wanted you around. No father figure and the only motherly presence in your life was gone before you understood the new reality.
And while there were other kids in Alexandria, the older ones were already too busy trying to act like adults, and the younger ones were too immature. Sam, the kid that had once been closest to your age, was just a crybaby who didn’t know any better. He was scared of the dark and the idea of a walker. He never went outside the walls, so it was no wonder.
It was like living in a house full of strangers. They were all kind to you, but there was something missing.
But the Grimes family? Well, you couldn't help but feel more comfortable around them. Carl didn’t seem to like you, at least not at first, but ever since the “Wolves” attack and sudden loss of his eye, he was becoming nicer.
And then there was Rick. He was always kind, but after the incident, he became even kinder. More attentive and caring. Always checking on you, making sure you were safe and comfortable. Something about that night must've really changed him because he's been different since then.
And you liked it. You felt more comfortable around him. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was because he had saved you from a walker, or perhaps it was the way he talked to you, but you enjoyed his company.
You also loved destroying him in Gin Rummy. With the mix of his shocked expression and Michonne’s laughter, it was priceless.
Rick looked back at Daryl, who was still giving him a doubtful expression. But it wasn’t a no. So, Rick took it as a sign of agreement.
Daryl huffed and put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to his right side. "Alright, alright. But if somethin' goes wrong, I won’t hesitate to tell ya I told ya so, yah hear me?”
Rick snorted. "Wouldn’t expect any less from you."
Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head, a smirk on his lips. He gave you one more glance, and then he turned and left.
With that out of the way, Rick focused on the task at hand. That’s when Eugene made his presence known. He was the man with the map, so to speak.
He came over and laid the map of the area on the ground in front of you.
"I've marked the areas of the woods I believe would be best suited for your scavenging mission. However, should your route take a turn, there are several alternate routes to get back. There are also a few marked areas with potential food sources, water, and the possibility of tools or other survival necessities.
"Thank you, Eugene. I appreciate this," Rick said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Eugene smiled and nodded.
"You're welcome, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, Rosita and I have an appointment at the gate to inspect and repair the damaged panels.” Eugene stood up and straightened his clothes, and then he was gone, heading back to the gate.
"Ready?" Rick asked. You looked up at him, smiling, and gave a nod. Soon, you were off into the rusty car that Daryl had brought from outside the walls.
You sat in the back seat, along with the bags semi-full of supplies and some extra weapons. Most of them belonged to Rick, however, so all you had was your old baseball cap.
And, of course, the old switchblade that Daryl gave you a while back.
For most of the scavenge trip, it was peaceful. The occasional walker showed up here and there, but for the most part, they were few and far between.
You found a lot of supplies. Food, medicine, clothes, and anything else you could think of. Rick also made sure to teach you how to pick locks, avoid traps, and a bunch of other skills.
But, of course, as things go, something has to go wrong.
A group of walkers, about twenty or so, showed up. It was no big deal. It was a lot, but nothing you couldn't handle.
You and Rick quickly got to work, taking them out one by one. You had gotten good with your knife, and with some pointers from Rick, you were practically a pro.
And then there was Rick, swinging his machete, stabbing and slashing his way through the herd. His face was a mix of focus and calm. It was impressive.
But the problem wasn’t the walkers. You were both doing fine. The problem was the aftermath. When the last walker fell to your feet, a gun rose and pointed at Rick's head.
And the guy holding the gun? Well, he looked like a psychopath. He had a smile that sent shivers down your spine, and it didn't help that the sun was starting to set.
"Hey there. Nice work taking out those rotters. But I'm going to have to ask you to hand over the bags and all the weapons you have. Oh, and I love that baseball cap. That'll be mine, too."
Well, Rick wanted you to toughen up. It seemed the universe had the same idea.
Somehow, you ended up behind Rick, shielded from the man and his gun. Your heart was pounding in your ears as the adrenaline kicked in. You didn't know what to do.
Rick didn't, either. Not when a group of armed men stepped out of the trees and aimed their guns at him. He didn't even have the time to reach for his machete.
Rick raised his hands, but his body was tense.
"Don't," was the only thing he said. His voice was stern, a growl hidden underneath. The man grinned and laughed.
"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you," the man sneered.
Suddenly, all of them charged forward, grabbing the two of you. Your cap was taken, and Rick's machete was tossed away.
Despite the stronghold, Rick was able to kick and punch his way through his attackers. Even with the gun being pointed at him and the man pulling the trigger, he still managed to dodge the bullet and throw a few more punches.
The man growled, but the smile didn't leave his face.
"Feisty, aren't you? I love a challenge."
With a flick of his wrist, he knocked the butt of the gun against Rick's temple, sending him to the ground.
"Rick!" You yelled but were cut off when someone grabbed you by the hair and pulled, eliciting a scream from you.
"What a cutie," the man purred, grabbing you by the chin. You tried to pull away, but he held tight.
"How old are you, huh? Six? Seven? Eh, it doesn't matter. All kids are the same. Little shits who don't know their place."
You took that as a sign. You spat in his face. He didn't even flinch. In fact, the smile only widened. It pissed you off so much that you did the one thing that would definitely take a smile off his face.
You saw it done once, with a foot. A woman back in Alexandria seemed upset with a man, and she took her boot and kicked him right where you aimed your switchblade.
You weren't sure if it was a good idea, but it was the only thing you could think of.
So you did. And let me tell you, that was one of the few times you had ever heard someone scream so loud. He dropped you in an instant, unfortunately taking the knife with him.
“Son of a-!! You little-!!” Pain and anger laced the man's words as he clutched himself. You scrambled back, watching with wide eyes as he slowly recovered.
He didn’t dare try to crawl over to you, though. He didn’t trust his body to move.
Instead, he turned his attention to his side, where his small pistol had been tossed. He reached over and picked it up, pointing the barrel in your direction.
“I was gonna be nice… maybe have a little fun, but now?” He let out a painful chuckle. The smile was still there, but it was laced with anger. He groaned in pain, and his body shook.
Still, his hands remained steady.
"You little shit. I outta blow your head off. Let the rotters tear you apart, limb from limb. Would serve you right.”
Rick's heart stopped at that. The gun was aimed at you, and he was too far away. Even if he charged, he wouldn't make it in time.
There was no other option.
Just as the man squinted his eyes, about to pull the trigger, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. It made the man jump and look around, right in time to see one of his men fall to the ground.
"What the-?"
You turned and saw Rick tussling with another man, the one holding a gun, who was fighting for control.
The man who had his gun pointed at you took the opportunity to shoot it again, but you were prepared enough to duck out of the way.
The bullet went into a tree, and by the time the next one fired, he was the last one standing.
And boy, was he pissed. The bullet once again missed his target, but only barely.
That was enough, though. Just enough to get Rick to kick the gun out of his hands before pressing his boot right where your pocket knife was still sticking out.
Rick had the advantage, and it was obvious, with the screams of agony coming from the man. He was on his knees, clutching his crotch, and Rick had a firm hand on the back of his head, ready to bash his skull into the ground if need be.
But he didn't. He had other plans.
He pulled out your knife, only to stick it right back into place and then some.
"Ah! You crazy bas-!! Fuck!!"
"You’re going to listen to me. Real good, you’ hear?” Rick’s voice was dark, and the man nodded frantically.
"Grab his gun and come over here."
You did as you were told, picking up the pistol and slowly walking over. The man whimpered, tears staining his cheeks as blood seeped through his pants.
"You're gonna stand there and keep your gun pointed at his head while I tie his hands together. If he even twitches, shoot him."
You gulped but nodded. You kept your arms out, hands as steady as you could make them.
“You sick, twisted, fuckin' asshole. I'll fucking kill you!" The man snarled, his teeth gritting and his face contorted in pain.
"That's cute," Rick said. He was quick to tie the man's wrists together. Rick was just as quick to grab him and force him on his feet before kicking the back of his knees and sending him sprawling on the ground.
"Stay," Rick commanded him like a dog, and you couldn't help but smile a little at the man's pained, angry expression.
Rick quickly gathered the supplies and the bag, and then he was over to you, giving you a once-over.
"You hurt? Bleeding? Anything broken?"
"N-No, I'm okay," you replied, voice wavering a bit.
"Good," he breathed out, and you noticed he was shaking a bit, too. Not enough to notice at first glance, but enough to know that he was trying his hardest not to.
He took the gun from your hands gingerly, and then he was kneeling before the man.
"Who are you?"
The man was silent. Rick didn't wait long before aiming the gun at the man's right thigh.
"Let me rephrase that. Who are you? What's your name?"
"Fuck y—”
Rick shot the man in the thigh without any hesitation. The scream of pain made you jump.
"Try again. Who are you?"
"Aah!! Fuck!! I-I'm Dave, okay? My name's Dave!"
"Okay, Dave. Good. Now, why did you attack us? And don't think I'm above shooting you again, or worse, so be honest. I can tell when someone's lying to me."
"We were just passing through! Saw you and thought, 'Hey, easy pickings!' Didn't expect you to be the goddamn terminator!"
"Passing through to where?"
Silence. Rick sighed and shook his head, but before he could fire another shot, Dave finally caved.
"Back to c-camp. Please, we have family. Wives, children… We meant nothin' by it! We swear! We just-! We were hungry. We were starving! Please, have mercy!"
"Children? Like the one you just threatened to shoot in the head?" Rick growled. Dave flinched.
"N-no, I-"
“Where are they? Down that stream? I saw your tracks earlier. That was you, wasn’t it?"
Dave's silence spoke volumes. Rick looked back at you, and you were staring at the man, wide-eyed and fearful, not of him specifically, but of what Rick could do to him.
Rick took a deep breath and then turned back to Dave.
"How many are there?"
"T-Ten. Maybe eleven."
"Are they armed?"
"J-Just with knives and stuff."
"You got anything else? Any other guns or ammo?"
"N-No. Please, just let us go! We won't bother you again! Just don't hurt me."
Rick looked back at you again. Your eyes were still locked on the man, but you could feel his gaze. You looked up at him.
"With that stunt, you just pulled,” Rick stood up, his eyes still aligned with yours, but he wasn’t speaking to you. He was addressing Dave.
"I can’t take that chance.”
Then the bullet fired, and soon it was just you and Rick with a bunch of corpses.
He quickly holstered the gun and rushed to bags left on the ground.
"What about his family?” Your voice was shaken. You had never seen someone shot like that, point blank.
Rick sighed, pausing in his movements.
"They don’t exist.” Rick stood and turned, looking you in the eye. “I know people like him. If he had a family, they're already dead, or he killed them himself.”
You didn’t break eye contact, “and if you’re wrong? What then?"
Rick didn’t even blink. "Then I saved them a lot of suffering."
Rick didn't like doing this, killing people, taking life. He hated it, really.
But he would be damned if anyone ever laid a hand on his family or his people. Even if it meant getting a little bloody.
You had to turn away from him, from the intensity of his stare.
Rick sighed and walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.
"You did good back there. Really good. The world it’s… It ain't kind to people. And even though I hope it never happens, you have to be prepared for anything. For anyone."
Rick squeezed your shoulder, and his voice was gentle.
"And, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you."
#rick grimes#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes and reader#andrew lincoln#rick grimes x child!reader#rick grimes x female reader#rick grimes/reader#rick grimes angst#protective!rick#the walking dead fandom#x reader#fanfic#reader#fanfiction#twd michonne#michonne grimes#the walking dead x reader#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon twd#rick grimes imagine#the ones who live#twd x reader#twd rick grimes#andrew lincoln x reader#judith grimes#rj grimes#daryl dixon x female reader#rick grimes x y/n#rick grimes x you
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hi!! before i go i jus wanna say, I love your work 🙏🏽 and I finally watch hamilton last night so I might write for it as well 😋😋 but i have a drabble idea.
anyways— thomas having a dance/ball for a campaign during the election and he meets aaron’s little sister, mc, who snuck in. and he can’t help but take interests in her.
“Now, what’s a lady like you doin’ getting a drink just for yourself? Nobody’s offered to do that for you yet?”
Y/N froze as her fingers met the stem of the champagne flute. She had promised herself she would stay to the outskirts of the ball, and her only goal for the night had been to avoid courting attention. However, the packed room was warm, and it was only more so at its perimeter under the lights, and the crisp bubbly had looked oh-so-inviting.
She turned with a polite smile as she picked up the glass, but her eyes widened when she saw the man behind her with his gleaming smile and his velvet suit. She recognized him instantly; after all, she’d seen him before, and he’d even been in her home, but they’d never formally met. He raised an eyebrow when her smile faltered. “I’ve only just arrived. I haven’t had a chance to speak to much of anyone just yet.”
“Then I’m gonna have to count myself lucky to have found you when I did. Thomas Jefferson.” He offered her a hand as he introduced himself, and when she took it, he dipped down to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes went even wider.
She cleared her throat as he drew himself back up to his full height, still holding her by the fingertips, and it took a moment for it to occur to her to withdraw her hand. “You’re the host of this ball, then, if I’m not mistaken. Thank you for opening your home to us like this.”
“Believe me, sugar, the pleasure’s all mine,” he said. “Who’re you here with? Feel like I’ve seen you around, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Oh, um, my family’s here somewhere. I came on my own, though, and I was planning to meet them here.”
“Your family?” He pursed his lips. “You’re not a Schuyler, are you?”
“No, no, certainly not,” she replied before hastily adding, “although the Schuylers are lovely people, of course. To be a part of their family would make one lucky.”
“So you know the Schuylers, then?” he mused, and she nodded. His growing smile was making her mouth go dry. “I know where I recognize you from; you’re a Burr, aren’t you? Aaron’s sister?”
“I am, yes.” Her smile was tense, laced with unease. His grin was bright as he plucked a drink for himself off of the table behind them.
“So why haven’t I seen you at one of these before? Your family trying to keep you locked away from all the politics?” he asked, and as her eyebrows fell, he could see the look in her eyes sour.
“They’ve decided I can’t be trusted at this kind of event,” she said bitterly, and he quirked a brow. “Aaron claims he’s afraid I’ll say the wrong thing and jeopardize his career, but really, I think he just can’t deal with the idea of splitting people’s attention between us.”
“But you finally proved yourself trustworthy?” he asked mildly, taking a sip of his drink, and she shrugged uncomfortably.
“I suppose so.”
“Then where’s your dear brother now, hm? Why aren’t you here with the rest of your family?” He watched her expectantly, and when she didn’t answer right away, his grin broadened. “They don’t even know you’re here, do they?”
“No, and you’re not going to be the one to tell them,” she said sharply, pointing her champagne flute at him. He raised his eyebrows, amused by the fervor in her tone. “I had to walk miles alone in the dark to get here; I am not being thrown out as soon as I arrive.”
“Well, sweetheart, if you’re not with them, then really, I should be sendin’ you on your way.” Despite the threat, his voice was breezy, and she frowned.
“And what do you have to gain from kicking me out?”
“The respect and appreciation of your family,” he suggested blithely. “The knowledge that I’m not leavin’ a young lady to walk home alone ‘n vulnerable at the end of the night. ‘S just the right thing to do, really.”
She eyed his small smile for a moment before slowly asking, “But despite that, you’d rather I stay, wouldn’t you?” He shrugged unabashedly. “You’re quite shameless, aren’t you, Mr. Jefferson?”
“Only on a good day.” He winked as he took a sip of his drink. “After all, you went through all that effort to get here. There’s gotta be a good reason for it, huh?”
“Of course. I’m here to expand my mind just like everyone else," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.
“And not for the charming future president we’ve got roaming the ball?”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware there was one. Let me know if you see him?”
His full laugh proved him undeterred, and Y/N’s self-satisfied smile was reluctant. "'M glad to see you inherited more of the family wit than your brother seemed to."
"Please, don't tell him that. A lady needs to keep some things a secret."
"It'll stay between us, then," Thomas said, "but I don't think I ever got your name."
"Why, so you know whose presence to report to my brother?"
"So I know who to ask after the next time I see him." His response was quick, and it had Y/N on her heels. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, but when she opened her mouth to answer—
"Y/N." Both she and Thomas turned on their heels at the loud voice to find her brother striding across the room toward them, and her groan was unchecked. The fury in Aaron's voice was barely contained. "What in the world do you think you're possibly doing here, sneaking out after dark? How did you even get here?"
"I brought myself, since nobody else was willing to take me," she bit back, and Thomas raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his drink.
"That wasn't your decision to make," Aaron snapped. "We are a family, and you have to respect that—"
"Respect what? That you have total control over my life in the name of family values? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" she asked. "I respect that you have a career and a reputation to maintain, but I am a person, and—"
"And nothing, Y/N. Put the drink down, and leave Mr. Jefferson at peace," he demanded, and Y/N narrowed her eyes, her jaw set. Aaron turned to Thomas, and much of the fire in his voice had subsided when he said, "I'm sorry for her intrusion, Thomas. We didn't know she had followed us here, and we'll send her home at once."
"Now, Aaron, what makes you think she's uninvited company?" Thomas asked, and both Y/N's and Aaron's brows were raised. "Y/N's my guest here this evening; 's the opposite of an intrusion."
He frowned, glancing between Thomas and Y/N. "You mean you're responsible for her presence here tonight?"
"Well, I invited her, so I suppose you could say that," he said casually, and if he winked when he caught Y/N's eye, Aaron didn't think anything of it. Aaron's lips were pursed and his shoulders tense as he glanced between them.
"Why didn't you tell me Thomas had invited you?" he asked Y/N, and she shrugged.
"I didn't think you'd want to hear it, and I didn't want you trying to prevent me from coming."
"If I'd known he asked you to come—"
"So, what, my personhood is dependent on his permission now?"
"Your presence here is, at least."
"As a Burr, I would've been welcome either way."
"Not unattended, however."
"I can attend to myself just fine."
"You know that isn't what I mean when—"
"Aaron, was there somethin' else you needed?" Thomas cut him off, and Aaron's gaze was affronted when it snapped to him. However, he held his tongue. "I was just about to ask Y/N to dance, assuming that's her decision to make 'n all."
Y/N had to bite back her smile at his words, and although Aaron seemed to recognize the challenge in them as his jaw ticked, he said, "Of course. I'm sorry to have interrupted."
"Don't sweat it. Your concern for your sister is awful sweet, even if it isn't needed here," Thomas responded, his smile warm.
"'Concern' isn't how I'd describe it," Y/N muttered bitterly, and Thomas nudged her with his elbow. She frowned.
"Carry on 'n enjoy the rest of the ball, though, and please send my best to your wife," he said. Aaron could only offer a tense smile in response.
“You as well. I suppose I should go find Theodosia.” He looked down skeptically at Y/N. “How are you planning to get home?”
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I…” She hadn’t thought that far, so her gaze was hopeful when it snapped to Thomas, who held her with a hand at the small of her back.
“I’ll arrange for a carriage to take her home,” he promised. “Don’t you worry, Burr. She’s in safe hands.”
“Right,” he said hesitantly, looking Thomas over. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t do anything stupid, Jefferson.”
“‘S like you don’t even know who you’re talkin’ to,” Thomas said incredulously, and Aaron scoffed.
“I’m sure.” He barely spared them both another glance before departing unceremoniously, shaking his head all the while, and Thomas chuckled. Y/N turned back toward him.
“You’re a regular local hero,” she said sardonically, but the smile in her eyes betrayed her bored tone. Thomas grinned.
“I do try, sweetheart,” he said lightly, “maybe even in a way that deserves a ‘thank you’?”
“Thank you.” Her voice was sincere. “Really. I owe you.”
“Well, if you mean that,” he said, and his eyes were shining as he looked down at her, “I wouldn’t mind making good on that dance I mentioned. Unless you’re in a real rush to get back to your dear old brother.”
He offered her his arm with an eyebrow raised, and she left her empty glass on the table behind them when she took it, drawing a wide grin from him. “How could I say no to our charming host?"
#send me asks!#hamilton x reader#freedom of the press#hamilton fic#hamilton#thomas jefferson#lafayette x reader#lafayette#daveed diggs imagine#daveed diggs fanfic#daveed diggs x reader#daveed fic#hamilton fanfic#alexander hamilton#hamilton one shot#hamilton musical#hamilton the musical#aaron burr#thomas jefferson fic#thomas jefferson x reader#thomas jefferson x reader drabble#dorkfilmz
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cardan greenbriar family headcanons. your aaron warner was amazing btw.
The Greenbriars.
pairings: dad!cardan x mom!reader
summary: Introducing the Greenbriar Family.
warnings: domestic fluff, ooc!cardan, mention of alcohol, family shenanigans, dad cardan, not proofread ...
note: omg! Thank you so much! Hope you love this one 🤍
Cardan Greenbriar, the High King of Elfhame, sat upon his majestic throne and reclined in your shared space, the air hung with a quiet warmth as you, his beloved Queen of Elfhame, nervously fidgeted nearby.
"Cardan," you began, eyes meeting his with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. "I have something to tell you." His gaze, worries and panick visible to his eyes fixed on yours, waiting for the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue.
Cardan instinctively wrap his hands around you, trying to calm you down.
“what is it, My love?” he asked, but you only stares at him, anxiety building ip to the both of you.
The silence stretched, prompting you to take a steadying breath. As you pulled away from his embrace, which did not help your husband to calm at all, you let the secret out.
"I'm pregnant," you confessed, the weight of the words settling in the air between you. His eyes widened for a fleeting moment before a slow grin spread across his face.
you are pregnant. Gods, you are pregnant! He is going to be a father!
"Pregnant?" Cardan repeated, disbelief giving way to a genuine, unrestrained joy. He stood, closing the distance between you, and gently cupped your face. "You're going to be a mother," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of astonishment and delight.
“And I am going to be a father...” He whispered as he pick you up and hugged you around.
A cascade of emotions washed over you both—excitement, uncertainty, and the undeniable joy that comes with the promise of new life. Cardan's hands found yours, intertwining fingers in a gesture that spoke volumes. "We're going to have a family," he declared, his voice rich with emotion.
The reality of impending parenthood settled in as you exchanged glances, both grappling with the enormity of the news. Cardan's fingers traced circles on the back of your hand, a silent reassurance. "Are you happy?" you asked, the vulnerability in your voice bared for him to see.
His laughter, deep and genuine, filled the room. "Happy doesn't even begin to cover it," Cardan replied, pulling you into a tender embrace. “I love you so much, We can do this together, okay?” You nodded, as you two hugged once again, your husband face buried in your neck.
"We'll need to prepare," he mused, a glint of determination in his eyes. "A nursery, perhaps?"
As the news spread through the kingdom, joy radiated from the palace, touching every corner of Elfhame. The High King and his Queen, expecting an heir.
Elfhame celebrated with grand feasts and festivities, the air filled with laughter and music.
Days turned into weeks, and your pregnancy became the talk of the realm. The royal court buzzed with excitement, and Cardan, once the stoic ruler, found himself sharing his happiness openly. He attended to his kingly duties with renewed vigor, fueled by the anticipation of becoming a father.
As your pregnancy progressed, Cardan became increasingly involved, attending appointments with the court healer and participating in the preparations for the nursery. Soft kisses on your forehead, a gentle touch to your belly, and whispered promises of love to the baby.
dad!cardan who after the revelation he stops and restrain himself from drinking.
the baby was your 4th tear wedding anniversary baby
he LOOOOVES pressing his face to upur stomach, peppering kisses and talking to the baby even if the bump is not visible.
he had a habit wrapping his tail around you!
He gets very protective
he also does not care what time is it if you ever wake him up in the middle of the night because your cravings are acting out
he loves the way you are being clingy, even having mood swings being away from him
which also he had, hates it when he is away from you.
He do whatever you wish you want
Really can not say no to you
Only wants the best for you and the baby
Oh hes very paranoid
then when the time was near, he is always by your side and taking care of you.
When your water broke, cardan was not with you and you started to panick
You quickly rung the bell to call for servants to assist you
The pain was unbearable so you let out a cry
Your husband heard you and immediately darted out to reach you.
He quickly swept you to his arms and rushed you to the bed and the healers were already filing up in the room. Tears ran down to your cheeks as you pressed your face to your husbands chest.
Cardan attempted to stay strong for you despite his fears coming at him, he holds your hand and kissed your temples as he whisperers assurances and cheering you on.
“Oh, my love, I’m here now. It would be okay.”
“Shh, don’t worry. You can do this.”
“I love you. I love you. You and the baby would be fine just breathe for me, darling.”
As a mixture of nerves and anticipation settled over both of you. The night when contractions finally began, Cardan's calm demeanor cradled your anxiety. In the hushed hours of the birthing room, he held your hand, a steadfast presence amidst the whirlwind of emotions.
When the cries of a newborn filled the air, the reality of parenthood embraced you both. Cardan, his eyes shimmering with unspoken awe, cradled the tiny bundle in his arms. "We did it," he whispered, his gaze never leaving your exhausted yet elated face.
It was a boy! You named him archer. Archie as a nickname.
jude become his godmother!
he wrote letter to archie for him to read in the future
Cardan who is willing to be sleepless so tou can have your much needed rest and to ensure baby archies safety and comfort.
The type of dad to do silly things just to embarrass and make your kid laugh!
His prioritie is you and archies happiness
Oh archie is spoiled rotten as you and your husband falls victim to the puppy dog eyes easily
who cried when archie have his first word!!
Of course it was “dada”
you softly smiled and hug him as he hold your son
you guys cuddle at night as he whispers sweet nothings to your ears.
🪩 :: voicemail; hope you guys love this one as much with the aaron warner hcs do not worry this is not the last time you guys gonna see baby archie and dad!cardan 🤭 Also if you want to be in my Cardan Greenbriar taglist please let me know on my inbox or dm me! See you soonest <3
#reader insert#high king cardan#rie answers 🦦#riewrites 🫀#the cruel prince x reader#the cruel prince series#the cruel prince#cardan greenbriar#cardan x reader#cardan greenbriar x reader#dad!cardan#cardan greenbriar x you#cardan greenbriar headcanons#mom!reader#elfhame#the folk of the air#the folk of the the air series#tfota#tfota series#the wicked king#the queen of nothing#cardan imagines#female reader
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Show Me Off (You Won’t)
Pairing: College!Aaron x Reader
Summary: Aaron can’t promise you an commitment, never has. Yet you still hold onto hope that maybe one day everything will change.
Warnings: some descriptions of smut, modernized!Aaron, fuckboy!Aaron.
He likes kissing me
In his car when it's late and it's dark
It all started out with just a simple match on tinder, back when the semester first started. Aaron Hotchner had been your crush way back in high school, and it just so happened he was going to the same college as you.
You recalled how excited you were, the butterflies mindlessly fluttering in your stomach the first time he asked you over late at night. It was like a dream come true, until it wasn’t. A consistent pattern occurring of “u up?” texts, and him only talking to you when he wanted to have sex.
Now here you were months later, currently parked in the dorm lot, your tongue completely indulged between Aaron’s lips like many other nights. He tasted of cherry and whiskey, his hair a mess from your hand flowing through his hair at the back of his head, pulling him in deeper and deeper, needing more.
Breaking away, the shadows of people walking in the streetlights reeled him out of the trance you had him in.
Following his eyes, you curled in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your torso, slouching back in the leather seat in defeat, realizing what the problem was. It was the same every-time.
After a moment and they were out of sight, Aaron nodded to the door and you followed his lead. Why you still did, you were unsure. Maybe it was out of hope, hope that this could be more and he’d set aside the stupid college fraternity standards.
Aaron was a popular guy, dated all the cheerleaders, played football, cheated on most of his tests, the complete opposite of yourself, but you saw the good in him, and he was a lot like you. He read books, wrote journals, taken an interest in charities, but none of his peers knew that side of him and that’s how he wanted it, how he needed it to be. Regardless of the profound feelings you’d developed for him.
“C’mon, pretty girl. Let’s go inside.” He smirked cooly at you, causing your cheeks to burn a rosey shade of red when he called you pretty. Only thing was you wanted to be his pretty girl.
He likes holding me
In his bed, shut the door, turn the lock
His roommate was out of town visiting family, but he locked his bedroom door just in case before closing the blinds, stripping himself of his clothes. He noticed the silence in you, that frown you wore when you were upset, but he’d play it off like it was nothing because he knew at the end of the day you’d be back in his bed, sneaking in and out. All he wanted was a quick fuck with a pretty girl, and you were it. No strings attached the way he wanted it.
“You alright?” You simply nodded, a small smile finally appearing once he jumped in the bed, immediately peppering you with kisses as he tickled your sides, trying to make you laugh.
When his lips reached that sweet spot in the crook of your neck, you found yourself once again becoming desperate to have him inside you.
Aligning his hardened member with your dripping hole, he thrusted up, your inner walls devouring him sweetly.
He cracked a joke about how eager you were, and finished within ten minutes, pulling out and releasing his seed on your stomach, just like the times before. He’d kiss you goodnight, and pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.
This wasn’t the first night you stayed up after he fell asleep, wondering and desperately wishing for him to just reciprocate your feelings.
He'll say I'm pretty outside the bar
Then I'm just a stranger when we walk in
I want a witness, I want a garden
He wants the blinds drawn, he wants a fence
You were tired of being just the girl he casually fucked. It was killing you inside, your heart ached whenever you saw him hanging out, touchy with other girls. The numerous times you noticed he was active but hadn’t responded to you all day. You wanted to express your feelings without driving him away.
What were you supposed to feel? How could he not feel more, want more, a relationship at that?
You stayed up staring at his shallow breathing, brushing his cheek lightly with the palms of your hand just staring at his beauty, trying to figure him out but you didn’t give up hope, not yet.
After a moment, you curled your legs around him, holding him closely to your heart.
“Hmm..” He hummed in his sleep, the member in his pants hardening once more.
“Round two?” He spoke sleepily. A quiet giggle escaped your lips before going under the sheets.
You just hadn’t quite made the connection entirely yet that each intimate moment shared with him was leaving you more in a mess, making it harder to leave each time.
I know when the sun is up
I know when tomorrow comes
I know when my clothes are on
He'll never show me off
Awaking from your deep slumber, you wiped at your eyes, glancing over to Aaron’s side of the bed, unsurprised yet disappointed he wasn’t there next to you. He’d never kiss you goodbye, or say he was leaving, it was almost like a routine now for you to gather your belongings and sneak out the back window to walk to your dorm. Occasionally stopping for a coffee or just to sit down in a cafe. The profound feelings for him always found a way to creep back in, like a stranger breaking into a house only it was Aaron breaking in and tearing your heart a part.
At mid day, you were sat at the library, seated by the window with your coffee when Aaron walked in with a few of his friends. You glanced up at him in his leather jacket and blue jeans, attempting to wave a coy ‘hello’ to him to which he disregarded. You pulled your sleeves down, frowning insecurely before gathering your things and leaving to go cry painful tears in your car.
All it ever was, was a glance and him chattering on with his friends, which hurt you, shattered your heart.
You’d sit up waiting and waiting every night for him to text you. It was a vicious cycle that was playing with your head. Your mind was telling you to stop and leave but your heart wasn’t allowing any such thing. Even when you felt like things were progressing, or one step closer to becoming official, he’d go radio silent.
Not on a busy street
Not where anyone could see
Does he know it's killing me?
He'll never show me off
That night he texted you continuously. After you didn’t respond to the normal “u up?” text, he apologized over and over again, anything to get you back in his bed.
“Babeee”
“Come over, I miss you.” Your efforts to ignore him went down the drain when he said he missed you. After rolling around in many different positions in your bed, you found yourself packing an overnight bag and responding to him.
Standing at his door way
And I'm hopin' everything will change this time
Pulling into the drive, a whirlwind of emotions struck you like lightning in a treacherous storm. What if you were just hurting yourself more, ruining a true love with somebody else, wasting your time on Aaron Hotchner once more.
Hanging your head in your shaking hands, tears brimmed at your eyelids as you questioned what in the hell you were doing back here.
Gathering your belongings, wiping the astray tears away, you checked yourself in the mirror to ensure you looked well enough out together before exiting the car.
The warm summer breeze swam through your hair, as you approached his door, arms locking together around your torso.
Upon Aaron opening the door, he didn’t quiet you like once before, maybe there was a small light at the end of the slowly dimming tunnel of hope.
His pearly white smile, and the way his white tanktop hung tightly around his chest, his voice sounding of pure ivory and silk, with a hint of playfulness when he spoke.
“There’s my girl!” In a swift movement, his arms hung, draping beneath your thighs as he picked you up spinning you around causing your bag to drop down to the concrete, taking you by surprise.
You giggled gleefuly, breathing in his strong mint scent as you nuzzled into the warmth of his neck, blushing profusely. In that moment everything just seemed like water under the bridge.
“I missed you so much, I’m so sorry about today. I really am Y/N.” The tone of his voice sounded caring, almost painfully as if he truly was sorry this time. Slowly dropping you down, his tall figure, and beading brown eyes searched yours before leaning down and connecting his lips to yours, hand settling on the side of your cheek, as he poured his heart and soul into every part of you, tongue delving further and further with each passing second.
Time was irrelevant in that moment, all your worries washed away like a tidal wave, his lips the smooth sand, softening with each landing on the shore of your lips.
Pulling away, he settled his forehead against yours, when the cloud rolled in pouring drizzling drops of rain on your head. Laughing, he shielded your temple, picking up your bag and swaying you inside.
Upon entering the dorm, beer bottles, and open packs of cigarettes lay astray, yet his roommate still wasn’t here, or anyone for that matter.
“I hope you don’t mind the mess. Brandon went on vacation with his family, won’t be back for about a week. So I figured why not enjoy it while we can.” Oh, so that’s all this was? Things haven’t changed then. Hiding your frown, not wanting to have another argument about this, you attempted at a small smile before following behind him to his bedroom, acting as if you were okay.
I like how it sounds
When he sings to himself in the shower
I like how he looks
When the sun hits him at golden hour
Awakening the following morning, tangled up in the sheets he was still next you, actually awake, staring at you with immense interest while he gently combed your hair. “Did anyone ever tell you, you look quite adorable when you’re sleeping, even when you’re snoring.” There was that glimmer of hope again, because something new happened. He’d never stay and wait for you to wake up. Embarrassed by your snoring, you gripped the sheets, pulling the thin fabric over your face only for Aaron to now allow it. His fingers roaming near you, tickling your sides profusely as you laughed and giggled.
“Have you been watching me this whole time?” Aaron grinned, hand coming up to cup your chin before placing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. “How could I not with how cute you are?”
After a moment of silence he suggested a shower, to which you happily obliged.
Watching him removed his shirt, the sun peered in, his skin glowing from the light, illuminating his muscular features.
Turning on the water, he motioned for you to join him, pulling you in swiftly by your hips, before he began to sing. He was a terrible singer but it was adorable to see him try. Things really felt like maybe the pieces were slowly falling into place.
I say I like when we're late night talking
Then he goes quiet, won't let me in
I want a witness, he's staying guarded
He wants the blinds drawn, I just want him
The night continued on smoothly, he even took you to see a film you’d been talking of for months, thought it was odd that the theater was an hour away when there was one just around the corner from the school.
But any thoughts washed away when he made love to you in the backseat of the car in a parking lot of an abandoned building.
Now here you were sitting at a table playing cards with him, slightly tipsy from the liquor run you made on the way.
The night was going swimmingly and he really opened up. Talking of his interests, hobbies, even some family stories, the most you’ve ever gotten out of him in one sitting. That’s when the feelings bubbled back up in your stomach, needing to know if there was a possibility for more.
“Go fish.” When you didn’t grab another card, he waved his hand in your face playfully.
“Helloooo, earth to Y/N. Something on your mind?” He took a drink from his beer, glancing down at his phone and clearing a notification from what looked like to be a girl named Jessica
“What’re we doing Aaron?” When he looked back up, you sat there solemnly with a quizzical, hurting expression on your face.
“Well I’m waiting on you to take your turn.” He laughed softly, setting his beer down on the table and putting his phone in his pocket.
“Why can’t we date? I mean you’ve really opened up to me. I’m here almost every other night and you know how I feel about you.” His lips pressed firmly together as he cracked open another beer, suddenly not being able to connect his eyes to yours.
Pushing the chair back, you flailed your arms, trying to hold back from crying.
“Why!? Tell me why? I have been nothing but good to you. Every night you- you text me, you’ve been vulnerable, loving, and then when the next day comes, nothing! You give me nothing while i’m left hanging like a thin string in the wind, consumed by my love for you! Why won’t you just let me in.” Your voice cracked, fragility holding onto every word. His eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Y/N. I think you should go. You knew from the start I didn’t want a relationship.”
“Oh that’s rich coming from you. It really is.” You picked up the beer, finishing off what was left before slamming the glass bottle back down onto the table and making your way to his room to gather your things.
Making your way to the door, the tears started to flow and you glanced back over to him, still sitting there lighting a cigarette, completely unbothered.
“Did any of those nights mean anything to you? Anything at all?” Watching him with intent, pained eyes. He still didn’t talk, just continued to smoke, wouldn’t even look in your general direction, it was like you weren’t even there.
Your heart was breaking in half while your hand turned the doorknob in disbelief.
“Don’t attempt to contact me ever again. I will not keep going through this emotional turmoil with you. You broke my heart Aaron Hotchner. I just hope someday you come to the realization it doesn’t matter what other people think, the realization to grow up and be a good man. Not one that toys with a woman’s heart.” Slamming the door you left, walking to your dorm crying, still trying to comprehend that you’d no longer see Aaron anymore, and the thought of him with another woman killed you but this was for the best. Even if it meant losing the man you loved, but did you ever really have him?
#Aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds imagine#ranaewrites#Spotify
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