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sinceileftyoublog · 1 year

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Hayden Interview: Live With It

Photo by Christie Greyerbiehl

BY JORDAN MAINZER

For Hayden Desser, the past six years raised a lot of questions. He labored over his tenth record Are We Good (Arts & Crafts), finally out tomorrow, questioning everything from the quality of the album to the sequencing and cover art. In the meantime, he and his wife weathered the lockdown raising their two children, their son struggling with online learning and his daughter, who has developmental disabilities, unable to attend her school. As such, the phrase, “Are we good?”, whether referring to the royal we, Desser and his family, or the human race in general, became not just the title of the record, but a rallying cry whose answer was to embrace the uncertainty.

Much of Are We Good was written at home during lockdown and through various songwriting sessions with indie heavyweights like The National’s Matt Berninger and Feist. The National’s Aaron Dessner heard an early version of the title track, which made him want to work with Desser; he ended up co-producing a few tracks the tracks on the record, bringing in Big Thief drummer James Krivchenia and engineer Jonathan Low on “We Danced” and barroom piano jaunt “It’s Just Me”. Despite the many creative influences on Are We Good, it’s of course Desser’s lyrical and musical voice, his sly humor and earnest emotions that shine through. “East Coast”, “Nothing Wrong”, and “Can’t Happen Now” are familial devotionals, while the playful “On A Beach” and “Miss Fort Eerie” use clever wordplay and storytelling techniques to imagine worlds parallel to Desser’s, even if not far from the truth. And songs like “Terry Cloth Blue (Every Single Thing)” and “Window Washer Blues” offer levity in the way of a sometimes brooding record.

Nonetheless, there’s an unease behind Are We Good that makes the album immensely relatable. Speaking over the phone from his home in Toronto last month, in between dry jokes, Desser sometimes had trouble describing it. “I’m just starting to talk about this record, and I’m sort of trying to figure out how to talk about it,” he said. “I’m also trying to not be scared to say, ‘I’m not sure why this is that or if it works.’...In some ways, I was trying to finish something. It was sometimes easy and sometimes difficult. At the end, it didn’t make anything better or worse, just something I could live with.” It was that release of expectations, living with it, that ultimately gave Desser the space to reflect on the final project. “Thankfully,” he said, “I think it’s among the best things I’ve ever done.”

Read my conversation with Desser below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: This record was born out of multiple songwriting sessions, including one with Aaron Dessner. How did you whittle down the track list to form a cohesive whole from the 60 or so tracks in contention?

Hayden Desser: In some ways, for the first time in a long time, I was a bit lost during the making of the record. We’re talking about a 6-and-a-half-year period, so it was a lot of time, a lot of things going on in one’s life and in the outside world. Throughout that, I went through periods of being extremely creative and really inspired by what I was working on, and that would then turn into not really knowing what I had and what I could do with it, whether it was good or bad. It was all over the place. Things like Aaron coming on board at a certain point was helpful in many ways. Some of the new elements that came into the scene helped, and some made the record take longer. It was one of the hardest records I’ve ever made.

SILY: How would you compare writing during the pandemic to your previous writing experiences?

HD: I can’t speak for anyone else, but my particular situation, the isolation pandemic period was extremely difficult for my family. Our daughter has developmental disabilities, and it just created a situation that made it very hard to have concentrated work time. I wasn’t one of those people who started making sourdough bread and pottery. I had less spare time because my daughter wasn’t in her special school that she loves and needs so badly. My 7-year-old (at the time) son was struggling trying to do online learning while his sister was breaking things in the house. My wife and I were just losing our minds, to be honest.

SILY: On the song “Nothing Wrong”, when you sing, “There’s nothing wrong with you / You are still my favorite creature / You are my past as well as future / My sweet destroyer of car mirrors,” is that a reference to your daughter?

HD: [laughs] Every song is a reference to her since she was born.

SILY: Why did you release “East Coast” as the first taste of the album before it was even announced?

HD: “East Coast” was a song that came together later in the process in the final year of working on the record. There was something about the rhythm, lyrics, and feel of it that I felt was special, to be honest.

SILY: It’s also the opening track, and one that drops you into the world of the album without much preparation. It begins suddenly. Were you consciously thinking about that when ordering the tracks?

HD: The ordering of the tracks is an interesting one because I labored over several sequences over a three-to-four-year period, including incarnations of the record with songs no longer on it. I would go for runs in my neighborhood and listen to myself over and over again, different sequences and trying out different combinations. It was a bit of a worry at some point. Over the last 30 years, I always felt I would figure out the right way something should be, even if it was a struggle. On this record, I started doubting if I would ever find that. Finally, at the end, I got a tip that Kevin Drew from Broken Social Scene, a friend and awesome fella, has a knack for sequencing records. [laughs] So I sent him all the songs in no particular order, and he had his way with the record. What he sent back was something totally unexpected. I didn’t dwell on it. I was just so done with figuring out how the songs should be. He came up with something he was excited about, and I thought, “That’s really interesting: Let’s just do it.”

SILY: So this was his order?

HD: Yeah, this was his order.

SILY: That’s pretty cool.

HD: Yeah...if you like the order.

SILY: I do! But if anybody reading this doesn’t, they know who to complain to.

HD: I should have asked his permission to give away the fact that this is his fault or his good taste.

SILY: On “We Danced” and “Terry Cloth Blue”, the former a dedication to Leonard Cohen and the latter a first crush song, you refer to real songs by past artists. As a songwriter, how do you go about making that decision?

HD: Everyone always talks about the power of music and how it can bring you back to a particular time in your life and be a vivid memory. I have so many of those memories, listening to Phil Collins on the Lloyd’s radio cassette deck in my brother’s room. Growing up, we used to tape the Top 40 countdown and listen to it all week. Referencing [George Michael] in “Terry Cloth Blue” was a natural thing because those songs for years after made me think of that first crush. It’s nothing groundbreaking--just meaningful to me.

SILY: Everybody knows “Careless Whisper” and has a million different relationships to it.

HD: It has to do with my musical development. When I took saxophone as my instrument in school, I was not interested in notes or theory. The only thing I ended up doing with it was lifting that “Careless Whisper” melody off the radio. It was the only thing I ever played on the saxophone.

SILY: On “On A Beach”, what does the phrase “drinking income taxes” refer to? It reminds me of that Wilco song “Spiders (Kidsmoke)”, because that, too, refers to taxes and beaches.

HD: That’s Jeff Tweedy using magnetic poetry. I can be accused of that myself. But yeah, it has nothing to do with that. [“On A Beach”] is a weird song because it was one of the few in the last few years where 80% of the lyrics came right when I was playing the bass riff for the first time. Usually, I’ll hum something or sing fake words over whatever chord progression I think is interesting, but on the semi-rare occasion, I start singing something and end up keeping it. That line just came out. If I’m gonna talk about it now, it would just be me trying to figure out why I said it. It kind of made sense after the fact. At the end of the tax year, for how my wife and I file our taxes, we end up making money back, so we’ll go out for dinner or drinks and end up celebrating our tax return. And I actually found out later that the Income Tax is a classic 1940′s cocktail, which I haven’t tried yet. It kind of works out anyway, even though it doesn’t need to.

SILY: What’s in the cocktail?

HD: I looked it up. It didn’t sound so hot. I’m more of a straight scotch whiskey kind of a guy. There was a time when everyone was drinking Aperol Spritzes and Negronis, and I would roll my eyes. It was always some hipster cocktail that everyone said was great. I don’t think they thought it was great.

SILY: The title track and title of the record, and the refrain throughout the song, is a pretty simple and powerful question. What does “Are we good?” mean to you in context of this record, and what about when you say, “Are we good enough?”

HD: Obviously, the multiple meanings that “Are we good?” can have appealed to me when I was thinking about the title. Sometimes, over the last 6 years or so, “Are we good?” was a general question referring to individuals in society, even people we think are doing good things for the world or people that everyone look up to. It was a pretty negative thought.

SILY: It’s definitely provocative in its simplicity.

HD: On a personal level, being in a 20-year relationship with a home life that’s very stressful, a lot of the time, it’s a huge personal question that is asked a lot. It’s a meaningful title for me.

SILY: The first verse of “Window Washer Blues” describes a story where your wife’s job gave her a drone and you played with it and lost it. Is that a true story?

HD: It is true. During the early weeks of the pandemic, everybody was going crazy and there wasn’t much to do. There wasn’t much joy to be had. My wife’s film work started up after two months, and I looked up really quick instructions on how to use the drone. I took it out back in my father-in-law’s house, and it went up in the air and kept going and disappeared. It was a good representation of what was going on at the time.

SILY: Listening to it, and putting myself in that situation, as a songwriter, I would think to myself, “This is a metaphor. This is a signal.”

HD: Yeah. It was both. It happened, and it was a metaphor. Oh boy. I picture it in a field, somewhere, rusting.

SILY: There’s something kind of beautiful about that.

HD: It struck me for sure.

SILY: “Miss Fort Eerie” is a funny song. It breaks the fourth wall towards the end and plays on that rock star life cliché, which I imagine is not your experience on the road.

HD: I’ve lived a very not debaucherous road life, personally. I guess in the 90′s, it could have been, but now, things are very different on the road for the “rock star.”

SILY: What made you want to get in the headspace of the song’s character?

HD: It was something my wife said. I had a habit of downplaying when I went out with my band in 2015 on my last record. I’d be like, “Yeah, we just went back to the hotel and had to get up early.” She said, “Listen, if I’m here with the kids, and you’re out there, you don’t have to make it sound shitty. I want you to be having a nice time when you’re out there.” The song came from that real conversation. I had the habit of saying, “Yeah, it’s not so great,” so she didn’t feel like she was missing stuff.

SILY: Have you toured since the pandemic?

HD: I did a series of solo runs in November this past year.

SILY: How did you find touring had changed since you were last on the road?

HD: It changed for me, and this might sound eyeroll-y, but I felt thankful I was able to do it and that people were showing up and my music still meant something to people. That was my overwhelming feeling. In some ways, I had a better time than I’ve ever had on the road in these little runs.

SILY: Do you have upcoming tour dates with these songs?

HD: Yeah. I have a few, including my first true headlining show at Massey Hall in Toronto, which I’m very excited about. It’s a bit of a dream come true.

SILY: Are you playing with a band?

HD: I’m just in the process of putting together what I want to do. I did have fun doing these last shows solo. I always feel a great connection with the audience when I’m up there alone. I’m forced to engage, and you get down to the soul of everything. I want there to be an element of solo, but I want to put something special together for it as well.

SILY: On what instrument were these songs written?

HD: I’d say 90% of it was written on piano. Over the last 12-15 years or so, I’ve found the piano to be a more inspiring instrument for writing.

SILY: Do you find it equally as artistically fulfilling to adapt songs like this, or any song, to a live stage as writing them in the first place?

HD: The pattern for me is that when I start rehearsing new songs with a band, I’m going back to the recordings and hearing the bass line that I haven’t really played since the day I recorded it. It’s always an interesting process and fun for me to dissect songs I haven’t heard the individual instruments for. When we start playing them and they’re coming together, there’s a certain elation for me. Sometimes, I’m sitting in the practice space with a shit-eating grin on my face because I’m happy to hear it come back with real live people playing it at once.

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trashland-llamas · 2 years

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Get out of here. . .

#youtube #youtubers #aaron craft #josiah armstrong #aaron and jo #aaron & jo #aladdin #jasmine #disney #disney movies #disney films

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kimstills · 16 days

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some reassurance - aaron hotchner x gn!reader

in which you try to provide aaron with some reassurance after he asks for his worst qualities.

content warnings: a little hotch aftermath of s2e15 (nothing goes into detail), no haley in this story but no real mentions about her, the team is kind of mean, aaron and reader literally flirting even tho reid just got kidnapped not too long ago. word count: 1.5k a/n: inspired by this post by @greg-montgomery ! my man is not a bully <3 also not proofread oops

he’s a classic narcissist.

he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team.

what’s my worst quality?

i have no sense of humor.

you don’t trust women as much as men.

you can be a drill sergeant sometimes.

you’re a bully.

you’re sure that if the words of the events from the past 12 hours have been ringing in your head since they first happened, they’re probably ringing in hotch’s head, too.

but you’re also sure that he’s trying to play it as if nothing happened. as if he didn’t get completely verbally obliterated by his team members.

you lost count of how many times you had turned to look at hotch from the moment reid had chosen him to be ‘killed’ after tobias hankel had asked him to pick someone from his team. from the moment you had all figured out where the devolving man was keeping reid.

from the moment you had saved your friend, to the moment the case had been wrapped up, to the moment your boss had just now ordered everyone to take the weekend off right after arriving back to the quantico headquarters, despite immediately locking himself in his office afterwards.

you had contemplated saying anything from when reid had first chosen hotch as hankel’s sacrifice, and you contemplate saying anything now as you stare up at his office, the curtains having been drawn and the door closed ever since coming back, even when everyone else was gathering their things and was about ready to leave.

you didn’t know what it was about hotch or your relationship with him, but you had always found yourself protective of him ever since breaking through the ‘cold’ and ‘stoic’ persona the team had made up for him and crafting a genuine friendship with him.

you had been the first to follow after him when he had left the room with all the computer screens where you and your team had watched reid ‘choose’ him, hot on his heels trying to reassure him that the young genius wasn’t in his right mind.

it had been impossible, though, watching in silent horror and palpable confusion as he asked the rest of his team to list his worst qualities while trying to realize that everything spencer said was on purpose.

what emily had said, you had let slide. she was new to the team, and although you reassured her that all would turn fine in her journey with you and the rest of the bau, you couldn’t deny the lack of trust the others had in her.

derek butted heads with hotch the most and was the most brazen when it came to standing up to him, never afraid to call bullshit even with knowing that hotch was hard on him because he knew of morgan’s potential.

what jj had said, though, you didn’t understand. there had never been a time where you could actively recall hotch being purposefully rude or mean to anyone without it being called for.

he could put people in his place and humble an officer or two when needed, but he had never been mean to you nor to anyone else just because. so, when the words ‘bully’ left jj’s mouth, you couldn’t help but furrow your brows and send a glare her way despite the traumatic events she was still reeling through.

spencer had said himself that he knew hotch would understand, so you could only assume that everyone else had assumed the older man wouldn’t take anything personal, especially after being the one to ask the question.

you had only given his shoulder a squeeze seconds after he ordered everyone to get some rest, offering a comforting smile.

but you knew that wasn’t enough.

so, before you even registered what you were doing, you brush past the startled and confused stares derek and emily give you as you stand abruptly from where you had been perched on your desk and march up the stairs to hotch’s office.

the determination in which you made your way up there contrasted from the gentle knock you raptured on his door, waiting patiently for the deep voice to allow you to enter.

at the sound of his permission, you stepped inside, smiling softly when aaron looks up to glance at you.

he’s standing on the left side of his desk, shuffling papers together and sliding them into a manilla folder. he seems tense, like he finally let himself feel what he was trying to avoid back at hankel’s house, but, solely from the warmth of your smile, his shoulders drop and his body languages is immediately relaxed by your presence.

“i thought i sent you home?” he asks, giving you a knowing look as he stacks the folders neatly on one of the baskets he kept in one of the corners of his desk.

you shake your head no, “not yet,” you close the door behind you gently, catching a peek of morgan and prentiss’ confused stares before turning to look at him.

aaron’s brows furrow at you closing his door, “are you alright?” he asks, stopping in his movements.

you shrug, “as alright as i can be, i guess,” you say, fiddling with your fingers. you feel yourself growing shy under his perplexed stare, but you push it down in order to ask, “are you alright?”

aaron blinks at you, the crease in between his forehead deepening even more, if possible. after a second, you can see the gears winding in his head before it all clicks together, the hardening stare he wore slowly dropping as he realizes what you mean.

“i’m fine.” he says shortly. you know from the many times you’ve accompanied other members of your team to check up on him that they would normally drop the questioning after that, but you weren’t like the rest of them. apparently.

“aaron,” you speak up, his gaze immediately flickering back up to you at your use of his first name, “i don’t think you’re a bully,”

your tone is genuine and comforting and he wants nothing but to completely delve into it. to bury himself in that same comfort and simply stay there as you whisper reassurances.

but the only thing he does in response is shake his head, continuing his maneuvering around his desk as a way to avoid what you were trying to do, “y/n, it’s okay.” he shakes his head, “i didn’t take any of it personally. gideon was right; reid wasn’t in his right mind during then,”

you shrug again, trying your best to get him to look at you without rounding his desk and standing right in front of him, “still. what jj said was pretty uncalled for,”

“well, i was the one who practically called for it,” aaron reminds you, looking up at you through his lashes as he continues to fix files.

you hum. you don’t know if what you’re trying to do is working or not, but you see the harsh lines around his brows soften and a faint pink bloom at his cheeks, one that makes your own face heat up.

“well,” you huff, “i also think that you’re pretty funny.” you shrug again, “really funny, actually.”

everything you’re telling him just now is true, but this is the most honest thing yet. derek, emily, and spencer all had their funny moments, yes, but aaron’s sense of humor was very similar to yours. and, to be fair, it didn’t come out as much due to him sticking to that false persona.

but when it did, you were the first one to understand the joke or the first to laugh and even the one laughing the hardest.

once again, aaron is frozen by your words, this time completely dropping what he was doing to stare you with bewilderment. he raises a brow, “you do?” his question is hesitant, like he doesn’t believe you.

and you know that he doesn’t. so you nod, “yeah,” you smile brightly at him, “you make me laugh a lot. even more than morgan.” this time you’re the one hesitating, taking a moment to wonder if what you’re doing is crossing a line between you and him. “or anyone else, really.” you tilt your head, “you’ve never noticed?”

aaron’s face is now a hot pink, and if it wasn’t for the sake of keeping up with his ‘stern’ facade, you’re sure he’d turn away and envelop his face in his hands.

he’s the one to shrug this time, “well, truth be told, i always get distracted by you.” a beat of silence passes before he clears his throat, averting his eyes to what you think is your shoes, “and your laugh.”

you beam despite the feeling of your face getting even hotter at his confession. you can’t help yourself from asking, “you like my laugh?”

“there’s a lot of things i like about you,” aaron admits, much more confident this time, a fond expression adorning his features.

you blush under his gaze, trying your hardest to conceal the wide smile that was threatening to appear on your face. you rock on your heels, hands folded behind your back shyly, “there’s a lot of things i like about you too, hotch.”

“aaron,” he says, not liking the way ‘hotch’ sounded after hearing you say his first name, “aaron, please,”

this time you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips.

no, aaron hotchner wasn’t a bully at all.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #jason gideon #derek morgan #maddie’s stills

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thewulf · 1 month

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Through the Years || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Aaron Hotchner x reader, It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom"... Read Rest Here

A/N: This was tough to write. But overall very sweet. We love a good teenage melton.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader, Jack Hotchner x Stepmom Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt, Jack being mean lol

Year Six: Jack’s Question

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the cozy living room as you and Jack sat together on the couch, surrounded by an array of colorful crafting supplies scattered across the coffee table. Glue sticks, markers, and construction paper formed a creative mess as the two of you worked on a project together, a rare moment of tranquility in the chaotic life of an FBI agent's family.

As you guided Jack through the steps of creating a handmade card for his grandmother's birthday, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked up at you with a mixture of admiration and affection. His small hands moved with determination, mirroring your own movements as you carefully cut out paper hearts and glued them onto the card letting him guide how he wanted the card to turn out.

"Y/N?" Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of conversation, tentative and uncertain. He shifted back and forth on the couch letting whatever was on his mind eat away at him for the time being.

As Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of the television on, you turned your attention back to him. He looked so nervous that you could only put the supplies down and focus solely on him. "Yeah, Jack?" you replied, your voice soft and encouraging.

Jack shifted nervously beside you, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his words. You could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the weight of his question heavy on his young shoulders.

"Can I... can I call you Mom?" His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with hesitation and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your heart soaring with joy and disbelief. It was a moment you had dreamed of, hoped for, but never dared to expect. Not so soon anyway. You and Aaron had been seeing each other for just over a year. And yet, here it was, unfolding before you in the most unexpected of moments.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at Jack, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion welling up inside you. You wanted to gather him into your arms, to hold him close and never let him go, to shower him with all the love and affection he deserved. But you also knew that this moment was about him, about his courage in voicing his feelings, his desire to forge a deeper connection with you. And so, you swallowed past the lump in your throat, your smile widening with genuine warmth and love.

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I would be honored."

As the words left your lips, a weight seemed to lift from Jack's shoulders, his face breaking into a radiant smile that mirrored your own. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your crafting adventure, you felt a profound connection form between you, one that transcended blood ties and was forged by love and mutual respect.

Jack let out a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he leaned into your embrace. "Good, Daddy said I could," he explained, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and validation.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, grateful for Aaron's support and understanding. It meant the world to you that he had encouraged Jack to express his feelings, to embrace the bond that had grown between you. "Your daddy is a smart man," you replied, your voice tinged with affection as you ruffled Jack's hair affectionately. "And he's right. You can call me mom whenever you want. You can also call me Y/N. Whatever you want kiddo."

Jack beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he settled back into his seat, a sense of contentment settling over him like a comforting blanket. In that moment, it felt as though the world had shifted, the connection between you and Jack deepening with each passing second. And as you returned to your crafting project, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

Year Fifteen: Teenage Turmoil

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated Aaron Hotchner's cluttered desk as he typed away on his laptop, the faint clicking of keys the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. It was Friday night, the end of a long week, but for Aaron, the work was far from over. His eyes flickered to the clock, noting the late hour. Jack should have been home by now, safely tucked into bed. Anxiety gnawed at him as he tried Jack's number once more, only to be met with the unwelcome sound of voicemail. He would give it until 12:30 then he was going to be calling Penelope to locate his young son. He didn’t want to be overbearing but he couldn’t help it. Not with what he’s seen, what he’s had to deal with.

In the living room, you paced back and forth, your heart pounding with worry. Each passing minute felt like an eternity. With every unanswered call, your concern grew tenfold. The clock on the wall mocked you, its hands moving relentlessly towards midnight. You too knew how dangerous it was out there. But you couldn’t lock the kid in. He’d resent the both of you for the rest of his days if you did that.

Finally, the creak of the front door announced Jack's return. Relief flooded through you, quickly replaced by a surge of frustration as you caught sight of his nonchalant expression. "Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" you exclaimed, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

Jack's eyes flickered to you, irritation flashing in their depths before he masked it with a careless shrug. "Relax, I lost track of time," he retorted, tossing his jacket aside without any regard for how stressed both you and his father were.

Your temper flared. "You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! Do you have any idea how worried we were?" As Aaron remained in his office, you and Jack were left to confront each other alone, the tension between you palpable.

He shrugged again before attempting to make a break for his room.

"Jack, please," you implored, your voice trembling with concern. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. It's not just about breaking curfew; it's about communication and respect."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "I don't need a lecture, Y/N. I'm not a kid anymore."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone, but you refused to back down. "I know you're growing up, but that doesn't mean you can disregard the rules we've set. They're there for a reason, Jack. We worry about you when you're out late, especially when we can't reach you."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. I can take care of myself."

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. Your voice tinged with emotion. "It's not just about taking care of yourself, Jack. There are awful people out there and…”

Jack's demeanor shifted, his expression hardening with defiance. "You're not my mom, Y/N. You don't get to tell me what to do."

His words cut deep, a pang of hurt flashing across your features. "I know I'm not your biological mother, but I love you like you're my own," you admitted, your voice wavering with emotion certainly not expecting the conversation to take such a turn so quickly.

Jack's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah, right. You're just trying to control me like everyone else. Well, news flash, it's not gonna work."

Your heart shattered at his harsh words, the weight of his rejection crushing you. "I'm not trying to control you, Jack. I just want what's best for you," you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes despite your best efforts to push them away.

But Jack's frustration boiled over, his voice rising with each word. "Stop pretending like you know what's best for me! You're not my freaking mom! You can't tell me what to do!"

As Jack's explosive words hung in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the room, filling the space with tension and uncertainty. Your heart felt as though it had been squeezed tight in your chest, the sting of Jack's rejection still raw.

A gasp came from your mouth as you tried to form any sort of coherent sentence. "Oh, I'm... I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and you found yourself at a loss.

Jack's eyes widened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he took in the impact of his own words. For a moment, he seemed unsure, caught between his anger and the weight of what he had just said. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, Aaron appeared in the doorway. His expression a mix of concern and disappointment. His presence seemed to ground the room, his steady gaze sweeping over you and Jack.

"What's going on here?" Aaron's voice was calm but firm, his eyes never leaving yours. He saw the watery tears that threatened to spill over at any second. He heard the tail end of the conversation and knew exactly why you were so devastated. You saw Jack as your own child and for him to say something so deeply hurtful left you reeling.

You struggled to compose yourself, the turmoil of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Jack... he... I don’t… I need to go," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turned and fled towards the kitchen, unable to even look at your stepson or Aaron in that moment. You felt utterly embarrassed. Like you hadn’t been loving that child for the last ten years of his life. Did he really feel like that or was he just lashing out?

In the living room, Aaron's expression darkened, his jaw clenched with restrained anger as he watched you leave. The weight of Jack's hurtful words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their father-son relationship.

Jack shifted uncomfortably; his eyes fixed on the ground as guilt gnawed at him. "Dad, I didn't mean..."

But Aaron's patience had worn thin with his moody son. "Not now, Jack," he interrupted, his tone stern. "Right now, I need you to think about what you said and why it was completely unacceptable."

Jack swallowed hard, the gravity of his actions sinking in as he met his father's unwavering gaze. "I know, Dad. I messed up," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.

Aaron's frustration boiled over, his voice taking on the commanding tone he used when interrogating suspects. "You think you can just say whatever you want and there won't be consequences? You hurt her, Jack. You hurt someone who cares about you deeply, and I won't stand for it."

Jack's eyes widened, the full weight of his actions crashing down on him as he met his father's intense gaze. "I-I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to..."

But Aaron cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Apologies won't cut it this time, Jack. You need to understand the gravity of your words and the impact they have on people." As Aaron continued to reprimand his son, he couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. He knew he had to find you, to make sure you were alright. With a final stern look at Jack, he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with concern.

As he entered the kitchen, his heart sank at the sight before him. There you were, hunched over on the floor, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, Aaron crossed the room and knelt beside you, gathering you into his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "You're alright, I've got you." Aaron felt a pang of anguish as he held you, his heart breaking at the depth of your pain. Gently, he lifted your chin, guiding your tear-filled eyes to meet his own.

"Honey," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Listen to me. You may not be Jack's biological mother, but you are his mom in every sense of the word."

You shook your head weakly, unable to comprehend his words through the haze of your despair. "But I-I..."

"No buts," Aaron interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. "Every day, in every action, every moment of love and care you've shown him, you've proven yourself to be his mother. You've been there for him, supported him, loved him unconditionally. That's what a mom does. That’s what you are, sweetheart.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you, a glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness of your despair. "But Jack said..."

Aaron's expression softened, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. "Jack was angry and confused. He didn't mean what he said. And even if he did, it doesn't change the truth. You are his mother, my love, in every way that matters."

As his words sank in, a sense of warmth enveloped you, the weight of your anguish easing with each beat of your heart. In Aaron's arms, you found solace, reassurance, and a renewed sense of purpose. You leaned against Aaron's chest, letting the last of your tears fall, a sense of peace washed over you. His comforting presence wrapped you up in his warm embrace, grounding you in the certainty that together you’d be just fine. “Thank you.” You whispered as he held you in his embrace.

Aaron held you close, his hold on you a silent promise of unwavering support and love. "Anytime, honey," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of chaos. "We'll get through this together."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the kitchen, and you looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway, tears glistening in his eyes. His expression was wrought with guilt and remorse as he hesitated, unsure of how to approach you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice choked with emotion. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just wanted to hurt you, but I didn't mean it. I didn’t mean it at all, I promise. I need you! You are my mom! Please don't leave me." His words came out quickly as he wiped away his own tears.

Your heart shattered at Jack's raw confession, the depth of his pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Without hesitation, you opened your arms, inviting him into the embrace. Aaron backed off letting the situation between the two most important people in his life play out.

Jack rushed over and threw his larger frame right into your arms You wrapped him up tightly as he let his own cries out. The weight of his own words crashing down on him in the instant he saw how much he had hurt you. He was just a kid, of course you could forgive him. "It's okay, Jack," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I know you didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t lose you too.” He let out a whimpered cry breaking your heart even further.

Tears streamed down your own cheeks as you held Jack close, the weight of his words settling over you. "You’ll never lose me, Jackie," you reassured him, using his old nickname, a sign of the deep love you two shared for each other. "I'm here for you, always. Always and forever kiddo."

Jack's sobs began to subside as he clung to you, finding exactly what he needed in your embrace. "I love you. I’m so sorry." he whispered again. His voice filled with sincerity.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently pulled away to look into his eyes. "I love you too, Jack. It’s okay. I forgive you." You said again, reassuring him.

He nodded, relief flooding his features as he buried his face in your arms once more, the weight of guilt slowly lifting from his shoulders. "You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me," you continued, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "Other than your father," you added with a playful grin, feeling Jack's chuckle rumble against your side. He gave you one more squeeze before pulling away. The remorse still heavy on his face. Carefully, you brushed the stray tears away from his face showing him the love that the both of you needed.

As Aaron joined you both in the kitchen, his presence a reassuring anchor, you shared a smile, knowing that no matter what life threw your way, you would be okay. For truly these two were the best things that had ever happened to you.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

Request Taglist: @fictionallifestuff

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ddejavvu · 8 months

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Hotch with a totally shy medical examiner!!! He always visits her although sometimes it would‘nt be necessary ... 🫣🫣 Hotch got a crushhhhhh !!

The team notices that Hotch seems to be injuring himself more and more now that Quantico has a medical wing installed. Because of a rather unfortunate incident on floor 4, where a woman had an allergic reaction and no one was able to find her an epipen in time, there's now a mini-clinic located just across the elevators on floor 5.

Hotch doesn't even bother notifying his team of where he's going this time. He simply barrels towards the glass doors that shield the BAU from the hallway outside, but JJ doesn't let him escape that easily.

"Hotch, is everything okay?"

She expects him to say that there's been some sort of emergency at Jack's school, that he needs to pick the boy up. But she shouldn't, she should have expected what must be the most frequent phrase out of his mouth in the past three weeks.

"Fine. I've got a headache, I'm going to the clinic."

He offers no room for his team's replies as he pushes through the glass doors, standing by the elevators and waiting impatiently. His gaze is so intense on the metal doors that he's surprised he doesn't burn right through them, but the elevator finally reaches him, and he steps inside without looking back into the BAU to see his team members staring.

"He's so full of shit," Derek scoffs, "He doesn't have a headache."

"I think he's got a perpetual headache," Reid muses, and Rossi, who'd been working on stirring his third cup of coffee for the day pipes up.

"I would, if I had to manage you bozos all day," The man grins wryly, but doesn't exclude himself from the conversation; for all his teasing, he wants to gossip about Hotch too.

"Nah. He just wants to see the hot nurse," Derek insists, "I've seen her. She's cute, and all, but she's no Savannah."

"Maybe I should have a headache later," Emily muses, lost in thought and toying with the necklace resting on her chest.

"He's gonna have to start finding new excuses," Derek leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other with his ankle against his knee, "Maybe he'll ask one of us to shoot him just so he can get her hands all over him packing up the bullet hole."

"And that is my cue to leave," Rossi grimaces, "I don't often like mixing sex with wound care."

The older man pointedly ignores Derek's comment about how that's probably why he's thrice divorced; he's not freaky enough. He shuts his office door behind him and conversation putters out among the bullpen, each agent stuck with a residual smirk on their faces as they get back to their paperwork.

"Agent Hotchner," You smile kindly up at the man who steps through the doors of your clinic, "I'm not sure why I even looked up, I should have known it was you."

He chuckles bashfully, hands tucked into his pockets, "I haven't been getting much sleep lately, so I've got a pretty persistent migraine."

"Is it hard, sleeping after a day at your job? The things you see," You trail off, reaching into a drawer at your desk to retrieve a bottle of excedrin, "I don't think I'd be sleeping either."

Aaron's suddenly flustered by your concern for him. He'd intended for his poorly crafted excuse to come across as light insomnia, too much coffee during the day or a scary movie at night. But as you reach out to hand over two tablets of medicine, he meets your eyes with a fond gaze.

"I'm alright," He assures you, his voice soft and earnest. He touches you more than necessary, taking your loose fist in his hand and uncurling your fingers for you so that the excedrin falls into his other palm bumped up against the heel of your hand.

You're surprised your hand doesn't start sweating at how flustered you've become, but you're glad for it. He secures the medicine in his fist, his hand still humming with the ghost of your touch.

"Sleep tonight," You warn him with a slightly weak voice, watching as he downs the pills with a gulp of water from a delicate paper cup stored by your sink, "Get off of any electronic devices for an hour before bed, read something boring, and keep the lights dim. And if none of that works, take sleeping pills, I can give you Tylenol PM if you don't have any at home."

"I'd love some," He smiles, lingering by the edge of your desk, "Thank you, Doctor."

"You can call me Y/N," You avert your eyes to your desk drawer, your voice feeble, "We see each other every day, you ought to be more familiar with me than that."

He chuckles, a soft exhale that sends butterflies with it into your stomach. You offer him the pills and again he takes your hand in his own, only making the fiery heat that burns at your cheeks more intense.

"Thank you. And you can call me Aaron," He takes the pulls from you, tucking them into the breast pocket of his button-up.

"Goodbye, Aaron," You grin, barely able to stop the expression from growing an embarrassing amount.

"Bye Y/N," He smiles back, eyes glimmering with fondness, "See you next time."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #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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gender-euphowrya · 2 years

Text

had a dream where i went on the cutest date with aaron paul for some reason

#it was adorbs omg we were like playing some kind of game #like we had little bits of paper or sthg with words and parts of phrases on them #and we were trying to communicate using only these and there was significant flirting going on gkfjfkf #it was in a store btw ? like we were sitting at a table in the middle of some grocery store aisle #arts and crafts store or something like that idk #i don’t know why it was aaron paul of all people but ok sure not gonna complain #cute dude y’know #also lil nas x was my neighbor or sthg i think he helped me with an errand #nice job brain you did it again you made some inexplainable imagery for my sleep entertainment

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aangell333 · 3 months

Note

hi<333 can i do like a fluff and smut request for aaron hotchner? a virgin//very innocent reader (18+, ofc) who’s maybe spencer’s sister or something, and she meets aaron and he knows she has a crush on him? super flirty banter and lots of touching until it drives the reader crazy, but she won’t admit that it makes her horny? eventually aaron, who’s always so blunt, asks if she’s horny at that moment, and they have a talk about her wants and needs? maybe daddy issues! reader? obv eventual full smut

idk i’m a sucker for daddy! aaron taken innocent readers virginity

thank u <333

how you managed to land a job at the bau, the behavioural analysis unit, at the f-b-fucking-i is beyond you. you’d answered an ad, filled out a form, did a quick interview and boom. you’d been appointed to a team.

granted, it was only as an assistant, most likely running the team’s coffees, but still. that’s running coffees for the fbi. how many people can say they do that for a living?

you walked in on your first day a bundle of nerves. you’d chosen your cutest-but-still-work-appropriate outfit and genuinely tried to walk in with your head held high. but the whispers and mutters that followed you through the bullpen left you more nervous than you’d started. willing yourself not to run, you sped up your pace slightly and trotted up the stairs that lead you to your new boss’s office.

you knocked on the door quickly, trying to soothe your racing heart.

“come in.” a deep voice called you, commanding and loud. you cracked the door open and stood awkwardly at the threshold. your eyes widened as you took in the scene.

the man that sat before you was nothing you’d ever seen before. it was as if he’d been crafted from the purest marble sent by the gods, chiselled away at by the most experienced and meticulous hands. he was incredible, deep, black eyes that matched the neat hair on his head, the quirk of his questioning eyebrow as you gawked at him.

“m-mr- detective hotchner. I’m y/n y/l/n, your new assistant?” you squeaked out, trying not to cringe at how shaky and scared you sounded. his face cleared, like ripples calming on a pond, leaving it smooth and glassy. like a pond who’s lips you wanted to capture on yours and-

“ah, of course! come on in and take a seat,” he rose from his desk and held his hand out with a soft smile.

your feet moved of their own accord, moving you closer to the beautiful man as you placed your hand in his. his other hand came up to clasp yours as they shook, yours disappearing beneath his. once he released your hand, you both sat down at the same time. the guest chair situated at his desk was slightly uncomfortable and you tried not to squirm in the plastic.

“would you like a tea? coffee?” he asked you, closing the manila folder on his desk and tucking it away.

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” you joked with an airy laugh and you tried to fight the swoon that threatened you at the sound of his own chuckle.

“don’t worry about that just yet. let’s get you acquainted before we start rushing you off your feet,” he said with a quick smile.

the two of you then started discussing your boundaries. what you were willing to do, what you’re a little more less experienced in doing. he assured you multiple times that you would be kept well away from any unsubs, no matter who requested what of you.

“I don’t want you in any danger, y/n. it is my responsibility to keep you safe.” he’d said in a serious tone, making himself clear to you.

a week later, you found yourself in an nypd precinct, listening to the detectives spitball theories. you were perched on a spinny desk stool offered by mr hotchner - having not yet got past addressing him as his formal name, no matter how many times he insisted you call him hotch - as he perched on the desk behind you. his hands gripped the edges of the desk, knuckles ever so gently brushing your back each time you squirmed in your seat.

“…targeting women much like this young lady here,” you flushed as the captain of the precinct gestured a hand towards you. he chuckled and winked at mr hotchner above you. “better keep your assistant safe, detective hotchner.”

he went on to give more details of the case to his team, but you couldn’t listen. your breath was caught in your chest and anxiety curled itself into your chest.

“hey, hey, it’s ok.” mr hotchner mumbled from above you, leaning down slightly towards your ear. you felt his knuckles gently skimming up and down your back. the action calmed you slightly and you leaned into his touch. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

the words made you swoon… and strangely… made your core clench? a frown briefly furrowed your brow and you wondered what caused such a reaction down there. you had rarely felt anything down there apart from pain during your period, and you hadn’t felt such a… tingly feeling since your teenage years.

the captain dismissed his team and he and the rest of the bau came over to you and mr hotchner. their appearance made him sit back up and move his hand back to gripping the edge of the desk.

“so, what’s the move, hotch?” derek asked, folding his arms and adjusting his stance.

mr hotchner hummed and frowned, bringing a hand up to his mouth. you gently rolled your chair to the side a little so that you weren’t in the way, not liking how the attention on him made you feel out of place. mr hotchner began reeling off his plan, giving jobs out to the members of his team. his tone was commanding and firm, leaving no room for argument as the team started their investigation for the case.

“..and, y/n, could you collect some menus from restaurants in the area for us all to look over so we can decide on a place for dinner?” he asked you, his voice significantly softer and kinder with a gentle hand on your shoulder. you nodded and gathered your things, heading over to the briefing room where the team had set up.

throughout the day, you couldn’t shake that ache and tingle in your core. you lay back on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling above you with your hands folded on your stomach. your core was throbbing by now, begging for… you didn’t know what for. but it throbbed. and ached.

you’d never… done anything down there. never touched it or had it touched. back in high school, your friends would always tell you about their sex lives and who they were sleeping with. but you were always too… shy. too nervous to do any of that. so you stuck to yourself, no matter how people teased you for being a virgin. and you had always had that in the back of your mind whenever anyone had tried to initiate anything with you. how inexperienced you were. how you didn’t know what you were doing. so you’d stop it all entirely. and that’s how you ended up here, 26 and not once touched.

maybe mr hotchner wouldn’t mind… you found yourself thinking. you often found yourself thinking of what mr hotchner thought of you. if he liked you at all. you were pretty sure he did, he was very nice to you and gentler with you than he was with everyone else. he was almost like a father to the group…

he was more of a father than your own was. your father came and went from your home as he pleased, leaving you to care for your sick mother yourself. and when he was home… it wasn’t very pretty. you cringed at the amount of times you had to pick your own bedroom lock after he’d left again so that you could tend to your mother. you were scared of your father, knowing he could find you whenever he wanted to find you. the thought made you sick to your stomach.

you huffed and shifted onto your side, pushing the duvet off of you. your eyes drifted to the digital clock you’d brought with you, 12:46. not great considering you had to be up at 6am the next day. but sleep seemed like a foreign mystery to you at that time, so you decided a cold shower would help shake this unusual feeling from your core. so that’s what you did, kicking the duvet away and padding over to the en-suite.

you sat in the briefing room of the precinct slightly dazed the next day. you’d slept in by accident, and the sound of derek banging on your door was what woke you up. at 6:57am.

mr hotchner sat beside you as he watched the captain at the front of the room, describing his theories. your tired gaze was fixed on the pot of pens in the middle of the table as you zoned everything out. the strange tingly feeling was back in your core, poking at your entrance. it had started when you were making coffees for everyone and mr hotchner had leaned over you from behind to grab you the pot of sugar you couldn’t reach, his hand placed gently on your waist. the interaction had left you breathless and… throbbing. you squirmed in your seat and pressed your thighs together, praying it would go away.

you screwed your eyes tight shut and opened them again, your eyes flitting to the movement you saw in the corner of them. mr hotchner had his hands folded on the table, wringing them together. his knuckles and fingers flexed, the veins in the back of his hands popping. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his pale forearms and the large vein that struck out there. you blinked your eyes hard again, not understanding why this only increased the ache in your core and made your hole clench up tight.

your attention was drawn back to the room as everybody began rising from the table, heading to do their tasks for the day. you followed, grabbing leftover books and folders. a hand encircled your upper arm and you came face to face with jj giving you a soft smile. the door clicked behind derek, leaving you and jj alone in the room.

you liked jj. she was a lovely girl. the two of you had quickly become close and she was the first one - besides mr hotchner - to ask you to run an errand that wasn’t coffee. the two of you often gossiped with penelope garcia and sometimes elle greenaway too, the girls more of them than not sharing their ‘sex-capades’ as penelope likes to call it. jj was one of the first to really trust you.

“hey, sit down for me,” she said, sitting in the seat beside you and retracting her hand. you sat down too, following her actions mutely. “you ok? you’ve been a little… out of it. hotch asked me to talk to you.”

you cringed a little at that, not liking how mr hotchner had acknowledged your not-all-there-ness.

“I-I’m fine. I just… dunno. things have been a bit… different lately.” you said, folding your legs and pressing your hands together.

“different?”

“yeah. I just… you know you were telling me about that guy you met. the one who… slept over at your house.” jj chuckled a little at your euphemism but nodded.

“yes, I remember. why, has a guy slept over at your house recently?” excitement gleamed in her eye a little but you quickly shook your head.

“nono! no… but… you remember you said you felt… achey down there? the good achey.” you said and jj slowly nodded.

“well… i’ve just been… feeling that. and… I don’t know what to do about it.” you mumbled. “and… I don’t wanna… touch myself-“ your voice dropped to a whisper and you cleared your throat “-but… it needs to stop.”

jj chuckled a little.

“okaaay, well. do you know what caused it?”

you hesitated before nodding quickly but stayed mute.

“do you… wanna tell me?”

you shook your head quickly.

“right. well. whatever or whoever has turned you on-“ you cringed “-is most likely what will help to get rid of it. and yes, y/n, that means sex.” she chuckled fondly at the way you cringed again. she stood up, placed a hand on your shoulder and kissed your temple lightly. “you’ll be fine, y/n/n. I believe in you.”

and with that, she left the briefing room.

for the rest of the week, the tingle mostly stayed with you. on the jet back to quantico, you sat at the very back, thighs pressed firmly together and head fuzzy. your eyes stared straight ahead but were unseeing and your plush lips were parted but soundless.

your eyes flickered over to the movement in the corner of your eye, catching mr hotchner as he stepped out of the bathroom while shaking his hands to rid them of the lingering water droplets. his eyes met yours and he sent you a quick, fond wink with a smile. you swooned internally at his large presence, wanting nothing but for the older man to swoop you up and-

you stopped yourself and looked away before your thoughts could become any more explicit.

your eyes widened as you realised mr hotchner was walking towards you. he wore a kind smile as he took the seat beside you and placed a hand on your forearm. he gently unclasped your hands as you anxiously wrung them together and moved the one nearest to him to the armrest that separated his and your seats, his large fingers softly encircling your wrist.

“hey, did jj talk to you?” he asked you, voice politely low to keep your conversation private. you could only dumbly nod your head, eyes lost in his. “good, good. is everything ok?”

you actually swooned slightly this time at his protectiveness but managed to force your voice out of your throat.

“u-uh- yeah. I’m fine just… bit of a strange week,” you were glad mr hotchner took your words the way he did, assuming you meant ‘strange’ in regards to this being your first case.

“I agree,” he chuckled. “and an awful unsub to be your first, please understand that not everyone in the world is like that.”

you giggled in response.

“do you need me to grab you anything, sir?” you asked him, wondering why he was taking an interest in your well-being; no older male had ever done that for you. his brow furrowed.

“no, no, I was checking if you’re ok. the health of my team is important to me. you’re important to me, y/n.” his face was full of sincerity as he spoke and his eyes twinkled. your own eyes, on the other hand, threatened to fill with tears as a ball settled in your chest. your throat was suddenly raw and your head ached.

“oh…” was all you could force out.

“y/n, are you ok?” you nodded quickly and bolted to the bathroom, stumbling down the aisle of the jet.

in the toilet, you could feel your breath shortening rapidly. he cared about you. no man had ever said such words to you, and if they had, it was never to your face. but for some reason, you panties felt… sticky. and that familiar ache settled in your core. you tried to muffle your whine of desperation as the feeling returned, desperately trying to figure out just why you were feeling distraught and… turned on, as jj had called it.

once the jet landed, you grabbed your bag from the overhead locker and hurried inside of the bau building to dump everything at your desk. you sat in your desk chair and took a big sigh. mr hotchner had asked you to stay a while in case the team needed anything, so you did just that.

you checked the time on the big clock opposite your desk. 5:34pm. nice, not too late. mr hotchner said the team didn’t take long to debrief after a case, unless fbi time and civilian time worked differently.

which you assumed it did, because the team didn’t leave the briefing room until 6:15. you had pages and pages of notes that mr hotchner had asked you to take.

your distress had passed now, but that ache was refusing to leave. you sat back at your desk and huffed, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to shift the tension elsewhere.

from the desk near yours, derek shot you a quirked brow.

“you ok there, sweet girl?” he asked and you couldn’t help but flush at the nickname.

“I told you not to call me that.” was all you could mumble as you dumped your notepad in your drawer. derek grinned and pushed his chair over, leaning his beefy forearms on the desk.

“why? cuz it makes you all flustered?” he teased. you sat back in your chair and huffed.

“normally, it’s a compliment. but I’m not really in the mood for compliments right now.” you sighed, pushing a bouncy ball penelope had given you around your desk. you gently flicked it to him and he stopped it with his fingers before flicking it back. the two of you played the little game of rolling the ball between each other as you talked.

“why? cuz you all frustrated?” he smirked and you frowned, still not lifting your eyes to his.

“I’m not frustrated, I’m just… flat.” you said and he chuckled.

“no, no, I mean… sexually frustrated.” you blushed a deeper red at his words and sat up straight in your chair.

“I-I am not! shush!” you scooped the ball up in your fingers and bounced it against his forehead. he flinched slightly and chuckled with a grin.

“come on, the whole bau can see you got it bad for hotch. we’re behavioural analysts. and, if it helps, he’s got it bad for you too.” he winked at you and bounced the ball across the desk to you.

“no he doesn’t.” you grumbled as you swung your chair side-to-side slightly. derek chuckled again and rolled his eyes.

“whatever you say, sweet girl,” he grinned, winking again before he rolled his chair back to his desk. you frowned, easily seeing that he didn’t believe you.

eventually, people began drifting home. penelope was the first to leave, humming a tune and loudly calling goodbye as she went. then it was jj, and then derek. gideon left soon after, quickly followed by elle, leaving you and spencer in the bullpen.

mr hotchner was tucked away in his office working on some paperwork. he had come down a few times while the team were dispersing to refill his mug and grab a snack. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened. his forearms were on display, that one vein running down making your head foggy.

at one point, as the temperature in the bullpen dropped as the night went on, he had noticed your shivering and draped his blazer around you. he had stood over you with a fond smile as he helped you slip your arms into the blazer. your cheeks had flushed red and you were unable to tear your eyes from his. once he’d walked off, spencer had thrown you a look before quickly looking back to his folder.

the action had once again settled an ache in your core, your entrance clenching tight as his scent invaded your senses. you fought every urge tugging at your nerves to bring the blazer up to your nose and inhale.

“night, y/n,” spencer said with a quick open-handed wave before he clutched his satchel to his stomach and left.

“see ya later, spencer,” you smiled at him as he walked away. the elevator dinged, indicating his descent, leaving you and mr hotchner alone in the building.

you glanced over your shoulder to his office. the blinds were drawn and soft light spilled from beneath the crack of his door. you sighed, fiddling with the hem of his blazer. you sighed and turned back to your computer screen, looking at the game of solitaire you were playing to distract yourself from your throbbing and wet core. you glanced at the clock on the bottom of your screen, 9:54pm. damn… a few minutes later, mr hotchner’s door opened and his footsteps descended the stairs.

“spencer went home?” he asked. you hummed in response, tearing your eyes away from the cards automatically flitting up to their correct spaces and giving him a smile. mr hotchner smiled as he saw your screen. “nice game.”

“thanks, beat my record.” you suddenly blushed. “sorry, I shouldn’t be playing games on company time.”

“that’s quite alright.” mr hotchner said with a smile, leaning on the edge of your desk and folding his arms. “you don’t have any tasks to do.”

you would’ve nodded, if you weren’t too distracted by the sight of his arms almost right in front of your face. you shifted in your seat as your core throbbed with heat and your mouth suddenly filled with saliva.

“y/n?…” the sound of mr hotchner’s deep voice calling you back to reality snapped you from your trance.

“I-I’m sorry- I- I was distracted-“ “y/n, are you horny right now?”

your mind blanked. you stared at his face with a surprised expression, your brows raised and lips parted. you couldn’t think, only embarrassment coiling in your chest.

“I-…” you trailed off, not finding the words to answer your boss’s such blunt question. your core ached again, however, and you could feel wetness gush into your panties. his fingertips gently grasped your jaw and he leaned down to you a little.

“I asked you a question, y/n,” he commanded with a slight smirk, clearly enjoying the power imbalance between the two of you. you swallowed and tried to fight the feeling of your eyes glazing over. “are. you. horny?”

“I am.” your voice came out in a whisper.

“what was that? I’m gonna need you to speak up, sweetheart.”

“I am. I-I’m horny, sir,” mr hotchner’s smirk grew at your words and his fingers caressed your jaw.

“good girl! using her big girl words.” you lapped up the praise tumbling from his lips and subconsciously shuffled closer. he chuckled at this. “so eager. you want your big boss to help you?”

“please…” your hand came up to hold his wrist as he squished your cheeks in one big hand and gently tilted your head up a little further. he hummed in faux sympathy before chuckling.

“come to my office. i’m going to sit down and you’re going to lock the door and close the blinds.” his hand moved to cup your cheek before he went to sit behind his desk.

you scrambled to fulfill his order, hurrying quickly after him. you stood at the door, fingers fumbling around the lock before darting to pull at the blinds. the warmth between your legs was now hot and poking at your untouched hole.

“sit.” mr hotchner ordered, gesturing to the seat before his desk. you did so, pressing yourself into the plush cushions. “now. let’s talk about what you’re comfortable with before we start. what kind of things are you into?”

your mind blanked.

how did you know what you were into if you’ve never done anything?…

HERE YOU GO SORRY ITS SO LATE!!!

PART TWO WILL BE LINKED HERE 🩷🩷

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