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confused-pyramid · 3 months

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Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

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You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

840 notes · View notes

lovesclinic · 3 months

Text

UNPROFESSIONAL ┊late at night, you and hotch get unprofessional

✧˖*°࿐ hotch x fem!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, use of sir, praise

It was late into the night, the third day on the the case when you heard a knock on your hotel room door. "Hey, um, sorry I'm coming to you so late"

You looked at him, surprised by the knock but curious. You opened the door, slightly nervous as to what he wanted at this hour. As the door opened, you saw him, looking down, already dressed in his pajamas. "What's up, boss?"

He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours. "I want you to come with me." He said, with a dominant tone that hinted at something more.

You followed him, wondering what was going on. As you entered the room, you saw that it was dimly lit, with a large king-size bed dominating the space. He closed the door behind him and locked it, leaning against the door as he took in your curious expression.

He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I just...I need your help on something. We're on a case, and there are some things I can't quite figure out. I trust your eye for detail." He paused, taking another deep breath. "Can I trust you?"

“Of course," you replied without hesitation, already sensing the seriousness of the situation. You stepped back, inviting him into your room. He closed the door behind him, still looking uncertain. You moved towards him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness at the prospect of helping him with the case. You followed him into the room, where he handed you a stack of files. "I need you to make sense of this.

You walked him over to the table where you kept your notes and evidence from the case. You picked up a picture of a crime scene, pointing out certain details that had caught your eye. As you talked him through it, you noticed him growing more and more tense.

He looked at you, his gaze penetrating and serious. "I need your help to make sure things are done right. The team's safety is at stake. Can I trust you to help me?"

It's late, and I know we shouldn't be doing this, but I promise, it's important." He pulled you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you. You could feel the tension in his body begin to ease.

As he walked past you, his hand brushed against your lower back, a soft dominance that sent shivers down your spine. "Let's sit down," he suggested, guiding you to the couch.

As he moved across the room, he kept his eyes on you, studying your body language. He moved behind you, his hands reaching around to grasp your hips, pulling you close against him. He leaned in, his lips close to your ear. "I need you to focus on the details,"

“Sit down, I'll be right here," he instructed you, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. As you began to go through the files, you could feel his presence looming over you—a mix of soft dominance and anticipation that sent shivers down your spine.

"I see what you mean," he finally said after some time had passed. "This changes everything." He took a deep breath, his mind clearly racing with implications. Then, without warning, he rounded on you—not aggressively but firmly.

"Thank you", he murmured gratefully, his voice thick with emotion. You moved closer, pressing your body up against his, your hands sliding around his waist. You could feel the tension easing from his body, replaced by a warmth that spread between the two of you

You sat down beside him, feeling the warmth of his body as he leaned into you slightly. You opened up your laptop, ready to help him with whatever it was he needed. The case file appeared on the screen, and you began going through it carefully, pointing out details that caught your eye.

"Why didn't you bring this to my attention sooner?" His voice was calm but held an edge of frustration. Despite the tension in the air, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of arousal and fear from his dominance.

“I need you to understand something," he said forcefully but quietly. "This is important. If we don't solve this case, people could get hurt." His eyes bored into yours, challenging you to meet him halfway.

Hotchner watched you intently, his gaze never leaving the screen as you navigated through the case file. The room felt charged with an electric energy, both from the intensity of the case and the closeness they shared.

You met his gaze steadily, swallowing hard. "I... I wanted to be certain before involving you," you admitted, trying to maintain your composure. "I didn't want to distract you from the other aspects of the case."

He pulled you closer, one hand sliding up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair. You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips met yours, and you moaned softly, feeling his desire for you.

"I know you're dedicated," he continued, "but we have to be smart about this too. We can't afford any mistakes." His voice was steady, unwavering—a testament to his leadership skills.

As you looked back into his eyes, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. His intense gaze seemed to penetrate deep into your soul, demanding honesty and commitment.

That's interesting," he murmured, leaning in closer to get a better look at what you had highlighted. You could feel his breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“I'm with you," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever it takes."

“You're so fucking sexy", he whispered against your lips, his voice husky with desire. You nipped at his lower lip, and he groaned, deepening the kiss. His hands wandered over your body, teasing and exploring.

"I know you're working hard," he added, softening his tone slightly. "But we need to work smarter too. We can't afford to miss any more crucial details." His voice was low and steady, carrying an unspoken trust in your abilities.

you felt the heat burning between you, your bodies pressed together, aching for a release. Your hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it and sliding it off his hips. He gasped as your fingers encountered his semi erect cock, already leaking pre cum.

"You were right to be cautious," he acknowledged, taking a step closer to you. "But next time, don't keep something like this from me." He gave you a penetrating look, making you feel both small and impossibly vulnerable under his intense gaze.

As the kiss broke, you gasped for air, your heart racing. You looked up at him, your eyes locked on his. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want you so bad", he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You returned his kisses with equal fervor, your hands exploring his body just as eagerly. You pushed him gently against the wall, pinning him there as you continued to kiss him passionately.

You couldn't find your voice, unable to look away from him as he loomed over you. His dominance was palpable, yet there was an undercurrent of something else—something deeper and more complex.

"I... I understand," you managed to say, your voice shaking slightly. You couldn't help but feel his dominance intensifying, making you both aroused and scared in equal measure.

You broke away from the kiss, trailing kisses along his neck and collarbone. Your breath hitched as his hands slipped under your shirt, tracing patterns on your bare skin. You pulled him closer, and he obeyed, pressing his body fully against yours.

You felt the heat between your legs intensify as he pushed you up against the wall, their bodies flush together. He teased your ear with soft kisses and whispers, "I need to see how much of a good girl you are."

His hand moved down to your thigh, gently pushing your panties aside. He took a step back, still holding onto your shirt, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. His eyes met yours, filled with lust and anticipation.

You arched into his touch, needy and eager for more. You bit your bottom lip, trying to control the whimpers that threatened to escape as he continued his teasing. "Yes, sir", you whispered back, feeling a thrill of anticipation and submission coursing through you.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continued to watch you. You couldn't wait for him to take you; you wanted him inside you more than anything else in that moment.

You bit your lip, trying to maintain composure under his intense gaze. Taking a shaky breath, you nodded slightly, giving him permission to proceed. His fingers traced along your folds, teasing the sensitive skin before finally entering you.

You watched as he stepped closer, his fingers tracing along your sensitive folds. You arched into his touch, needing more. He smiled, his eyes darkening. "You're so wet for me," he whispered against your skin.

“Good girl", he praised, his voice rough with desire. He reached down, undoing your pants and pulling them off in one swift movement. He smirked at the sight of your wet pussy, his fingers tracing the outline of your sex through your panties.

“Come here, baby," he commanded softly. You obeyed without hesitation, moving closer to him until you were pressed against his hard length. He groaned softly, and his hands slid up your back, holding you tightly against him.

“So fucking wet for me", he growled lowly, his fingers moving in and out of you with a skillful rhythm. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss while his other hand gripped your ass, pulling you closer to him.

He pushed you down onto your knees, feeling his arousal against your back. His hands found the button of your jeans, and he unbuttoned them slowly, knowing it would drive you crazy with anticipation.

“I'm going to spank your pretty little ass now." His words were like a soft command, his dominant side showing through. You felt a mix of fear and excitement as he spanked your ass, each slap echoing through the room.

Despite the sting, you moaned, unable to hide your arousal. He smirked, knowing he had you right where he wanted you. "That's it, baby," he growled, his fingers finding their way inside you.

"I want to hear you moan, baby." He whispered, nipping at your collarbone. You moaned softly as he moved his hands under your skirt, sliding his fingers over your bare flesh.

As the spankings continued, you couldn't help but moan out his name. It felt both punishing and arousing. He pulled you back against his hard length, grinding his hips against your ass. "That's it,"

You bit your lower lip, trying to stifle your cries of pleasure as he began to thrust deeper into you. The head of his cock brushed against your sensitive entrance, teasing before finally pushing inside. He groaned, filling you up slowly.

He slid a finger inside you, watching your face as he slowly began to thrust. You moaned, rocking your hips back into his hand. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and dirty.

he growled into your ear, "show me how much of a good girl you are." His fingers found their way back to your slick folds, teasingly rubbing against your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, and you couldn't hold back any longer.

You moaned as he touched you, pushing closer to his fingers. He gripped your thighs, lifting you up and onto the nearby desk. He spread your legs, exposing your moist pussy to his touch. "You're so fucking eager,"

Feel how much you turn me on." He groaned, nipping at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, and it excited you even more.

"Please, do you", he said, pushing closer still, his cock rubbing teasingly against your panties. You moaned, reaching back to grip his shirt. "Say it," he purred, pressing his lips to your neck. "

You panted, your heart racing as he continued to tease. "I'm yours," you whispered, biting your lip. He growled low in his throat, a mix of desire and possession lacing his voice. "That's my good girl."

With one swift move, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands moved to your panties, sliding them down your legs as he stepped out of his own pants. Finally, he positioned himself at your entrance, his hard length pressing against your slick folds.

“Now, let me hear you beg for it." He purred, slipping a finger beneath your panties. You arched into his touch, moaning softly. "Please, Aaron..." you breathed.

You gasped, arching your back as he slipped his fingers under your silk panties, tracing patterns on your bare flesh. "I...need...your..." you murmured, barely able to get the words out between gasps.

"Your what, baby?" he asked, nipping gently at your earlobe. "Do you need me to touch you here?" he asked, his fingers brushing against your clit through your panties. You shuddered under his touch, your breathing ragged.

“Yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. "Please, I need it." He chuckled softly, pulling away from your ear to look into your eyes. "You're such a good girl."

"Please," you cried, pushing against him. "Touch me." Aaron growled in approval, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs, freeing your throbbing clit from its confines

"Tell me," he urged, his voice low and demanding. "Tell me how much you need me." You whimpered, feeling your body tremble with anticipation. "Say it," he ordered, his fingers moving faster, teasing your sensitive nub.

With that, he slid his fingers deeper into your panties, finally touching your clit directly. You screamed out his name, your body bowing off the floor under the intensity of his touch.

He groaned lowly, his fingers finding your clit immediately. He started to massage it gently, circling his index and middle finger around the tiny bud. "Tell me if it's too much,"

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, his lips at your earlobe, his breath warm against your neck. You buried your fingers in his hair and arched against him, whimpering. "Fuck... I need... your cock..."

"I... I need you so much," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. His fingers stopped their teasing dance, instead pressing firmly against your clit. "Aaron," you moaned, arching into his touch. "Please, I can't take much more."

"I need you...to..," you moaned, arching into his touch. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing the lace of your panties. "Please," you begged, your voice breaking.

Aaron felt you trembling beneath him, his fingers moving faster against your sensitive flesh. "Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his other hand moving to grip his cock firmly through his pants.

He reached between your legs and pulled your panties down, lifting your hips up so that he could access your pussy. His fingers sought out your clit, circling it gently at first, then more roughly, his free hand holding your waist to support you.

With a low growl, Aaron picked you up and pinned you against the wall, their hips grinding together. His other hand slid under your skirt, slipping your panties down your thighs and tossing them aside.

"Perfect," he purred, gripping the waist of your skirt firmly and sliding his finger across your slick entrance. You moaned, the noise a mixture of need and anticipation.

“So fucking tight," he groaned, thrusting his fingers deep inside you. You gasped at the intrusion, your walls gripping his fingers tightly. "You're mine," he growled, his mouth finding your neck once more.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice trembling. He smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. With one swift motion, he lifted your skirt and pushed your panties aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

His fingers traced your entrance, teasing and prodding gently. "You're so wet for me," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. With one swift motion, he pushed past your folds, penetrating you deeply. You gasped, feeling him fill you completely.

His hips met yours in a rhythmic dance, their bodies slapping together with each deep thrust. His other hand found one of your breasts, massaging and pinching the nipple, sending shivers down your spine. "Feel how much you own me,"

His hips started to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he thrusts rhythmically inside of you. Every inch inside of you felt like heaven, and you found yourself meeting his thrusts with moans and gasps of pure pleasure.

“Fuck," he groaned, pulling back slowly before pushing back in again. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist, arching into his touch. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh fuck," he growled, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm. You could feel him building inside you, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls.

Their bodies moved together in a primal dance, fueled by lust and need. His mouth found yours, claiming it roughly as his hips pistoned faster. You tasted his desire on his lips, mirroring the feelings coursing through your veins.

As he felt you nearing climax, he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming almost violent. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your moans turning into pleasured cries. Finally, he felt the telltale tremors within you, signaling your orgasm.

“Fuck, I'm close," he gasped, picking up the pace. You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders as the intensity of the pleasure built inside you. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his hips pumping faster.

“Oh fuck," he growled, pushing your back against the wall. His hips moved in a blur, his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy. You could feel him getting closer, the way his hips pumped harder, faster.

The heat of his skin against yours, the roughness of his hands on your hips, it all combined to send you spiraling out of control. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on.

Then, with a final, deep thrust, he came inside you. His cock pulsed, filling you completely as he let out a long, low moan of satisfaction. His body shook against yours, their combined weight holding you against the wall.

"Harder," you cried, your voice hoarse with desire. He obliged, thrusting into you harder, deeper, his movements growing more frenzied. You felt the beginnings of your climax building, the tingles in your core turning into a burning need for release.

With one final thrust, Aaron buried himself to the hilt inside you, groaning loudly as he came, his seed shooting deep into your womb. You moan loudly, your own orgasm ripping through you, body shuddering under the intensity of the pleasure.

Slowly, he pulled out of you, his cock slipping wetly from your pussy. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, their breaths mixing in the air. His heartbeat was racing, his chest rising and falling rapidly under your hands.

As he regained his breath, he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were intense, boring into yours as if trying to see something deep within you.

With a groan of completion, Aaron thrust into you one last time, his hips slamming against you like a pounding heartbeat. You cried out as your body shuddered in ecstasy, your orgasm taking you completely by surprise.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "I'm yours." His hands slid down to your hips, holding you gently but firmly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

His thrusts became even more frantic as he reached his own climax, filling you with his hot seed. He growled low in his throat, his hips slamming into yours in a rhythm that felt primal and forbidden. This was addicting—too addicting.

Finally, he stilled, his hips still pressed against yours. You were both panting heavily, his sweat mingling with yours on your skin. You looked up at him, feeling a wave of desire wash over you again. "More," you breathed. "Please. Again."

Fuck," he groaned, collapsing against you. You panted heavily, your heart racing. You knew you couldn't let this happen again. But god, it felt so good.

Hotch's breathing was ragged as he finally pulled out of you, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids on your inner thigh. He rolled off of you, still panting heavily.

He thrust one last time, and cried out, his voice raw with pleasure. You heard him grunt in satisfaction as he pulled out of you, his soft cock pulsing with each thrust. He held you close for a moment, his heart hammering against yours.

He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I shouldn't have done that," he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's against protocol." The admission only seemed to make him look more vulnerable.

"It's too dangerous," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our lives are complicated enough without adding this to the mix." His dominant exterior resurfaced, masking the vulnerability he'd momentarily shown.

As you accept the files, a mix of concern and determination etched on your face, you assure him once more that you'll do your best. "I'll go through these thoroughly, Hotch. I promise."

His hands trailed slowly down your back, stopping at your hips. "You feel so fucking good," he mumbled, his breath hot against your ear. "I don't want this to end."

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htchnr · 7 months

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★ just a toy ❥ A. HOTCHNER.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon. ➻❥ kinktober masterlist.

🎃 KINKTOBER PROMPT ➥ degredation + Unsub!Hotch.

CW ➥ rough sex ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ piv ⋆ Hotch didn't necessarily ask for consent ⋆ though you're okay with it ⋆ foul language coming from Hotch ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 0,9K. SONG ➥ les, childish gambino.

SUMMARY ➥ you don't know where it came from, but suddenly, there you were — in his home, pushing you down against his couch as he took everything out on you.

"shut up and strip," he rasps against your lips, a final tone in his voice as large hands pull your clothes off of you.

you grin against his lips, watching his dominating stare. "are you all talk? or can you actually perform?" you sneer, sinking your teeth into his lower lip.

a strong pull of your hair is what that gets you — and you cannot deny the way it makes you tremble in anticipation. one more push. "cause if you're just gonna talk, i'll go fuck myself in the other room, thank you." you grin darkly, your now exposed chest heaving in his face due to the angle that he's yanking your hair.

you barely have the time to react to his next move, finding yourself now face first against the couch, ass up high as you're bent over the armrest. "do you ever shut the fuck up?" he breathes, his aching erection pressed so deliciously hard against your soaked underwear. "or do i have to fuck that out of you?"

you grin against the soft yet scratchy material of the couch, your hips rolling in small circles against him. "i don't know, can you fuck it out of me?" you challenge back.

a loud, lewd moan rips from your throat as he shoves your underwear aside, slamming himself inside you. your eyes nearly roll all the way back as you grip the couch cushion so hard you feel as though you might pierce the material with your nails.

his pace is unforgiving — one of his large hands gripping your hip in such a way you know you'll have bruises in the morning, and the other holding you flat against the couch. good lord, give it a few more seconds and you'll see stars.

"already so quiet?" he tuts, slamming his hips harder against yours with each word. "that's all it takes? if only i knew that sooner, i would've fucked you like this a long while back to shut you up." you almost don't have the mind to talk back, the feeling of his cock bullying against your cervix too good. but you would never back down after talking so much smack.

"you wish so bad you could fuck me into submission, huh?" you gasp, words being interrupted by the way you jolt with each ridiculously powerful thrust. shit, you actually don't know if you can keep up your façade, not when he's fucking you this good.

his thrusts come to a halt with a powerful slam, pushing himself up as deep as he can — leaning over you as he grabs ahold of your jaw. "would my tie between your lips shut your slutty mouth?"

perhaps, you think as you whimper at how full you feel — you could almost feel him in your stomach. but you don't answer as his pace picks up again, stars flashing before your eyes.

he grins darkly, "that's what i thought. now keep your mouth shut or i'll fuck your lips till i cum and kick you out while you're still swallowing."

and who were you to disobey him?

🎃 TAGLIST — @toastbrot8410 @mrs-ssa-hotch @fictionallifestuff @weirdothatwritess @crystalflwr @stella95827 @taintedstranger @mija-novella @gffesegjoiegj @bubbly-parker @mediocremalachor15 @goldenangelwingsandcandy @0nex-is-dead0 @2hiigh2cry @the-1n0nly @hotchsdharma @tgskitten @crystlroses @notforeverlong @emmeilyy @whatisthereality

#⋆୨🩷©2023 htchnr #⋆୨🎃2023 kinktober #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner series #kinktober 2023

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smok3r7 · 2 months

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They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Main Masterlist & My Ao3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

1: Eye Catching

2: Push and Pull

3: Young Love

4: Letting Him Go -updated 3/31/24

5: Butterflies & Broken Glass

6: So Much For; Dumb College Love

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, some gaslighting/manipulation tactics done by reader, slight infidelity, violent descriptions of murder/kidnap/rape cases, happy ending

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #Aaron Hotchner Series #They Always Come Back

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moonlightspencie · 1 year

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(originally posted on ao3)

Aaron Hotchner is dealing with the aftermath of his divorce, and the new feelings that spring up for someone he shouldn’t feel anything for. It’s a mess to say the least, but it’s a mess he’s more than willing to involve himself in.

posting as i write it!

{angst, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, mentioned cheating, canon-typical violence & mentions of cases, insecure!hotch}

Running Word Count: 20.5k

one of those things

tricks up your sleeve

never thought i’d meet you here

i know i’ll pay for it

you’re a bandit like me

eyes full of stars

takes one to know one

you’re a cowboy like me

hustlin for the good life

skeletons in both our closets

like the gardens of babylon

locked it down

never gonna love again

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

#the sweetest con #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner slow burn #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #taylor swift #evermore #cowboy like me

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firehosebvck · 7 months

Text

a little preview of what’s to come 🫣

“Well,” you hear Derek’s voice call out before you’ve even entered the conference room, “Look at who finally decided to grace us with their presence. Not like you to be late, Y/N.” Your friend grins at you boyishly from his chair. You’re going to miss seeing it every day. Don’t give in, don’t show any resistance. It’s the only thing that will save you now.

You offer as much of a smile as you can. “Guess there’s a first time for everything, Der,” you murmur, trying and failing to sigh away the prick of tears behind your eyes. Your gaze travels to a spot on the far back wall, just between Spencer’s and Emily’s shoulders. You can’t let yourself look them in the eye. If you do that, this will have been for nothing. “I...” You try to swallow the growing lump in your throat, “I want all of you to know that I love you with everything I have left in me, and... that’s what makes this so fucking unfair.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice, tears already seeping through and breaking down the walls you’ve built. “I didn’t want to do this, but I see no other choice.” You unclip your badge and place it and your gun on the table. You then take the manila folder out of the bag hanging heavily on your shoulder and slide it across the table in front of Aaron.

The sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears muffles all other sounds around you, and you fear that you’ll break your hand if you clasp them together any tighter. It’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. Aaron’s voice brings you back, the folder opened and his eyes stormy. “What is this?” The sound of his voice makes you shudder. You’ve known your boss long enough to know that if he raises his voice any louder, all the restraint he has will be out the window.

“My resignation,” you tell him and watch his left eye twitch, “Effective immediately.”

Five bodies stand all at once, spines ramrod straight. Rage, desperation, bewilderment, and a few other emotions that you can’t quite decipher mix into a cocktail of misery on their faces.

“You’re leaving?” Derek demands, his tone harsh. “Just like that, no second thought?”

“I said that I didn’t want to do this, that I had no other choice, and I meant it,” you stress. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life hating myself for what I’m giving up. But... I don’t see any other way out.”

“Can you at least tell us why?” Penelope asks, and you feel the knife in your chest twist. You never wanted it to end like this; hell, you didn’t want it to end at all. You remember the text you got earlier this morning, right before you walked into the building. You’ve made your choices. Now, live with them.

“Somehow, confidential information from one of our cases—one of my files—was leaked,” you lie. “The Brass wants someone to blame. And they’re going to blame me because my name was attached to that file.”

“Do you have any idea who could’ve gotten ahold of that intel?” Emily asks. You shake your head.

You knew exactly who it was.

“Why wasn’t I told about the leak?” Aaron asks, his Hotch voice making an appearance. “That’s something I should’ve known.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you tell him, and you are sorry. Just not for the reason he thinks. “Strauss said that the director wanted it handled quietly. This was the fastest way to do that.”

“So, some asshole is going after one of our own, and we’re just supposed to do what?” Rossi asks, his shoulders tight. “Sit with our thumbs in our asses until he’s brought in?”

“Dave’s right,” Aaron agrees. “Y/N, you’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you. I’m going to talk to Erin.” He takes a step forward, but you place a hand on his chest to block his path.

You feel his heartbeat under the tips of your fingers. It’s quick. He’s angry. “Sir, don’t. Please. I’ve already caused enough trouble. I need to just... take it with grace, I guess.” You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it does nothing to ease him. “Thank you for trying to fight for me.”

With that, you take your hand off his chest and walk out of the room without another word. Your palm still tingles from where it laid on Aaron’s chest.

#e posts #e writes #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner angst #y’all are gonna hate me for this one #not gonna lie

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14buddy22 · 4 months

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I’ll Spend The Rest of My Life Making it Up to You Series

Summary: You were in an abusive relationship. Problem was, you had been in it for 10 years before coming to terms with your abuser. It took one special person to help you. That special person had a significant role in your life before you met your husband, your abuser. What happens after years of not seeing them? What’s going to happen to you? Will you survive the cycle of abuse? Will you get help? Will you get out? Are you strong enough to break the cycle?

Buckle in, you’re in for a rough ride folks, but you’re in for a rewarding treat.

Part 1: Who Did this to You?

Part 2: Flashbacks and Fear

Part 3: Telling him you’ll be okay

Part 4: The Letters

Part 5: Let Me Take Care of You

Part 6: The Nightmare That Became A Realization

Part 7: First Dates and Life Goals

Part 8: Having Support

Part 9: This is the (Happy) End

Completed :)

#aaron hotchner x single mom!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #domestic violence #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner series #restofmylife #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds fanfiction

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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year

Text

Honey Bun (18+ Series)

Aaron Hotchner x Stripper!Reader

Part 5 // MINORS DNI

WC: 3.0k words

Song Inspo: Possibly Maybe - Björk

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, bit of an age gap (placing reader at around 25-26), cursing, alcohol consumption, formalized sex work (Stripper/Pole Dancer), occasional angst, drama. In this chapter specifically -- light angst, flufffff, SMUT OBVIOUSLY, smoking one (1) cigarette (sorry about that but its DRAMATIC and therefore NECESSARY), semi-public sex (?), lap dance, dirty talking, Hotch being submissive and breedable tbh, aaaand that's all I can think of rn, but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Lmaooooo sorry that the plot just kinda flew out the window on this one a little bit, I just wanted to write something dirttyyyyyy tee hee hopefully all is good here but lmk if it needs other warnings or anything!

Tags: @montyfandomlove, @cassiemartzz, @hausofwhores, @pedrohoe04, @sebastiansstanswhore, @comfortzonequeen,

-----------------------

“Looks like lover boy is here,” Josephine noted, wiping down a glass to keep herself busy. “Doesn’t seem like he had a great day.”

You glanced up to see Aaron approaching the bar. It’d been a few days since Gia’s birthday, in which you hadn’t spoken much to him. You were gathering the courage to talk to him about things, but it was taking more time than you anticipated.

And now, it seemed time was up.

“It’s been tense to say the least,” you murmured. “Mind if I take fifteen?”

“Go ahead,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded appreciatively, patting her arm before making your way to Aaron.

“Hi,” you said, smiling meekly. “It’s my smoke break. Wanna join me outside?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only sometimes. Good excuse to step outside when things get to be … too much, I suppose,” you shrugged. “Plus, it’s a little more private for us to talk, don’t you think?”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “Yeah, you’re right. Lead the way.”

He stood up and followed as you led him out the back door. The cacophony of music and rowdy patrons faded into the background as the two of you stepped out into the alleway. The night air was cool but bearable, still in the late throes of spring.

You covered the flame as you lit the cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke.

“Can I have a drag?” He asked, and you offered it to him.

You watched his profile as he exhaled smoke too, looking off into the middle-distance as he thought.

“I wanted to—” you started to say at the same time he said. “I thought—”

The two of you stopped, staring at each other for a moment.

“Oh, go ahead,” you prompted as he handed the cigarette back to you.

“No, no. You can go,” he insisted.

“Um… well I wanted to say that I’m sorry that things have been kind of weird lately,” you began. “It all came as a bit of a shock, as I’m sure you felt. But uh, I think I owe you some honesty, so I’ll just come clean.”

You took another long drag, bracing yourself to just rip the band aid off.

“Ever heard of the Crimson Lounge?” You said. “I dance there on the weekends. I’m a stripper, that’s my mysterious other job.”

You ashed the cigarette, gathering your thoughts for a second before barreling on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I guess… it was stupid not to, but I’m sure you understand why I didn’t. But you deserved to know.” You looked up at him, finally meeting his dark eyes. “Especially because it’s not going to change.”

He extended his hand towards you once more to get the cigarette. He ashed it, taking a long drag himself, his gaze not leaving yours.

“What sort of reaction were you expecting from me?” He asked curiously.

You shrugged, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know… I guess disappointment? A loss of respect? Or something worse.”

He seemed genuinely surprised at this. He tossed the finished cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, gently taking your chin and tilting your face towards his. “I don’t feel that way at all.”

You searched his face for any hidden emotion that might betray his words. But the only thing you found was earnestness, as well as determination.

Still, you asked, “Really?”

“Yes, of course,” he assured you, cupping your face in his hands. “Trust me, that’s not a problem to me. Sure, it surprised me, but that doesn’t mean I see it as a bad thing.”

“You’re a rare exception to what seems to be the norm…” you said, smiling wryly.

“I like you for who you are, Honey. I see you.” His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones. “I know we’ve only been on a few dates, but it’s been such a pleasure getting to know you. I’d like to continue… If that’s okay with you. I want to know everything.”

You nodded, your eyes stinging as tears pooled in your vision. “Well, there’s one more thing I should also clarify. About Derek.”

He stiffened a little, swallowing hard. He said nothing, willing to just listen.

“He met Gia and me at the Crimson. He’s been a regular for some time,” you said. “He’s, uh, seen a lot of me, on and off the stage. But we’re just friends and nothing more. He’s with Gia, and they really like each other.”

He nodded, jaw clenched. He took a few breaths, just looking at you, and that seemed to help ease whatever conflicting emotions he was feeling.

“But… he was always respectful?” He managed to ask.

“Yeah. He’s a good guy,” you smiled reassuringly. “I’m sorry if this just complicates things.”

“Honey, please,” he shook his head. “Who the hell am I to judge you for anything you do? It’s in the past, as you said. As long as he was decent, that’s all I care about.”

“Well, I think you’re more than decent.” Your eyes flicked down to his lips. “And I really want to kiss you for it.”

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing you sweetly. Your heart continued to race, but now for entirely different reasons. You were kind of in disbelief that it had all gone so well, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But his thumbs traced your cheekbones again, wiping away the happy tears you hadn’t realized you were shedding. It was a reassurance that you needed, and you were grateful he gave it so freely.

When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours.

“So, you forgive me?” You murmured.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “You did nothing wrong. But I am sorry that things got so strange last time we saw each other. I hope I didn’t react… harshly. I was just surprised.”

You waved him off, nodding in understanding and pulling back further to look at him.

“There’ll be another chance for a better first impression with my sister and Gia, don’t worry about them,” you assured. “And you know… If you’re comfortable, maybe you should visit me at the Crimson some time. See what it’s like. I could even arrange for us to have the VIP room for an hour, so we’re out of the main floor.”

He smirked a little. “Does that mean I’d get VIP treatment, too?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, smacking his arm. “Yes, only because you’ve been so good… But you’ve turned me into a real sap, you know that?”

He planted an affectionate kiss on your lips. “That was the goal.”

————————

“Honey, you’ve been requested for a private. An hour and a half, already paid for. He’s at table seven, you can escort him upstairs.”

You nodded, making your way over. It hadn’t been a very busy night, so you decided to call it right after this. An hour and a half was kind of pushing it, but at least it was early enough that you could still enjoy some downtime at home and potentially see if Aaron was free for another sleepover.

You’d plastered on your most charming smile, but it faltered for a surprised moment when you saw the man in question — Aaron, sitting by himself at the table, swirling his scotch around the glass lazily.

It was as if you’d summoned him somehow. For a moment, as your gazes connected, it didn’t seem real.

He hadn’t mentioned anything about coming in, but it clicked that he wanted to surprise you. It was a bold move, but you couldn’t help but be impressed. He smirked at you and your smile returned, genuine this time.

Mostly, he seemed at ease, but before you’d arrived, he’d kept his eyes down. You caught sight of a few girls glancing in his direction, but he was unaware of the attention he was getting. All of his focus was on you.

“Well, well,” you said. “What do we have here?”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Honey,” he said, slightly raising his eyebrows. “But nothing compares to the real thing.”

You caught onto his game immediately, stifling a shudder as a tingle ran down your spine. Who would have thought he was into this sort of thing?

You’d figured he might be kind of vanilla, but you just kept being pleasantly surprised by him. You bit your lower lip, eyes roaming over him appreciatively. He returned the gesture, taking his time to drink you in, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled slowly.

“What’s your name, handsome?”

He took a sip of his scotch. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“Hmmm, well I’ve always liked the name Aaron,” you said, offering him your hand. “Come with me, I’ll take you somewhere quieter where we can get to know each other.”

He took your hand, not letting go as you led him towards the stairs. You went up the steps in front of him, giving him a lovely view of your ass in a g-string. It took all of his willpower not to touch you; To let his broad hands roam over the expanse of your soft skin.

There would surely be enough time for that later.

Once in the VIP room, you had him sit down while you picked the music. It softly wafted out of the speakers, the slow rhythm so irresistible that you began to sway your hips to it.

Pink and blue lights bathed you in their romantic, dream-like hues. His dark eyes tracked your movements, sinuous and almost serpentine. He was utterly entranced, and he had to adjust himself in his seat.

“Like what you see?” You asked, grinning teasingly.

“You’re breathtaking,” he rasped, nodding. “So beautiful.”

You loved feeling the ardent intensity of his gaze — like a caress, making heat slowly course through you. You were absorbed by each other; Nothing outside of this room – of this very moment – existed.

You teased him further by toying with the straps of your micro bikini top, and he clenched his jaw, a low grunt stuck in his throat.

“Come closer,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. He cleared his throat before adding, “Please.”

You prowled towards him on all fours, and when he tried to reach for you, you grabbed his wrists and pinned them down at his sides.

You tsked, tilting your head to one side. “Hmm, think you can be good for me and keep your hands off?”

He nodded all too eagerly, making you smirk. You came up between his legs, your torso barely brushing his. Your lips were mere inches from his, too, but before he could be further tempted, you pulled back and turned around.

His fingers twitched at his sides as you sat on his lap, your back against his chest. Though you couldn’t hold down his hands at this angle, he was resolved to behave. You began to gyrate your hips ever so slowly, already feeling his prominent bulge pressing against your ass.

This time, you finally undid the straps of your top, letting it slide off of you. You heard his sharp intake of breath right next to your ear as you leaned back so he could get a better view of your front.

“You enjoy torturing me,” he gritted out. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“You just look so good when you’re all worked up like this,” you purred.

Then, to torture him even further, you grabbed his hands, bringing them to where your g-string hugged your hips.

“Hook your fingers here,” you instructed, and he immediately obeyed.

You stood and bent forward, his thumbs helping pull your panties down. At this new angle, he had an up close and personal view of your newly exposed cunt, and he couldn’t help but let out a pitiful whimper.

You chuckled. “You all good there?”

Instead of responding, he slid down to his knees, pulling your underwear off the rest of the way. You stepped out of them and felt as his hands came back towards your hips, holding on firmly.

All of his self restraint had seemingly shattered, and like a starving man, he started kissing at your thighs. You indulged him for a moment, biting back a soft moan as you felt his lips on your inner thigh.

But then, surprisingly, you felt him nip and suck at the sensitive skin, sure to leave a mark.

“Hey, now!” You chastised, turning around and pushing him back a little. “Naughty, naughty, trying to bite more than you can chew. Didn’t I say hands off?”

“I wasn’t using my hands, technically,” he countered, smirking slightly. “But I’ll do better.”

“I’m sure you will.” You crossed your arms. “And you can start by making it up to me.”

“Yes, anything.”

You looked him over, still on his knees, eyes wide and eager. He truly looked like he would do anything for you at that moment.

“Worship me,” you said finally. “If you want to put your mouth on me, it has to be over every square inch.”

He licked his lips and leaned forward a little, unable to resist you. “That I can do, gladly.”

He dove into his task diligently, kissing his way up. Your fingers buried in his hair, keeping him close. He took his time, but when he reached the apex of your thighs once more, he looked up at you as if asking for permission.

But as much as you wanted to say yes, you didn’t want this part to end quite yet.

You tugged his head back lightly. “Keep going, you’ll get your prize after.”

He grunted, but acquiesced, licking up to your navel. You suppressed a shudder, already clenching around nothing. The build up was driving you near feral, but such desperate want was an addictive feeling.

You almost caved in once more when he reached your breasts. His tongue circled one of your nipples, his teeth subsequently grazing the hardened peak. He repeated his motions with your other breast, but in a teasing retort, he moved onto your sternum before you could really bask in the pleasure.

And once he reached your throat, you couldn’t take it any longer. You grabbed his chin as you brought his lips to yours, eliciting a low moan from him as your tongue tangled with his.

“You want your prize?” You asked between kisses, nipping at his lower lip when he nodded. “How do you want it, Aaron?”

“Fuck me,” he said without hesitation. “Use me to give yourself pleasure. I just want to make you feel good.”

His words had you instantly dripping and you squeezed your thighs together to try and ease some of your ache. You felt like your knees might buckle at any moment, and you crushed your lips against his ravenously.

“Sit back down for me,” you urged.

He did so, making you bend down so as not to break contact with him. But you quickly pulled away to crouch in front of him, reaching for his belt.

“May I?”

“Yes. Whatever you want, I’m all yours,” he said, shifting forward to help you undo his belt and pants.

You hummed as you freed him from his underwear, the tip of his cock glistening with precum. You gingerly ran the tips of your fingers over the prominent vein on his shaft, making him twitch.

“Someone’s excited,” you noted, smiling slyly. “Remember, hands off. I’m in control here. My turf, my rules.”

He nodded once more, swallowing hard. You let a string of saliva fall onto his cock and straightened back up, spreading it with your fingers.

“Scoot over to the edge.”

You went on your hands and knees in front of him, sliding backwards until your hips were bracketed between his knees. You wiggled them a little enticingly, grinning at him over your shoulder.

“Be a dear and help me put it in, will you?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he slicked the head of his cock through your folds, coating it with your arousal. He pushed in slowly, stretching you deliciously, and both of you exhaled sharply as he bottomed out.

You started moving at a slow, even pace, working the entirety of his length until you adjusted to it. You soon picked up speed, unable to keep yourself from moaning wantonly.

“Fuck, Honey…” he groaned. “Does that feel good?”

“So good,” you panted. “So fucking good.”

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded. “Please, cum all over my cock.”

Though he did not use his hands, his hips snapped up to meet yours, making his thrusts harder. He repeatedly hit a spot deep inside you that had you clawing at the floor, abdominal muscles tightening.

“Aaron, please, I-” the rest of the sentence died in your throat as pleasure seized you in its vice-like grip.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and you heard him moan out your name as his own orgasm washed over him. He spilled inside of you, thrusting shallowly as both of you rode out your ecstasy.

You were both dazed for a few more seconds, breathing heavily, still lost in one another. His hands caressed your hips affectionately — reverently, even.

As he pulled out of you, he helped you up and hauled you onto his lap. His arms encircled you, and you wiped his hair away from his sweaty forehead.

“Well, safe to say we know each other pretty well now,” you chuckled breathily.

“You did guess my name from the get go,” he said, also chuckling.

He kissed you tenderly, pressing you tighter against him, like he just couldn’t get close enough. It made you melt, how he always made sure to show you how much he cared.

“I kind of want to say I’m sorry for surprising you, but…” he started as he pulled away.

“Don’t,” you said, stroking his face. “I’m not sorry.”

“I’m not either,” he said, and you smiled at each other. “This was one of the most incredible nights of my life.”

“Hmm, something tells me you’re gonna become one of my regulars, Aaron.”

He kissed the tip of your nose. “I’ll be your favorite one.”

----

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x stripper!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner series #honey bun #series #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #minors dni #criminal minds

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strawbeerossi · 10 months

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Daydreaming || 3/3 ||

Part one || Part two

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Aaron Hotchner

Description: Jack and Finn get to celebrate their victory after months of hard work as their parents navigate their new relationship together. What better way to celebrate than the small family having a halloween party with the whole team in attendance.

Content Warnings: Blended family dynamics, the two boys are a dynamic duo, there is some suggestive dialogue, the boys plan a Halloween party and have their parents do everything but still claim it as theirs. Just fluff and a good ending to this mini series.

Word Count: 1.7K

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It’s been long awaited but here it is, the end of Daydreaming!

There were many causes of celebration; Halloween, Y/N and Finn moving in the Hotchner house, and the two being able to meet the team that Aaron was lucky enough to call his family. If he were honest, he felt like the team made a bigger deal of this than he did.

“It’s been nearly a year! It’s not fair for you to gatekeep her from us. She just moved in!” Penelope began, following the unit chief across the bullpen, a small crowd of the other BAU members following behind.

“I agree with Garcia. It’s about time we met the lucky lady who has the bossman head over heels.” Derek pressed on, making the older male chuckle while heading to his office door. “Well, I’ll consider it. I need to ask her first anyway. Can’t surprise her with the team when she least expects it.” He’d learned early on that Y/N wasn’t fond of surprises – or wearing pants around the house during the day when it was just her.

“She will appreciate it. Xafniasmaphobia, or the fear of surprises, is actually a lot more common than you may think! It’s fascinating what the human mind is capable of fearing when you-” The smile on Spencer’s face was falling as he had all eyes on him, most looking disinterested. “Sorry.” He smiled awkwardly as his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ll arrange something. Now, you all have much better things to do than sit here and ask me questions.” Despite his curt tone, there was the smallest hint of a smile.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep his girlfriend a secret in some capacity, he just wasn’t prepared for the chaos of introducing her and her son to the team. That meant things were serious, more serious than the seriousness of the mother and son moving in.

Later that night, Aaron and Y/N were laying together in their shared bed, his arms wrapped securely around his partner as she was squeezed against his chest. “My team wants to meet you.” His words were soft, lips brushing over the warm flesh of her neck while Y/N was humming tiredly. “Do you want me to meet them?”

It wasn’t an attitude, instead wanting to make sure Aaron was truly ready for that aspect. She knew that they were more than just colleagues. He loved them, they were his family. She took this just as seriously as she would meeting a parent. “I do, yeah.” The male admitted, his head lifting from the crook of her neck, the woman’s neck craning so they could look at one another.

“Then I’m more than happy to meet them! Finn is going to be so excited, Jack has been telling him all sorts of stories.” She offered a smile, leaning over to press her lips against her boyfriend’s. “Besides, I gotta get on well with the family, right?” She mused with a smile.

A wide smile graced Aaron’s features, the man unable to help the soft chuckle leaving his lips. “Fair enough. They are gonna love you, I know that for sure.”

The couple were originally planning a nice dinner at their shared home, inviting the team as well as their families in order to have a formal greeting. Finn and Jack had other plans though.

“We want to have a party. Dinners are boring.” Jack spoke, his nose wrinkling at the idea of having to get dressed in nice clothes and being made to look his very best just to listen to adults talk. No thank you. “Yeah! We want a party.” Finn pressed on, sitting on his knees in his dining chair while focusing his gaze back down on the coloring page he’d been focused on.

“A party? Jack-” Aaron was cut off by Y/N, who’s eyes glistened with amusement at the idea. “What kind of party boys?” She asked, an eyebrow raising. This was a change for the boys too, even if it was positive, they deserved to at least put in ideas to announce this big change.

“Well, at school we have holiday parties, remember?” Jack began as he was looking up at the two adults across the table before turning to Finn to urge him to continue. They had to have practiced this pitch before they brought it up. “I think we should do that. It’s almost Halloween and I think that’ll be fun. Then we can show everyone that we are a big, happy family.” The blonde finished while offering a wide smile, his arms being held out to emphasize the “big” part.

“And it is our party so we are gonna make sure it’s perfect.” One child assured while the other was smiling brightly. “We will do a very good job doing this all by ourselves.”

Yeah, that turned out to be a bold-faced lie.

It was about a week after the initial discussion when the parents of the household being the ones to decorate with the boys ordering them where to put everything, they continued to bark their little orders as the parent’s put the party together. “Good job!” Finn gushed, his gaze looking around the living room area that had quite a bit of decorations from the attic laid out everywhere.

It was definitely in the hands of children when it came to where things were placed and what was put out. Aaron had to drag out a broken Santa decoration and the boys came up with ‘Zombie Santa’ just to add onto the reason the Christmas figure was sitting in the living room. “Spooky!” Finn complimented, both of the children high fiving one another.

“I wish we just had a simple dinner.” Aaron leaned over to whisper to Y/N, who couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh shush, enjoy them wanting to do something like this. Besides, who could tell those sweet faces no?” She asked.

Later that evening, the members of the team as well as their families were eventually making their appearance. Spencer and Penelope were probably the most animated ones, due to the holiday being one of their favorites. Besides, they were probably the best with kids despite having none of their own.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” David spoke up, causing Y/N to look over at the older man with a smile while they were in the doorway that separated the kitchen and the living room. “The pleasure is all mine. Dave, I assume?” She spoke, a hand being held out with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you, it's hard to mistake you for anyone else. I’m Y/N. The little blonde with orange icing all over his face is Finn.” She giggled fondly.

Aaron had to admit that this was a lot better than he could’ve ever expected. All the children were playing around with some of the safer decorations to play with while the adults were all fully getting to know the woman who fully captivated their boss. Much better than a boring dinner.

“So, how have you and Finn been settling in?” JJ was asking, both Y/N and JJ being acquainted due to her past status of media liaison, both women being in contact for the more local cases when they needed the paper’s cooperation. “Really well, actually! It’s much better than us having to pack little bags for sleepovers.” She laughed.

For a while, it was pretty easy to do that. However, things got more complicated when the two would stay much longer than they packed for. Maybe that was what prompted the move in, them being far too comfortable at the other household rather than their separate apartment.

“It’s been a lot better since they’ve moved in, even if I’ve lost a huge chunk of my closet space.” Aaron laughed as he was approaching the group, his arms wrapping securely around his girlfriend’s waist. “Yeah, we could tell.” Derek spoke up, him and Emily sniggering as they looked at one another.

“Don’t act like we haven’t seen the sudden good moods, or notice when Hotch is running a few minutes late.” Emily began to tease, causing Y/N’s face to turn red as she was laughing.

“Can you blame me? Honestly? If you only knew what I do.” Y/N laughed as she was leaning against Aaron’s chest, his face in her shoulder as his own face as he couldn’t help but grin.

The night continued on, Y/N happily talking amongst each member of the close knit team and managing to wiggle her way into their inner circle with each word she spoke.

It was never hard to be accepted in their circle but this new woman didn’t even have to try. She could take jokes, dish them out, she even liked Spencer’s info-dumping sprees whenever he would hear or see anything he had extensive knowledge on.

It was later in the night whenever the team was all gathering their things to leave, hugging the newly blended family while the adults walked their guests to the door. “This has been really fun. We should do this again.” Aaron spoke, a hand on his girlfriend’s lower back while they were standing on the front porch.

“Y/N you are coming to the next girls night! I’ll come get you myself!” Penelope gushed while offering a wide smile, waving while Derek was opening her car door for her, basically nudging her to go considering her car was blocking his in the driveway.

“Alright!” Y/N laughed, blowing a kiss to the bubbly blonde before looking up at her boyfriend as the cars began to pull out of the driveway. “I think I need a job at the BAU now.” She poke, making her boyfriend snort out a laugh. “Oh yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raising.

“Yeah. I know the best way to get the job too. I don’t wanna brag but I’m kinda sleeping with the unit chief.” She said, as if she wasn’t talking to him. “I think that’ll be your best way to get the job. Let him know that I recommended you for the job.” Aaron was joking in return, his lips pressing a soft kiss to hers.

“Let’s get the kids to bed so you can practice your pitch to join the team.”

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confused-pyramid · 16 days

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I’d Like to Think That You Would Stick Around | s6

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 15.5k

warnings: SMUT, oral (m!receiving), masturbation, canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, guns, drinking, angst, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 6x06, 6x08, 6x17, and 6x18.

a/n: Sorry for the long wait guys, school has been kicking my ass, but here's the next part! We're getting a lot of angst this chapter, but we're so so close to the good times ;) Hope you enjoy! Title is from Love Song by Lana Del Rey

series masterlist

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You are talking to Prentiss across the bullpen, laughing about something he can't hear, and he's freaking out. He shouldn't have left that night. He knows that. He just didn't know what else to do.

Never mind the fact that he has no idea how much you remember.

When you bumped into him on the way out of the elevator this morning, he swears you jumped back, but then you smiled at him, and he was able to convince himself that it was all fine. So why does it still feel like you are avoiding him?

He can still picture the dark expanse of your pupils as you leaned in closer after stumbling into him; he can still feel the rush of your breath as your gaze met his and his fingers tightened on your hip.

He walks into his office, before sitting at his desk and dropping his head into his hands. His blinds are just shut enough that no one from down in the bullpen can see into his office, and he welcomes the privacy as he rubs a hand over his face and forces his eyes away from the photograph of the two of you on his desk.

'Aaron...'

Your voice had sounded so soft, so hurt-

He shuts his eyes again and tries to think about anything else (maybe even the paperwork he's supposed to have been doing for an hour now) but every time he blinks, he sees your face again.

He has suspected the shift in your feelings for a little while now, but that night at the bar confirmed something he isn't sure he's ready to handle. He feels it too - of course he does - but he can't think about it. He can't.

He's floundering with Jack, with trying to be there for both him and the team, and he just lost Haley. God, he just lost Haley, and the idea of losing you too because he fucks it up just like he did with her is unimaginable. They were together for decades - they had a child together - and still he couldn't give her what she needed. Your friendship means everything to him, and if he does something to ruin your relationship too, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He glances out his window and sees you still talking to Emily, both of your heads now bent down to look at an open case file. She says something to you, and your face lights up as you grin at her. Something that feels like lava pools in his gut and he swallows thickly as he turns back to his paperwork.

***

You head back to your desk and drop the case file down as you resist the urge to glance up at his office window. He hasn't looked at you once today, and you can't help it as your mind goes to the worst case scenario of losing him forever because of one stupid moment.

You had considered pretending that you don't remember anything from the bar, but he just left you there. That isn't something you can forget so easily, and even as you're trying to ignore it, you don't want to avoid him. But it isn't that simple.

You're simultaneously hurt and embarrassed, but it isn't even your own feelings that are at the forefront of your mind. You haven't been to his place in over a week, and you miss Jack and you miss him. You haven't gone this long without talking to him in years.

Fuck.

***

Your quest to stay out of trouble results in you staying late at the office to get ahead on all of your work. Most nights you were staying even later than JJ and Aaron, but then JJ got sent to the DoD as a media liaison, and the work started piling up.

You did what you could to intercept some of the paperwork before it landed on his desk, especially since Jack was so close to starting preschool and you know Aaron wants to take any extra moment of face time he can get, but it wasn't a foolproof system.

That's why it's almost midnight after getting back from a case in Ohio, and Aaron's office light is still on. Knowing it's about time you broke the cone of silence you've been under, you walk up the stairs, giving yourself ample time to change your mind.

A minute later, you knock on his door, before pushing it open gently, waiting to see the look on his face.

"Oh, you're still here," he says, his eyes lingering on you for an extra moment before turning back to his work. "Come in."

You shut the door behind you and sit in the chair in front of his desk. It doesn't sink like it usually does, and it takes you a second to realize that he finally replaced it. After all this time...

"Are you heading home soon?" you ask, trying to feign nonchalance. You can't remember the last time you overthought every single thing you said to him.

Yes, you do, your brain mocks you. A film reel of your awkward senior year of high school starts playing in your mind and one lone thought sticks out among the cacophony of memories. You loved him.

"Yeah, I'm almost done," he says with a sigh, his eyes still trained on his paper.

You frown. "Really?"

"No."

That surprises a chuckle out of you and you lean forward in the chair. It's stiffer than you're used to, and it creaks as you slide in closer. "Want any help?"

He shakes his head. "You should head home. It's late."

You don't say anything and when he finally meets your eye, you shoot him a look.

He sighs, begrudgingly handing you a stack of files. "With JJ gone, it's been a little hectic. I have to go through the new cases coming in, as well as completing the post-case paperwork."

"Shit," you whisper, not knowing what else to say. Even as you tried to cut down his workload, it wasn't even scratching the surface. "I didn't realize that was all on you."

"Yeah, for the time being," he shrugs, raking a hand through his hair to push it back, even as it bounces right back into place. "But it'll be easier when they bring us someone new."

That stops you in your tracks. "How new? Because you know I really liked Jordan, but she was too green for the BAU."

"Newer," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "They're considering some Academy cadets who are finishing up their remedial training."

"Cadets?" you echo, your voice rising an octave. "They're babies."

"They're at least 25," he states, the corner of his lip twitching. "Besides, their remedial training would have been with the BAU, so they'll know what they're getting into."

They'll know what they're getting into.

It's not a dig, but the juvenile corner of your brain hangs onto his words, trying to make out some double meaning.

"That's some relief, I guess." You flip open the first file, trying to pay attention as you scan the brief, but it just reminds you of how much you miss JJ.

"She was so much better at this," you groan, flipping the page. "I'm not sure anyone can replace her."

"I'm definitely sure that no one can," Aaron says simply as he glances up at you, "but we'll take any help we can get at this point."

There's a layer of subtext behind his tone, and you don't know if you're equipped to decipher it right now, after being up for almost 24 hours. Nevertheless, you don't give in as he looks at you, refusing to break eye contact.

Please be okay, your mind begs as the corners of his eyes crinkle. Please say I didn't fuck this all up.

His eyebrows raise slightly, checking in on you for the first time in so so long, and another thought takes over your mind. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Blinking away the thought, you nod, but you can't stop yourself as you clarify, "It's just a temp assignment, right?"

He finishes the sentence he was writing before looking up. "Yes. It's only temporary."

***

"Daddy, don't look at me."

Jack's voice filters out from his bedroom and he looks at Jess with a small laugh as she pretends to lock her lips and toss away the key.

"I'm not looking," he calls out. "Are you almost ready?"

There's a small sound of affirmation from down the hall, so he stands up from the couch and reaches for the little jack-o-lantern bag that Jack wanted to use for trick-or-treating.

When he looks up, his son is emerging from his room, dressed incredibly unlike the comic book character he wanted to be for Halloween.

"Whoa," Aaron says, his voice a low rumble. "That is definitely not Spider-Man."

Jack just shrugs. "He's not a real superhero."

"He's not?" He looks at his son again, trying to discern which superhero wears a suit. "Okay. I give up. Who are you supposed to be?"

The answer is immediate. "I'm you, Daddy."

Jess nudges his shoulder with a laugh before she walks forward and swings Jack into the air. "You look just like him, bud!"

He opens his mouth to add onto that sentiment, but his throat thickens with emotion and he has to clear his throat to get a word out. "You tied my tie so well." It's the best he can do with his eyes burning. All he wanted was for his son to feel safe and loved. Maybe I'm doing something right.

"Alright, buddy," Jess smiles, setting him down. "Grab your coat and shoes and we'll head out."

Jack runs off and she smiles at him again, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're a great dad."

"Thank you," he says simply, his lips curving up into a smile. She says it a lot, but for the first time in a while, he's finally starting to believe it.

Jess opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses for an extra second, piquing his interest. "I haven't seen Y/N around here in a little bit."

There it is. He should've seen it coming. "Yeah, she's just busy."

His words don't sound convincing, even to his own ears, and Jess shoots him a look to match. "I happen to know you quite well, Aaron. So if you're overthinking something you shouldn't be, let me be the first to say, you're being an idiot."

He lets out a surprised snort. "Thanks, Jessica."

"I'm just saying," she shrugs, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "I see things...and I know both of you, so it's not hard to read into things."

He takes a deep breath, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "It's not like that."

He expects her to push back, but she just presses her lips together and shrugs her coat on. "Either way, Haley saw it too...and she seemed happy about it."

Before he has a chance to fully process her words, Jack rushes out, barreling into him. "I'm ready!"

"Alright, my little G-man," he grins, pushing her words out of his head for the night. "Let's go get some candy."

***

Things have been shifting at the office. Ever since JJ left, the team has felt smaller, and with your unintentional (okay, maybe a little intentional) avoidance of Aaron, the office hasn't felt the same in a long time.

Everyone has been taking on more than they're used to, and when Penelope had to fill in for JJ in a press conference during your last case, you couldn't help but notice how she turned to Aaron for support whenever she felt unprepared.

Your curiosity about their shared secret was eating at you all day, until you received a mass email from him to the whole team. Re: Garcia's play, Tolgate Theater, 8pm

You didn't have any plans tonight anyway, and after long days in a seemingly endless rotation of slacks and blazers, you welcome the chance to dress up a little bit. It's not like you go out often (or at all) unless it's with the team.

Pushing to the back of your closet, you rifle through the longer dresses and gowns you own, before landing on a light green, silk number. It has a halter neckline that drapes loosely around your neck, and you haven't worn it since before Jeff died, because it always felt like too much.

But Emily messaged you after getting home with a photo of her dress too, and even though it may be a lot for a little neighborhood theater, you're excited about something for the first time in a long while.

After putting on the dress and doing your makeup a bit darker than usual, you grab your keys and head out.

He got to the theater a bit earlier than the rest of the team, mostly to apologize to Garcia and warn her about the onslaught of support she was going to be getting, but he also wanted to get there before you did, so he could save a seat for you beside him.

From an outsider's perspective, he imagines there wouldn't seem to be anything different or wrong with your relationship, but he has been feeling the frustrating tension between the two of you since that night out.

Speaking with Jess on Halloween felt like a welcome reprieve from his cycle of self-loathing, and he finally feels more free than he has in ages.

Emily, Derek, and Spencer arrive a short while later, and he points them toward the seats he booked out, before heading back to the lobby, where family and friends of the performers are milling around.

When Dave arrives, he's also dressed in a suit. "We certainly clean up nicely."

He coughs out a laugh. "I haven't pulled this suit out in years."

"Well, aside from the cobwebs," Dave jokes, brushing an imaginary piece of dust from his shoulder, "you look classy."

"Thanks," he smiles, patting the older man's arm. "You should head inside. We're sitting about halfway up."

"You coming?" Dave asks as he steps around him.

Aaron shakes his head, glancing back at the door again. "I'm going to wait for...everyone to get here. I'll meet you inside."

He nods, before smacking his shoulder once and walking into the theater. When Dave's out of sight, he turns back around and pulls his phone out, trying to look busy.

He scrolls through a couple of his latest emails before tucking his phone away. The front door of the theater opens then, and when he looks up, all of the air leaves his lungs.

It feels like the world is moving in slow motion as you glide inside, your dress billowing down as the breeze from outside settles. You look incredible, and he feels like a teenager again, when he was so in love with you he couldn't breathe.

He watches you glance around, clearly searching for a familiar face, so he walks up, approaching you slowly to give you time to notice him.

"Oh, hi!" you say, your lips curving up into a smile as he tucks a hand into his pocket. "Am I late?"

"Not at all," he says, hating how strained his voice sounds. "The play starts at the top of the hour."

"Perfect," you smile, removing your shawl from your shoulders and folding it in your hands. "You clean up well, by the way."

There's a slight tinge of humor in your voice, and you're looking at him expectantly, likely waiting for him to lead you to the seats, but he can't move. He's terrified of what he's feeling, but you look amazing, and he's surrounded by people he doesn't know, so he doesn't overthink it as he reaches out and slips a hand onto your waist.

You clearly aren't expecting it as he pulls you in closer, his fingers sliding across the silkiness of your dress. You smell like flowers, and he can't help himself as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "You're beautiful."

Reality doesn't set in until he lets you go. Your cheeks are slightly flushed and he can't think straight, but the moment you step away from him and head to theater doors, the fog clears.

What is he doing?

The rational part of his brain takes over and he mumbles a curse under his breath before jogging forward to follow you inside. At least for the time being, he has the play to cover himself, but when morning comes, and brings with it the harsh light of day, he's fucked.

***

His skin is burning. The temperature in his office feels like it has been turned all the way up, but even as he undoes his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves back, the heat doesn't abate.

He is loosening his tie when his office door opens, revealing you in your rumpled button down and slacks. He opens his mouth to ask why you're still here, but before he can get a word out, you're shutting the door behind you and locking it.

"What are you doing?" he asks as you saunter over to him, stepping around his desk and pressing your hands to the armrests of his chair. "Y/N, it's late-"

"Shut up," you say firmly, twisting his chair toward you with a strong pull. He moves to get up, but you push his shoulder down to keep him in his chair.

He already doesn't know what to say, but every thought leaves his brain as you sink down to your knees before him.

"Don't move," you whisper, your eyes glinting up at him as you deftly undo the buckle of his belt and yank his pants open. "I'm in charge now."

He lets out a gasp as you tug his pants down in one go, and before he can do anything, your fingers are on him. Your lips curve into a smile as his breath hitches, and even with the thin fabric of his boxers between you two, the sensations coursing through him feel so magnified and new.

He is already hard as a rock, and you've barely even touched him. Teasingly slow, you pull his boxers down, watching as his cock springs free from the confines. Without wasting another second, you run your tongue up his length, and he grits his teeth to keep the groans in his throat from spilling out.

Your lips slowly close around his tip and the wet heat makes his head fall back as he tries to calm his breathing down. His chest is heaving like he just went for a run, but when you hollow your cheeks around him, he can't keep the moan inside. He loses control for a moment as he reaches forward to grasp onto your hair, but that only seems to spur you on, as you bob your head even faster.

The wet sounds of your mouth sliding over his cock fill the office, and he clutches his armrest with one hand and uses the other to guide your head.

He's already so close, and the soft grip of your hands on his thighs aren't helping as he tries to hold off, to prolong this feeling. At the last second, you swirl your tongue around the tip, and he chokes out a gasp, but then-

His eyes fly open to the lonely darkness of his bedroom. The room is warmer than it usually is, and his skin feels sticky with sweat under his covers. His mind, on the other hand...

He doesn't remember every moment of the dream, but the message was clear enough. His boxers are still tight from the memory, and he tries as hard as he can to think about anything else, but he keeps going back to the image of you, in front of him, kneeling-

Throwing the covers off, he sits up quickly and climbs out of bed, needing to clear his head in the only effective way he knows of. He shrugs his clothes off on the way to the bathroom, and he turns the shower on, making the water steaming hot, before stepping inside. The steam fogs up the glass around him, but he can still see the bare outline of his shame in the mirror across from the shower.

But now isn't the time, not with his skin burning and his cock pulsing in his hand. He pumps a few times as the hot water cascades over him, trying to set a rhythm, but it doesn't feel right. He keeps nearing the edge before the wave pulls back, and he lets out a soft groan in frustration as he presses his forehead to the glass.

Just once, he thinks as he grips himself again, his mind shifting back to his dream. Only this once.

His brain fills with the images from earlier: you on your knees, your mouth warm and wet over him, the pinpricks of sweat across the swells of your chest where your shirt was unbuttoned. He pictures your mouth as he ruts into his own hand, pretending, wishing, it was you instead.

It only takes a few more pumps before he finishes, spilling onto the white floor of his shower. The energy leaves him as he slumps against the wall, twisting the knob to a cooler setting, before shutting it off completely.

He still has a few more hours of sleep left before he has to get up for work, but he spends all night tossing and turning in the wide, empty expanse of his bed.

***

"What do you think he meant?"

"Maybe it's like a new manual, or guidebook."

"What are you two on about?" You walk up to your desk and slump down into the chair as Emily and Spencer look up with meek smiles.

Spencer is the first to crack. "We were discussing what Hotch might have meant by a 'different tactic' to solve this case in New Mexico."

You frown. "The gated community one? I thought Dave was just flying over ahead of us to get a head start."

"Nope," Emily shakes her head, before turning around. "He's in Hotch's office right now."

You look up just as Aaron and Dave exit the office and begin their descent down the stairs. Dave is ahead of him, with a big smile on his face, as he pushes past all of you.

It's only after you turn around that you realize who he's looking at. The woman he pulls into a hug is young - Academy cadet young - and she's pretty too.

"Ashley!" Rossi exclaims as he lets her go.

Hotch walks up behind them and shakes her hand. "Agent trainee Seaver is on loan to us from the Academy."

He introduces her to each of you, and you reach forward to shake her hand, a big smile on your face. After he told you that the bureau was considering someone new, you have had your guard up, but you don't want to make a bad impression in case she's here to stay.

"It's great to meet all of you," she says with a meek smile.

You pat her shoulder before walking past her to speak with Aaron about whether Seaver was the the new addition he was talking about. But when you lift your hand to get his attention, he turns away without looking at you, and leads Rossi out of the bullpen.

In the New Mexico gated community where three women have been murdered so far, Emily and Derek split off to check out the last crime scene, so you stay with the rest of the team and Seaver at one of the model homes to go through the evidence.

You can't help but notice how Spencer's eyes keep flitting over to the new girl, and a grin crosses your lips as you nudge his shoulder later.

"You totally have a thing for the new girl."

"Wha-what, no?!" he sputters, his face twisting into an unconvincing frown. "I don't even know her."

You just shrug. "You can still think she's pretty."

"That's irrelevant," he mutters, nudging you back and grabbing one of the files in front of him. "Do you think we can trust the local police?"

"I don't know," you sigh, letting him change the subject. "We definitely can't rule them out, especially in a community as clustered as this."

You glance across the room to Aaron and Dave, who are standing hunched over a laptop with the local detective. They're brows are all equally furrowed, and Aaron looks so focused you doubt he would hear you if you yelled his name right now.

Dropping the file onto the counter, you step around Reid and walk over to the trio, listening in as they start speaking.

"You interviewed every adult male in the community?"

The detective nods. "More than once. They're all digitized."

Aaron glances up as you approach, but when he realizes who it is, his eyes dart back to the screen. His eyes meet yours for the briefest of seconds, and he sees a frown cross your face out of his periphery. Fuck. He has to be more careful. You're a fucking profiler, for god's sake.

"Were all the interviews confrontational like this?" you ask as you come up beside him. He can feel the warmth of your arm inches away from his, and he leans his weight to the other side, trying not to think about his dream while you're standing this close to him.

"Is that wrong?"

Rossi raises his eyebrow. "You didn't get much out of them, did you?"

The detective shakes his head before skipping to the next interview, and everyone leans in closer to get a better look. With four of you surrounding the screen, it's harder to see, and when you press your hand to his shoulder to balance yourself, he all but flinches back from your touch.

The movement is harsh enough that everyone but the detective notices. His eyes fly to you as shock and confusion cross your face, and before anyone can say anything, he mutters something that sounds like 'sorry' before rushing out of the model home.

You're chasing after him the moment he's out of sight. Dave reaches forward to catch your arm but you shake him off, rushing out of the house and onto the street, which has been cleared by the local police since you arrived.

"Aaron!" you call out as he walks ahead of you, his hand raking through his hair. To his credit, he comes to a stop the moment he hears your voice, and you catch up to him quickly, stopping just short of him on the sidewalk. "What is going on? I thought we were okay?"

His eyes close for a beat, before his face hardens into a steely calm. You can no longer pretend like everything's fine. It hasn't been for a long time - not since the bar, and maybe even before - but you've always been good at compartmentalizing what you don't want to feel. With your mom, and Jeff, and Haley, you could push down the hurt until it dissolved into your bloodstream, spreading everywhere. It wore you down and thinned you out, but at least it wasn't overwhelming.

Looking at him now - your best friend, the man you...love. Your breath catches in your throat and he shakes his head, not looking at you. "What do you mean, Y/N?"

You wish you could keep pretending, like he seems to be able to, but it's just not fair anymore. Not to him, and especially not to you. "No, don't do this. Don't act like I'm the only one who sees how wrong this has been for the last few months. I used to talk to you everyday, Aaron. We've barely spoken in weeks!"

His face cracks for a moment and you see the glimmer of pain in his eyes before the wall comes up again. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" you yell, your tone more forceful than you expect. "What are you sorry for, Aaron?"

He looks at you then, the facade falling away as your words sink in. The lines of pain and tension settle in and you're almost relieved that he's finally showing you the truth instead of hiding away what he's feeling. But then the despair returns as his lips thin into a line, unable to answer your question.

"What," you repeat, your words tinged with malice, "are you sorry for?"

He whispers your name softly, like it's an apology on it's own, before using his next words to tear you to pieces. "Don't make me say it."

A soft gasp leaves your mouth and you involuntarily take a step back, like he's slapped you in the face. He runs a hand over his neck and a sudden feverish anger rushes through you as you shake your head, blinking back tears. "Don't do that. I know it's not just me, Aaron. It's not-"

"Please," he whispers suddenly, cutting you off. "Please don't do this."

It's almost like he's begging you, and you jerk back, unable to look at him. Men have hurt you before, in so many ways, but nothing has ever cut deeper than this. You don't think your bullet wound hurt this much, and at least then you had him to support you. Now you're all alone.

The aching heartbreak hits you all at once and you brush a loose tear off your cheek before turning around and leaving him out on the sidewalk, watching you walk away.

***

"Something's up."

Penelope bumps Emily's shoulder to grab her attention. After a second, she looks up from her desk. "What was that?"

"Something," Penelope repeats, her eyes darting back and forth between you and Aaron, "is up. Y/N and Hotch haven't looked at each other in like four days. Earlier, she was talking to someone on the stairs and he literally walked out of his office and then back inside again."

Emily looks at her. "Are you sure you aren't reading into anything?"

Penelope shoots her a look that can only mean 'you're kidding, right?' "They're inseparable. Something must have happened in the last few weeks that we don't know about."

Before she can stop her, Penelope stands up and barrels over to you, with Emily on her heels like an owner who just dropped her dog's leash.

"Y/N!" Penelope calls out as she approaches you. You look up from your desk with a frown, before your face breaks into a forced smile that both of them can see through immediately. "We wanted to catch up."

You glance at Emily, who shrugs, earning a look of chagrin from the other agent.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" you ask, your forehead crinkling in a manner reminiscent of your boss.

Penelope pauses for a moment, like she's trying to think. "Uhh, I'm not sure. Maybe about...you and Hotch?"

"Subtle," Emily mutters under her breath as your face scrunches into a confused frown. "She just means that you two have seemed kind of off lately, and we were wondering if everything was okay."

You press your lips together, unsure of how to broach this topic, even with some of your closest friends. "It's nothing."

That pulls a frown from both of them, and you sigh, doubling down on your feigned nonchalance. "It's really nothing, guys. I just...can't see him right now."

You turn back to your work and Emily and Penelope share a look, twin realizations clicking in both of their minds. They rush back to Penelope's office, and Emily shuts the door behind them, before they both blurt out something that sounds like: "We all know what's going on here."

"We have to make him jealous," Emily agrees with a nod.

She pulls open her desk drawer and pulls out her address book. "I have just the thing."

***

"I messed up, Haley."

The ground is hard from the chilly December air, and he sits uncomfortably on the familiar granite bench before her grave. There is a bouquet of dried-up flowers leaning against her headstone, and he doesn't have to think too hard to figure out who they're from.

"I'm trying not to," he whispers, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets to warm them up, "but I keep messing up."

A cool breeze wafts over him and the rustle of the nearby trees feels like an acknowledgement. Like she's really listening.

"She hates me," he sighs, his chin dropping to his chest as he shuts his eyes. The wind picks up slightly, and it's like he can hear Haley's voice in his head. She doesn't hate you. She's hurt.

"I know." He runs a gloved hand over his face, the cold sending a small shiver through his body. "It's my fault. I just don't know what to do or how to fix it."

Her reply in his mind is almost immediate.Yes you do.

He shakes his head, feeling like an idiot for talking to himself, even though it's helping him work through his emotions. "I don't. I really don't."

For a few moments, all he can hear is the rustle of tree branches and the low whistle of the wind blowing around the headstones. You have to tell her how you feel.

His chest tightens and he lifts his face, letting the cold air sting his skin, like some kind of penance. "Don't you think I want to? Every time I look at her, I'm terrified it's going to come out, but I can't say it." He takes a deep breath as the words start to flow out. He hasn't said them out loud to anyone, but right here feels like the safest place to let them out. "I love her."

Three simple words and it's like a weight lifts off of his chest. He still doesn't have the answers, but at least he can admit it to himself. "I'm in love with her, Hales. The only person in this world that I love more is Jack."

He can practically see her smile as he glances down at her name etched in stone. Then what's the problem.

"I'm gonna fuck it up. I always do." The words come out before he has a chance to think, almost like they've been sitting on the tip of his tongue for ages. He looks down at the ground again, imagining her sitting in front of him. "I did with you."

This time, his mind doesn't have the answer for him. He's finally in a good place with his son, and with the addition of Seaver to the team, his work load has been marginally cut back, so he doesn't really have an excuse anymore. It's just his fear of losing one of the only good things in his life that keeps holding him back.

But you're already losing her.

It's his own voice berating him this time, instead of Haley's.

You're trying so hard to hold her at arm's length that you haven't even noticed that she has stopped pushing her way in.

The wind rushes over him and he looks at the headstone again, his eyes tracing over Haley's name one more time, before he stands up and walks back down the hill.

***

Dave's annual new year's eve party has always been a fairly large spectacle, but when Aaron leads Jack up his driveway that evening, the sheer number of (expensive) cars lined up outside is nearly staggering.

He knew it wouldn't just be the team here tonight, but he wasn't expecting the sheer scale of the party, especially while his mind has been so pre-occupied with the prospect of seeing you outside of work for the first time in weeks.

The front door is unlocked when they reach the top of the porch, so he carefully pushes it open and leads Jack inside. He's only an hour late, but the hallways are already crowded with groups milling around, having loud conversations with a drink in their hand.

He doesn't recognize anyone until he gets to the kitchen, where he sees the rest of the team (minus Dave) chatting around a small snack table.

"Y/N!" Jack shrieks when he sees you, letting go of his hand immediately and running forward. You turn at the sound of his voice, and your face breaks out into a wide smile as the boy barrels over and throws his arms around you.

"Jack-o-lantern!" you gush, lifting him up and hugging him, your eyes falling shut as you squeeze the boy tightly.

Any onlooker can tell that his son loves you. For a while after Haley's death, Jack was closed off to every female figure in his life - even Jess - but he never shied away from you.

I love you, a voice in the back of his mind whispers as you set Jack down and press a kiss to the top of his head. I love you I love you I love you.

After Dave returned from the back patio and whisked away Aaron and Jack to meet some of his other friends, you loitered around the kitchen for a while, chatting with Derek and Spencer about their resolutions for the new year.

You're refilling your glass with some diluted punch when JJ and Emily sneak up behind you with matching mischievous expressions.

"What did you guys do?" you ask, gulping back some punch in preparation for whatever they're about to spring on you.

"There's someone we want you to meet," Emily grins as she reaches forward to loop her arm through yours.

"Oh, no way," you say, already shaking your head before they can elaborate. "You are not setting me up with some random bureau guy again."

"That was only one time," JJ pouts, before beckoning to the hallway across from the kitchen. You glance over her shoulder and spot Will standing with a man you've never seen before. "I had Will bring one of his single friends tonight. He's an architect, and he's super smart and super cute. Totally your type."

You raise an eyebrow as you inspect the man from across the room. He's definitely easy on the eyes, but he's also not your type. There's only one man who fits into that box.

"I don't know," you sigh, setting your glass down on the table behind you. "It's very sudden."

"C'mon," Emily urges, her eyes glinting with amusement. "It'll be good. Just talk and flirt a little, and if you're into it then you have a new year's kiss locked up!"

Kissing someone you just met in front of all of your colleagues sounds like nightmare fuel, but you can't think of another way to get your friends off your back. "Okay, fine, I'll meet him."

After leaving Jack with Henry and the other children, he heads back into the main section of the house, hoping to run into you. He doesn't know what he would say if he does, but anything is better than the avoidance game you've been playing.

He sees Penelope and JJ first, but you're not with them, so he continues forward, deftly stepping around throngs of people conversing in little pockets around the house.

"Hotch, over here!"

He whips around to find Derek, Will, and Dave waving him over to join them in the kitchen. He grabs a piece of cheese off a platter on his way over, and Derek pats him on the back when he reaches the three of them.

They return to their prior topic of conversation, and he tunes them out as his eyes dart around the room, still looking for you. He's about to give up when he spots the familiar hue of your hair down the hall. His lips curve up in a small smile as he watches you lean your head back with a big laugh that he swears he can hear even from all the way over here. He's about to excuse himself from the guys when a hand reaches out to gently touch your forearm, and you don't shake it off.

It's only then that he notices the man you're talking to, and how enamored he looks as you burst into another bout of laughter. Something that feels like ice settles in the pit of his stomach and he turns back to the guys just as they notice what he's been looking at.

"They seem to be hitting it off," Will grins, crossing his arms over his chest. "My friend's a good guy, and he mentioned wanting to meet her after they crossed paths at one of me and JJ's dinner parties."

He notices Dave glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but he can't bear to look at the older man, for fear that he'll give something away. Aaron feels the nauseating pit of jealousy in his stomach, but it's not fair. He pushed you away.

He turns away from you and tries to focus on literally anything else, but it's not long before he's unable to fight the urge to look at you from his spot in the kitchen. You can't see him watching you, and it gives him the obscurity he needs to observe you from afar, but it also makes it much more conspicuous to his friends.

You don't leave the company of Will's friend until much later in the night, and soon it's almost midnight. The countdown starts as everyone in the house lifts their glasses and latches onto their significant others.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

He's turning before he knows what he's doing. He can't help it, it's almost magnetic, the pull you have on him.

You're not looking at him, and he can only see your side profile as you glance up at the clock as it ticks down.

"Five, four, three, two..."

He turns away at the last second, unable to stomach the thought of you kissing someone else, but when the crowd erupts into cheers, he looks back to find that you're gone. His heart rates spikes and he pushes through people, ignoring the pats on his back as people wish him a "Happy new year".

He eventually spots you through the back windows, and he steps out into the frigid air to accompany you on the back porch steps. You're sitting on the top step, your bare arms wrapped around your body for some semblance of warmth, and for a moment, he can't move.

He can't decide if he should go to you or let you have the space you so clearly wanted, but then a voice in the back of his skull yells at him through all the noise. She's your best friend in the world. A few months ago, the answer would have been obvious.

A switch flips and he steps forward, sliding off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. You let out a soft sigh as he sinks down next to you, and he watches as your eyes glisten in the lamplight.

You don't look at him as you press your elbows into your knees and rub a hand over your neck. "How did this get so fucked up?"

He sighs too, a heavy sound. "I don't know."

He's still looking at you, at the tears in your eyes, when you finally take a deep breath and turn to face him. A tear slips down your cheek and his brain fires off sparks again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He wants to say it so badly, but then the newest factor in all of his confusion jumps back into the forefront. The Pakistan assignment. He has been trying to push it off, but he's getting so much pressure from the brass, and that's just one more thing he's hiding from you.

He breaks your eye contact and you let out a slow breath, almost like you felt him lose his nerve in real time. Without another word, you wipe the tears from your face and stand up, leaving him out in the cold once again.

***

The bureau gives you a week off at the start of the new year, but you can't enjoy any of your alone time. Every second you let your mind wander, your thoughts are invaded by the look on his face as he turned away from you.

You had seen it in his eyes out there, in the freezing cold air as the clock struck midnight. At least a small part of him felt for you the same way you felt for him. But it's not enough.

You've been alone for so many years. When you married Jeff, you were done. You didn't think you'd have to ever feel this kind of heartbreak again, but now that you feel that kind of love again, you refuse to settle for anything less than what you deserve. And what you deserve is someone who can show you how he feels.

Nevertheless, you can't control your subconscious.

That's why you're laying in bed at the end of the week, staring at your nightlight across the room and somehow managing to simultaneously miss him and hate him. It's well past midnight and you can't sleep, but you don't want to give in to the urge that's been tugging at your gut all night.

You're so angry with him, but he's also the only person you want to talk to when you're feeling anything you can't explain. It only takes another minute before you're giving in and snatching your phone off your bedside table.

It rings for a long time before he finally answers.

He whispers your name softly, his voice gravelly as though he just woke up. He sounds confused, but it has to mean something that he answered his phone at this hour.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks, his voice still a bit gruff from the tiredness. "What's wrong?"

I miss you, you want to say. Instead, you panic and ask the first question that pops into your head: "Why do you think The Beatles broke up?"

The line goes silent for a moment before he sighs quietly. "Everyone blames Yoko but you know I think they just stopped working well together creatively."

"It was probably Lennon deciding to leave the band," you say, unsure where you're going with this. "Yeah, that makes the most sense."

"Maybe," he says, his voice a low hum.

There's no tinge of impatience or irritation in his tone, but you still feel awful for waking him up in the early hours of the morning to chat about a band.

You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what you're about to say, but the breath catches in your throat as a small sob escapes. "I'm so mad at you."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, before Aaron exhales sharply. "I know."

Your resolve fades almost immediately and you sink back into your pillows. "I'm not mad at you." He quietly huffs out a laugh, but you can tell his heart isn't in it. "I'm hurt, and yeah, I'm kind of mad at you, but the only person I want to talk to is you."

You can hear his breath stutter over the speaker, and he rears up to say something, before thinking better of it. "It's late, Y/N. You should go to bed."

"Yeah," you say eventually, rubbing tears of frustration from your eyes. "I'm sorry, yeah."

"No," he says quickly, his voice hurried as though he's afraid you'll hang up. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you called."

Your heart flutters pathetically. "Okay."

"Why were you up anyway?" he asks after a moment.

You shrug, even though he can't see you, wiping away the last remnants of your tears. "Couldn't sleep."

Something that sounds like a quiet chuckle floats into your ears. "Try turning off that massive nightlight."

Your eyes widen and you inadvertently glance over at the beacon of light plugged in across the room. "What nightlight?"

He hums again. "Goodnight, Y/N." I love you.

"Goodnight, Aaron." I love you too.

***

It started when Emily arrived late to the briefing. She was never late, so that itself was enough to set off your alarms, but then you noticed her fingers. She's biting her nails again.

Aaron finishes briefing you all about the two families murdered in house fires in the DC area, before you disperse and head back to your desks to read up about the evidence.

When you drop your bag down and sink into your chair, you don't miss how Spencer visibly flinches in his seat, his eyes twitching with exhaustion.

"Sorry, Spence," you say earnestly, turning to him with an anxious look. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answers quickly, his eyes darting back down to the case file. "I'm... I'm...I'm sure these victims overlap somehow. Garcia pulled their phone numbers, but so far I can't find anything."

You've been working with him long enough to notice when he's deflecting, especially when he's doing such a bad job of it. "Spencer, you just jumped."

He takes a deep breath and you're suddenly grateful that his shorter haircut allows you to get a better view of his expression, even with his head down. "I've been having these really intense headaches lately." "Have you seen a doctor?" you ask, sliding your chair in to get a better look at him. "Yeah, a few. None of them have been able to figure it out." "I'm sorry," you say genuinely as guilt and shame flood your veins. You've been so preoccupied with your own drama that you haven't been paying any attention to your friends. First Emily, and now Spencer. "Does anyone know?"

His lips press into an adorable line. "You." "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, your eyebrows scrunching down. "I'm glad you're telling me now." "I know," he nods. "I just didn't want you to worry."

"I won't make a big deal out of it," you tell him, your lips curving up in a playful smile, "if that's what you were worried about."

"Thanks," he mutters, but you can tell his heart isn't really in it.

It's been so long since you sat down and caught up with your teammates, and given how weird Emily has been acting, you figure it's about time.

"Have you noticed anything off with Emily?"

It's Penelope who comes to you first about the change in your teammate's disposition. You had clocked the small jab Emily had thrown at her after the briefing, but didn't want to intrude in case it was personal. You're starting to realize it might be a lot more personal than you originally thought.

"I have," you say simply, glancing back at her across the bullpen. Her head is down and her shoulders are hunched forward as she quickly types something out on her phone.

She waits for another moment before jolting upright and standing up. Before either of you can get a chance to ask what's wrong, she is jetting off to the bathroom.

"I got this one," you tell Penelope before strutting off to follow her.

She's looking at her phone again when the bathroom door shuts behind you, and you approach her slowly so as not to spook her. "Hey, I just wanted to check up on you. You sped out of there."

"I'm fine," she says, trying to brush away your worry with a wave of her hand.

You frown, taking a step forward. "Are you sure? I noticed you've been biting your-"

"Don't profile me, Y/N," she snaps, her head turning to level you with a glare that would have scared the shit out of you if you didn't know her so well. It doesn't last long though, and before you can get another word out, she's already apologizing. "I'm sorry. I-I'm gonna be alright. I promise. I'm just having this nightmare."

She details her dream to you, and the profiler in you can't help but relate it to her own lack of trust, but then she looks at you with a genuine smile and you just have to smile back.

"Somehow, you.." she pauses for a beat. "You always make me feel better. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."

Her words feel so final, like she's saying goodbye, and a bolt of terror shoots through you before you decide you're being dramatic.

She's your friend. She's gonna be alright.

Emily's gone. She slipped out during Aaron's multi-agency task force briefing, and none of you noticed.

How could you not have noticed?

You're kicking yourself as Spencer pulls out a sheet of paper from one of Emily's contacts, with a list of undercover names all with the initials L.R.

"Prentiss is the last name on the list," Rossi deduces as you mentally check back into the conversation. Your eyes scan the board with the name 'Lauren Reynolds' written at the top. "That means she's on Doyle's list too."

"Guys," Aaron calls out from Emily's desk, holding up her things in his hands, "she left her badge and gun."

"Why would she do that?" Penelope asks, her voice small like a child's. "We're her family."

That's when you finally find your voice. "She ran to protect us." You turn to Aaron then, your eyes flashing over his like it's the first time you've ever really looked at him. "How do we find her?"

"We need to profile their behavior," he instructs, moving to the front board. "Doyle is our unsub and Prentiss is our victim. We treat it like any other case."

There's the small sound of a door opening and Aaron looks up, beckoning his chin to the back. "Because terrorism isn't an area we specialize in, I've reached out to an expert from the State Department...someone who can also shed light on Prentiss' past."

You whip around to the sight of a familiar head of blonde hair walking into the briefing room. The tension in your shoulders abates for a split second as gratitude cascades over you. God, you missed her.

JJ saunters forward and nods at each of you, her expression already rigid with concentration. "Let's get to work."

Profiling Emily takes you all to Boston, where the evidence from the previous victims adds up to the conclusion that Doyle is a family annihilator. When you also find out that he has a secret son, you and Derek lead the team to the warehouse where the son was last taken, in the hopes that Emily would have made the same connection.

The sound of a loud crash sends you running, but Derek is faster and he gets there before you. You enter the back room to find Emily bleeding out on the floor, a large wooden post stuck through her abdomen.

"I got her!" he yells into his comms before pressing his hands onto her wound. "Prentiss. It's me, I'm right here."

She mumbles something that sounds like his name and your chest floods with relief. You step out of the room to call for a medic, but when you get back, she isn't moving.

"Emily!" Derek yells as you sink to your knees beside him. Your pants are wet with her blood, and it feels like ice against your skin. How can there be so much blood in the human body?

"Come on," he pleads, tightening his grip on her hand. "Stay with me!"

"Emily, please," you whisper, your throat hoarse from the unshed tears. You press your fingers to her pulse. "Please."

The medics come eventually, and she is taken to the hospital, where the whole team is holed up in the waiting room. Spencer hasn't stopped pacing since she was taken into surgery and you can't seem to take your face out of your hands, even as people press comforting pats on your shoulders.

You don't notice anything going on around you until JJ comes back from speaking with the doctor with tears in her eyes. No, oh god no.

You barely register her words as she whispers, "She never made it off the table."

It's only then that you stand up. You're not sure what you're planning to do, but as soon as you try to move, your legs start shaking, like you're slipping in quicksand. Aaron steps towards you just as your body gives out and you collapse onto him, quiet sobs bubbling out of your throat.

"She was just here," you cry into his chest while you clutch his shirt as though your life depends on it. "How can she be gone?"

His hands rub comforting circles into your back as his arms tighten around you, keeping you upright, and you can't help but imagine that this picture looks vaguely reminiscent of his home last year when you held him up as he broke down.

Emily's gone.

You can't even remember why you were so angry with him before. Everything outside of this moment feels so trivial, like you've been wasting so much time. You need him now, and you're so thankful he's here to hold you up even though his pain is just as big as yours.

Aaron wraps himself tighter around you, fighting the tears that are rushing forward, because they just aren't fair. His whole team is falling apart in front of him, and he's one of two people here who knows the truth.

You choke out another sob and he tugs you upward, helping you stand again as you wipe the tears from your face. Out of the corner of his periphery, he sees JJ pull Spencer into a hug, and she meets his eye over the younger agent's shoulder. So much pain.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you ask suddenly, your voice so small he's sure he's the only person who can hear you. "How are we supposed to keep going?"

The familiar echoing emptiness of guilt swallows him whole and he sucks in a sharp breath in a futile effort to keep himself from drowning. Your glistening eyes are so wide with despair, and he pulls you back into his arms, mostly for comfort, but also because he can't stand to see you in pain for much longer. When he finally finds his voice, all that comes out is, "I don't know."

***

You can barely remember the funeral.

When you try to think about it, there are flashes of white gloves and red roses and rough, brown dirt, but the only thing that really sticks out is the pressure of Aaron's hand over yours as you stood in front of her casket while they lowered her into the ground.

So many funerals, so many gravestones. The eery familiarity that has made you numb to the loss, even as it threatens to tear you apart each time you let yourself think about her.

It has become a regular passage in the story of your life: meet someone new, learn to love again, and then lose them.

Tears prick your eyes as you settle into the stiff wooden chair in your kitchen. The team has been organizing impromptu get-togethers all month, mostly at the last minute and usually late at night. That's when the loneliness hits the hardest.

You figure you should be used to it by now. Deep down, you know it's not something anyone ever gets used to, but believing that the pain will abate is easier than realizing it'll always be there, buried in your bones.

The pain of your mother's death is still a phantom bruise under your skin, always there, but never at the forefront until you press hard enough. Losing Jeff was a whole other monster, hiding under your bed and within the confines of your mind, ready to pounce the moment you closed your eyes. Haley, on the other hand, was a fresh wound; sometimes, you still aren't sure that the gash has fully closed, but with time it has gotten easier to pretend that things aren't awful all the time.

You wipe a loose tear from your cheek as you check your phone messages and tidy up some of the plates from your table. Aaron came over last night, and you both sat in silence for a long time, until a photo of Emily on your computer brought you to tears again. He held you for hours as you shook in his arms, trying to keep yourself together, but ultimately failing.

The silver lining of his renewed presence in your life doesn't feel as sweet as it should, given the circumstances, but you'll take any win you can get. If nothing else, you missed the feel of his arms around you.

You flinch as the dishes clink together loudly when you set them in the sink, and you watch the water dribble from the faucet for a long time, pretending that all you see isn't her blood.

***

He doesn't know what to do. He wants to be there for you more than anything else in this world, but seeing you break down is like being stabbed all over again, only this time it's his own fault.

When you called last night, he couldn't stay away. He misses you like he's missing a limb, and even if he wanted to stop himself from seeing you, he knows he couldn't. Your grief has brought you back to him, but it feels wretched, even as he shoves aside his guilt for an evening to comfort you at this low.

He had lost count of the number of work-related things he had kept from Haley when they were married, but he always had the excuse that she didn't need to know. That her life would be better without the knowledge of all the horrors that circled them everyday.

He doesn't have the same excuse with you. You are well-acquainted with the tragedies that life brings, and if it was up to him, he would spill every secret he has ever hidden, because he loves you, and you're one of the last people in this world who still trusts him, and he's so scared that after this, he'll lose that too.

But he keeps his mouth shut. And when Garcia invites him to a get-together at your place, he politely declines, because if he knows you all have each other, then he can take one night off from the debilitating guilt he somehow still hasn't learned to shoulder after all these years.

***

"Come on in."

Spencer, Derek, and Penelope shuffle into your house, handing you bottles of wine and bags of assorted snacks, before plopping down on your couch and making themselves at home. They've been over so many times in the last few weeks that you figure it basically is their second home at this point, not that you mind.

None of you want to be alone, and that's why it works.

"What are we watching tonight?" Derek asks, his voice nonchalant, like it's just another movie night with your colleagues. He always starts the night acting like everything's fine, and it really irked you the first time he came over, until you realized it was a front that he just needed time to shed. "Didn't you say last time that you have the original Jaws DVD?"

"What if we watched The Empire Strike Back?" Spencer asks timidly from under a slew of blankets that Penelope has covered both of them with. His nightly ritual involves suggesting one of his favorite movies, even though it always gets immediately shot down.

Derek chuffs, snagging some of the blanket from off your lap. "Maybe another night, kid."

"I don't care what we watch," Penelope sighs as she pulls open a bag of popcorn and chucks a handful into her mouth, "as long as it isn't sad." That's her only request. Nothing sad, please. Your nightly ritual is like a practiced dance. Each of you playing your parts, reciting your lines the same way, keeping it familiar. Establishing a routine.

You stand up, taking your cue, and grab a random DVD from your cabinet. Ten minutes later, you're all watching The Empire Strikes Back, and Spencer cracks something that looks like a smile for the first time since before the funeral.

You watch the movie in silence, and when the credits roll, you watch the names scroll over the screen as you muster up the energy to find the remote. When you finally click the TV off, the silence feels suffocating, and you hear Penelope sniffle from next to you.

Throwing your arm around her shoulder, you all squish yourselves together, like the pressure will keep the emotions in.

After a long pause, Spencer is the first to speak. "It'll get better, right?"

"It has to," Derek sighs, his chin falling to his chest as he takes in a deep breath. You know him well enough to be able to translate his exasperation into anguish, even as he tries to hide it.

"It will get better." You glance around the couch at your friends - the people who have been here for you through all of it - and nod your head, choosing this moment to really believe it. "It will."

***

It doesn't.

A week later, you are storming into Aaron's apartment after he dropped Jack off to stay with Jess, your words already pouring out even before he can shut the door behind you.

"How could you take the assignment?"

Your tone is laced with malice, but he can still hear the hurt underneath.

"How could you leave us here after everything that happened?"

This time the pain is clearer. Your voice breaks at the end and he steps forward to do something, but you twist your body away.

His hands fall hopelessly back to his sides and he doesn't know how to explain this to you, when he can't even explain it to himself.

"Strauss left your brief in the conference room." Your words are stronger now, and he looks up, his eyes squinting with anticipation. "You've known about this since before the new year."

You're right. He's known about the prospect of this assignment for almost a year, and then after, when it became a real possibility, he still chose not to tell you. Maybe before, he had the excuse that you weren't speaking to him, but after Emily...he doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?" you ask, the anguish coming forward in full force. "We need you here. Jack needs you. I need you."

He needs you too. But he also needs to stop hurting you. And he can't see that happening while he's still here.

"I'm sorry," he whispers softly. I love you, I'm sorry.

You let out a sigh and your shoulders fall, like you've lost all of the fight within you. You look so defeated, and it feels worse than when you were yelling at him.

You're right here, but you feel so far away, like he's looking at you through tinted glass.

"Fine," you say after a beat. "Call me when you're leaving."

Your shoulder brushes his as you whip past him, and he doesn't muster up the courage to speak again until you're already gone.

***

The call comes soon. Too soon.

You meet him at his apartment, and Jack immediately gives you a hug before latching himself back onto his father. You don't know what Aaron told him, given how you don't even know how long he's going to be gone, but you can't imagine it was helpful to a six year old boy who only understands that his father is leaving for a long time.

"I called Jess to pick him up," Aaron explains in a hushed whisper as Jack runs out to get his shoes, "but she's busy until the afternoon."

"That's okay," you say, crossing your arms in front of you. It's a defensive maneuver that's about all you can muster up right now. "I can drop him off at her house after we get you out of here."

You try to say it lightly, but your tone sharpens at the end, making him flinch. You sigh, an apology in itself, because you're trying so hard to be supportive. You know you're mad at him - no matter how hard you try not to be - but this isn't the time to show your anger.

Jack comes back into the living room, and you usher the young boy out the door as Aaron lugs his duffel bags behind you and out to the car. The drive is mostly silent, and Jack doesn't say a word until you help him out of his carseat and onto the tarmac at the base.

"I'm gonna miss you, Daddy," he whispers, his little hands reaching up to grab his father's hand. "Come home soon."

Aaron picks him up and squeezes him in a big hug, before setting him back down on the ground. He looks at you then and you shrug, pressing your lips together. "What he said."

"I don't know how long this is going to take," he says, mostly directing his words at Jack, even though he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Probably a few months though."

A few months. That shouldn't feel as long as it does.

"Bye buddy," he says then, kneeling down to hug his son again. "Go sit in Y/N's car so I can talk to her about some grown up stuff for a minute."

Jack bounces back to where your car is parked, and you watch him get in before turning back to look at Aaron. There's a resoluteness in his expression that shouldn't surprise you, given how driven he is by his sense of duty, but it still catches you off guard.

"You'll be okay there?" you ask, needing to get that out of the way before the rest of it.

He nods, before inching his hand forward to brush against yours. It's a small gesture, but you're not ready yet.

"I'm still angry," you whisper, pulling your hand back slightly. "I don't want to be, because you're leaving, and I want you to have a clear head out there, but I can't help it."

"It's okay," he says softly, his brow furrowing.

"No," you sigh, shaking your head. Your throat is thickening with the threat of tears and you don't want to cry in front of him now either, but there are too many emotions swirling around your brain to keep any of them straight. "I'm not really mad, okay. I know you're trying to do the right thing, but she's gone, and the team is not okay right now, and I need to find a way to handle it on my own."

I can't do it by myself, you want to say. I'm in love with you and you're making it seem so easy to leave me here to shoulder the burden of everyone's grief.

"I'm sorry," he says again, his voice softer this time.

You're so much better than me, he thinks as he watches you stand so stoically before him. I love you and I can't bear to see you in pain when I'm part of the reason why.

"It's okay," you repeat after a beat. Then you reach forward and take his hand, like he tried to do earlier. His hand is warm and calloused, and it feels rough against your palm, but it grounds you, tethering you to this moment. "I'll see you when you get back."

He nods, before pulling you forward gently into a hug. Your chin tilts up to sit on his shoulder and he squeezes you to him once before letting you go.

When he lifts his bags and walks toward the loading ramp, Jack leaps out of the car and grabs your hand as you both wave goodbye.

He flashes you both one last smile before waving back and disappearing into the plane.

***

The first month is the easiest. You let the futile anger take over; let yourself pretend that you don't actually miss him.

Seeing Jack and Jess makes it less painful, and you slowly find yourself spending more time with them than at home. Jess tries to spend time with Jack at Aaron's apartment to help him maintain a stable environment, but with his father gone, it doesn't help you notice the absence less.

"He's not eating as much," Jess mentions to you one night after she puts him to bed and joins you out in the living room. At first, being at his place without him felt intrusive, but you've gotten used to being there. "He was picking at his food all through dinner."

"I noticed that," you agree as you pat the spot beside you on the couch. "I'm sure it's just a picky eating phase. Once he settles back into a routine with you it should be fine."

"With us," she corrects with a small smile. "I need all the help I can get, and I really appreciate you being here so often."

"Oh, honey, of course." You give her forearm a squeeze before grabbing both of your empty glasses from the table and taking them to the sink. "I was worried I was becoming more of a burden on you by being here so much, but I'm glad it's welcome company."

"Always," she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. You set the glasses down and turn back to see her staring at the tiny picture frame of her and Haley on her counter. "She always made it look so easy."

You nod, not wanting to interrupt her moment. After a beat, Jess releases a heavy sigh and shakes her head. "She was the perfect mother. If I can be half as good of a caretaker for Jack as she was, I'll know I'm doing something right."

You smile unconsciously, remembering a moment from years ago. "I swear Aaron said the exact same thing once. He was upset about leaving work late again when they first had Jack, and I had to assure him that he wouldn't miss every childhood milestone just because he had to work late once in a while."

He was so terrified of being anything like his father. You tried your best to show him how impossible that was, but those are the kinds of things people have to learn on their own.

Jess looks down, deep in thought, and your phone chimes then with a new message. It's from Derek: Hotch sat phone call, 15 mins

"Jess," you whisper, getting her attention again. "Aaron is scheduled to call us over the satellite phone in a little bit. I'm gonna go into the office to see if I can talk to him. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

She thinks for a moment before shaking her head. "Just that Jack and I are doing well. And we miss him."

You nod and press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing your coat and driving over to the field office. The sky is dark by the time you arrive, and it feels foreign to walk into an empty bullpen. The team has shrunk so much since he left, and lately it's just been you, Spencer, Derek, Rossi, and Penelope around here.

You knock on Aaron's office door once before stepping inside.

"Sounds good," Derek is saying as you shut the door behind you. "Yeah, keep us updated." He sees you then and beckons you closer before turning back to the phone. "Y/N's here. I'll hand it to her."

You take the phone from him and tentatively press it to your ear. There's a slight buzzing sound and when he says "Hello?", his voice sounds far away.

"Hi," you say softly, turning your back to Derek for some semblance of privacy, but he has already pulled out his phone and started typing something. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," he says, sounding slightly distracted. "It's really busy over here. How are yo- you all doing? Jack and Jessica?"

"They're good," you tell him, hoping he can't hear the tightness in your voice over hearing his for the first time in weeks. "They really miss you. We all do."

"I miss you guys too."

You hear some muffled voices on the other end of the line, and you jump in with your questions before he gets called away. "Any updates I can ask about? Like when you'll be done."

"Not right now," he says with a sigh. "It's still need-to-know."

"Right," you whisper rigidly, even though it's not fair. He's trying his best, and he's doing what's right, but you keep punishing him. Because of your own feelings, your brain adds at the end.

"It's protocol," he says, even though you're both well aware of how this works.

"I know," you sigh, your fingers gripping the phone tightly. "I have to go back to Jess's."

"Y/N, wait-" he starts, but you are already handing the phone back to Derek.

He takes it uncertainly, but you just shake your head and exit the office.

***

"Did you watch the other movie I gave you?"

You whip your head around to look at Spencer, who is looking at you intently. You had been staring at Aaron's office door for the better part of the last hour.

You frown apologetically. "Not yet, Spence." He had loaned you his DVD of one of his favorite Star Wars movies, and each time you tried watching it, you were just reminded of the immediate aftermath of losing Emily. "I'll find time soon, though."

"That's okay," he shrugs as you inadvertently glance up at the door again. "I know it isn't everyone's thing. I just thought you seemed to enjoy the one we watched at the movie night."

"I did," you assure him, reaching out to pat his hand. "I promise I just haven't found time yet."

He smiles at you, and you return it before your eyes dart up to Aaron's office door at the sight of movement. A small, unrealistic part of you expects Aaron to emerge, but it's Derek instead. Derek took over his office a month after he left to Pakistan, because the secure line was already set up.

"He has a lot on his plate these days," Spencer says, drawing your attention back. He's watching Derek speak to someone at the top of the stairs, his forehead crinkled with stress.

"We're down quite a few hands," you nod, pursing your lips. "Maybe we can convince Derek to bring JJ back permanently."

Spencer lights up and you can't help but grin too. "We definitely should."

***

The cases start piling up, and you welcome the distraction as the passing months begin to weigh on you. The whole team has been under a lot of pressure from the brass, and Strauss has been hinting at a prolonged assignment in Pakistan that may take up even more of his time.

After a particularly grisly case, you invite Penelope over to unwind with some wine and chatting. It doesn't escape your notice that you're missing half of your usual girls' night attendees, but you keep the wine flowing, and soon you aren't focusing on anything other than the new guy Penelope met at her grocery store.

"He's so sweet," she gushes as she leans over the table to grab another chip. You're both sitting on the floor of your living room, and you reach out hastily to steady her glass as it gets precariously close to spilling over. "And I think it says a lot that he shops at such a high quality grocery store."

"Oh, absolutely," you nod, lifting your own glass in a mock salute. "You can tell a lot about a man by how he eats."

"Tell me about it," she sighs, her words starting to slur. Maybe opening the second bottle was too much. "I once dated a guy who only ate protein bars and steak."

Your face twists in disgust, and you set your glass down, feeling the rush of tipsiness hit you. "That's definitely not a balanced diet."

"I tried to tell him," Penelope says, before her face falls into a sad frown. "I really tried."

"Okay, okay," you say, trying to change the subject as her eyes fill with drunk tears. "Back to the grocery store man."

Her face breaks into a wide smile comically fast and you let out a high laugh. "He's so sweet. He really is just the sweetest guy."

"So I've heard," you grin, taking another sip of wine.

Turns out your last glass was one too many, because an hour later, after sending Penelope off in a cab and clearing away your dishes, you're still feeling the buzz from earlier.

Your face feels comfortably warm and you grab your phone from the counter, with the intention to call Emily, when you suddenly remember-

Your smile falls in an instant and tears are rushing forward before you can clearly form a coherent thought. You drop the phone and rush upstairs to take a hot shower to wind down and calm yourself, but even as the burning water washes over you, you still feel wound tight, like your emotions are trapped inside of you.

She was the first person you would always call after a tipsy night, and now she's gone.

Everybody's gone.

JJ, Emily, Aaron. Aaron.

A sob chokes out and you press your hand over your mouth, your body caving forward under the billowing steam fogging up the glass. You miss him so much, it's like you're not even yourself anymore.

You let out another soft sob as the water begins to calm you down, but you can still feel the echoing hollowness inside of you. You wish he was here, holding you, telling you it would all be okay. That you didn't ruin everything by pushing too hard, too fast. That you love him and he loves you, and it can all be perfect again.

"It'll be okay," his voice whispers from behind you, and suddenly he's there. Not really, but with your eyes closed and your mind still foggy, it almost feels real. "I'm sorry I left. I should've been here."

"You should be," you gasp out as his arms close around you from behind, holding you tightly under the soothing warmth of the water. "You left me."

"I know," he says, his breath tingling the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I'll never leave again. I promise."

"You promise," you whisper, mostly to yourself, as you turn around. His lips glide over your shoulder and up your neck, and suddenly his mouth is on yours.

You gasp as his hands slide down your body, his fingers gently caressing the sides of your breasts as he makes his way to your waist. His lips are so soft against yours and when his tongue runs along the seam of your mouth, you moan loudly, letting him swallow up the sounds.

He feels so real under your hands as you trace the jagged scars along his abdomen, and when his tongue glides down your-

You sit up with a gasp, your head pounding with the beginnings of an oncoming wine hangover. Your sheets are messily strewn around you, and your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can't bring yourself to get up. You take a large gulp of water from the glass on your nightstand and check the time: 3:02 AM.

Falling back with a huff, you run a hand over your face and fruitlessly try to sleep through the rest of the night.

***

Summer brings its own set of struggles.

The heat makes each case feel ten times longer than it already is, and with September fast approaching, Jack gets more and more antsy about starting school for the first time.

"He's been shut in his room all day," Jess sighs over the line as you make yourself coffee with your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. "I think he's sad that he's starting school without either of his parents here."

Your heart breaks as you imagine Jack alone in his room, waiting and wishing for his dad to come back in time for his first day of school. Then an idea pops into your head.

"I think I know what to do."

An hour later, you, Jess, and Jack are waiting in line, under the beating sun, to get into the Smithsonian's zoo. Even tho you can already feel the sweat starting to drip down your back, Jack looks downright giddy, so you take the win.

When you finally get inside, he makes a beeline for the monkey exhibits, and you and Jess meander along behind him, chatting about her new side gig.

"I'm starting the part-time job in the fall," she explains as you stop behind Jack at the front of the chimpanzee enclosure. "It works out with the start of the school year, in case Aaron is gone for a while longer."

"That sounds great," you smile, giving her a small side squeeze. "You deserve something to take your mind off of everything too."

She shrugs, ever the neutral party, before looking at you with a smirk. "I hear there are some changes happening at the BAU as well?"

"Right!" you grin, following Jack to the next exhibit. "JJ was helping out temporarily, but she's officially back on the team. She also mentioned to me that she might be considering enrolling in profiler training so she can be a full-time field agent."

"Good for her," Jess smiles. "Lord knows you guys could use some extra manpower right now."

It's right then that your phone chirps with a text from Derek saying that Aaron is calling in again this afternoon. The urge to speak to him for the first time in weeks tugs at your gut, but then you glance over at Jack, who looks happy for the first time in just as long, and before you know it, you're typing back your response: Not today. Busy with Jack.

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you don't have an excuse.

You're at work, scribbling out the last few lines of your latest case report, when Derek tries to call you into his office. You haven't spoken to him in over a month, and he's asked for you each time he called, but still you refuse.

"Y/N, come on," Derek chuffs, running a hand over his face. "You know he wants to talk to you. He's by himself over there."

That's what gets you. By himself. As though you aren't alone too. As though you hadn't been completely fucking alone when, over the weekend, you found a pair of socks Emily must have forgotten at your place months ago, and had a full body breakdown on the floor of our foyer.

Each time you're close to forgetting that he left you here to fend for yourself, it comes back in full force, and right now, you would rather do just about anything other than put on a neutral face and ask him how he's doing over there.

"Next time," you say, hoping the finality comes across in your tone. It must have worked, because although Derek shakes his head disappointedly, he doesn't ask again.

When you go to Aaron's place after work to see Jack, Jess pulls you aside, a worried look on her face.

"We spoke to Aaron yesterday," she explains, her arms crossed over her chest. The bureau set up a secure line for them so she and Jack could speak to him periodically. "He seemed to be doing well."

"That's great," you say with a nod, unsure of why she's updating you when she thinks you spoke to him today. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she says, waving away your concern. "I told him about Jack starting school in a few weeks, and about my new job. Then when I mentioned you - how you've been coming here a lot - he looked really happy that you were involved, but...he sounded off for the rest of the call."

Your shoulders tense up and you try to relax, so as not to give yourself away. "Damn Jess, they should make you a profiler."

She says your name sternly, and you can hear the Haley in her voice. "I'm serious. Have you guys not been speaking?"

"It's okay," you say, shaking your head. "I just need some more time, but I'll talk to him soon."

She twists her lips into a sad frown and you sigh, not knowing what to say, but she beats you to it. "He misses you...and I can tell you miss him."

You don't have an answer that she will want to hear, so you stick with the usual. "I'll talk to him next time."

***

"Do I have to go?"

Jack's bottom lip juts out in a sad pout as you adjust the straps of his little backpack on his shoulders.

"It's your first day of school, bud!" Jess is trying to sound excited, but you can hear the sadness in her voice too, now that she won't have Jack all hours of the day anymore. "It's an exciting time!"

"You got this, baby," you smile, pressing a loud kiss to the top of his head. "Your dad is so proud of you."

"Your mom would be too," Jess adds with a sad smile. "Now go on in, Jack. I'll be right here waiting for you when the last bell rings."

He considers this for a moment, before nodding. Then he looks at you. "What about you?"

"I have to work," you say softly, matching his pout and making him let out a small giggle. "But you can tell me all about your first day when I see you this weekend, okay?"

"Okay," he nods, before grabbing the straps of his backpack and marching toward the front door.

"There he goes," Jess says wistfully, linking her arm through yours.

You let out a small sigh before shooting her a smile. You love him so much, and you're so glad you get to be here as he grows up, but you're so sad that Haley is gone and he's missing out on this moment. "They grow up so fast."

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you're talking to Dave in his office about his latest cabin trip. He is filling you in on the species of fish that live in the lake behind his place when Derek walks in with the notification that Aaron is on the other end of the line in his office.

Dave nods, saying he'll speak with him at the end, and Derek almost skips over you until you follow him out the door.

"You sure?" he asks as you follow him up the stairs.

You nod, bracing yourself for the guilt as you pick up the sat phone. "Hello?"

"Morgan?" Aaron asks, his voice confused over the line.

"No," you say, shaking your head even though he can't see you. "It's me."

There's a moment of silence before he clears his throat. "Oh, I'm glad you could come in."

You say something that sounds like "of course" and suddenly he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He hasn't heard from you in weeks, and even though he's probably coming home soon, he's so happy to hear your voice he could cry.

"Jess said you were there for Jack's first day," he says slowly, trying to find his voice. "Thank you for doing that. I know it's a lot before coming into work."

"It's not," you say genuinely, momentarily alleviating all of the anxiety he has been having around missing everything in his son's life. "He's the perfect kid. I'm lucky to be a part of his life."

He closes his eyes, wishing with every fiber of his being that he was there with you right now, and not thousands of miles away. "Thank you."

"Any time."

There's silence for a few moments before your breath stutters. "Do you know when you're coming back?"

His heart cracks at the soft sadness in your voice, but he still isn't allowed to share anything that is strictly need-to-know. "I don't."

Your breath catches in your throat and he hears the quiet sob as it breaks over the line. "I miss you, Aaron."

His fingers grip the phone so tightly he's afraid it may shatter in his hands, but there's nothing else tethering him to his life back home. This metal box is the one thing that is keeping him alive out here, and even though he left home so that he could stop lying to you, he's still doing it.

That's why he swallows thickly and says the one thing he knows isn't a lie: "I miss you too."

***

The team got called into the office for an emergency that no one has explained to any of you, and you take a seat in the briefing room as everyone else files in, matching looks of confusion all around you.

"Anyone know what we're doing here?" Dave asks as he leans back in his chair.

You're about to shrug when a figure walks into the room in a dark blue button down and an unfamiliar scruffy beard.

Your eyes widen and your breath leaves your body as you start to stand up, but then he motions for you all to take a seat, so you sink back down. He glances at everyone in the room before his eyes finally land on you. You can't believe he's here. That he knew he was coming back and still didn't tell you.

"What's going on?" Derek asks, breaking your eye contact with a jolt. "Everything all right?" Aaron ignores him. "Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle."

You don't know why he's bringing this up again but then he continues. "The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration."

Your heart falls. No, there's no way. "Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security." Your teammates break their silence at the same time.

"She's alive?"

"But we buried her..."

You're still unable to suck in a big enough breath to regain the ability to speak, but then another figure walks in and you suddenly understand what people mean when they say their heart skips a beat.

"Oh my god," Penelope whispers from behind you as your feet unconsciously carry you forward and toward her. Toward Emily.

You pull her into your arms, relishing the feeling of your friend hugging you back after you thought you would never see her again. Her arms squeeze you tightly and you suck in a shuddering breath, trying to calm down your heart rate.

She's alive. Emily's alive. Aaron's back and Emily's alive.

The thoughts ping pong around your brain, fighting for dominance, but another one buried deeper in your mind floats to the surface, refusing to be ignored.

He lied.

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ssahotstuff · 2 years

Text

Aaron Hotchner Playlist Collection 💕

Push by Matchbox 20 here

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angry Hotch, some cursing, alcohol use. Not smut in this part. That comes in PART 2

Unlike the others in this series, this will have a second part published tomorrow! I’ll tag this part with it so they can be read together when they’re both completed.

“He hates me.”

You had came to the shocking realization during brunch with JJ and Emily. Your Unit Chief despised you, giving you more hell than any one person should ever have to endure. Granted, you were new, much younger, and he was intimidated by your ability to see the things he couldn't. You'd been right one too many times, and he was infuriated by it.

"He doesn't. He's just..." Emily struggled with the words to say to you, because there was no good explanation. Hotch just couldn't stand you.

"He hates me, Em. It's okay. I've come to terms with it," it was an unfortunate circumstance, because you felt the exact opposite. You wanted his attention, you were absolutely smitten with the man who despised you.

"I'm sorry. I wish we could help," JJ tried to cheer you up, because she knew how you felt about Hotch, but it was no use. You were in constant turmoil, because he'd laugh in your face if you told him how you felt.

"It's fine. I'll be okay." You weren't convinced, but you wanted to change the subject. After two years of listening to him be short, rude and disrespectful to you, it had made you debate transferring out of the BAU. He was nice, even friendly with everyone else, but he never had a kind word to say to you.

"At least we don't have to see him for a day or two," Emily said, excited to have a break from work. You dreaded the day you had to go back and hear Hotch jump on you for breathing the wrong way, or taking a little too long to answer his questions. He'd snap at any little thing you did, for no good reason other than the fact that he was in charge and there was nothing you could do about it.

JJ's phone began to ring, which made all of your moods turn sour. It was most like Hotch, calling you all back into work because there was a case.

"Looks like brunch is over, ladies."

✨✨✨

You were in the conference room in half an hour, ready to be briefed like everyone else. Hotch paid you no mind as he went over the details of the case. A local politician was missing, and you all were in charge of finding him.

"Y/n, you and Reid check out the Senator's office. See if there's anything that could give us a clue about his whereabouts and who he might be with," you were breathing a sigh of relief at being paired up with Reid instead of Hotch, because normally, he sent you with him so he could criticize you to the harshest extent about your work.

You stood up, following Reid to the car. Once you were in the drivers seat, he spoke up.

"That was the first time Hotch has sent you with someone other than him. Are you two getting along now?"

You sighed heavily, because nothing had changed.

"No. He still hates me."

Spencer nodded in understanding as you drove in the direction of downtown. The senator's office wasn't a far drive, and Spencer was good company.

"Maybe not. He was nice today."

"You're confusing acting like a human being with being nice. He wasn't being nice. He was getting me out of his way. He sent me with you so I wouldn't get on his nerves," you explained, Spencer's lips pulled in a tight line across his face. You two were the closest in age, so it made sense that you got along well. He was brilliant, always offering his help whenever you needed it.

"Have you considered asking him why he acts like that?"

You pulled into the parking lot, your hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

"And risk his wrath? Absolutely not."

By the time you were cleared to search the Senator's office, you were mentally preoccupied with trying to figure out Hotch's emotions and the reasoning as to why he treated you so badly. You searched absentmindedly as Spencer went through files, the two of you working quietly together. It was a pleasant change from Hotch breathing down your neck, barking orders and demanding your compliance.

"Woah. I've got something, Spence."

It was a box of Polaroids, all different women, in a hotel that you recognized just by the art on the wall. There were names and dates on the back, ranging from 5 years ago to as recent as a week prior.

"This is The Golden Palace, that hotel in the city." You'd been there once before, and it had been impossible to forget. It was on the fancier end of hotels, and one weekend free of the BAU, you'd taken a small vacation there to unwind.

"We should call Hotch."

"Yeah, you do that," you scoffed, because you'd rather let Spencer take credit for the discovery than talk to him on the phone.

Spencer rolled his eyes before dialing Hotch's number, explaining what the two of you had discovered about the Senator. Hotch told you to bring the photos back so they could be processed as evidence and catalogued, so you headed back towards the academy.

"Just tell Hotch you found the box. He'll just question me if he thinks I did anything worth a fuck," Spencer couldn't hide his surprise at your vulgar words as you rode back in silence. You knew even if Hotch knew that you'd figured out where and what the Senator may be doing, he'd never trust your judgement.

"He's been having an affair. There was a box filled with numerous photos of different women, all as early as last week," Spencer told the team as you poured a cup of coffee. You could feel the icy glare of your boss even with your back turned.

"Anything to contribute, Y/L/N?"

"No sir. Dr. Reid covered it all," you said into your mug as you sat down, JJ watching you cautiously. You already knew you were about to catch his fury because he thought you were incompetent.

"Nice work, Reid."

Hotch's sarcastic comment was enough to have your face burning up and your anger towards him grew by the second. You just couldn't win with him. Reid shocked you by speaking out against Hotch.

"I didn't find the box. Y/n did."

Hotch blinked at you, before directing his attention back towards Reid.

"JJ, you and Reid go back to his office and see what details Y/n may have missed. We can't be sure of anything."

Your mouth fell open, because seconds earlier, he'd been convinced Reid had solved the entire case. You looked between JJ and Reid, who could only give you a solemn look in return as they trudged out the door. Hotch pointed his finger at you, narrowing his eyes.

"You're with me. We're going to check the hotel."

You followed him, trying to steady your breathing as you climbed into the SUV. You even went as far as to shut your door as quietly as possible, so you didn't accidentally piss him off.

"For the record, I think you're missing something, but we're going anyway. If anything, it'll just prove you wrong," his eyes never left the road and you tried to disguise the hurt by staring blankly out the window until you'd made it to The Golden Palace. Hotch introduced the two of you to reception before showing them a photo of Roy Marcus, the man you'd been looking for.

"He's in room 212. Is he in trouble?" The receptionist gave you a key card, and you followed Hotch up the stairs without a word. He was angry that you'd been right, and it dripped from his side eyed glances and his body language. He knocked on the door, face to face with the Senator himself. After Hotch explained briefly that his wife was worried when he never came home, and that you'd been looking for him, you were able to call the rest of the team and tell them that he'd been located. The ride back was awkward, completely silent.

"You were right," Reid said as soon as you stepped out of the elevator, putting his hand up for you to fist bump.

"She got lucky. She found clues that a kindergartner could've spotted. That hardly warrants a celebration."

Spencer put his hand down like a scalded dog, his eyes sad as he scanned your face for his reaction.

"What's your problem?"

The words felt like venom spewing from your lips, all of the rage you'd been feeling for months bubbling up to the surface. Emily and JJ simply watched you confront him in silence, Reid backing away the first chance he got.

"Excuse me?"

"You treat me like some sort of idiot. I don't deserve this. I contribute just as much as anyone else in this room," it was more than bold, it was a bullet to your career, and you knew it. There was no way he'd let you continue to work in the BAU.

He turned to meet your face, his eyes dark and menacing. You'd never been afraid of him before, but you were now, trembling as you took a step back. You crossed your arms over your chest as a shield, waiting on the backlash.

"You are replaceable, just like every mediocre human your age who thinks they deserve special treatment."

His words cut through you, but you tried not to let it show. You didn't want special treatment, you just wanted to feel accepted, and Hotch made you feel less than that. He made you feel inferior, like every move you made was the wrong one.

"Special treatment? You don't even treat me like a human being!"

He was in your face faster than you could track his movements, your legs failing you as you tried to back away from him.

His own voice boomed over yours, terror and panic quickly replacing your anger. His finger was in your face as he told you how insignificant you were, how you'd never be a part of his team, no matter how hard you tried.

"Get out of my sight!" He raised his hand to point his finger towards the door, but by the time you realized he was pointing, you'd already misjudged his actions, stumbling backwards as you fell to the floor, your arms up to protect you from Hotch's fist. You hadn't had time to process the rapid beating in your chest, your eyes were shut tight as you prepared for the worst. Seconds later, JJ's hand was grabbing your arm to help you up out of the floor.

"You're okay. Come on, let me help you," your face was hot and wet with tears as JJ helped you to your feet, trying to help you calm down. Hotch's entire demeanor had changed; his face had softened dramatically from his earlier grimace as he watched the exchange. You refused to give him the satisfaction of looking in his eyes.

"I—I'm sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have yelled at you," his hands reached out for you but you flinched away, putting JJ between the two of you before he had an opportunity to come towards you. Your mind was made up, however, because you were done taking his less than decent behavior.

"I quit."

You tossed your badge to the floor and made a beeline for the elevator, Spencer quick on your heels. You pushed the button frantically to separate yourself from the rest of them, wiping your face to try to restore what dignity you had left. You were in the parking garage and speeding away before anyone had a chance to follow you.

✨✨✨

"Another, please," the bartender poured you another shot as you fanned the cigarette smoke coming from all directions. Once you had your drink in tow, you made your way outside to the patio to get some fresh air. The music still played softly as you recapped the events from the day to make sure they'd actually happened. Your phone had rang so much after you left that you'd turned it off, not wanting to deal with anyone from the BAU. You had no doubts that Hotch was livid with the way you spoke to him, calling repeatedly to reprimand you for your actions. Even though you'd quit before you left, you were certain he wasn't finished with you, and the thought of having to deal with confrontation again made you drain your glass.

You were halfway drunk, crying into your hands alone at a bar because your boss's ego was too large to treat you normally. You were an outsider to him, and always would be. Everyone inside seemed to be having a blast, but you stood flat against a wall in the dark, tucked in the corner, jobless and embarrassed. Hotch had not only scared you, but his words had killed your spirit, your drive to make a difference in your field. You never wanted to look at another case file again.

You looked to the sky, as if the answers were hidden dotted amongst the stars, with no such luck. It only had partial clouds and twinkling stars, neither of which did anything for your mood. The moon was a semicircle in the sky, hidden mostly by cloud coverage. You'd been expecting rain all day, because it would pair nicely with your shitty mood. You wondered if Hotch had any sort of conscience, if he felt like he'd made all the right decisions in screaming at you. You tried not to let him ruin your night, but you were hurting.

"Y/n? The bartender told me you were out here," you would recognize JJ's voice anywhere, so you stepped out of the shadows, revealing your tear stained face as she brought you in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now," it was impossible to describe. It was like shame, only worse. He'd tried to degrade you in front of all of your friends.

"I'm so glad I don't have to come back. You know, maybe if he knew I had a crush on him, he'd be a little nicer. Now I just feel like an idiot for liking someone who had no second thoughts about embarrassing me like that," JJ had known about your feelings for a while, but it was an unspoken rule between the two of you that you'd never mention it to anyone else.

"You're really not coming back? Hotch asked me to come talk to you. He doesn't want you leaving," her voice was laced with concern as you shook your head. You'd never work for him again; you weren't sure you'd even be able to stomach being around him any longer than absolutely necessary.

"There's no way, JJ. It's time to step away from the BAU."

✨✨✨

By the time you left the bar, it was well after midnight. You had no sooner walked out the door and Hotch was stepping out of his car, making his way to where you were waiting for a cab. Your anxiety reached new heights as you braced yourself, taking a proactive step back each time he came closer.

"Can we talk?"

"No. You have no authority over me anymore, and I'm drunk, so I probably won't be very nice to you."

You were as hammered as you could get, trying to wash down thoughts of him screaming at you, with little luck.

"You have every reason not to be nice to me. I haven't been very nice to you," he shot back, watching your feet to make sure you didn't take another step backwards. You kept a couple feet of space between the two of you, just in case.

"No shit. Go home, Hotch. Leave me alone," your voice was already quivering, because on any normal occasion, you would've been happy to see him, bad mood and all. The more he rejected you, the harder you'd worked, and the more you tried to win his affection. You'd realized at the bar that you'd never get his approval, so you set your sights on hating him.

"Please, Y/n. Just let me drive you home. You'll never catch a cab this late," the streets were empty, so you weighed your options before following him to his car, keeping a safe distance between you both. He was volatile, and you never knew when he'd erupt.

Once you were in the car, the tension was heavy. His hand lingered on the keys as he took a deep breath and turned to you.

"I don't like the way I made you feel today. You were afraid of me, and despite what you may think, I don't want that."

You couldn't help but laugh at how nice he was being, his actions and words constantly contradicting one another.

"You just want me to hate you? Is that why you treat me like I'm garbage? Seriously, you don't have to explain anything to me. I really just want to go home. You ruined my day, don't ruin the rest of my night too."

You let him sit with the weight of your words as you travelled wordlessly through the city, Hotch coming to a halt in your driveway.

"Would you consider coming back?"

Your hand was already opening the door, and you stepped out without giving him the satisfaction of an answer. He was following you though, right up to your door as you struggled to unlock it.

"Please just go. You made it really clear that your team doesn't need me."

You got the key in the door, but just as quickly, Hotch was closing it, forcing you to talk to him.

"Please let me explain myself. If you don't want to come back, that's fine too, but at least let me apologize to you."

You couldn't hold it in anymore; between the alcohol and your inability to think straight, you unleashed havoc, telling him exactly how you felt.

"You know, when I started at the BAU, I actually liked you! I wanted to be just like you! I couldn't see your shitty behavior because I was too busy trying to get you to like me back. Now I realize that the only person you like is yourself. I cannot believe I wasted my time having a crush on someone like you—someone who would rather rip another person's self esteem to shreds than admit their own faults. Go home, Hotch." You were able to get inside and slam the door behind you with no protests; in fact, things outside were quieter than ever. You watched through the blinds as he went back to his car and drove away.

The next morning, you woke with a hangover like hell. You'd left your car at the bar, so the first order of business was to get a cab to retrieve it. You'd almost forgotten about the horrible events from the day before, showering and brushing your teeth like normal. It was Sunday, so you planned to take it as easy as possible and look for another job.

You turned your phone on and watched the messages flood in, mostly from Hotch. He'd even asked you to grab breakfast together so he could apologize, but you weren't done being angry with him, and you weren't sure if you ever would be.

Your phone was already ringing, buzzing nonstop as you answered it blindly.

"You answered," Hotch sounded relieved to hear your voice, although he was the last person you were expecting to talk to.

"By accident. What do you want?"

"Can we start over? I'll come get you," you were hardly able to comprehend his offer, but you agreed to talk to him over breakfast because you were starving.

"Fine. Let me get dressed."

"You're serious?"

"Unless you've already changed your mind, which wouldn't surprise me," the sarcasm dripped from your words and he chuckled under his breath at you.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He offered no further details, so you pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and waited, rehearsing how your farewell speech to the BAU's fearless leader. You'd give him his turn to talk, but you'd never have to obey his orders again. That was the one thing you were certain of.

By the time he'd arrived, you were pacing nervously, regretting your decision to eat with him as soon as you stepped out the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his navy blue t-shirt clinging to his chest. You cursed yourself for letting yourself admire him, but you just couldn't help it. He was impossible to resist.

He offered a small wave, walking around to the passengers side of his car to open the door for you. He closed it behind you and you held your breath, anxious that he was still mad about the day before.

"Can I apologize now?" His arm rested on the console but you offered him no reply. You simply stared back at him and waited on what he had to say.

"You were really drunk last night," he began, and you rolled your eyes, because nothing that he was saying sounded like an apology.

"But you were more honest than you've ever been. I went home last night and tried to remember at least one good thing I've said to you in the last two years, and I couldn't think of anything."

He'd been too busy yelling at you, but you weren't going to interrupt him.

"My behavior has been unnecessarily difficult for you to deal with. If you still want to quit, I'd understand. But I am sorry for everything I've put you through. I know it means nothing now, but you're an exceptional member of our team, and it would be a shame to lose you."

You couldn't look at him, because if you did, you'd break down. The tears were already welling in your eyes, because you'd felt like a failure for months prior. Hotch never praised you, if anything, he went out of his way to do the opposite. It was weird hearing his guard down, hearing him be nice to you.

"I wish I could believe you. You've done nothing but belittle me since I started. You never wanted me around. You don't listen to anything I say, but when I don't have anything to say, you ostracize me for it and call me incompetent. You really hurt me. I don't think I can work for you anymore."

He was disappointed that you hadn't changed your mind, and it was evident by the way his shoulders slumped over in defeat. He started the car, but chose to stay quiet for the first half of the ride.

"What are you hungry for?"

You shrugged and told him to choose, because you were too busy trying not to cry. You'd waited months on him to be nice to you, and it had taken him scaring you for him to realize he was in the wrong. He pulled into a small diner and climbed out, coming to the passengers side to wait for you.

"I come here all the time," you told him, and he let you choose your favorite booth as he slid in opposite of you, his eyes watching you carefully as you scanned the menu.

"Hey, y/n! Good to see you again," Pat, your favorite waitress already knew your order by heart, she didn't even have to ask.

"Hi Pat. Your hair looks really good," she'd gotten a trim since the last time you'd seen her.

"You're the first person to notice. Thank you," she blushed before she went to grab coffee for the two of you, and when Hotch caught your eye, he was smiling behind his menu.

"Smiling suits you," he sat the menu down, his legs touching yours beneath the table. You pretended not to notice.

"I'll keep that in mind," if things hadn't been so tense, you almost would've enjoyed having breakfast with him. It felt strange, but it was something you could've gotten used to under different circumstances. A year ago, you would've been giddy at the thought of being alone with him. Now, you weren't sure how to feel.

"Will you do me a favor?"

He was definitely in no position to be asking you, but you nodded your head anyway, curious as to what he had to say.

"Spend the day with me, and if you still want to go at the end of the day, I'll write a letter recommending you anywhere you want to go. If you enjoy yourself, even a little bit, you'll stay."

"If I decide to stay, I need a lot more from you than one good day."

Pat was back with your coffee, taking your order before Hotch could answer you. Once she left, he was clarifying for you, so you'd know what to expect if you stayed in the BAU.

"I promise to be a changed man. You won't catch any more hell from me."

It sounded entirely too good to be true, but you took his hand and shook it anyway, because he definitely seemed serious. You were willing to give him a chance to turn things around.

"We'll see. I hope you mean that."

Things were quiet but comfortable as you ate. Occasionally he'd comment on breakfast, or say something just to fill the space, but you were starting to feel like he was really trying to make things better.

"This is nice."

You nodded in agreement, happy to finally be getting along with him. He was showing you the side of him that you'd liked all along; the gentler, more easygoing man that enjoyed simple things, like breakfast dates.

"A lot better than arguing."

✨✨✨

She was smiling.

It was brief, but it happened nonetheless. I let her control the radio as I brought her back to my home. I wanted to spend the day doing what I'd been avoiding all along: getting to know her. I'd never even given her a chance; I saw her peppy spirit and desire to excel and tried my hardest to hate her so she didn't draw me in. She'd done it anyway, and through a series of unfortunate events, it became my duty to make her happy again. I'd felt horrible after our exchange in the office, and even worse after I dropped her off the night before.

She liked me, despite the way I made her feel. I'd shut her out, shot her down and put out her spark before she even had an opportunity to shine. Things were okay now; she agreed to come spend the day with me, so it was a start. All night long I couldn't stop thinking about how she'd said she had a crush on me. I thought she might've just been drunk, until I realized she was just being completely transparent with me because she had nothing else to lose. She'd felt hopeless, and I'd planned to spend the day trying to reverse that.

"We can do whatever you want today," I told her, putting the car in park and shutting off the ignition. I stepped around to help with her door, and pretended not to see her blushing. It was cute; the root of all my shitty behavior had been her unnaturally good looks, and irresistible charm. She was the brightest person in the room, and I knew I was doomed the minute she walked in the door.

"I'm kind of hungover so maybe we could be lazy? I had a lot of tequila," she giggled, following me inside as she scanned the place over.

"Even your house is perfect," she mused, and although it took me a second to absorb what she'd said, my breath got caught in my throat, and my palms went clammy. Even now, she thought I was someone worth caring about, and even though I didn't deserve it, I desperately wanted to know more about how she felt towards me.

"I'm glad you like it. You get full control of the tv," I told her, but instead of taking her to the couch, I figured we'd hang out in my room, and she could get comfortable in my bed.

"You always watch tv in bed?"

"Only if you're here. I never let anyone come in my room, so this is me trusting you."

She made a satisfied hum before she kicked off her shoes and climbed in, leaning against the headboard as she flipped through the channels. I mimicked her actions and tried to keep a bit of space between us so she wasn't uncomfortable.

"Something tells me you don't watch a lot of tv," her eyes never left the screen, the remote still in her hand.

"It just depends. I mostly use it for background noise," I admitted, and she told me she did the same thing.

"Tell me something else," she finally turned to look at me, happily chatting away her morning with me. We talked about everything; I told her that she was the first woman to lay in my bed, and the pink rose to her cheeks, her lips curled up in a smile that was more than contagious. She was just as funny and witty as I knew she'd be if I would've given her a chance to show me.

Before I knew it, my head was propped up on my hand as I listened to her tell me about her family, and why she chose the BAU. It became an exchange of secrets that none of the team knew, just the two of us. It felt intimate and I couldn't shake the thought of having her so close out of my mind. It was all I could focus on as we talked, cozy in my bed. It had been ages since I just hung out with another person, and I'd certainly not spent any time with a woman since my marriage ended. It was an unexpected yet pleasant morning as we learned the things about each other that no one else knew.

"This has been an interesting change," even she couldn't help but have a nice time, despite the way she'd felt when the day started.

"See? I'm not so bad," she teased, and I'd known all along what a good person she'd be, I was just afraid of letting her in, so I kept her at a more than considerable distance.

"I feel the need to mention that I never thought you were bad. I was afraid of you, Y/n, afraid of the way you might make me feel something. It was never you."

She simply stared back at me, trying to wrap her head around my confession. It felt like weights being lifted from my body, not carrying around the fear of falling anymore. If it was meant to happen, I'd let it gladly. She was so much more wonderful than I'd ever given her credit for.

"What am I making you feel now?" She had always been bold, but it left me winded anyway.

"Honestly I'm not sure what I was so afraid of. You just make everything better."

"Stop, you don't mean that." She laid flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. I've had a great morning with you. I'm hoping it doesn't end for a while," she peered up at me, rolling back to her side so we could face each other.

"You know, I meant what I said last night. About having a crush on you. I was drunk, but I remember."

It was the moment of truth. My heart began to beat rapidly when I remembered I had to produce some sort of answer to her and I had no clue what to say.

"What do you think we should do about that?"

"We can start by being like this all the time. I understand you have to be strict at work, but if I come back, it would be really nice to get along with you."

I nodded, because she deserved to be able to come to work and not have to worry if I'd snap at her. It would make both of our lives easier to just admit the obvious and work things out together.

"I promise you, things will be completely different. You're a vital member of the team, and I'm sorry that I've made your life so difficult up to this point. I was serious too, about starting over."

"I'm trusting you, Hotch. Please don't let me down."

#aaron hotchner playlist collection #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x you #Aaron Hotchner #hotch series #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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htchnr · 24 days

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05 ★ heartless love crime ❥ ch: remember me.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ buy me a coffee!

CW ➻ public sex ⋆ fingering ⋆ piv ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ biting ⋆ creampie ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

SUMMARY ➻ At the vibration in your purse, you maneuvered the bags to one side and pulled out your phone. It was a message from Aaron. One that your brow twitched at. "Remember me on your date tomorrow." WC ➻ 5,8K.

AUTHORS NOTE ➻ hi 😁 this is not a nice series! i want to make that clear!! Hotch is toxic, rude and awful in this. (yet so hot at the same time uhg)

AUTHORS NOTE ➻ next chapter will be the last chapter for this series! so i hope you all enjoyed this short ride as much as i did!

➻❥ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫. ➻❥ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

"Where are you?"

You stood outside the storefront of Macy's, off to the side to not block the entrance. Phone pressed to your ear, you covered your other ear to hear the line better. You'd been walking around the mall aimlessly for twenty minutes, waiting for your friend to arrive.

The others were busy and you didn't want to try on clothes alone. You knew today was Susan's day off, but you were still a little pissed at her and didn't want to have girl time with her just yet. The only other one available had been Susan and she agreed to meet you after lunch. Well, you ate alone in the food court, treated yourself to a bit of ice cream since you were early enough, got hit on by a group of guys that had you scurry far away from the food court like it was infested, and just killed time browsing stores.

The small bag of body lotion from Bath and Body Works swayed as you turned to look up and down the floor. Of all your friends, Susan was the most punctual. She was just the type of person to not leave you waiting. When Susan made plans, she stuck to them. So, you were confused why you stood alone in front of Macy's after twenty minutes.

She sounded sorry, at least, when she responded. Tone low and apologetic, she sighed. "Sorry. I didn't have time to call you. A coworker didn't show up for their shift and I got called in. It's been hectic for the past two hours, but I'm glad you called!"

You let out a sigh of your own, shifting your weight to one leg. You couldn't be mad at Susan. "It's fine."

"I can come after work if you want, but it wouldn't be until seven."

You pulled your phone away from your ear, the white font made you bite your cheek. It was half-past one. You shook your head, not that she could see it. "No, it's fine. I'm already here. No big deal."

She sighed again and her momentary silence allowed you to hear the faint office buzz around her. You felt bad, knowing she felt bad for accidentally standing you up. "I have to go, but I'm really sorry."

You made sure to reassure her it was perfectly fine before exchanging goodbyes. Once the line clicked and you put your phone back in your coat pocket, you puffed your cheeks and let out a deep breath. Great. You had to use your taste in fashion to judge what to buy. Your eyes fell to your current outfit. It seemed normal enough, but you didn't want normal.

You took what Aaron said to heart. You wanted to wear something to leave Bryan in a state of awe, that'd leave him distraught he couldn't have you. And to spite Susan when you'd go on this date just to turn Bryan down again. You may be in a petty mood, but she was also in the wrong for trying to force this onto you. Bryan just happened to be collateral damage, but you'd still let him down gently.

You walked into the store, passing the accessories and handbags at the front. You weren't even being humble when you didn't trust your taste in fashion to wear something sexy. For one, your wardrobe was a clash of something your grandma would wear and that of someone forced into abstinence from the hours in the day wasted away in an office. That, and you weren't comfortable with clothes labeled for promiscuous or intimate occasions. It just made your skin crawl to have to stand in public, with possibly more skin exposed than you'd like, vulnerable to strangers' gazes.

Granted, Aaron said something pretty, not sexy. He could've meant sexy, which you interpreted, but you were more than fine if you found something a little more in your comfort zone. That, and you were in Macy's, you doubted you'd find anything jaw-dropping here, but the prices enticed you. If you would dress out of your comfort zone, you were going to do it on a budget. The only clothes you threw your money blindly at were the silk pajama sets you liked. It was starting to become a problem for your closet space, actually.

You held your head high. Your poor fashion taste wouldn't dampen your spirit. There were perks to shopping alone. For one, nobody would rush you or vice versa. You could comfortably go at your own pace. Maybe even explore other stores in the mall after this to go on a shopping spree. You came all this way, after all. No doubt you'd find something suitable if you took your time.

"Sure. Hit me with another sample."

Every fiber of your being tensed. You whipped your head to the familiar voice. There, in the perfume and cologne section, Aaron Hotchner leaned against the counter while the lady behind it pulled a card from its holder. He smiled charmingly at her, eyes trained to her every move.

"You'll love this one. It's called White Musk." She sprayed a small amount of cologne onto the card, to which he lowered his head a bit to get a good whiff.

Your heart raced. Of course, he was here. You seemed to run into him more recently than you had in your first month of him entering your life. It was like the universe was telling you something. What it was, you had no idea, but you wanted to go over and stand by his side. To see what would happen.

You faced forward and continued your march to women's clothing. Yeah, no, you wouldn't drop your shopping trip to glue yourself to him. You were stronger than that. Aaron had no control over you from there, so you'd keep your distance. As long as he didn't notice you, you were safe from falling into his clutches.

Deep in the lines of clothes, whatever caught your eye first would have your undivided attention. And like a little kid, you happened to be drawn to the prettiest colors. You weaved your way to a dark blue dress, chanting "ooh" in your head like a caveman discovering fire. The excitement died a little as you got a good look at it. It was severely low cut and backless. Your nose wrinkled slightly and you shook your head. Seductive, but not your comfort level. Maybe not this one.

You browsed through a few clothes racks, your search mainly diverted to the clearance racks. A few tops and dresses were draped over your arm. Even if they weren't for the date, in the end, you didn't mind a few new clothes for a discount. You made your way through those racks, taking anything that pleased you. Your arm held a good amount of clothes as you moved past the clearance rack to other dresses. You were a bit excited about possible new additions to your wardrobe.

Touching the hangar for a cute summer dress, you glanced up when Aaron leaned against the clothing rack with one arm. He gave you his charming smile as his eyes took in your outfit. Your heart leaped into your throat, not used to being the subject of his attention, no matter how fake you knew the smile to be.

"So, are you buying clothes for your date?"

"Maybe." You brushed past him to another rack, which he promptly leaned against as well.

"You know, you should consider this one." You watched him slip his hand to the inside of his coat, procuring and proudly holding up lacy red lingerie. An embarrassed sound escaped you, grabbing it from his hands and stuffing it back into his coat before your eyes flitted around the store. You hoped nobody saw him hold it up to you.

"Did you seriously go to the lingerie section to get this to me?" You hissed, heat blossomed across your face. "When were you into lingerie?"

He scoffed and pulled the lacy piece out of his coat, tossing it onto the rack. You hurried to another clothing rack and he followed you. "I'm not above a lady wanting to show her figure. In fact, I'd make sure to show my appreciation for her effort."

"Maybe offer it to the perfume girl you were talking to."

He smirked. "Ah, so that was you watching me." You frowned, but couldn't deny his claim. His eyes fell to a black turtleneck beside him. "How about this?"

"That?" You furrowed your brow. He did say pretty, but you didn't think the turtleneck would fit into your mental criteria for this date. It seemed fairly sophisticated.

"Yeah. Problem?"

You shook your head. He placed the top on your pile. Imagine your surprise as he eventually led you around, seemingly picking whatever happened to catch his eye first and tossed it onto your pile. To his credit, he had good finds that would've taken you longer to find, given how you were sharply grading the clothing's worth but he sped through them.

There was a set of changing rooms nearby that you both eventually ended at. He plopped himself onto the sofa that faced the hall of stall doors. When you didn't move, he looked up at you with a raised brow. A look you mimicked.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"What's it look like?" He relaxed into the cushion, spreading his legs out as his arms stretched on the back of it. "I want to see what you pick."

As much as you told yourself this was supposed to be a solo shopping trip--with Susan, if not for her work--you couldn't argue with him when he looked like that. His body looked inviting and the cocky little head tilt told you he knew what you were thinking, followed by the slight further spread of his legs. You frowned but turned and walked into one of the stalls. He would not get you to act on your thoughts this time, not in public. You wouldn't give him what he wanted, to fluster you.

The pile of clothes you hung up bulged off of the wall. You made sure the door was locked behind you, just in case he got any funny ideas, and stripped your coat and top off, setting them onto the mini bench built in front of the mirror, where you'd already set down your bag of lotions. Your eyes flicked to your figure in the mirror before you grabbed the topmost hanger with a striped shirt. You pulled it down and looked at yourself in the mirror. Horizontal stripes of orange, blue, and white flattered your figure, but you didn't like how deep the v-cut went and the sleeves were too tight. Off. Next one.

You went through several tops and dresses, most of your pile done and finished before you settled on a select few. Three tops to keep, one from the clearance rack and the other two picked by Aaron , and a dress also picked by Aaron . The dress, you thought over, happened to suit your tastes nicely. Classy, long-sleeved, with a sheer back where the zipper laid. It seemed seductive enough if you played it up, but overall it left little to the imagination with your figure. You were almost afraid to look at the price tag from how beautiful it was, but the price wasn't extreme. Still pricey, but worth it.

Dress unzipped, you opened the stall door and brought out the clothes you didn't want, and put them on the clothing rack beside the stall. You kept your back to your stall to not expose yourself and looked over at Aaron . Hoping to have him zip you up, rather than struggle another 5 minutes to get it up.

Aaron had his head resting comfortably on the back of the sofa, chin tilted far back and exposing his neck as he flicked his hand in a lazy wave to passing women. They'd all smile in return with a flirty giggle. The way he spread on the sofa and seemed so casual garnered attention, especially when he both carried himself and looked like a Hollywood star. A few had been with boyfriends, who wrapped their arms around their shoulders and glared at Aaron but that only spurred his cocky smile all the more. You turned to go back into the stall just as he lowered his head to face you.

"Hey," he snickered when the door closed. "Come back out here. You want to show me what you're wearing?"

You peeked your head out the door, earning another laugh from him. "I don't have it zipped."

He dropped his elbows to his knees and leaned forward. "Are you inviting me back there to help you?"

You didn't answer. He still got up and made his way to your stall at the very end of the short hall. You ducked inside as he pushed the stall door open more for himself and came in. The door closed behind him and, without turning away from you, he reached behind him and locked it. You looked up at him but his gaze fell onto the mirror behind you, giving him a good view of your bra and exposed back from the dress.

He closed the distance between you, reaching behind you. Two large hands palmed at your ass and you gasped into his chest. You looked up at him ready to remind him how thin the walls were here.

"Relax, sweetheart. I'll get to it." He gave one good squeeze before he reached for the zipper. You kept your eyes on his face while he pulled it up tantalizingly slowly, his gaze locked onto the view provided to him from the mirror. When the zipper came up no more, he grabbed your waist and turned you around. "I think you look good."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, specifically the parts where Aaron started to touch you. The way his hands curved with your hips, his chin that he placed on your shoulder to also look. Only, he looked at your eyes with a cocky smirk. He knew just where your mind had drifted. The dress concerned you no longer. You liked that he liked it on you. You also knew he liked the part that came after helping you into it.

His lips ghosted over your ear. "What are you thinking about?" A redundant question on his part. You knew he knew.

You forced a scowl, less intimidating than you wanted it to be, given you didn't have any anger in you. You were too preoccupied with the growing warmth in your belly. "Nothing you need to know about."

"Doll, in my hands, I already know everything you're thinking of." He pulled your rear against him. The bulge in his pants made you shiver. Voice no more than a low mutter, it reverberated your ear. "And I'm gonna fuck you. Right here."

"We can't-"

"We'll play a little game. You keep quiet and I might make this quick." He slowly unzipped the back of the dress, biting at your ear. "If you make any noise, I won't be able to help myself. And we could be here for a long time."

"Aaron , I-" Your breath hitched as he slipped his hand through the open back of the dress, sliding his hand over the curve of your ass and thigh, up to the junction between your thighs. He only traced his fingers over the hem of your underwear, a featherlight touch to your clothed cunt. You wanted to feel more. "I don't think I can."

His breathy chuckle into your ear filled your stomach with butterflies. "If you don't want us to get caught, you'll have to be."

He pushed your back gently until you placed your hands on the bench. Sliding his hands over your back, shoulder, and down your arm, he pushed the dress off of your shoulders until it pooled around your wrists. The rest of the dress pooled down the bench and around your ankles. You looked at yourself in the mirror, at the swell of your breasts. The mounds fought gravity in your bra, cupped to your chest, but Aaron worked to undo the clasps and push it down to your wrists with the dress and free your breasts.

Your breaths came out uneven. In the mirror, you watched at an angle where he cupped your breasts in his hands and squeezed. The ring on his index finger trailed a cool path over your nipple. He leaned over you, keeping you down, but pulled your breasts towards him and arched your back. You bit your lip. His hands looked so lovely on you like that. Veins protruded from his hands. A silver watch on his left wrist slid cooly against your skin.

You muttered his name softly, head lolling onto his shoulder as his hand slid down to your underwear. His middle finger brushed a stripe through the material, light as a feather, and your breath caught in your throat. He pressed his lips to your neck, nipping at the flesh.

"Good girl," he mumbled. "Nice and quiet."

He moved his hand to the top of your panties, pushing his hand past the hem. The moment the rough pads of his fingers spread your lower lips and touched your clit, you jolted. A sharp exhale slipped out of you. He gave you a punishingly slow stroke to your clit.

"No noises." He circled his fingers over you, applying more pressure. Your back arched more, head dug into his shoulder. "Do you want someone to hear you?"

"No," you sighed, gaze locked onto the mirror.

His free hand cupped your breast, ring brushing over your nipple. He pinched it between two fingers and lightly twisted as two fingers pushed into your cunt. Despite you biting down your lip, you couldn't fully suppress a breathless gasp. He groped your breast in sync to the pump of his fingers in you.

Your hips bucked onto his hand, electricity coursing through your veins. Attention had been generously provided by the rough pad of his thumb on your clit in mesmerizing circles. Each buck of your hips, your voice grew. From soft mewls to whispery moans, your face scrunched in concentration to hold your tongue but instincts overrode rationality. You had to be vocal, like the sound added to the experience.

Rationality had gone out the door. If someone were to walk by, they'd hear your soft sounds and the wetness of your cunt taking his fingers in stride.

"Can't seem to follow an order." He stopped groping your breast just for his large hand to clasp around your throat, but he didn't squeeze. His lips brushed against your ear, your eyes locked onto his through the mirror. "It's like you want to be found. Want people to see you getting fucked by my hand. You want that?"

You couldn't fully say you didn't.

"You want some poor stranger to see me fuck you until you can't stand?" He smiled.

"I-ah." Not one proper sentence could come out of your mouth. He curled his fingers into you, scissored your cunt, and put a third finger in. It filled you up, stimulated you.

You could feel the tight coil in your stomach. It twisted into a knot, pulling a higher pitched moan from you. One that was stopped by a tight squeeze to your throat. Aaron let up right after and you coughed, but he used the opening to put two fingers into your mouth. Buried down to the knuckle, you gagged, your tongue swirling over them. The cool touch of his ring brushed over your bottom lip.

When your eyes flickered to his own in the mirror, he narrowed his gaze. "You want to be my good girl, right?" You nodded as best as you could in his hold. With a smirk, he pinched your clit and laughed quietly to himself as your whine was blocked by his fingers. "Then, I suggest you try to be quieter. Don't enjoy this too much."

You gave a muffled affirmative around his fingers. Drool pooled out the sides of your mouth and along his knuckles. Pleased, he pumped his fingers vigorously into you. Your eyes bugged out of your head, then fluttered shut as your mouth fell open, completely losing all thought. All you could do was feel; feel the way he curled his fingers, the way the rough pads of his fingers rubbed your walls, feel the way his words vibrated against your skin.

His warm breath fanned the stray hairs around your ear. "That's it. That's my girl."

Drool dribbled down your chin onto your collarbone. Your hands moved from the bench to either side of the mirror, the space claimed by your knee. The opening allowed him to feel you more deeply and you met each thrust of his hand with one of your own. Before long, your mouth completely slackened as short whines escaped you and your walls squeezed around his fingers.

His teeth grazed your ear as he smiled triumphantly. "Ha, that didn't take long."

He allowed you a small moment to catch your breath, but you knew it wasn't over. This was just the beginning. Legs shaking, you didn't miss the way he pulled his hand out and wiped your juices onto your thigh. You all but leaned back into him while he pulled his hand out of your mouth, wiping your drool onto your stomach.

He guided your hands off the wall and hooked your thumbs into your panties. "Off. Now."

Numbly, you nodded and complied. It didn't take much for you to do what he said. With a voice soft as his, the slight edge still compelled you to do anything and everything he asked. You let them fall to your ankles, stepping both out of them and the discarded dress. You were completely naked, eyes locked onto your already heaving chest, and the way Aaron tilted his head followed by the sound of a belt coming undone.

When you heard the zipper open and he grunted, one rough hand fell to your waist to push you away slightly to give him room. He held you there, with your one knee still on the bench. The squeeze to your waist warned you to hold your tongue. Regardless, the tip of his cock slipped into you with over breathy whine coming from you, sensitive to the touch.

"We're gonna need to fix that," he said. You paid no mind as he leaned around you to grab your crumpled shirt, just for him to ball it up and hold it to your face. "Open."

You furrowed your brows, walls fluttering around his cock. "I do not need to be gagged. I can handle this."

No, you very much needed it. The both of you knew once he started you would announce it to the whole mall that Aaron Hotchner was fucking you into the next life in a cramped fitting room. Nothing in your mind could withhold the moans he could coax out of you, even if he told you to be quiet. With Aaron in control, he had to be the one to keep you quiet, even if that meant gagging you with your own shirt.

So, as he stayed in the same position, you relented with a slack jaw. He wasn't exactly gentle in stuffing your mouth with the fabric and you lurched a bit, but otherwise, your sounds were muffled enough. He could be satisfied with this.

"Funny. I'd never thought what it'd be like to fuck you with a gag." His eyes found yours in the mirror and he smirked at the sight of your shirt hanging out of it. "A little improvisation, but I like it."

You didn't get time to roll your eyes. He placed both hands on your waist and thrust once with force. All that came out of you was a muffled moan, your face scrunched from the shocking pleasure.

"Still hear ya but," he patted your ass, "you said you could handle it."

He began a gradual pace of thrusts into you. Your hands fell back to the wall, nails scratching down along it. His body pushed into yours, the both of you rocking slowly. You screwed your eyes shut the moment he decided to get rough.

He pulled out until only the tip remained before he slammed back into you. You pushed hard against the wall to keep from falling into it. The loud moan from the back of your throat muffled into the makeshift gag.

Aaron tsked. "Doesn't sound like you're handling it all too well."

No, you weren't, but you'd try. Your mind had become foggy from the rough thrusts of his hips into yours, but you forced the words "shut up" forward, both towards him and yourself. It was muffled, of course, but it didn't stop you from muttering it behind the shirt repeatedly. Like he knew what you were saying, he snickered quietly to himself, spurred on to take you beyond your limit.

Goosebumps crawled along your skin. They blanketed your body with the blend of sweat from how he pressed himself to your back. His clothes crumpled and rustled against your naked skin. The coarse fabric of his coat scratched your back and his belt buckle slapped at your ass.

It was too much. You were stimulated from every corner. He slipped one hand down to your clit and toyed with it, rubbing in circles that matched his brutal pace. Your muffled "shut up" had turned to a half-hearted "shuff" with your voice raised an octave.

The knotted coil returned, tightening in your stomach with each thrust, with each rough circle to your clit. Your head fell forward limply, legs trembling, and you came around his cock. His head fell to your shoulder with a grunt, rocking your whole body unruly to his own beat.

Your walls clenched around him, fluttering violently from overstimulation. You were sensitive, but oh so responsive to his thrusts. Jolting and writhing under his hold with each thrust, a whine crawled up your throat and buried itself in your shirt.

Aaron thrived best when you were at your limit. He relished the feeling of your cunt swallowing his cock and squeezing him for what he was worth. He grunted, his pace grown reckless and sloppy.

Your mouth was no longer filled with dry polyester. All the drool gathered by your shirt was absorbed. Instead, it felt like your mouth was dry from the inability to close while simultaneously your tongue darted against the soggy fabric. You bit down hard on your shirt while Aaron lost his cool behind you.

His breaths were jagged, much like his thrusts. He grunted lowly, his chest rumbling against your back. He didn't let up, wanting to keep you on edge until the very end, he rubbed your clit faster. You both came together, with your whiny moan muffled and his guttural moan buried into your shoulder that he bit into.

Your cunt filled with warmth as you squeezed around him and milked him for all he was worth. He shuddered into you. He continued to fuck into you until he was completely spent before he took his teeth off of your shoulder.

Aaron turned you both around and flopped onto the bench with you on his lap, his cock still in you. He leaned against the mirror while you leaned against him. You stared at the door and the thought flicked through your mind if someone happened to walk in on your position. They couldn't, given the locked door, but you imagined how your nude self with your legs on either side of Aaron 's looked from an outside perspective. Your cunt fluttered.

You pulled the shirt out of your mouth with a grimace at the dark splotch on the side as you held it up to its full height. You just balled it up and tossed it down to the side with the dress.

Aaron wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. He looked into your eyes as your head fell back. "Not bad, but you totally wanted to be found out, didn't you?"

You shook your head weakly, brows furrowed. "No. I didn't even-"

"Come on," he teased. "Admit it. You were turned on by the idea. I don't doubt that's why you came faster than usual."

"Aaron ." You sighed. Your mind couldn't handle conversation right now.

"Alright." He snickered. "I won't pry, but we could definitely do this again." He hummed thoughtfully. "Another time, of course. I have things to do."

"Won't spare another moment for another round?" Your tone came out mocking.

He simply smiled. "With that attitude, I might reconsider."

You closed your eyes. As enticed as you were, never mind the fact your legs shook with little aftershocks, you shouldn't tempt him any further. It was bad enough you just fucked here as you did. If you weren't noticed by someone before, you were bound to be from making too much noise in here for an unprecedented amount of time. If anyone had come to any of these stalls to try on clothes, they'd know right away two crazy idiots were getting it on with no regard for others.

"Ugh." Your head fell forward into your hands. Voice muffled by your palms, you said, "I can't believe I let this happen."

"That's what happens when you have a weak resolve." His hand gently patted your stomach twice. "Alright. Up. Like I said, I got places to be."

Like any other order he gave, you obeyed without much of a fight, but it didn't stop you from groaning in displeasure. Your legs wobbled as you stood and you placed a hand on Aaron 's shoulder to help steady yourself. He watched you dress yourself and place the dress on a hanger before you gathered up all your belongings.

His eyes fell to the wet spot on your shirt for a moment. He didn't mention it. "So, is this the dress for the date?"

You shrugged. "I don't have the energy to look for something else. Yeah." You let him tuck himself into his pants and buckle up before you unlatched the door and peeked out. With the coast clear, you stepped out, Aaron hot on your heels. "Now, I just want to go home, have a bath, and take a nap."

You received a grunt in reply. "Whatever floats your boat."

Strategically, you had held your bag of lotions and the clothes to the wet spot on your shirt. Your coat wasn't designed to close and the spot wasn't hidden under the layer. You couldn't see it, but you assumed you did the job of covering it up well enough. As Aaron followed you up to the counter, however, you mildly panicked in line.

You set the clothes on the counter, prayed nobody would notice your spot if you leaned against the counter at an angle, but Aaron unexpectedly helped you. He had just been standing there, so you didn't think he'd do anything, even when he took his coat off, but he thrust it in front of you and asked you to hold it. At first, you just blinked at him, a bit confused and insulted to be asked that, but as he pressed it against your spot, you understood what he intended. You took it gratefully and held it dutifully while he chatted up the cashier.

And he somehow charmed his way into a discount. For clothes you were already getting at a good price, he lessened the pay for you. You almost thought he'd pay for you as well from how he acted, but that hope was squashed when he reached into your purse and pulled out your credit card. Fair enough.

The two of you walked out of the store together, with Aaron back in his coat and you holding your bags in front of your shirt. You made a detour to the restrooms that he followed you to, where you cleaned yourself up a bit. Geez, your hair was obviously in a just-got-fucked style and your skin glossed from all the sweat you'd gathered. It was a sight and you then connected the dots to some of the stares you received walking out of the store.

Once you were out of the restroom, however, Aaron was nowhere to be found. You left him leaning against the wall, but you didn't see his spiky head anywhere. At the vibration in your purse, you maneuvered the bags to one side and pulled out your phone. It was a message from Aaron . One that your brow twitched at.

"Remember me on your date tomorrow."

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotch hotchner smut

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smok3r7 · 2 months

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They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Eye Catching

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Series Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: It’s your Freshman year at George Washington College and you’re determined on getting your doctorate in criminology. Little did you know the handsome man you sit next to in your first lecture, Psychology 101, will have you feeling things you haven’t in years.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: anxiety, self esteem issues at first

*a quick little cameo from Professor Joel Miller ;) idea from Chloe with her Seeking series with her cameo of Father Lawrence and @merz-8 with the idea of him being the professor*

—

“Bye Mama, love you!”

“Bye baby, you go rock this shit!”

Your eyes start to well with tears as you back out of the long paved driveway, where your mom stands by the garage door hugging herself, trying her damned best not to break down while she slowly waves to you. When you reach the road and put your truck in drive, you turn your head to look at your beautiful mother one more time as you blow her a kiss. You wait for her to return the gesture before you push your right foot on the gas pedal and you focus your attention on the road in front of you.

Just a four hour drive, all I gotta do, you whisper to yourself as you turn onto the main road that leads to the freeway. You’ve lived just outside of Roanoke, Virginia, with just your mom ever since you were a toddler, and you have no memories of your father or any other family members. He left as soon as he was informed about the pregnancy and all your mom has told you about her family is, well-

“They just let too much shit slide. No one’s ever been held accountable for anything they’ve done. I had to leave, to save you. That’s all I cared about; saving you from their disgusting behavior.”

You have never asked her for further details, gathering on your own that her family, your family, were inhumane and cruel. So you just left it at that, which you really are okay with, at the end of the day. Your mother has been the only family to consistently cheer you on for whatever you do, pushing you to become the smart, strong, and independent young woman you are today. She’s all I need.

—

It’s late August, just on the cusp of September of 1987, and the road trip to Washington D.C is beautiful. The trees are just starting to turn from the bright greens to the light oranges and reds. It’s just amazing to be able to witness the change in seasons. You start to realize that the rest of Virginia isn’t much different than home, which brings you a sense of comfort and calmness.

You love living in Roanoke, it’s so cozy and peaceful, and now that you’re not going to be there anymore, it scares you. The fear of not being familiar with your surroundings is heavy on your mind and heart, since you’ve lived in the same environment and home for twenty-one years.

Even with all that in mind, you’re still extremely excited to start fresh. You’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about Washington D.C - the scenery and structures are breathtaking, and the history of it all enraptures you. But what you’re really looking forward to is the college life; the learning environment, the gratification from being able to move forward in your career, the range of different people, the parties, and who knows - maybe a little fling here and there. Overall, it’s all very intriguing and an electrifying experience that you cannot wait to begin.

In June, you celebrated your twenty-first birthday and that was the day you decided to take your career seriously. Ever since you were a pre-teen and got a chance to talk to an actual FBI agent, who was a woman - insane, right? - in your eighth grade class, you dreamed about becoming a part of the BAU at Quantico. You’ve had a fascination with crime for as long as you can remember, but also, you get this overwhelming sense of satisfaction when you’re able to help others. So no matter the circumstances it takes to get there, you will be able to make it.

You’ve been on the road for about three and a half hours now, stopping to fill up your tank before you hit the city where it’ll cost more. Gotta be smart. When you climb back into your truck, you grab the map that’s on your leather passenger seat and take one more look at it. Your mom insisted on marking the backroads way after a certain time on the freeway to get there with a red sharpie, and honestly, you’re glad she did because otherwise you’d be fucked.

“Just gotta take Fruit Ridge for another ten miles, then take a right on 28th St. ‘n I’m downtown. Perfect,” You tell yourself as you drag your index finger along the red line that leads to your destination. Thank you mama, setting the map down, you put your truck in drive and you’re on your way once again.

The warm summer breeze flows through the open windows of your truck, drying the sweat that’s appeared on your skin, the fresh air rushing up your nose with undertones of country life. The drive has been nothing but sunshine and peace, no one tailing you and no one being an ass in front of you - pretty much just you and a couple cars here and there.

You only have about two miles until you hit 28th St. and the anticipation is starting to hit you. The adrenaline is coursing through your body.

Am I really ready for this?

Can I do this without my mom?

Yes, I can do this by myself, I got this.

Your mind won’t stop racing like the cars and trucks that fly past you, going the other direction, away from the city. You’re starting to get cold feet as you get closer and closer. But, you’ve already made it this far, I can’t back out now.

As you take a deep breath in and out, the back of your head leans back onto the headrest when you notice the large green sign on your right side. You raise your head forward so you can read it clearly.

George Washington College 3 Miles, with a white arrow pointing East.

A soft smile takes over the worried expression you had a minute ago, and you turn onto 28th St., where the scenery changes instantly. Smaller homes and apartments on either side of the road, and people spread all over the yards and sidewalks, unlike the trees and farms that you drove past. A sense of security comes over you, I made it.

Now feeling calm and put together, you can enjoy the last bit of the ride there. With your right hand on the steering wheel and your left arm hanging out the window, the sound of the radio escapes from your vehicle along with the rumble of your engine.

“You’re listenin’ to Classic Hits FM with Doug n’ Carrie. N’ that was The Whispers with their hit, Rock Steady. One of my favorites, what ‘bout you Carrie?”

“I mean how can it not be? But this next one is my all-time favorite right now, can you take a guess at who?”

“Lemme guess, somethin’ by Fleetwood Mac?”

“The one and only Fleetwood Mac, you’re right Doug! My girl Stevie Nicks, the white witch. God I love her! Here’s Seven Wonders, their most recent single that’s been at number one for the last month!”

So Long ago,

Certain place, certain times

You touched my hand on the way, on the way to Emmeline

But if our paths never cross

Well, you know I’m sorry, but

If I live to see the Seven Wonders…

“I’ll make a path to the rainbows end! I’ll never live to match the beauty again, the rainbow's edge.” You sing with a smile large enough to be seen from the sidewalk where a range of people walk up and down.

The beautiful view of the pale brick pillars that hold the black metal gate in between them reads, Professors Gate on the top. I made it.

—

“Knock knock!”

You spin your body around to face the door and your face lights up at the sight of the shorter young lady in front of you.

“Bella! Oh my god!” You yell and run towards her with open arms, “What are you doing here?” You wrap your arms around her, as she does the same. The dorm room fills with laughs and mumbles of words from the both of you.

“I wanted to surprise you, and it worked!” She says into your shoulder as the two of you rock side to side, still holding each other.

“Hell yeah it did!” You step away from her and then the realization hits you, “Wait, is this your dorm?” Your arms wave around to show you meant the room you two are standing in. All she does is nod her head with a huge grin showing off her pearly white teeth, oh my god, no way, you screech again.

You and Bella met in fourth grade and have been best friends ever since. She too only lives and speaks with her mom, and it’s kind of scary to know that someone else has lived your life - but it’s also relieving in a way because you’re not alone, and you can talk about your feelings without feeling judged.

“Criminol-“

“-logy, yes!”

She finishes your question before you can even ask it, something the two of you do subconsciously at this point. Which fits because the two of you are like twins, not identical but the way your minds work together us incredible, and the two of you also share the same birthday, June eleventh, nineteen sixty-six.

The two of you unpack and begin to make the dorm into a comfortable space for the both of you. You and Bella ramble on and on about the drive here and how sad you both felt for leaving your moms at home by themselves. She traveled here about a month earlier than you, her boyfriend needed help moving his things into his apartment - he too is attending Washington College. But you and her knew that this was the best decision, neither of you could stay in Roanoke any longer.

After you both are happy with your sides of the room, it’s about eight at night, the sun has just about set, creating a beautiful pink and orange sky. The two of you kept getting distracted by certain items one of you found while unpacking or just by simple conversation, hence why it took so long.

“Wanna get takeout and watch Dirty Dancing?” You ask Bella as you plop down on your twin sized mattress that’s covered by a sage green blanket. Her face lights up, “What kinda question is that? Of course I do, Domino’s?”

You cock your head to the side and give her an are you really asking? kind of look and she just laughs as she stands from her bed and walks towards the phone that’s on the table on the other side of the room. She picks up the red telephone and dials Domino’s number that you both know by heart, but you realize that you’re not at home, so she must’ve ordered from the one around here in the time she’s been here.

“Hi! Order for pick-up please,” Bella chimes as she wraps the cord around her fingers and sits on the table next to the matching cherry red base. “Bella works, um, I would like-“

She goes on to list her pizza order and your garlic bread balls with chicken wings without any hesitation. After so many years of being friends you know each other's orders like the back of your hands.

“Twenty minutes? Awesome, thank you!” She hangs up the red phone with a click, and hops off the table, “Get dressed, we’re gonna walk. There’s too much traffic to drive there n’ back.”

“So you know where we’re goin?”

“Duh, it’s been my favorite place to get food since I’ve been out here. Now c’mon!”

Okay okay, you concede, shaking your head and laughing as you grab a thin gray hoodie and slip it over your head, then grabbing your black and white Nike air forces and slipping them on. C’mon, Bella drags out with a whine as she stands in the doorway holding the door open, you’re standing in front of the long mirror by your bed just making sure you don’t look too crazy you’re first time out in public in the new city.

“God, you’re so impatient.”

“You should be concerned the day that I’m not, that’s when you know something’s wrong!”

You both laugh as you make your way down the dorm hallway and out into the beautiful summer night air to go pick up your delicious food. When you reach the courtyard, you observe clusters of people spread across the grass. One group of women and men are sitting in a circle, one man has an acoustic guitar and looks like the group is just listening and watching his technique.

Another group of men are sitting on the wood picnic tables as they gaze at the courtyard, much like you are, but they’re whistling and hollering at girls who walk by their table. Not surprised. Then there’s one other group, which looks to be mainly women with a few men scattered and they have a boombox next to their picnic table as they start a dance routine, it looks like they’re practicing for something.

“That’s the dance team, I think we should join,” Bella interrupts your observation, causing you to think back to middle and high school. You and Bella were captains of the dance team for five years, it was one of the main reasons you guys are as close as you are.

As you exit the courtyard and start on the sidewalk, put your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie and turn your face to look at her for a second before you answer. “Maybe, just maybe.”

—

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP

Ughhh, you groan rolling over and slamming your hand on the boxy alarm clock on your bedside table as you sit yourself up, raising your arms to stretch your limbs and yawing from exhaustion. After a moment you turn your attention to Bella’s bed and notice that she’s not there. Confusion takes over your sleepy mind. Where the hell did she go?

You gain enough strength in your tired body to hop off your bed and walk over to the table that holds the telephone, where a yellow sticky note lays on it.

Morning sleepyhead!! My first class starts at 7, I’ll be back around noon! I hope your first class goes well baby, love you!! <3 Bella

You smile at her note and stick it next to the red base of the phone. You turn around and look at the clock, 8:40 AM. Okay, I have forty-five minutes to get there. You shake yourself to wake up fully and you begin to pick out of your brown dresser, a pair of jean shorts and a black, thick strapped tank-top, with your classic black and white Nike shoes. Then sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of the mirror, you do your hair and makeup for the day.

After finishing everything, you glance back at the clock and it reads 9:08 AM. Shit, you mutter, swiftly grabbing your black Jansport backpack that’s filled with notebooks and utensils for class, and your schedule with your professors and lectures on it. Then you're out the door, down the same hallway from last night, but instead of going out to the courtyard, you continue down the hall towards the classrooms.

Psychology 101, 101, you repeat as you search the hall for the door that reads the lecture number. After passing about five classrooms, you finally find the right one. The silver plaque on the wood door reads, Psychology 101, Doctor Joel Miller. You glance down at your watch and relax your shoulders when you notice you’re early by just about ten minutes, so you don’t have to rush or worry about being late.

Might as well go in now and get my seat, you think as you reach your hand on the silver handle and gently pull the door towards you. When you open it, the first thing you observe is who you can assume is the professor writing something on the chalkboard. You can't believe that he is your professor. His cream button up shirt is tight around his biceps and chest, but loose around his lower abdomen where the bottom is tucked into his khaki pants. His brown, loosely curled hair is combed to look nice and not messy. His thick beard to match has you feeling like a child with a stupid crush.

His attention turns to you and he smiles, his round glasses fall a bit down his nose as he tilts his head forward to take you in. Wow, he’s hot.

“Hi, I’m here for your class,” you chime, walking into the large room and turning your head to the left to observe the seats and to your surprise it’s about half full, turning your attention back to him, “thought I would come a bit early.”

“That’s a good idea, I admire the dedication. Don’t let it fade away, darlin’, okay? But, your name is?” Dr. Miller steps away from the board and meets you halfway to greet you. You firmly shake his hand and share your first and last name. Well welcome to Psych. 101, dear, he tells you and winks when he lets your hand go.

Thank you, sir, you smile and turn to head towards the stairs on the edge of the room, so you can claim a seat. You observe the other students here, a couple pairs of friends scattered throughout the seats just talking away, and then the loners, you guess you could call them. But the person who catches your full attention is the man who can’t be much older than you, sitting alone in the second row at the top. He has this longer black hair sort of combed back, but not insanely gelled, with his round thin glasses, and a facial structure that’s sharp and soft at the same time.

Holy shit.

You’ve never been shy to men, you actually tend to be more confident than most, usually making the first move. It’s just something your mom and Bella have instilled in you throughout the years. So you decide to take a shot with this handsome young man in front of you.

“Is this seat taken?”

The intelligent looking man picks his head up from his desk to look at you a few feet away from him, pointing at the chair next to his. He takes a second before he answers, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Perfect. Thought I’d keep you company up here. Ya know, since you’re all by yourself ‘n all,” you slightly tease with a smirk as you slide your bag off of your right shoulder and set it on the carpeted floor next to the wooden chair.

He chuckles watching you sit down in the seat only a mere three feet away from him, “Oh, did you now?”

“Yes, sir. So, are you gonna tell me your name or am I gonna have to pry that information outta you too?” You laugh as you put your right elbow on the long table in front of you and rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, looking into his beautiful, cognac colored eyes just waiting for his smooth voice.

“Aaron Hotchner, and yours?”

“That was easier than I thought,” you joke before you repeat your name once again, which you feel like you’ll be doing a lot these next couple weeks. You carefully watch his expressions and listen to the inflictions in his voice when he does speak.

He smiles and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms gently as he replies, “That’s surely a beautiful name. May I ask where you’re from? Your accent isn’t from here.”

“Roanoke, Virginia, born and raised. What about you, Aaron?”

“Aah, that’s it, I should’ve guessed. Manassas actually, not too far from here. Just about a two and a half hour drive, depending on the traffic.”

“Wait,” you start before sitting up and leaning your other arm on the back of the chair and using your hands to talk, “so you’re telling me, you’ve lived in Virginia your whole life right?”

Aaron nods his head with a slight smirk on his face, watching you trying to put the pieces together.

“But you don’t have any kinda accent? Like, just none whatsoever?” Your voice raises a bit towards the end of your question, just because you’re genuinely curious on how this man doesn’t have any sort of accent or country twang to it at all.

“That’s right-“

Before Aaron can fully answer your question, he gets interrupted by Dr. Miller, “Welcome to Psychology 101, my dear students. I am Doctor Joel Miller and I will be your professor for this class.”

You and Aaron quickly stop your conversation and focus on Dr. Miller who’s introducing the course to everyone. You were so caught up in conversation that you didn’t even notice the seats that were empty, are now full. After a minute, out of the corner of your left eye you watch as Aaron slides a small piece of paper over to you. Without looking at him, you grab the note and look at it.

My phone number, 202-896-0089 ;)

You fold up the paper and put it in your back pocket. Quickly, you glance over to Aaron and you notice he has this cocky smirk that fades just as fast as it appeared. Your stomach is flipping with joy and anticipation, you wonder what this could turn into. Turning your full attention to the front of the classroom, the eye candy of a professor, Dr. Miller is back by the chalkboard, going over the syllabus for the class.

#aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #they always come back

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cavillsbitch · 10 months

Text

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ welcome to my masterlist! ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

about me: hi, my name is gabby, and i write primarily for Aaron Hotchner from criminal minds and Henry Cavill and his characters. i know it’s an odd mix, but my horizons have nothing to do but expand!

most of what i write is 18+/NSFW, which is indicated. some posts or fics may be indicated otherwise.

—————————————————————————

Key:

🔥= smut

☁️ = fluff

🥀 = angst

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ Aaron Hotchner ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Series:

{coming soon}

Oneshots:

Are You Sure? 🔥🥀

Love Sense ☁️

Requests:

Hotch x Firefighter!Fem Reader ☁️🥀

Worth It ☁️🥀

Quando, Quando, Quando ☁️

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ Henry Cavill ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Napoleon Solo:

Trust In Me 🔥🥀 (indefinite hiatus)

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moonlightspencie · 5 months

Text

like the gardens of babylon

part 11 of ‘the sweetest con’

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: some suggestive content at the end, but nothing explicit!

Walking into the bullpen had never felt so nerve-wracking. Usually, if I felt any anxieties at all, it had to do with a case. Or at least work. As it should, considering this was my workplace, after all.

But, this time, all the nerves stemmed from my concerns that word would get out before I had the chance to address it all myself. After JJ had seen us kiss last week, every day felt like a new opportunity for everyone to find out. Each day only got worse. Any time someone looked at me for too long, I started sweating a little.

But, of course, my darling girl couldn’t care less. She was convinced that JJ wouldn’t say a word, and I had to commend her faith in our friends. I, however, knew that the thrill of a scandal could break down even the strongest barriers on our team. Especially when it came to all of our love lives.

As much as I love my team, I knew they weren’t always the most… discreet.

I could see the lingering looks from JJ anytime Y/N snuck into my office for our usual lunchtime “date”. It felt like a matter of time before it escalated.

And escalate it did.

I snuck out of my office after lunch that afternoon only to see a few pairs of eyes on me, and a lot of whispering. I narrowed my eyes at Derek, Penelope, and Y/N.

“Something you’d like to share?” I asked, noticing they didn’t look away when I’d caught them.

“No—”

Penelope cut Y/N off. “Teasing our little ray of sunshine, here.”

I merely raised my brows in question, making quick eye contact with the aforementioned “ray of sunshine.” She looked at me with pleading eyes, though I couldn’t quite decipher what she was trying to ask of me.

“It’s nothing, Hotch,” she shook her head.

“Nothing?” Morgan questioned. “Mmm mm. Lies.”

“What is it, then?”

Morgan smirked. “Something goin’ on with you two that you’d like to share?”

I froze up, though I tried playing it off. I hoped it was convincing enough.

“Like what, exactly?”

Penelope blushed. “We were merely asking her if your little daily lunch dates meant anything.”

I looked at Y/N briefly. Apparently, that was a mistake. Derek stood abruptly, closing in on me.

“Wait, seriously?” he turned to look at Y/N, who looked, frankly, like she’d been caught red-handed. “Seriously?”

“Oh my god—” Garcia squealed.

I’m sure my face going red didn’t help our case as I asked the two of them to keep it down. Y/N stood, standing next to me as I attempted to fend off questions from the other two.

“Guys,” she raised her hands to calm them. “This is still kind of new. We weren’t really ready to tell anyone yet, so…”

“Oh,” Penelope said, her voice lowered.

“Just please don’t tell anyone else. For our sake.”

“Sure thing, mama,” Derek said, nodding.

Penelope smiled softly. “Wouldn’t dream of trying to ruin this. I am so, absolutely excited, but I promise I will zip my lips just for you, sugar.”

“Thanks, Pen,” she smiled back at her.

She looked at me, looking a little apologetic. I gave her a raised brow and half a smile.

“Sorry. I thought we’d be able to keep this secret a little while longer,” she said quietly.

“Not your fault. I think we’re both pretty bad at hiding our feelings,” I sighed. Then, I looked at the others. “Thank you for your… Discretion with this. We’ll tell the others soon, we just wanted to keep this—”

“Yours?” Morgan asked, practically finishing my sentence.

“Yeah,” I nodded once. “Exactly.”

He smirked. “Can’t blame you for wanting to keep her all to yourself. I can respect that.”

I rolled my eyes, hiding a smile. “Right. Well, I need coffee if I’m going to get through the rest of today.”

They nodded, waving me off. I let out a deep breath as I turned. Three coworkers knew already, and I wondered how long we could actually keep things quiet before I had to come clean with everyone.

Though, after that conversation, part of me couldn’t wait to finally show her off as mine.

I got my coffee, heading back to my office to get through all of the work I had set aside for the day. It passed incredibly slowly. Her sweet face in my doorway at the end of the day made up for it, though.

I sat up a little straighter, an unintentional smile on my face.

“Hi,” I greeted.

“Hey. Getting late,” she said. “We’re picking up Jack in an hour, so pack it up, love.”

I snorted a laugh. She walked in, shutting the door behind her. I packed up as she had requested, standing to accept a soft kiss from her near the edge of my desk.

“He’s been asking about you, you know?” I said.

She smiled, still holding onto my waist in a hug. She pressed a small kiss to my cheek.

“Yeah?”

I hummed an affirmation. “Every night I’ve talked to him since we went to the zoo. He’s been looking forward to tonight.”

She smiled, and my heart warmed. “Let’s go get him then, yeah?”

We left the building, heading off to my apartment. I put away my things, and we both quickly changed clothes before getting in my car and heading to Haley’s. Of course, she stayed in the car when I went to get Jack, though I’d be surprised if she couldn’t still see the dirty looks being shot at her from the front door.

I ignored the hostility, too wrapped up in the plans we’d made for the night to care too much about Haley’s attitude. Jack practically squealed when he saw Y/N in the car, shooting a million questions at her the entire ride back the apartment. One in particular had me smiling like an idiot:

“Are you and daddy gonna get married?”

She laughed a little. “I don’t know buddy. We’ll have to wait and see, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

She looked at me, almost panicked by the question, but it only made my heart flutter in my chest. I knew it was probably far too soon to consider marriage, but I didn’t hate the idea of it happening some day. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

Our night was spent in front of the TV, snacks and drinks set on the coffee table, all of us sat in a pile of pillows and couch cushions at Jack’s request. As much as I’d like to say that I set most of it up, it seemed that no matter what I tried to do, she’d get to it first. I would have been offended if she wasn’t so excited to do everything she was doing.

Jack cuddled up to my side for a while as we watched the tail end of Monsters Inc. My arm was around his tiny shoulders, but soon I felt him shrugging me off. I looked down in confusion as he started leaning into Y/N instead, leaving me in the dust. I furrowed my brow, looking at her with offense.

“You stole my child.”

“Maybe he just likes the girl who gave him candy a little more than the dad who tried giving him pretzels.”

Jack giggled, rest his head against her arm. I tried to look annoyed, but it was hard to do with this sight right in front of me. My previous worries about them being together seemed so stupid now. Of course he’d love her.

“Still,” I raised a brow in challenge. “He was mine first.”

“Still love you, daddy,” he said, giving me a cheeky smile.

I couldn’t hold back my grin. “I love you more.”

He was out like a light by the time the credits were rolling, and she allowed me to take him to his bedroom and tuck him in. I kissed his forehead, wishing all my nights could end like this.

I wandered back into the living room to find her already cleaning up.

“Babe, I can worry about that tomorrow.”

“Babe, huh?” she smirked.

I felt my cheeks heat up. “Just… Shut up.”

She laughed. “You know, I can help pick up the mess I made, babe.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes for good measure. I followed her into the kitchen with two cups in my hands as she took care of a few other dishes. However, I set mine down quickly, plans on my mind that had nothing to do with cleaning.

I wrapped my arms around her waist from where she stood at the sink, pressing a few soft kisses up her neck until my lips were at her ear.

“Why don’t we go to bed?”

“Aaron,” she warned, though the way she leaned into me made that warning much less severe.

“I’ve missed you.”

“You see me every day.”

I groaned, turning her around. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

She bit her lip. “You’re ridiculous.”

I smirked, leaning in before she could think too hard about my plan of… Redirection. Her lips met mine as if it was her plan all along, kissing me softly, but not without passion. Her hands trailed up my arms until they were linking behind my neck. I took that as my chance.

I patted her hip, and she jumped into my arms. I hooked my arms under her, carrying her to the bedroom and dropping her on the bed unceremoniously. She looked at me with that little mischievous glint in her eyes as I pulled off my tshirt. I crawled up over her on the bed, though she quickly pulled me down on top of her.

“You’re a troublemaker,” she mumbled, kissing my neck.

“I think you like it that way.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

She nipped at my skin, moving her lips back to mine. My hands found their way under her shirt as we moved up towards the headboard. Her back arched into my touch, exciting me all the more as her hands ran all over me.

“Just promise me one thing?”

I nodded. “Anything.”

She pulled off her top, tossing it somewhere. “Don’t be too loud or you’ll wake up Jack.“

I scoffed a laugh as she smirked again, flipping us over so that she was on top of me.

“Sure,” she said, looking down at me. “Go ahead and laugh like didn’t nearly wake the whole building last time.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #the sweetest con

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birdiewrites78 · 5 months

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Dangerous Desires: Chapter One

This is Chapter One of a multipart series. The story includes violence inspired by Criminal Minds and touches on sensitive topics such as domestic violence, racism, and misogyny. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading. This chapter only briefly mentions racism, and each chapter will have specific warnings. Thank you for reading, and feel free to provide any feedback through my inbox.

This Chapter is dedicated to Isis because without her I would have never had the courage to finish writing.

August 1, 2005, 6:03 am, Woodbridge, Virginia

Natalie was out on what was shaping out to be the hottest day of the year; she would much rather be in bed trying to forget her nightmares or even in the living room that had air conditioning watching South Park Reruns. But dogs don't care about your feelings; they only want to go outside. So Natalie was watching over her small Yorkie, and as she used the bathroom, the sun was coming out in the distance. Once Bella was finished, the pair walked back to their townhouse. The small dog was clearly in a good mood, wagging her tail and sticking her dog out; the same couldn't be said for Natalie. Today was her first day at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. She wasn't a profiler or anything important like that; she was just the media liaison who was tasked with making sure that more people joined the BAU because many agents were lost six months ago in the bombings.

Natalie mindlessly walked, occasionally checking around her to make sure she wasn't being followed. As she was about to reach her townhouse, something drew her attention. She must have missed it earlier as the sun hadn't fully risen, but she could see it now that her neighbor had grown tulips. The pink blubs had fully matured and were undoubtedly beautiful. It had been a long time since she had seen tulips, and her day got a little better.

The rest of her morning consisted of changing into her work outfit, which was a white button-up with a white t-shirt underneath. Her pants were black slacks and a black suit jacket. Natalie searched through the jewelry box to find her pearls. Natalie didn't grow up rich; she was far from it, but her mother saved up to give Natalie pearls as a gift when she turned eighteen. Natalie blinked away the tears in her eyes and put on the matching earrings and necklace set. The rest of Bella’s morning consisted of getting Bella food and making herself some coffee and toast. After finishing up her breakfast, Natalie went to the powder room to check her appearance. She entered the small bathroom and averted her attention to the mirror. Natalie had inherited her father's darker skin and often had to hear negative comments about her complexion, so she became good at pretending that the comments did not bother her.

She studied her reflection, looking for any glaring flaws in it. She just saw her soft, doe-like, dark brown eyes, which were covered in dark brown eyeshadow. She made sure to check that her false lashes were on properly, next to her thin, arched brows, scanning for any extra hairs that were out of place. She checked her lipstick next; her lips were in the shape of a cupid's bow, and the lipstick color was a combination of blush pink in the center with a dark brown lining her lips. She smoothed down her long, pin-straight hair and made sure that none of her tracks were showing. The final thing she did was adjust her pink broach, which was in the shape of a ribbon.

The commute to work was dull. Natalie didn't bother to turn on the radio; she just listened to the sounds of the outside world. She slowly watched her surroundings change from the dense greenery to the industrial compound of the FBI’s headquarters. After going through security and getting her badge, Natalie made her way to the elevator. She was nervous but she couldn't let that show, she took a deep breath and started to pretend. She strutted into the hallway from the elevator, her So Kates making a small click on the white carpet floor with every step she took. Her steps were graceful but purposeful; she exuded confidence everywhere that she went. Her eyes were drawn to the receptionist's table, and she continued walking up to it, stepping carefully on the now-light beige carpeted floors. There was an older black woman with short black hair working the desk; she had smiled lines edged into her face; there were also semi-recently dark circles under her eyes. The receptionist looked up at the woman coming towards her, smiling brightly at her.

“Can I help you, dear?” The receptionist questioned the young woman.

Natalie took a deep breath before she started, "Hello, ma'am, I'm here to see Agent Hotchner.”

The receptionist turned to her computer, and the younger woman presumed to have confirmed that Agent Hotchner had scheduled meetings.

Looking up from the computer screen, the receptionist asked, “What's your name?"

Natalie always dreaded this question because of the temptation to say the wrong name.

She cleared her throat and continued, “Natalie, Natalie Price, Miss, I am the new media liaison."

The woman smiled at Natalie and chimed, "Yes, Ms. Price, welcome to the behavioral analysis department; I’ll show you over to your desk, and Diane is just fine."

Natalie often felt that she had a resting frown, which often made her appear unfriendly, so she tried to smile frequently to overcome this barrier.

Natalie spoke up as Diane started getting up. ''Thank you, Diane. I'm excited to be here, and you can just call me Natalie.”

Diane grinned at Natalie's words; she fully stood up and ushed for Natalie to follow her. Natalie grabbed her light pink rolling bag and walked behind Diane through the large office. The thing that stood out to her was just how empty the office was despite this; the office was beautiful and definitely, the nicest Natalie had ever seen. It was covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, surrounded by metal desks with wooden tops. The walls that didn't have windows displayed old certificates and awards that the BAU won.

The agents that were there had piles of documents on top of their desks mixed in with empty coffee mugs. Except for the clicking of keyboards, the sound of pens writing on the paper, and the turning of pages of reports, the office was silent. Natalie noticed how the walls were a mixture of concrete and dark blue paint; there was an intricate pattern on the ceiling, with overhead beams that stuck out from the ceiling.

When Natalie finally reached her desk, what drew her attention next were the stairs with an attached metal railing. There was an imposing room on the second floor that was also covered in large windows. Natalie couldn't look into the windows, though, because of the large blinds covering it. Diane spoke again, which made Natalie slap out of her thoughts.

“Here is your desk, honey; once you get settled, just go up to the conference room up those stairs, and to the left, you’ll meet the team along with Agent Hotchner there.”

Natalie looked at her desk; it was the same as all of the others except for the fruit sitting on top of it. Natalie froze when she saw a note attached to it, and she felt panic surge through her.

Diane must have noticed Natalie's unease because she spoke again: 'You're not allergic to fruit, are you? Oh boy, I’ll get this cleared away. Sorry about that, dear.”

Natalie visibly relaxed at the revelation; she told herself that just to try to relax, he wouldn't find her again.

Natalie began to speak before Diane left. “No, I’m not; I just am not the best with surprises, but thank you, Diane; it's lovely.”

Natalie finished, trying her best to smile back at Diane. She knew she probably came off weird, but if Diane was thinking that her face didn't give it away,

“Well, I’m glad you like it. I should probably get back to the desk. Let me know if you need anything else, dear.” Diane concluded as she started to walk away.

“Wait, Diane, I just have one more question: whose office is that?” She asked while pointing to the large office on the second floor.

"Oh, that's Agent Hotchner’s office. He is finishing a call, but he will meet you in the conference room.” Diane replied.

“Oh, thank you,” Natalie responded, watching as Diane made her way back to her desk.

Natalie sat on her swivel chair and started to unpack her rolling bag. She made a mental note to get Diane a gift card as a thank you, maybe for a spa. She took out of her rolling bag what she needed most: her black Fendi spy bag, her silver laptop, and her planner with a pink pen attached. She reached inside her Fendi to pull out her silver compact. She opened it and looked at her reflection. She took one last look, smiled at herself, satisfied enough with her appearance, and shut her compact, putting it back in her purse. She moved her rolling back under her desk, then gathered up the things she put out on her desk, putting them under her right arm. She walked to the stairs, holding onto the railing, and took a deep breath before proceeding up them.

She walked to the left, just as Diane told her, and opened the first door that she saw. Unlike the rest of the office, this room didn't have windows in it. Natalie mumbled to herself a small mantra before she opened the door: “Don't let anyone make you feel inferior; you deserve to be here.” She opened the door and was greeted by a room filled with six people sitting around a circular table. They immediately looked up at her, in confusion, and said, “Hello, I'm Natalie Price, the new media liaison for the BAU.” She announced it to the group. She noticed a black man with a buzz cut and a goatee dressed in casual clothing smirking at her. He spoke up first. “Welcome to the team Price, we go back by last names for the most part here, I’m Morgan, that's Reid,” he said, motioning to a young man with brown hair touching his neck with one side tucked behind his hair. He briefly looked up at Natalie and gave a quick half-smile.

Morgan then motioned to a young white woman with long blond hair. “This is-"

The blonde woman interrupted, introducing herself: “I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau; you can call me JJ. I was the previous media liaison, so let me know if you need anything.” Natalie smiled at her, feeling a little more comfortable knowing that the previous media liaison was still working there. Morgan simply smirked and started again. “Would anyone else like to introduce themselves?” He asked for the room, but no one else spoke up. So he decided to continue. “This is Prentiss,” he said, motioning to a white woman with dark brown hair and bangs cut. Prentiss looked at Natalie and smiled at her. "Finally, last but not least, this is Agent Gideon.” Morgan finished pointing at an older white man in the corner with short brown hair that had sprinkles of gray; he wore a striped button-down shirt and black slacks. Agent Gideon looked up from staring at the small window overlooking the scenery outside to greet Natalie with a half smile.

Morgan sighed at Gideon's actions and muttered something under his breath. Natalie could sense a little bit of tension between the two. She decided to speak up again to clear the air. “It is nice to meet all of you; I am excited to..." Natalie’s sentence was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. In walked a white middle-aged man who had shorter brown hair, with pieces of it falling onto his face. It reminded Natalie of Leonardo Dicaprio’s hair in The Titanic. He had dark brown eyes that seemed to pierce into her soul. Natalie knew she would be working with profilers, but it never occurred to her that they would try to profile her. His face had a mixture of frown lines and wrinkles in his temple, and Natalie also noticed a beauty mark on his cheek. Natalie had only experienced what could be described as love at first sight; she couldn't deny what she felt when she looked at the man; her heart started to beat quickly, time came to a stop, and she froze for a few minutes just staring at him. He was so handsome that it hurt, she thought.

Aaron was having similar thoughts. He couldn't look away because Natalie was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She took his breath away and scrambled his brain. He was undeniably attracted to her, which terrified him because he had never felt this way. Sure, he had loved his ex-wife and felt an intense attraction when he met her as a teenager, but he had never felt anything quite like this. The man felt an urge to know everything about her and do anything for her. He had read about sirens in Greek mythology using their songs and looks to lure sailors into their untimely deaths, and he felt the same way about the woman. He wanted to do anything for her already, and he started to profile her. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by Morgan smirking and speaking up again. “Hotch, didn’t you say that we had a case?”

Aaron reluctantly tore his eyes away from the woman and looked at the team, who all had knowing smiles on their faces.

Aaron spoke in a commanding tone, “Yes, we do, and it's time-sensitive, so we should get started."

He paused before starting again because he would have to look at the woman again. “And you are?” He asked, looking back at the woman.

“I am Natalie Price, the new media liaison; I just transferred from Narcotics,” Natalie responded not looking into his eyes.

"Right, well, I'm SSA Agent Aaron Hotchner, but you can call me Hotch.” He paused. Normally, he would reach out to shake someone's hand, but he feared that he would turn into a lovestruck teenage boy if he touched Natalie.

He felt frustrated by the hold Natalie already had on him, so he decided to be an asshole as he continued, “Truth be told, I'm not completely convinced that we need a new media liaison quite so soon.”

Natalie looked up to face Hotch with a condescending smile; she didn't appreciate him questioning if she was needed.

"Duly noted… anywhere in particular that I should sit?” Natalie quickly responded.

Natalie felt better that he was rude; it would be easier to ignore her feelings if he were.

Throughout his life, Aaron has often been described as serious. If his team had to choose one word to describe him, it would be "serious." They would also acknowledge that he was good at his job, but Hotch, as he was known, often felt like that was all he had. He was an absent father and an absent husband, and his frown seemed to be his constant companion. Despite this, Aaron had grown accustomed to his busy schedule and his role as a team leader.

But for the first time in his life, he was speechless, Natalie did not seem afraid of him, and the monotony of his life quickly changed.

He responded slowly, trying to collect himself. “No, anywhere is fine; welcome to the team you are about to witness your first case.” He responded.

He pushed his thoughts aside and decided to focus on a woman's life at stake, and as the boss, he had to remain professional. He cleared his throat before starting up the projector and directing everyone’s attention to the large screen in the office.

He started speaking. “Today’s Case is in Seattle, Washington. Before twenty-three-year-old Heather Woodland left for lunch, she downloaded an image with a time-delay virus attached; it left this image on the screen.” Hotch paused, pressing the clicker to show the next image.

The text read, “For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill again," repeated several times. Natalie felt a little sick. “At most, we suspect this woman will have about thirty-six hours to live, wheels up in 30.” Hotch finished his thought. The team grabbed the files sitting on the conference table and headed off to get their bags.

Natalie headed back to her desk, and with her stuff in her arm, she realized that her desk was close to Morgan and Reid’s. She grabbed her pink rolling bag. She was glad she decided to pack a week's worth of clothes, along with all of the toiletries and her medication, last night. She opened her flip phone and sent off a quick message.

Natalie: "I will be gone for about three days; please take care of Bella and don't burn the house down."

She felt bad about leaving Maria and Bella because they had rarely been apart for that long, but she knew what this job required when she took it. Natalie felt a ping in her hand, so she looked down to read it.

Maria: "Will you take care of the dog? I can't promise I won't burn the house down. You have renter's insurance, right?”

Natalie smiled. She felt lucky to have her best friend Maria in her life; she always managed to make Natalie smile even on her darkest days and was the one person she could never get tired of.

Natalie: “Yes, I have renters insurance, Maria, but if I come home to a burned-down house, I'm busting the windows out of your car."

Natalie laughed at her message and then put her phone, along with the things she took to the conference room, in her rolling suitcase.

Morgan must have noticed her smile from her texting Maria because he smirked as he spoke up, “Message from your boyfriend?'

Natalie looked up at him; he couldn't tell if he was curious or was trying to flirt with her. "No,” she stated, pulling her bag off of the desk and wheeling it.

"But you didn't deny you had a boyfriend.” Morgan inquired, and Reid spoke up next: “I’m sorry about him, Natalie; he was dropped on his head as a baby."

This made Natalie laugh as she replied to Reid, “Thank you, Reid, and no, I don't have a boyfriend, Morgan."

Natalie started to walk off in the direction of JJ and Prentiss, where she hoped to find the direction of the plane. Natalie was feeling anxious about flying; she had only flown once in her life, and she hated it. She thought maybe this could be a sort of exposure therapy for her. She went outside to the small runway, and as she walked on the concrete, she was happy at the sound her heels made. Natalie pulled her rolling back until she reached the outside of the large white plane. “This is it,” she thought. She pushed down the handle of the rolling bag and carried it like a regular bag; it was heavy, but luckily, her time in retail and dance made her strong and muscular.

She touched the outside of the plane as she walked up the stairs, being careful not to fall, especially not on her first day. Natalie looked around the plane; it was glamorous, and JJ and Prentiss were already seated next to each other towards the front of the plane. The seats were plush and made out of leather, with ample leg room, and there was a beige curtain hanging leading off to the back area.

Natalie also noticed a large couch placed near the cockpit; she mentally thought about the taxpayer money that bought that. Natalie moved to the back, right by the curtain, opting to sit close to the aisle, away from the window. Natalie opened her rolling bag this time, taking out her laptop and her iPod; luckily, she made sure to charge them last night. She put in her headphones and put on one of her favorite albums, I Brought You Bullets, You Brought Your Love, by My Chemical Romance.

She had somewhat of a scene phase back in 2002 when the album first came out; it helped her through losing her mother, so it became a comfort to listen to her. Derek and Reid filed into the plane, laughing to themselves about something; they sat towards the middle; Gideon came in next and sat towards the front; and finally, Agent Hotchner entered the plane.

Natalie looked up for a brief moment and then went back to her computer screen. She couldn't handle looking at him at the moment. Agent Hotchner sat across from Natalie, which made her wonder if she accidentally stole his seat.

After that, the plane ride was mostly uneventful. Natalie kept to herself and started working on outreach to encourage people to work for the BAU. It used to be one of the biggest departments until the bombings that occurred six months ago. Natalie didn't know much about exactly what happened; she was on a need-to-know basis with Agent Strauss. There were discussions about the case, and the team bounced around theories about the profile. Natalie wrote down what was essential, but the rest she left to the profilers. Aaron looked at Natalie a few times and wondered what she was listening to, but after his comment, he felt like he had made a bad impression, so he didn't ask. Eventually, the plane started to land, which caused Natalie to grip the armrests. She hated this part the most.

The plane descended smoothly, however, and Natalie scooted over to the window in amazement. She was in Seattle for the first time. Despite the nearly 6-hour plane ride, there was still light outside because of the time difference, which was good for the case. Natalie put her things back in her rolling suitcase and followed after JJ as they walked off the plane. They were going to have to split up to be the most effective with the small amount of time they had to find Heather. Natalie was assigned to ride with Hotch, Reid, and Gideon to get a profile for the suspect, while the others were going to talk to Heather's family. Natalie followed the others to one of the black SUVs waiting for them. Natalie felt nervous that it would be her first press conference, and while it had been years since the last incident, she wanted things to go differently this time.

They pilled into the SUV, with Natalie and Spencer sitting in the backseats while Gideon and Agent Hotchner took the front. Hotch drove, and Natalie noticed a few times when their eyes met as he looked into the internal rearview mirror. Natalie decided to look out the window to take in Seattle; naturally, she wished that she was here under happier circumstances. Natalie couldn't get over how beautiful Seattle was. Natalie especially appreciated all of the greenery; her mother had instilled a love of gardening in her at a young age, and since none of her other siblings were interested in it, eventually it became their thing. Eventually, they reached the Northwest Field Office; the building was large and imposing and covered in windows. Natalie followed Reid out of the car and into the building. He held the door and genuinely seemed surprised when Natalie said thank you, probably because no one else did.

After they went through security, Natalie trekked through the halls to reach their office. Natalie was surprised when Gideon corrected Agent Hotchner to say that Reid was a doctor; she figured he was intelligent, but it made her have even more questions. When it was time for her to be introduced, Hotch avoided her eyes and simply stated, “This is Natalie Price, the media liaison for the BAU.” Natalie gave a small wave paired with a smile. What shocked her, though, was Agent Hotchner's dry sense of humor. While she wasn't a profiler, she could already tell from his frown lines that he didn't often joke. They went over the profile. Natalie made sure to write down the key details on her laptop. She was impressed by how quickly they figured out the profile, and she had a million questions she wanted to ask about how they figured it out so fast.

After delivering the profile, Natalie had a million questions she wanted to ask, but they had to leave. Natalie scurried out first after packing up her laptop behind the men, following them back into the SUV. She started to get nervous because it started to sink in her head that she was going to be on national television and be hounded by reporters. She used to be a reporter, so she knew firsthand how vicious they could be. Even though the team already had a few leads on the suspect, they needed to come together to discuss what everyone had found before they tried to narrow it down. Natalie decided to get her mind off of her anxiety and tried to strike up a conversation with Spencer. "Reid, how old are you?”

She questioned him, turning to him in the car. Agent Hotchner gave out a dry chuckle at Natalie's boldness. Maybe someone who didn't know Natalie well would think she was making a poor attempt at flirting. However, Natalie was very inquisitive and enjoyed learning about other people, and while objectively Reid was attractive, Natalie wasn't that interested in dating, and she preferred older men anyway.

Spencer smiled at Natalie's question. “I’m 23; how old are you? And that is certainly an interesting question to ask.

Natalie gave a half smile at that. “23? I thought you just had a baby face or something and you were secretly like, How are you a doctor?" Natalie skipped over his questions; she needed answers now.

Spencer laughed at this. “I suppose I am technically a genius; I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, and I noticed you didn't answer my other question."

Natalie smiled again, looking back at Spencer. “I’m 25, but I turn 26 in a few months, and I'm sorry for asking so many questions, but I think that you are amazing."

Natalie responded to Spencer, and he in turn gave a genuine smile. Spencer could tell already that Natalie was very kind; of course, Morgan was his best friend, but secretly he knew that everyone would get tired of his random factoids and his tendency to ramble. But Natalie made him genuinely feel appreciated, and that meant a lot to him. There was no denying that she was beautiful, but he honestly felt a sibling connection to her, and he gathered she felt the same. Reid also gathered how Hotch gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and his frown got a little bigger while Natalie said that he was amazing.

Reid smiled to himself at how his normally stoic boss was slowly becoming attached to Natalie. Natalie and Reid continued to talk until they reached a small white courthouse. There was already press swarming the area; Seattle was considered one of the safest places to live, so naturally, the deaths of four young women plus the kidnapping of Heather Woodland gained the attention of every news outlet. Police officers had to escort the team up the white marble stairs to the podium and microphone set up for Natalie. Her hands started to sweat, and her anxiety started to kick in. Natalie took a deep breath and took out her notepad from her computer. She touched her pin, which calmed her down.

It almost felt like a touch from her mother, which made her more confident. The press swarmed her, which caused the officers to have to tell them multiple times to stand back. Aaron helped them control the press, which made her feel a little bit better as well. Some of the reporters gave her weird looks; she knew that they were probably used to seeing JJ, and they were naturally going to be tougher on a black woman, so she mentally prepared herself for any misogyny.

Natalie approached the podium, tapping the microphone to make sure it was on. She cleared her throat and started to speak, "Hello, I am Natalie Price, the New Media Liaison for the Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI. We are here to give the public some information on the suspended suspect and general safety advice for the women of Seattle watching.”

Natalie took a deep breath and continued, “We are looking for a white male in his late 20s, someone who could most likely blend into any crowd. This perpetrator is highly intelligent and most likely has a previous history with law enforcement. We believe that the suspect drives a Jeep Cherokee with tinted windows. Finally, we believe the suspect will mostly try to insert themselves into the investigation. If you have any tips for the FBI, please report them to Crime Stoppers, which you can do anonymously. And for the women of Seattle, we recommend reporting any suspicious activity, going out in groups for the time being, and being alert to your surroundings at all times.” Natalie took another breath. “That is all at this time, and we will not be taking questions."

Natalie finished. She stepped away from the podium, proud of her delivery, and walked to be escorted back to the SUV. The reporters naturally followed, asking a series of questions: “Does the FBI have any leads?” One woman asked, “Do you believe Heather Woodland is still alive?” Someone else shouted, as Natalie reached the car an older white man, with silver hair yelled out “Another Colored Person Taking away the jobs of white people. What's going to be next for an all-colored FBI team?”

Natalie just slammed the car door, she was seething she had felt so proud of herself but it was now tainted by some racist prick. But she refused to let her new co-workers see her cry. Hotch glanced at Natalie; he was going to speak up, but Gideon said something first: “Don't let that asshole ruin your day, Price. You did a great job."

Natalie gave a half smile at Gideon. “Thank you, Agent Gideon; I won’t.” Reid chimed up next, "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that.” Natalie appreciated how the team was trying to comfort her “It’s okay Reid, I’m used to it.”

Reid frowned at that “But you shouldn't be, that wasn't okay.”

Hotch chimed in. “No, it was not. I will make sure he is banned from all future press conferences when we get back to Quantico; you have my word.”

He looked over again to Natalie, who was a bit surprised but ultimately grateful. “Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” He gave a head nod to Natalie. She decided to just look out of the window again until they reached a police station, where the other agents were waiting. JJ approached her first once she stepped out of the car. “Price, Congratulations on your first Press conference you did amazing.” Natalie smiled at JJ and responded, “Thank you, JJ; that means a lot."

JJ gave a quick smile back as the rest of the agents cross-referenced the list of suspects compared to the profile they had developed. Eventually, the team narrowed the suspect list to one person, Richard Slessman, and started to discuss the best course of action. “I can call over the SWAT team; they will most likely be ready by nightfall, and considering that Slessman lives with his family, hopefully, that means he won't put up a lot of resistance.” Hotch declared.

Natalie panicked at that thought. She suddenly spoke up, “No, you can't raid the house if children live there.” She realized speaking up so boldly on her first day wasn't the best move, and it aggravated Agent Hotchner.

“Need I remind you Price, that you are not a profiler but simply the Media liaison, therefore you have no stake in this conversation.” Agent Hotchner harshly responded, Natalie was glad he was an asshole it made it easy to overlook whatever feelings she thought she may have had for him.

Prentiss spoke up for her though “Hotch, there is no need to speak to Natalie that way, did you have a suggestion Price?” Natalie appreciated the girls on this team, she genuinely hoped they would become friends now.

“Yes, I do, and while I may be the media liaison Agent Hotchner I would like to remind you that I came from Narcotics and, therefore have useful knowledge on raids.” She paused taking a second to think and then she continued “I suggest you lure him out, that way the children aren't traumatized and we avoid a repeat of WACO” Natalie looked into his eyes when saying this.

She was pissed by how she was treating her but she couldn't deny how her heart skipped when she looked at him.

“Very Well.” Agent Hotchner responded he was staring at her again with his jaw clenched.

Natalie was right in her original assessment, this morning, it was a miserable day, and it was going to be a miserable year.

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