#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hotchs-big-hands · 8 months

Text

Because It's You

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size!reader|6.8k words

NSFW minors dni please

Warning(s): deep bodily insecurities, angst but with comfort, tiny argument, sex, mirror sex, body worship, daddy kink, Aaron is a very hands-on kinda guy, fem!reader, naked female/clothed male (for some of it)

Requested by anon:

if you’re feeling up to it, would you consider writing something about plus-size!reader with a b-belly and being totally insecure about aaron seeing her naked (or close to naked)? (You can read the rest of the prompt here!)

Hey Lovey 💖💖💖 I'm very happy and honoured to write this for you!! I'm sorry it took so long to do but I hope you enjoy it all the same :) I have this type of tummy as well and some days I feel bad about it. But we always gotta remember that it's just a part of us and there's no shame in that :) much love! I hope you enjoy 💖

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

Dating Aaron had been so, so dreamy. He was dreamy. You questioned how you managed to garner his attention, but he would just smile and cup your rounded cheeks to press a gentle kiss to your lips. He just knew you were the one the moment he set eyes on you. And so you'd accepted his answer, although you didn't quite understand still. His kisses, his touches, his caring nature took your breath away. Whenever he would return from his job to you you'd feel floaty, ready to rush into his arms.

Sometimes, he would stay at your place or you would stay at his, depending on your schedules and if his son was staying with his aunt or not. It was nice, imagining what it would be like to live with him, cuddling up on the couch, dining together, sleeping in yours or his bed. You'd even given one another a spare key to your homes and had some toiletries set out for each other. Even despite all that... you were holding back.

Aaron was ever the patient and kind man, never pushing you into anything you weren't ready for, which inevitably meant you'd never gone further than, well, making out. Mortifyingly, you'd freeze up if his hands began to wander, straying from holding you close to him to gliding around the front of your torso. He would stop then, and you would end up snuggling and talking instead. A part of you was frustrated with yourself for it.

Of course you wanted to go further with him. You needed him, burned for him. The many times you'd lay in bed alone whilst he was away with work just writhing in the sheets, his name a shivering breath past your lips. It was becoming harder, and harder to resist him. But you just...couldn't. You were scared of him seeing you. Not once had you ever been naked where he could see, not even partially nude. You didn't want him to see you, not wanting the beautiful bubble of your lives entwining to burst when he set his eyes on your bare body.

There was no other way of saying it; you loathed the shape of your stomach. You already struggled enough with the fact that you had a larger body than Aaron. Where a flatter stomach and a more toned structure was on him, a protruding, soft stomach and a overall rounded structure resided on you. But that wasn't the main thing that made you hide from him. An indented band stretching across your stomach in line with your belly button taunted you whenever you caught a glimpse in the mirror, or wore anything more form-fitting. You hated it. Hated sitting down and seeing it more pronounced, opting to conceal it by trying to make your clothing more baggy in that area. You never let Aaron touch your stomach, you didn't want him to feel it, to feel the squishiness of your stomach.

And that's how you found yourself standing in front of your full length mirror that stood next to your bed, still dripping water from a shower, with your towel hanging loosely around your arms after you'd pulled it from being wrapped around your body. You stared at your reflection, grimacing at the image that faced you. It made your lower lip wobble as your eyes drifted down to your stomach where the dip of your belly button was. How...how would you ever let him see? You couldn't. He would hate it, feel repulsed at the sight. Maybe he would have second thoughts about this relationship and break up with you because he wasn't attracted to you anymore. Before you knew it, your reflection blurred into an indecipherable mess and quietly, you began to cry.

"Sweetheart?" You heard from behind you, startling you with a sharp gasp and as you blinked to clear your vision you spotted him in the corner of the reflection. You spun, tugging the towel around you tightly as you sniffled.

"Aaron! You scared me!" You squeaked as you rubbed your hands over your face to try clearing the tear tracks from your cheeks. "I didn't hear you coming in!"

Aaron strode towards you and his hands came to rest on your upper arms, you flinched as you stared at those deep brown eyes.

"I wanted to surprise you, but then as I approached your room I could hear you crying." He explained softly, thumbs stroking your damp skin. "What's wrong, honey?"

Your lower lip wobbled again and you shook your head.

"It's nothing important. I'll be alright in a moment."

"It's not 'nothing' to me."

Your eyes widened a little at his statement, his gaze didn't waver though. With a sigh, you dipped your head and sniffled again.

"I... Can I get changed first? I don't wanna, y'know..."

Aaron's brow creased.

"Feel stuffy in a towel if you have it on for too long?"

"Uh, no..." You trailed off, resisting having to say it. "Don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? You don't make me uncomfortable." He disagreed, hands moving to cup your cheeks gently. You bit your lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling once more. "Look at me."

Oh, he was so, so gentle. You dared glance at his face again and the urge to cry only hurt more. He sighed gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Sweetheart, I know you've been worried about what I think of your looks. And I know what transpired just now." He said. You tensed, jaw clenching under his hands.

"Aaron..." You wanted to pull away, to disappear from sight. But he held you so tenderly, so full of adoration.

"I know you're afraid of what I'd think of your body."

It was finally out there. Your fear, the dread of him ever being aware of it. You couldn't even look at him, pulling from his grasp and letting out a sob.

"Damnit, Aaron! Why?!" You turned from him and retreated further into your room, tears beginning to stream down your face. "Why did you have to say that?! Why couldn't you leave it alone?!" You cried as you tugged the towel tighter around you.

"(Y/n), I wanted to have a talk with you about it for a while. But finding you crying like this, we need to settle this now." Aaron said gently, not a hint of anger present in his voice. You stared across the room at him, throat feeling tight and sore as another sob bubbled out.

"Oh well, of course you've noticed! I should have been more realistic with myself about that given your career literally calls for that!" It hurt. But deep down you always feared he would have noticed the way you hid from him anyway. Aaron splayed out his hands at you defensively as he took a small step towards you.

"Sweetheart, please come back here." He said, softness oozing from the words. You scrunched your eyes shut but didn't move, your whole body was shaking now.

"You weren't supposed to know, weren't supposed to see."

"It's going to be okay. Just a step, I'll meet you in the middle, alright?"

You whimpered but slowly nodded, allowing your legs to move towards the centre of the room blindly. And then his arms were embracing you, his warmth surrounding you and soothing you.

"There you are, good girl. You're okay." He whispered to you as he stroked your back. You gripped onto him tightly as your tears began to seep into his shirt.

"I'm sorry." You sobbed.

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

He pulled away to take hold of your hand and led you to sit beside him on the edge of your bed. Instantly, you shifted the towel to drape looser around your stomach, cheeks burning with shame when you heard him exhale. You breathed in deeply, nose twitching.

"I... You're right. I am scared. I don't want you to see what I look like." You mumbled, messing with the fabric of the towel. Aaron watched you carefully.

"Why is that?"

You scoffed.

"Because when you do you-you won't want me anymore."

Aaron's thumb brushed the fresh tears away as he shook his head.

"You don't know that. Why would I not want you anymore?" He prompted you. You gritted your teeth as you tried to stay calm.

"M-my body... It's not-you won't find it attractive."

"I disagree."

Your eyes met his, startled again as he observed you intensely.

"You don't even know what I look like unclothed."

A faint hint of a smile graced his face as he glanced at your hands.

"Not fully, no."

What? You frowned.

"What do you mean?" You asked him with uncertainty.

"Sometimes, when we sleep together," he began, taking hold of your hands and cradling them. "I would wake up before you, as you know, and I'd notice your shirt had scrunched up during the night."

You froze.

"Y-you saw..."

"Your stomach, yes. It's...just nice seeing you as yourself, sleeping peacefully without a care or worry in the world. But I...picked up on the insecurity quite early on, sweetheart, so I would pull your shirt back down for you so you didn't wake up in a panic." He admitted softly.

You stared at him, mouth falling open slightly at the confession.

"Y-you still want me as well?"

Hurt flashed in his eyes and he pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

"Oh sweetheart, I need you in my life. I love what we have together, you make me feel like everything is going to be okay." He kissed the top of your head and before you could protest he pulled you again, helping you to sit on his lap facing him. You flushed, squeaking in surprise and embarrassment.

"A-Aaron!"

The man hummed quietly, holding you close to him as he pressed kiss after kiss to your face.

"I never want you to doubt how I feel again, sweet girl. It's my fault I never brought this to you sooner."

You trembled in his arms, overwhelmed with an array of emotions that clashed with one another. His words were so heartfelt, so sincere, that they challenged your own thoughts of yourself. You pulled back slightly, keeping your torso away from touching his as best you could. He watched you carefully with those gorgeous, dark eyes.

"I-I... I'm still scared of what you'd think if we ever got, uhm...intimate." You ducked your head again, missing the widened eyes and the bob of the adam's apple in Aaron's throat. His hands gripped you suddenly, making you jump.

"Sweetheart, if only you knew how much I've thought about making love to you." He said in a rumbling tone, one that you'd never heard him talk to you in before and it made you shiver. He tilted your head up to look at him with one of his hands, whilst the other spread across the expanse of your back and pushed you closer to him. You were keenly aware of how nude you were beneath your towel now, your bare slit rubbing against the neat fabric of his slacks. You whimpered.

"You have?"

He kissed the corner of your mouth sweetly, but didn't pull away when he spoke again.

"All the time, sweet girl. But I'll wait for as long as you need me to." He smiled against your lips and you shuddered.

"I...I've been thinking about it too..." You mumbled shyly. He hummed, the sound reverberating through him.

"Oh? Sweetheart, you know you do all sorts of things to me. Please, allow me to show you what you do to me. I want you to know how much I need you," he gripped onto the back of your thighs, dangerously close to your ass and the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasped out as he smirked against your lips. "Even if it means I have to fuck it into you until you understand."

Against your will, your hips stuttered forward, grinding your bare pussy across his now noticeably taut slacks as a little whine escaped the back of your throat. Aaron chuckled, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Will you let me show you what you mean to me?"

You tightened your thighs around his and gripped onto his shirt tightly.

"I-I- please... Need you, Aaron.."

His lips were on yours in an instant, kissing you in the way that made your brain feel mushy and your abdomen to fill with a passionate burn. He encouraged you to roll your hips into him, feeling his taut slacks only harden further the more you moved. Then the towel slipped, falling to rest around your hips and lap and you gasped, pressing yourself flushed chest-to-chest with Aaron. He pulled from the kiss to enquire the sudden movement, only to acutely notice your towel was all but pointless at this point. With his gentle hands, he cupped your cheeks as your eyes met his.

"(Y/n). Are you okay with leaning back? Are you okay showing me your body?" He asked you oh so sweetly, a slight crease in his brow. You shuddered out a breath, wanting nothing more than to turn invisible right now. You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to calm your racing heart.

"I-I am. Gonna lean back now." You managed to mumble out and Aaron kissed you so sweetly then pressed his forehead to yours.

"Good girl."

You whimpered.

"Hold my hands, please."

You felt his hands leave your face and carefully wrap around your scrunched up hands, holding them securely. You exhaled, then slowly pulled back, eyes still shut tight as you felt the cooler air of the room touch the bare skin of your body. You were in full view now, you knew it. You bit your lip and felt your heart racing under the burning gaze of those beautiful, brown eyes.

"Sweetheart, please open your eyes." Aaron squeezed your hands in encouragement. You drew in a deep breath, then let your eyes flutter open. The look in his eyes... Oh how loving it was. When you locked eyes a gentle smile formed on his face. "There you are. (Y/n), you're beautiful."

It took every ounce of strength not to look down at yourself and grimace, instead focusing on the man before you.

"A-Aaron... You really don't feel, y'know, grossed out by my body?" You asked meekly, earning a squeeze of your hands.

"Not in the slightest. I... I am in awe of you." He murmured as he leaned closely to press kisses to your cheek, slowly moving down to your jaw. "Your stomach is beautiful. I adore it because it's a part of you, and I completely adore you."

You whimpered as his lips trailed along your skin, dancing down your neck now as his hands began to wander to your plush hips, fingers digging into you.

"Y-you adore..."

"Yes."

Before you could say anything more, he was suddenly gripping onto you harder as he shifted you both further towards the centre of the bed and he carefully maneuvered you to lay on your back. Your eyes blew wide in surprise, a little squeak passing your slightly agape mouth as he now pinned you beneath him. The towel had slipped off completely during the move, now discarded and long forgotten elsewhere in the room.

"Aaron!" You yelped, earning yourself a rosy red mark on the skin of your neck your skin from his talented mouth. You felt him smiling against you as his thumbs stroked your plump hips.

"Mhm?"

You attempted to move your arms down to cover yourself but Aaron was faster, gripping your wrists and pinning them to your sides with a slight glare.

"No. I need to see you, sweetheart."

Your cheeks felt flushed as you trembled in his grasp, unable to look away from those beautiful brown eyes, near black with arousal, as they travelled across your bare skin hungrily. You could feel the bulge in his trousers pressing against your trembling, thick thigh as he let his hands slip from around your wrists to the expensive tie around his neck. Smoothly, he pulled it off and tossed it aside, making quick work of the buttons of his shirt now. Your eyes followed his hands, only to become distracted by the skin of his body being bared to you inch by inch.

"F-fuck Aaron- you're so fucking-" you began to sputter, only to be silenced by his lips on yours for a brief moment. He pulled away as he finished undoing the buttons and shrugged out of the shirt with a smug grin.

"Oh no, sweetheart. Tonight is about you."

He kissed you again, letting his hands wander to your shoulders and smoothing over them sensually. You whined when his clothed crotch pressed into your naked slit, feeling his thick bulge throbbing against you. This....this was because of you? You'd riled him up this much? The thought made you squeeze your thighs around him, earning a groan from Aaron. As he pulled his mouth away from yours you gripped onto his strong forearms, fingers brushing through the substantial hair.

"I-I-...." You trailed off and Aaron stroked the soft skin of your shoulders soothingly. His brow creased in concern, eyes flicking across your face as he analysed your body language.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? I hope I wasn't too...pushy. I understand if you want to stop now or-"

"-no!" Your cheeks felt flushed as you glanced away, embarrassed that you'd shouted. He didn't say anything, allowing you time to recollect your thoughts to speak. You drew in a shaky breath. "I... I'm just nervous, that's all... But I, um, didn't expect you to be so..."

Aaron raised a brow.

"So...?"

You scrunched your eyes shut and puffed your cheeks.

"You know what I mean! You're all- I mean I can feel you!" You finally blurted out, surprising him. A little grin broke across his face as he rolled his hips into you.

"Oh? You can feel how much you affect me, hm? You've caused this for a long time, (y/n)." His lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, slowly making it towards your chest. Your breath hitched as he sucked the skin above your right breast until another rosy red mark joined the others littering your skin. "I couldn't even begin to recount the amount of times I would be away with work, or at home without you needing to fuck my fist wishing it was your pretty little pussy I was fucking instead."

Your eyes widened as his hands moved to grasp your breasts, the pad of his thumbs brushing over your erect nipples and causing you to whimper. Your slit was slowly dripping down to your ass and no doubt forming a wet patch on Aaron's trousers, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

Aaron trailed his nose over your breasts, dipping into the valley between them and humming after every breath.

"Mmm... So fucking good. Will you let me kiss your stomach, sweetheart? Please let me kiss you." He glanced up at you as his nose pressed into the centre of your chest and you swallowed thickly, urging yourself not to cower away. Kiss your stomach? He wanted to kiss it?! Your eyes stung a little. But you finally nodded your head as you gazed into his eyes.

"O-okay..."

He lifted his head just enough to smile at you, then he shuffled downwards slowly, pressing gentle kisses all over your body. You trembled, tears threatening to spill when he focused the kisses around the dip of your stomach, nuzzling against your soft body.

"So beautiful, so heavenly and divine..." Aaron murmured, his hands still making work of stimulating your nipples and causing the muscles in his back to flex with every movement. Your hands came to grab his hair, messing it up as you let out a quiet sob. Never, never had you felt so adored and loved as you did right now. He was showering your stomach with so much attention, unfazed or hesitant about touching it. No one had ever done this before, nor would you trust anyone else to. But Aaron....

The kisses paused, followed by Aaron's hands sliding down to your hips gently.

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" He asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. As tears rolled down the sides of your temple you smiled.

"I'm just so... No one's ever been so caring like this." You mumbled. Aaron kissed the area above your belly button.

"You deserve to feel cared for, because I care very much for you." You felt the ache of another lovebite at the cusp of your belly button, then another below it. His mouth moved around the circumference of the skin until a pretty ring of reddish pink surrounded your belly button. Your chest heaved, overwhelmed by his touch and tender kisses, resulting in your thighs trembling.

Aaron's hands smoothed down your body, carefully sliding down your stomach after you nodded at his questioning gaze, travelling down to your large thighs where he gripped onto them firmly, his fingers digging into the plush flesh. Your eyes met his, he paused. His lips were plump, slightly parted.

"Will you let me see your pretty little pussy, sweet girl?" He asked with a gentle smile. You felt yourself clenching, momentarily covering your face as a nervous giggle bubbled through you.

"Y-yes."

"You're cute."

Aaron hummed, then carefully spread your thighs for him further than they already were, until your knees were near pressed against the mattress. His eyes zeroed in on your dewy folds and the clenching of your hole.

"Oh, sweetheart. You poor thing, all neglected down here. You're soaked." He cooed softly as his hands crept close enough for his thumbs to part your folds more, revealing your twitching clit to him. You whined, hips rising from the bed until his forearms pushed them back down gently with a tut. "Now, now. Be a good girl and lay still for me."

Your hands grabbed handfuls of the bedsheets tightly as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth.

"Nngh, please!" You cried out. The corner of Aaron's mouth twitched.

"Please, what? What do you need, sweetheart?"

You pouted at him, eyes wet still and you rolled your hips.

"Please, please touch me! Want to feel you m-make me cum."

The man before you stared wide-eyed at your plea, then his gaze darkened with desire and his hands left your skin. But as your mouth opened to protest his left hand swiped from your entrance to your clit, his middle finger dragging over the sensitive bud and making you gasp out.

"Let me eat you out, pretty girl." He murmured as he shifted to lay down with his face hovering close to your slick. You shivered, never having had anyone want to eat you out before. You managed to nod, head falling back against the bed when his arms wrapped around your thighs and he dragged you to his mouth.

You cried out as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking it softly with a hum, then dragging his tongue across your hole to circle it. You could feel how wet his lower face was as his mushed into your plush mound, whimpering and writhing as his skilled mouth continued. And then he moaned around your clit as he sucked it back into his mouth, tongue flicking it back and forth.

"A-Aaron! Fuck!"

Your hands moved to grip his hair, guiding him as he let go of one of your thighs, only to startle you when you felt a finger slip inside you. You wailed as he curled it upwards, searching and searching. God, his fingers were fucking thick and long, able to reach much more deeper than you ever could.

Then you felt it, an indescribable sensation when his finger crooked into a particular area on the upper wall of your pussy. Your hips spasmed up into his touch and you moaned; fuck, he certainly knew what he was doing. Encouraged by your reaction, Aaron thrust his finger up into that spot repeatedly, sucking your clit harder and swirling his tongue around the poor little bud. The rushing burn within your lower abdomen grew stronger, your body moving in time with his finger and tongue until it overwhelmed you, crying his name as you felt slick gush out and your nerves become haywire. Aaron continued until you were keening, wailing for him to let you catch your breath.

With a wet smack of his lips, Aaron pulled his mouth off from around your now swollen clit but his finger remained inside. Your eyes widened at the wet state of his face, his lips more plump as he grinned cheekily at you.

"Good girl, you did so well for me." He kissed your shaking thigh and you let out a trembling breath.

"I-I-... Never cummed like that before." You admitted shyly, causing Aaron to hum softly and slowly slide his finger out of your twitching hole. You whimpered when slick leaked out.

"Pretty girl, you deserve to cum in any way you want."

Before you could respond, your hole was stretched around two of his long, thick fingers and you wailed out his name, still sensitive and throbbing. He cooed, pressing his lips to your stomach and gripping onto the soft, plump flesh in his large grip. He used the grip to leverage the thrusts of his fingers, foreshadowing the rest of your night. He smiled against your squishy stomach.

"Gotta stretch you out, pretty thing. Daddy doesn't wanna hurt you." He murmured and your body lurched, eyes widening as you clenched around his fingers. Aaron froze, clearly surprised the words slipped from his mouth. "(Y/n) I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I hope I didn't-"

"T-that was-" you blushed and bit your lip again, another shy giggle bubbling out of you as you spread your legs wider. "It was rly hot. I...wouldn't mind calling you that too." You trailed off with a nervous smile. Something switched within Aaron, his eyes narrowing slightly and darkening into pools of near obsidian, and those two fingers inside you parted, stretching you a little more and making you whine.

"Little girl, you're playing a dangerous game there." He growled, shifting to press his mouth to your neck roughly, biting and sucking the sensitive area below your right ear. You cried out, rolling your hips into the thrusts of his fingers and your hands pulled at the sheets into tight handfuls.

"D-daddy I- fuck!"

His fingers rapidly fucked into you, a wet gushing sound causing heat to spread across your chest but the sounds only urged Aaron on.

"You hear how wet you are for daddy, huh? Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it."

Eyes rolling back, you sobbed as you felt the burn of another orgasm approach again.

"N-need daddy to fuck me! Please! Please fuck me with your cock!" You begged over and over, barely aware of a third finger slipping inside you amidst the thrusts. You heard Aaron groan, kissing down your neck and enveloping one of your nipples between his lips, rolling it between his teeth. In an instant, you tensed up and cried as your second orgasm of the night crashed through your depths and left you boneless, hips spasming with aftershocks. Carefully, Aaron pulled his fingers from your clenching hole and, while not breaking eye contact, he sucked each finger one after the other and hummed in satisfaction.

"Sweetheart, you're so beautiful. Love the way your body moves when you're writhing with pleasure." He praised softly, hands leaving you to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his slacks, of which were stained with your juices and likely his own precum. Your chest heaved with every breath, slowly calming down now and feeling shy again.

"Y-you do?"

The belt discarded elsewhere, Aaron began to pull the black fabric down, revealing the delicious 'v' line of his hips and the coarse, dark hair of his happy trail. He hissed a little when his boxers were pulled down low enough for his straining, thick cock to spring from their confines. You gulped, eyeing the substantial length and girth and the flushed red tip that glistened slightly.

"I think this may be a bit of an indication of how much I enjoy seeing you cum, is it not?" Aaron's strained voice snapped you out of your stare and you squeaked, covering your face with your hands and crossing your legs in the air. He tutted, grabbing your ankles and parting your legs and pulling you towards him until you felt his length against your slit and his balls against the base of your ass cheeks. "Don't you dare hide from daddy, little girl."

Reluctantly, you dropped your hands from your face and instead grasped hold of your breasts, squishing them together with a little pout.

"S-sorry. Just embarrassed."

He cupped your cheek with his right hand, pressing a kiss to your forehead tenderly as your eyes fluttered shut.

"You shouldn't be. I think you're fucking stunning, sweetheart." He smiled and you whimpered.

"I-I can feel you twitching against me."

Aaron raised a brow as he rolled his hips against you.

"Feels different now that it's skin-to-skin, doesn't it?"

"Yeah... I like it, daddy.."

You heard him swear under his breath, hips stuttering slightly at the title.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you, sweet girl. You ready for daddy's cock?" He murmured, kissing your head again. You wiggled your hips, spreading your legs further in eagerness.

"Please! Wanna feel you inside me!" You were so desperate, so ready to feel him inside your aching pussy. Your hips jolted when he rubbed the tip up and down your slick folds, swirling around your throbbing little clit before gathering some of your sticky juices onto his fingers to lubricate his big cock. With a few pumps of his hand he lined the tip up with your entrance, gazing down at you lovingly.

"Ready?"

Your eyes pleaded up at him.

"Uhuh, yeah."

His hand left your cheek and instead curled over your left hand, guiding it to squeeze your nipple as his cock slowly pushed inside you. Oh fuck. Your eyes widened as you stretched around him, gasping out as inch by inch he filled you up.

"O-oh god-" you managed to choke out, Aaron grunted deeply.

"Jesus- sweetheart, you're so fucking hot and wet- so fucking tight around me-"

At only halfway, he paused and let you adjust to his size, watching as you whined and moved your hand to press against your lower abdomen, already feeling stuffed with his cock.

"Aaron- s'good." You slurred, tentatively rolling your hips into him when you felt a little more comfortable. A rumbling sound vibrated through Aaron's chest and he pushed forward, filling you the rest of the way until the both of you felt the skin of his hips and your ass meet. His hands jolted to hold himself up either side of your head, a string of curses tumbling out of his parted lips at the sensation of your tight walls.

"Fucking- god, (Y/n) you're taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl." He gritted, trying desperately to hold back so you could adjust to the full length, despite his instincts urging him to claim you fully until your pussy was melded to his cock alone. Stray tears escaped your eyes at the discomfort as you fought to focus on the pleasure of being so full of him. Finally, your daydreams were no fantasy anymore.

Experimentally, you rolled your hips, biting your lip as you felt the throbbing vein which curled over the topside of Aaron's shaft brush up against the sensitive spot of your hole. Fuck, your eyes met his and he kissed you sweetly, in consequent he grinded his hips into you. You moaned against his mouth, the sensations within not unwelcome this time and you grabbed hold of his shoulders.

"P-please, daddy. You can move now." You whined, fingers digging into the strong muscles. Aaron hummed, sucking on your lip, then retreating, the warmth of his body leaving you and causing you to shiver. His hands gripped onto your plump love handles and pulled out until only the tip remained. A hint of a smile ghosted on his face.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, daddy will take care of you."

As he held on firmly, he pulled you towards him sharply in time with his hips thrusting, bottoming out whilst you let out a cry. Then he thrust again. And again. Each time increasing the pace as your breasts bounced and your soft stomach jiggled. God, he was going to ruin you in the best way, grunting roughly as he pounded into you over and over, eyes fixated on your pretty body. Your hands had fallen to the bed again, fisting the sheets into a white knuckle grip whilst a slurry of noises were forced from you. You felt hot, tingly, so fucking full. The events leading to this moment a distant memory for your mind solely fixated on Aaron. The feeling of his skin on yours, his beautiful cock inside you, the heat of his body, his noises, his scent, the manhandling grip on your body...

"You hear how wet your little pussy is? You're making a fucking mess, sweetheart. Daddy's proud of you." Aaron hissed, accompanied by the wet slaps of his thrusts into you. As embarrassed as you were of just how much your body was affected right now you couldn't deny you loved it. It was no short on erotic, sexy. You hadn't felt so desired as right now. Your eyes struggled to remain open, gazing up at the man you least expected to ever be in this position with. And yet, he was a man oozing raw need and desperation, desperation for you. The thought had your mouth gaping as cute little moans passed through them with every thrust.

"Mmmf~ feel so full, daddy-" you whimpered. Aaron leaned down, his cock deeply thrusting into you now as he pressed his lips to yours again in a sloppy kiss.

"God, you don't know how much seeing your pretty body like this makes me wanna-" he groaned, holding back from finishing his sentence. Instead, pounding quicker into you as slick stuck to him from your oozing pussy. You pouted.

"Wanna what, daddy?"

"Fuck-" Aaron stared into your pleading eyes, a slight pang of guilt coursing through his chest. "Sweetheart, don't wanna make you uncomfortable- oh god!"

You clenched around him in retaliation, watching his head throw back in pleasure as your pussy squeezed his thick cock.

"Please daddy, wanna know what you were gonna say!" You goaded playfully, only for Aaron to move one of his hands to swipe the pad of his thumb over your poor clit. He smirked when you arched into his touch, a high pitched moan echoing through the room.

"Don't be bratty, little girl. You really wanna know? Fine." Lowering his mouth to your ear he hummed. "Looking at your body makes me wanna fucking full you up with my cum, breed you and make you mine."

Your eyes rolled back, back arching and pressing your torso to his. Holy shit. You missed the way his eyes widened slightly as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Daddy- oh fuck- daddy please! Need it!" You wailed. Aaron chuckled in disbelief.

"Sweet girl, you're more naughty than I realised. You like the idea of daddy filling you up with his cum over and over, do you?" He barked out a laugh as you babbled and nodded your head clumsily, only for his gaze to drift and fixate elsewhere in the room. You tilted your head slightly, brows pulling together.

"What is it?"

Aaron groaned quietly and returned his gaze to you.

"Looking at us in the mirror, sweetheart. You look fucking gorgeous, taking my cock so well." He praised, his eyes hooded. You breathed shakily.

"O-oh..."

He cupped your cheeks.

"You should see yourself, sweetheart. Fucking beautiful, so fucking sexy."

You swallowed thickly.

"Really?" Aaron stroked your cheek as he smiled, stilling his thrusts again.

"Come, sit on daddy's lap. Gonna show you how pretty you are riding my cock." He said. Before you could speak he maneuvered you in his strong arms to pull you upright, his cock still inside you. You held onto him tightly, his cock pressing into you at a new angle which felt oh so good. You shivered.

"Nervous..." you mumbled. Aaron kissed your forehead.

"It's okay, sweetheart. If you don't wanna look you don't have to."

"No, I.... I'm curious."

With a half smile, Aaron helped you pull upwards off his twitchy, glistening girth and you closed your eyes, facing away from him and feeling his hands guide you back down on his shaft. But as his arms hooked under your knees and pulled your thighs upwards and apart, you squealed and your eyes flew open.

Then, your eyes settled on the two figures reflected in front of you.

Sprawled out on muscular thighs, messy pussy flushed red as it was speared repeatedly, you stared at your reflection. For a moment you tensed up, hands blindly gripping Aaron's hips as your eyes trailed over your appearance. Gone was the forlorn, shameful version of yourself from earlier that night. In her place was you in the now; face flushed, hair wild and messy, body littered in pretty little lovebites. Your eyes settled on the rosy ring around your belly button, feeling butterflies flutter within you. You gasped out.

"Oh fuck."

Aaron responded with a thrust, you watched as your body reacted to the sensation. Your head fell back against his chest, releasing a long drawn-out moan as he began to pound into you again. You watched your belly jiggle, your thighs wobble and breasts bounce. God, maybe you could understand why he was so enamored. Grunting and moaning roughly into your ear, Aaron bounced you up and down on his big cock.

"See? You see why daddy wants to breed his pretty girl?" He growled, eyes following your hand as it met your clit to rapidly rub it.

"Ye-ah- yeah-"

"I want to hear you say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes rolled back, flicking your poor clit as the pleasure within began to build, closer and closer.

"F-fuck! I-I see it, daddy! See why daddy wants to-to breed me!" You sobbed as you met each thrust. He rumbled deeply, his balls slapping your fingers and clit, slightly stuttering as he neared his peak.

"Fucking beautiful, say you're fucking beautiful, (Y/n)!"

You wailed, body tensing as you felt pleasure brink on washing over you.

"I'm beautiful! Aaron, please! I'm beautiful!"

His grip tightened around your legs, holding you down on his cock and with a guttural moan in your ear you felt his cock throb and twitch, only to be drowned out by your own orgasm. You were barely aware of your pussy gushing, attempting to pull your hand away from your clit, only for Aaron to let go of one of your legs and cover your messy hand with his, forcing you to continue to stimulate your poor, sensitive bud. Only when you both felt completely spent did he let you go, carefully helping you to lay on your side and spooning you. He remained within your tightened walls, twitching every so often after the last drop of his hot, thick cum spilled out inside you. He wrapped his arm over you, his hand resting on the dip of your belly gently. Slowly, you felt your heart rate level out again, just as Aaron's did, and a content smile graced your tired face. In the mirror, you gazed at your sideways reflection, Aaron propped up on his arm so he could smile at you in the glass.

"Was that.... I hope that was okay, sweetheart." He said softly, thumb rubbing a gentle circle around your belly button. You giggled sleepily.

"Aaron, you literally made me cum three times in one session. No one's ever made me cum even once, let alone three times."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly before pressing a kiss to your head.

"I'll happily do it again, and again."

You squeaked, feeling him twitch inside you when you wiggled in his grasp and you giggled again.

"Shush! You're cheesy!"

"Only because it's you."

When the both of you were eventually cleaned up, the sheets changed and the two of you curled up together again, you pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"Thank you." You mumbled sleepily.

"Mhm? What for?"

Aaron watched you snuggle closer into his chest with a shy smile.

"You made me feel beautiful."

Returning a gentle kiss, Aaron pulled you to lay on top of him.

"Because you are beautiful, (Y/n). And I'll make sure you remember it and believe it."

And that suited you just fine.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

I did it!! I finally finished it! I really hope you all enjoyed and I thank you all for reading!! Special shoutout to my beloved @criminalskies for cheering me on and reading some of this for me 🥰💖🥨

Taglist: @criminalskies @modern-mermaid @aaronhotchnersgirlfriend @aaronhotchswife @emptybagofchips77 @crimeshowjunkie @igotanidea @gogococopuffs @prentissesredtanktop @howabouticallyou @lalalove-56 @constantwritingblock @boredelle @powerlvr25 @aad1993 @idkbubs @mrs-ssa-hotch @jesuisbenny @nplumb22 @supercriminalbean @elijahmikaelsonbitch @wowzabowza69 @frostingway @simpingfortoomanypeople @spenciesprincess @creepysweetie @bruhhvv @regulus-black-223048 @brasspistol @0nex-is-dead0 @livingdeadmak @myescapefromthislife @sebastiansstanswhore @bumblebea-xo @hangmandruigandmav @sareim123122 @magical-spit

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bau-drabbles · 7 months

Text

the night we met, part 3

a/n: hope you enjoy! mentions of torture and guns throughout, kinda long and unrealistic but its fanfic so 🥴

what if haley never died that day? but what if your love for hotchner had to?

part 1, 2

"have you found her yet?!" hotch barked the order out as penelope frantically searched through copious amount of cctv footage all at once. several computer screens were open for the team, trying to find a clue on the location of where you had been taken.

"not yet sir" garcia whispered, her fingers practically flying across the keyboard silently begging for any sign where you could've left. hotch tried to reign his anger back in, this wasn't anyone fault but himself. if only he had caught up to you, just 60 seconds before you wouldn't have been here. if only that stupid kiss hadn't even happened, you wouldn't be god knows where getting tortured.

he takes a breath, knowing deep down it's not the time to react emotionally but it's hard not to, it's hard to even think rationally when he knows the likelihood of you surviving wasn't all that great. his profiler brain knew the possible outcome from this wasn't exactly high and with every second his worst fear could potentially become true.

"have you found her?" haley's voice cuts in and hotch shakes his head, his fingers pinching his temple for any signs that he must've missed. it feels overwhelming around him, flashes of people and the sounds of you seeping through his mind. it's dizzying trying to piece together what's real and what's not, flashes of you and that damned kiss is all that plays on his mind. the softness of your lips, the utter desperation between you both, the sheer passion that radiated in waves, all of it. he needed it again, he craved it.

it's even worse when his wife, the mother of his child, the very woman you almost got shot for, is standing there looking at with concern but he doesn't take any notice. he never would've though haley's voice could be so shrill and irritating, he never could've imagined himself recoiling away from her. so he simply doesn't answer her, sighing as he tries to go over the footage with garcia. he should tell her about the kiss but his lips remain closed, not willing to share anything more about you to her.

"well i can help-" "haley please. go home protect jack, he needs one of us" hotch dismisses her, his heart becoming in control of the situation. he can't stand to look at her, feeling so guilty for kissing another woman but even worse because he didn't regret doing it. his only regret was not kissing you for longer. still, hotch knew he was being overly harsh but the pure fear, the worry of you being alone and he wasn't there was enough to send him tumbling into a pit of pure distress.

but he took a breath, now was not the time to become emotional. he had to get his head in the game. the risk of losing you was too much to bear but the thought of you being out there, chained to a devil was enough to keep him going.

"police have set up roadblocks blocking any main exits in the city. if they've travelled, they can't leave the country" jj and emily come in, but the information isn't enough. who knows what the man could've been doing to you by now, who knows what terrible inflictions could've been upon you.

"we've checked any significant location but they've all come negative, the detectives are checking for any last known locations and the camera footage when they leave...." morgan and spencer are next to enter, their shoulders deflating in disappointment and sadness being unable to find you.

"we'll find her aaron" rossi pats hotch's shoulders and though the sentiment is sweet, any hope is starting to crumble and diminish now. you were just here, how could they not find you yet? the bau was supposed to be one of the safest buildings, how could someone so easily take you away like that?? his resolve was breaking and if he wasn't careful, all the feelings that were locked up tightly would begin to spill before he could've comprehended it. the truth he was too scared to admit would be admitted and he didn't know how long he could hide it for

before anyone could respond, a beeping appeared. and there beheld a sight they wished they would never have had to see.

taking a good glance at you, all seven team members found their hearts shattering piece by piece in their chests. a chorus of horrified gasps and exclaims echoed throughout the room and hotch could barely even breathe, the words dying on his lips

"aaaand here we go" you hear a click, the whirr of a computer and it takes you all your strength to awaken. an overwhelming feeling of tiredness practically envelopes your body, how easily you could fall into the darkness that awaits your presence. and then the unfamiliar feeling of being tied up grabs you attention, fear courses through your veins as your eyes open and adjust to the setting. it felt like a hospital room but this was no place where people were fixed. the sickly smell of blood and bleach is strong in the air, its overpowering and nauseating

but you calm your mind, it wasn't the time to panic. you had to think, you had to fight, you had to survive

your vision was slightly blurred looking at the man who held you captive, trying to ignore the intense throbbing in your head. your hands were cuffed to some chain, holding you upright on your feet. but he loosens something and you fall to the ground with a soft thud, vision spinning from the lack of hydration and the beatings he had given you prior.

"ohmy god.... y/n??" a breathless whisper echoes throughout the room and painfully, you glance at the camera. there, all your team members stood in complete horror. you see hotch and for the first time since you had known him, he's at a loss for words. just looking at you with so much pain, so much anger, so much fear.

you could feel your cheeks burning from shame and embarrassment, at your situation or the kiss you didn't really know. you didn't even want to know.

"y/n?? are you okay??? someone tell me she's okay please-" garcia looks on tearfully while morgan comes behind her, guiding her to the computer. truthfully they didn't have an answer to her question but they needed to focus, to keep you alive. and you didn't need to be disrupted, not when your life was at stake.

"that was to prove she's very much alive so none of you have to worry" and just like that you're brought up to your feet again, groaning when the handcuffs pinch the skin tightly. there's so much pain, you can't even pinpoint where it hurts the most.

"what is she dressed in?" someone seethed and you blink in confusion, craning your neck to see your body. it was a black gown you were in, a slit riding up the thigh. it was beautiful, too pretty to be drenched in blood. a stark contrast to the situation you were in now.

"don't worry i didn't change her, i had someone else to do it for me. my prizes have to look picture perfect" he brushes a piece of your hair and you swing your head out of the way, eliciting a kick from him. you don't even cry out, gasping for air at the momentum he had lunged at you with. your hands grip around the handcuffs but it was useless, you couldn't claw your way out of metal.

"you stupid bitch!" his fingers grip your face, you could see just how much his rage consumed him. it was unnerving to say the least, the slightest thing seemed to tick him off. there was no telling what he could do to you in this state

"enough!" hotch grits out, his fingers clenching into tight fists by his side. piece by piece his facade was cracking underneath the unsub's hammer. he couldn't reign in his control this time, not with your life being threatened

"who are you?" you grit out painfully, trying to stop the wave of nausea hitting you over and over. the man doesn't answer, the head of his gun trailing from your chin to the centre of your neck. you hear the click of the revolver and your breath is hitched, wondering if he was really going to kill you this way. wondering if you'd be shot in front of your team that remained helpless on the other side

"i've always wondered what the price was for killing an fbi agent was-" you see the man's cruel smile hit you can't answer, the fear felt overpowering.

"don't you dare" hotch snarls, surprising everyone with the intensity of his rage. and to your surprise, it had worked. the man eyed hotch and with a soft grin, dropped his gun and you felt your lungs take their first breath. tears pricked your eyes, the tiredness was practically swimming in your body but you couldn't crumble. not in front of the unsub, not in front of your team. and especially not in front of hotch.

"i think we should play a game, no?" the man smiles sadistically, pointing to you again. any strength you once held was shattering minutes by minute. your mind and body fighting over one another, wanting to give in and give up but forcing yourself to stay awake no matter what

"leave her alone! i can have you arrested on multiple accounts of-" hotch's face was unreadable, his hands etched tightly around the monitor but the unsub gestures to his mouth, to silence them all.

"if you want her alive, you'll do what i say. good luck trying to pinpoint our location, right now the cell service is bouncing around several cell towers all across the globe" frustrated, hotch looks towards garcia who was working feverishly and she sadly nods, it wasn't a clear location no matter how times she tried to hack into the system. she was hit waves and waves after a firewall which could take hours, time you didn't have to spare.

"so back to the game, who wants to start? oh and if anyone moves," you feel the pinch of a knife resting dangerously on the pulse in your neck.

"one twist and she's on the ground and i'll be miles away. and this would've been all for nothing" he moves the knife down to the centre of your neck. leaving spots of blood in its wake. all of them look helplessly at each other, the unsub had them right where he wanted them and they knew. any slight movement would guarantee your death, any secret calls would have you beaten before they could hang up.

you were all at his mercy, whether they liked it or not

"derek morgan" the unsub peered around the group and his eyes settle on him eerily. morgan gulps a little, trying to calm his shaking hands. his eyes looks at you helplessly then back to the unsub where his gaze had hardened as puts up his profiler front once more

"we're starting off easy, how many years have you and agent l/n known each other" the question was simple enough and yet it felt like he asked into the lions den, suddenly feeling rather exposed and confused. as if any answer to this simple question would be wrong even if it was the truth

"wha-" derek began but he heard a sound of disapproval and your shocked wince as you were yanked back by your hair

"wrong answer" you weren't even given a warning or a countdown before you feel a surge of hot white pain floods through your body. painful screams rip out through your mouth, your hands desperately clawing at the handcuffs but its to no avail. the team stand there panicking, yelling at the man to stop. the pain was intense, you could've almost passed out from the pure agony crippling you

"waitwait wait stop stop!!! it's three!!! i've known her three years!!!" derek shouts, banging the screen and the pain is low dull one, you gasp and gulp for oxygen that never fully reaches your lungs.

"if you had answered the first time around, none of this would have happened would it?" he scowls, giving you a nudge with the stick. you gasp out for air, your tongue heavy on your lips as your body groans against the ties holding you up

"hurry up garcia" hotch commands under his breath to penelope, her eyes watering as she's trying desperately get some location on you. jj and emily help, trying not to look at the horror that was unfolding and focus their attention on bringing you back safely.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry-" morgan whispers, his hands shaking looking to and back from you and the unsub. hotch can only stare with his mind spinning, breathing coming out in short bursts, his heart feeling like it had plunged to the deepest darkest parts of the earth. he's losing his composure and as much as he's trying to reel it back, it keeps slipping from him. leaving nothing but a vulnerable scared man

"how you doing?" the man prods your head and you could only gasp at the anguish flooding your body. if it weren't for the incredibly tight rope holding you upright, you would've collapsed a long time ago.

"doesn't she look so pretty?" he holds your face mockingly and turns so the rest of them can see. every member of your team feel their hearts shattering and splintering, their hitched gasps of panic at the beating.

"agent hotchner" the unsub asked another question, his dark eyes settling on hotch. a manical grin on his lips as he revels in the alarm he has inflicted on the whole team. as if it gives him satisfaction that your life danced in his hands and your team members could do nothing but watch

"truth or dare?" the unsub smirks and hotch looks at you, his stoic facade crumbling. his heart was falling into a million pieces he's not sure he'll ever recover from

"truth" hotch utters, his voice completely free from the cold tone he usually dons.

"do you love agent l/n??" the chain holding you upright once again loosens, and that sends you tumbling to the floor in a broken beaten pile. your heart was racing, partly because of the pain but mostly due to what he would answer. with a good amount of strength, you raise your head and look at the camera. looking at his face, how his eyes flickers with so many emotions and how you can practically see his resolve breaking away

hotch was a good liar but seeing your broken defeated face, being unable to help you, he had answered the question without even realising.

"yes" the murmur was soft, his voice cracking as he takes in your approach. he had caused this. he had done this to you. the promise of protection was nothing more than jumbled words at his feet. he broke the very thing he swore on you, how could ever look at you the same again?

"aww what a cute lil romantic story this has evolved into" the unsub had cackled and your head shook, glaring at both hotch and the man who had held you captive

"there's nothing... romantic about this" your voice was weak but firm, refusing to even meet hotch's eyes.

"shut up" the man had gripped you, ignoring the protest your team were calling. it felt like too much, he held your chin and you look at him, it was now or never. you had to escape, you had to be free.

you had to survive

with one swift move, all your strength goes in knocking him down. he tumbles to the table, breaking the rotting wood with ease. the instruments clatter and you get up, hissing when your abdomen stretched a little. looking down, you see your body littered with blood and bruises. a huge burn mark plastering your side as the dress ripped apart but you didn't have time to feel sorry for yourself when you hear voices crying out that he was attacking again

"in front, y/n!!" derek commands and you duck, making him fall into the table. you quickly grabbing the keys from the scattered objects on the floor, jamming it into the lock and twiddling until you felt a click. the metal loosens and you feel them slipping off, eternally grateful that for once the universe was on your side.

you didn't get time to react for when you look in front, he's there again. but your leg connects with his groin, remembering the training moves you were taught. the force of the kick was enough to paralyse him for a few minutes as he screamed. you looked around, quickly trying to find some keys to unlock the door. your freedom was close, you could practically taste it as you rushed around.

and then you had made the biggest mistake of looking into the camera for a second.

in that second you catch a glimpse of hotch's face, it completely startles you. as if the world had stilled for a fleeting moment and all you see is hotch, just looking at you with so many emotions it's hard to decipher which is the most dominant. how despite everything, you want to hug him and never let go. your body inbetween his arms and your head against his heart, protected against any and all bad in this world. and then you remember the heartache he's caused you, the moment that had led up to you getting captured and every memory is a dagger to your heart. how could things have gotten so wrong?

but it was that moment that was used to the unsub's advantage

you hear screams echoing in the room but you don't comprehend until you feel a burning sensation completely puncture your abdomen. gasping, you look down to see blood gathering at your feet and dripping down your legs and before you even look back up, the object breaks the skin a second time. as if it was all in slow motion, your teams watched the horrific steps play out like a twisted play.

"i told you not to mess with me, you stupid bitch!" he grips and twists the object once more, resulting in a breathless gasp leaving your lips. the pain felt intense, a throbbing sensation overtaking you as you collapse. the horrible sound of your skin being punctures all but echoes in hotch's head, unable to do anything but to scream your name. shocked screams echo in the bau room, penelope's fingers are furiously typing away as she squeezes her eyes, unable to stop the horrible penetrative sound of your skin being stabbed in her mind.

the pain grows worse by the second and your scream dies on your lips, eyes fluttering closed ready to accept and await the darkness that overtakes your consciousness.

"nonono.... no!!!" hotch could barely manage a whisper, banging the screen as if he could magically appear to your aide. but he was simply doomed to watch you as you suffer and collaspe to the ground, breathing quickening. this couldn't be, this couldn't be the end.

you can see him and painfully you turn to watch his face. you don't know what emotions has crossed over his features, he still looks as beautiful as he did the first day you had set eyes upon him. how lucky you were to experience what it was like to be kissed by such a man, to be able to be in the presence of such a wonderful person. your tears had blurred your vision, not out of pain but out of gratitude. even laying on this cold floor, bleeding out, you were purely thankful for him.

he had protected you before and now it was your turn, this way he could focus on his wife and child. you would never be in the way again. there's a hint of the softest smile upon your lips as your eyes close. your fists loosened, limbs becoming limp as you closed your eyes, allowing the darkness to fully encapsulate your mind and body. maybe in a different world, a lighter one, you and hotch could be together against all odds.

the screen fizzles into a black page and hotch barely lets a breath out he didn't think he was holding. his hands have gripped the chairs, he didn't trust himself to stand without the support. he could feel his eyes prickling with the tears as hard as he tried to disguise them, his world was falling apart at the seams and he couldn't do a thing to fix it. all he wants is to be with you but now he didn't even know if you were alive anymore, that thoughts sends him further spiralling in his despair. he wanted nothing more than the ground to completely swallow him whole, the lump in his throat growing bigger as his team members looks at him. partly with concern, fear and pure sadness.

the room was completely silent, everyone's faces covered with a look of pure sorrow and so much anguish.

penelope's tears won't stop trickling down her cheeks. emily and jj look at each other with helplessness, their tears shining underneath the lights. morgan and reid lean against the table their hearts thundering in their chest, completely unable to process what had just taken place while rossi sits by a chair his head in his hands at the pure shock and pain running through him.

"it-it didn't look that terrible, she could still.... be alive" against his better judgement reid offers his support softly. the crushing weight of your absence completely crumbling hotch in a way they've never seen before.

"she was stabbed twice, reid. don't be so naive to think she could've possibly survived that alongside with the beating he had delivered. you above all, should know that much" his voice was harsher than he intended, heavy as the lump in his throat grew bigger. it felt like the air was being cut off, his thoughts ricocheting across from one another as his knees give way and he crashes to the floor in pure defeat and torture. he could faintly feel someone come to his help, his name being called but his mouth refuses to answer. all he can think about, all his mind is replaying is the moment before you closed your eyes. how he wasn't there to help you, how he couldn't rescue you this time.

you could've still been there with them had he been to your aid just 60 seconds earlier. if he had chased you quickly, you wouldn't be beaten and bruised within an inch of your life and now you were... gone. his heart felt like it was being twisted painfully, gripped tight as the thought of never hearing your laugh and seeing your smile became permanent. the dam had broken and the tears spilled down his face, his hands clutching the carpet but to no avail.

what we he supposed to do now, haunting by the memory of you like this? what was he supposed to do haunted with the ghost of you?

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader angst #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x y/n

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hotchs-bitch · 11 months

Text

4 AM

Credits: prompt idea from @foxy-eva Criminal Minds Writing Challenge! Hurt/Comfort prompt: Nowhere else to go: Person A didn't know where else to go in a time of need, so they ring B's doorbell. Betaing credits to @doctorstethoscope and @greg-montgomery- I would never post anything if you guys didn't tell me to <3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner (post-slash?), Aaron Hotchner & blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n) (platonic-ish)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Unrequited love, discussions of divorce and parenting, Hotch's take on Haley leaving him, big sexy man cries a little, mentions of cases, angsty

A/N: I'm back with a song fic about Hotch's marriage crumbling, because apparently that's the only thing that can drag me out of my burnout era. Inspo song is 4 AM by Cate, and I highly recommend giving it a listen!!

Yes, this is angstier than I meant for it to be. Yes, I'm already working on a part 2 :)

Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut. Happy reading <3

Next part | Series masterlist | My masterlist

Why don’t you come over?

It’s only friendship we’ll risk

You can cry on my shoulder

If it’s her that you miss

Are you thinking of me

In a new light?

‘Cause if not wе could pretend for the night, for thе night

“Why don’t you come over for a little bit tonight?”

“It… it doesn’t even matter–”

“How long is your drive?”

Aaron’s sigh into the phone receiver is audible. You can almost picture him right now, his face screwed up in frustration and two fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I’m… not far. I’m at a motel twenty minutes from Quantico. She offered to stay at Jessica’s house, but… I don’t want Jack to know what’s going on.”

This certainly wasn’t the conversation you were expecting to have when you phoned your boss in the evening, intending to apologize for the late hour and let him know that you would be sending a file to him that would need to be reviewed first thing in the morning. You were expecting a brief, rushed call. You weren’t expecting him to pocket-answer the phone so that you had an accidental front-row seat to the sound of your boss checking into a motel room for one guest.

When he finally heard your voice calling out, “Aaron!” from his pocket and realized what was going on, he had bashfully explained; another fight with Haley, a bad one. You know that they’re all bad these days, but his admittance meant that it was worse than usual. It had ended with both of them packing bags, insisting that the other stay at their house, and Hotch driving off before she could.

You can’t pretend that you aren’t a little surprised that he shared all of this without much prompting. But now, you just want to see him and know that he’s okay. You just want to make this better… but how can you do that?

Maybe it’s not your place to get involved at all. You would be the first to admit that, sure, you have a minor crush on your very married colleague, and maybe that means that you should be staying away from his marital problems with a twenty-foot pole. But if he needs help, you’re certainly going to offer it.

“I don’t want to say it, but… do you really think Jack doesn’t know? You two have been having a lot of problems, and he’s a smart kid.”

“I know. I know. But it’s not… we can work it out. We can figure something out. There’s no need to stress him out or make him think that we’re going to get a divorce. I don’t want him put through all of that, for something that won’t happen.” The pain in Aaron’s voice is as audible as his words, and the sheer emotion behind it… it just breaks your heart.

It’s your turn to sigh now, letting your head tip back and rest on the back of your couch. “Are you sure you don’t want to come over? It’s really no trouble, I promise. I’ve got a guest room; you can stay as long as you need.”

Now, there’s a familiar firmness in his tone. It’s that decisive I-know-best voice he uses when he really believes in what he’s saying. “I’m sure. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be home by tomorrow. We’ll work this out. I… appreciate you speaking to me about this. I’m sure it’s not why you called.”

If he could see you, you would wave a hand in the air as if to say, ‘Don’t worry about it’. “Anytime, Aaron. And that offer stands, you hear me?”

This standing offer of yours might be a bad idea. What if he takes you up on it? What if he comes over, seeking your company? Your conflicting feelings for him are easy enough to set aside at work, but if he’s coming over because of his rocky marriage that’s a whole other battlefield you don’t have a clue how to navigate.

Aaron loves his wife. You know that he does. He adores her and their son, right down to his nightly phone calls with them on cases and the picture of the two that he keeps in his go bag. But sometimes, on the occasional event that he relaxes around you, you can’t help wondering if he could ever think of you the same way he thinks of Haley.

He could, you’re sure of that. He’s a red-blooded man, and even though that’s a little cliche of you, you can’t help but wish he would think of you as more than a colleague. You’re a woman who sees him more often than his own wife does, and that’s got to count for something. Does he really just view you as a colleague and friend, or… does he ever view you as something more?

Sometimes, you think maybe he does. During your last case – an abduction in South Dakota – the two of you had been canvassing together down a busy street when a biker rode past. Aaron had noticed in the nick of time, pulling you in towards him and out of the way of harm. He loves his wife more than anything, and you know that he was just keeping you from getting hurt. But for a moment, for just a split second, you had let yourself imagine that it was a gesture of more-than-friends, that he was pulling you in because he wanted to be closer to you.

So maybe this offer is a terrible, awful idea. You can admit that it probably is, but at least he doesn’t seem to be taking you up on it.

“I hear you.” There’s a bit of a smile in his voice now, as though he knows how serious you’re being and he finds it amusing. “Thank you, again. Have a nice night.”

Before you can respond, he hangs up. With a sigh, you set down the phone. It’s starting to get late now; you might as well go to sleep if he’s not coming over.

–

When you wake up, your bedroom is completely dark. Your alarm isn’t ringing on the nightstand, and when you roll over in bed you read the time on the digital clock. 3:46 AM.

So what the hell woke you up?

Your answer comes in the form of a knocking sound, loud enough to get your attention without being an obnoxious pounding sound. The noise is coming from… somewhere, so you get out of bed and slip on a robe over your pajamas to find the source of the noise.

The hunt leads you to your front door, where that steady knocking is coming from the other side. Someone is knocking on your door, at the late hour, and in a haze of grogginess and confusion, you wrench the door open.

“What is- Aaron?”

He’s standing on your step, his hand raised like he’s ready to knock again. His face… god. His face is full of pain, unimaginably pure pain, and he nods at you. “Hi. I’m sorry, I… you were sleeping. I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

His voice breaks a little, and that’s when you reach out. With one hand on his shoulder, you steer him into the house and close the door. “Are you okay? You didn’t… what?”

When you guide Aaron to the couch, he sits down without hesitation. His voice is drenched with despair when he says, “I didn’t… know where else to go. You said that the, er, offer was standing, right?”

“What? Yes, of course, it is. Aaron, what’s going on?” You sink down onto the couch next to him, watching him inhale deeply like he’s trying to ground himself. The tiny part of you that preens when he says that he didn’t know where else to go… well, you try to fight that part back. Right now, the priority is Aaron. The priority is not your ridiculous, unrealistic crush on him. “I thought you were staying at the motel tonight and going home tomorrow.”

“I did, too. Haley texted me a little while ago. She… she told me that she wants to figure out a… custody agreement that recognizes her as Jack’s primary parent. She wants to… work that out before she gets her lawyer involved.” He gives you a sardonic little smile, one that fills you to the brim with empathy as he continues to speak. “Apparently, when she said she would stay at her sister’s house, she meant indefinitely. I can expect to be served the… papers in the next week.”

He says ‘papers’ in a bitter tone, like the very sound of the word puts a bad taste in his mouth. It’s not hard to piece two and two together, and you slowly reach for his hand. He lets you take it, and you give him a moment before you ask the question.

“You and Haley are divorcing?” Compartmentalizing this has to be one of the most strong-willed things you’ve ever done. This isn’t the time for your feelings and emotions to be anywhere near the surface; not when Aaron needs you like this.

At the d-word, he flinches a little like he’s been wounded. He obviously hasn’t come to terms with the idea of it yet, and you wonder how long it’s been since she texted him. “We aren’t divorcing. She’s divorcing me.” His correction is swift, and his voice is brittle; it feels like he’s close to shattering. Seeing him like this – so vulnerable, so broken – is completely alien to you.

“Aaron…” You don’t know what to say, so you squeeze his hand. In lieu of any other words, you ask the stupidest possible question. “How do you feel?”

He laughs a little, at that. It isn’t genuine, but it’s not a cruel laugh either. It’s a little bit cynical, a little disbelieving. “I just found out that my wife is leaving me. It’s 4 AM, and I’m tired, and I can’t go home. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, right now.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. It was dumb of me to ask.” You move a little closer to him, the couch cushions shifting under you until you’re almost pressed against him. “You can talk about it, if you want to. You can tell me everything that’s going through your head.”

Aaron takes another deep breath at that, and his hold on your hand tightens a little. “She isn’t happy. She hasn’t been happy, and we both knew it. I just… I didn’t think this would happen. I know she wants me around more- wanted me around, I suppose. Lately, most of our fights have been about work. Haley wanted me to leave the BAU, the Bureau if it came down to it, and I refused. And I can’t blame her for wanting a normal life, or wanting me to work at a 9 to 5, but… I can’t do that.”

His monologue has shaken every remaining ounce of grogginess out of your system. Aaron so rarely opens up, especially about personal matters. Listening to him talk like this, you could go all night long without a cup of coffee.

Come to think of it, coffee is a really good idea. Standing up, you give him a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m just going to make us some coffee. You look like you need it.”

The open-concept design means that you only move a few feet away to get to the coffeemaker in the kitchen, and you look over at Aaron as you scoop grounds into the basket. “Why can’t you leave the BAU?” Your question is soft, not accusatory.

He hears your tone, the general curiosity, and sighs. “When I was a lawyer, I prosecuted dozens of murder cases. By the time they reached my desk, it always felt like it was too late. And I wanted to, uh… stop them, before they got to my desk. We see a lot of things, you know? Jack… I don’t want him growing up in a world like this, with serial killers around every corner. I want to make the world a safer place for him. I suppose I thought that… I thought that because I’m doing it for my family, that would make it… easier for her to deal with.”

By the time Aaron finishes speaking, you’re handing him a cup of coffee. It’s sweetened with a bit of sugar and some cream; he usually drinks it black, but you know he considers any other kind of coffee to be a treat. If there’s ever been a time for him to deserve a treat, it’s now.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him as you sink back down onto the couch with a mug of your own. “I know that you and Haley might have different ideas about what parenting should look like, but… you’re doing this because you love him. You want to protect him, and keep him safe and innocent. That doesn’t make you a monster for missing bedtime.”

It’s silent for a long moment; the only sound is both of you sipping your coffees, and then Aaron hums quietly. “I just… I never want him to know what kind of people are out there. He’s a little kid. I’m supposed to be there to tell him that there isn’t a monster under his bed. Instead, I spent his birthday in Mississippi looking for a guy who hunts his victims by actually hiding under their beds. I can’t blame Haley for being upset with me.”

You’re still trying to think of a response to that when he speaks again. His voice softens now, and when you glance over he looks away quickly. It’s not quick enough, and you still make note of the tears in his eyes that he’s obviously trying to hide. “We’ve been together since high school, you know. Graduation, college, law school… all of it.”

“I had no idea,” you murmur. You knew that Aaron and his wife were together for a long time, obviously. But to be together since high school? That’s a hefty chunk of time; it’s more than half as long as he’s been alive. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I… I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“If it helps, neither can I. I don’t… I have no clue how I feel,” he admits, setting down the coffee cup. His gaze is still averted, but you can see the tears shining in his eyes. “Things haven’t been great for a while, and I know that. I’m not an idiot. But she’s always been there by my side, always. And now… she won’t be there, anymore.” His voice breaks a little on the last word, and it just… breaks your heart, all over again.

When you speak, it’s a little more tentative. Between his strict professionalism in the office and the reason for this impromptu 4 AM visit, you’re worried that you might be crossing some sort of line here. He’s got a wife at home; technically, he’s still married. That, and the reason for your offer is more selfish than you care to admit. But you don’t mind that as much as you probably should. After a pause, you say it.

“You can say no, but… do you want a hug?” Even as you ask the question, you start to get to your feet. Maybe to give him easy access, or maybe just so you can busy yourself with the coffee mugs if he says no.

A soft ‘oof’ escapes you when Aaron gets to his feet and hugs you tightly, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask. His arms wrap around your waist while your own come up to reach around him, rubbing his back gently in as reassuring of a manner as you can. Yes, your reason for this hug is selfish… It's selfish to take pride in the fact that you’re the one comforting him, reassuring him, and hopefully making him feel better.

You’re just about to let go – the guilt-ridden confliction of your emotions is almost too much to handle – when you feel and hear a sharp intake of breath against your shoulder, under your hand. It’s paired with the softest, most broken-sounding sob you can imagine. Aaron is trying to hold back that flood of emotion, that heartbreak that seems to surround him like it’s stuck alongside him inside an impenetrable bubble, and you tighten your grip on him a little.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, and you hope that you sound soothing. You hope that you can calm him, help him in some way. “You can let go, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Aaron doesn’t respond. He’s silent against you as his face presses into your shoulder, but his back moves under your hand when he takes in another deep, shuddering breath. It isn’t until he pulls away and lowers his head that you realize that the shoulder of your robe is soaked with tears that you couldn’t feel through the layers of fabric.

His head is still down, and he wipes at his face like he can’t stand to have tears running down it. “I’m sorry,” he says after a long moment, and he turns away altogether while he presumably collects himself.

You allow him this privacy, this pseudo-solitude to wipe his face and straighten his posture and do whatever else he can to recover from his moment of sheer, sheer vulnerability. He’s starting to turn back by the time you say, “Don’t be. You’re hurting, Aaron. I want to be here for you, however I can be. If you want to talk about how much you miss her, and cry on my shoulder…” you shrug one of the aforementioned shoulders, a gesture meant to play off the tension of the moment, “Well, I’ve got two of them, so feel free. Whatever you need, okay? That’s a promise.”

With a little nod, Aaron wipes a hand under both eyes again. “I understand. I really appreciate it… I appreciate you. Just having you here, with me… it’s helped more than you know.”

A tight smile graces your face, and you pat his forearm as you step back. The coffee is starting to wear off, and you can feel the exhaustion down to your bones. It’s on his face too, in his eyes and the way they’re growing heavy with the need to sleep. “Of course. We can talk more in the morning, but I think for now you should try to get some sleep. Okay?”

Aaron straightens up, and you don’t miss the way his jaw flexes as he tries to suppress a yawn. “I think you’re right. Thank you, again.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” you promise, leading him down the hall towards the guest bedroom right next door to yours. “Just get some rest, and… tomorrow can wait. Everything else can wait, for now.”

“It can wait,” Aaron agrees with a solemn nod, his voice quiet. He thanks you once again before you step away from the door, listening to it shut before you turn off all the lights and return to your own bedroom.

By the time you slip under your blankets, you can hear soft snores floating through the shared wall. It’s still hard to tell if you’ve overstepped, or if you’ve crossed some sort of line tonight. But for now… Aaron might have Haley in his head, but he’s fast asleep in your guest bedroom. You’re going to support him through this next stage of his life. Whatever the next few weeks or months may bring, you’ll be there.

You aren’t going to change his mind on anything. If he wants to contest the divorce, you’ll be there for him. If he wants to do it amicably, you’ll ask how you can help. If he realizes somewhere along the way that you could be the one for him, you certainly won’t argue.

You’ve already waited without hope for years. If he winds up single then maybe, just maybe, he’ll think of you in a new light one day. And if not… maybe you can just pretend he will, for tonight.

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magnoliabutters · 6 months

Text

SWEET, LITTLE WISHES

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader

warnings: 18+ content, mdni; over stimulation, choking, sex toys, penetration, nipple play, lots of talk of hotch’s killer smile, sucking of appendages, etc.

inspiration: @chestharrington’s lazy ghoul's kinktober → week two: sex toys

word count: ~2.6k

note: how come I'm falling in love with a gif rn 💕 welcome to kinky dinky week dos!

You know what he does is important. You know that he is incredible at his job, that he simply cannot be replaced... but Halloween is your favorite holiday. He could be gone for Christmas - hell, even your birthday.

Hotch and Halloween go together.

It's the day you fell in love with him. Because of him, you love the orange, brown, and red. You love the chill in the air, the sweaters, the costumes. You love the incredible excuse to rewatch all your favorite scary movies.

You love the weather. The grey clouded skies, because those are only acceptable during fall. You loved to see Jack and Hotch in their matching costumes each year...

It's days like this when you are filled with regret for wanting your husband to come home instead of saving people.

But do you really have to feel bad? The man is intoxicating. His honey eyes that leave you in a trance. That beaming smile that makes you weak in the knees. His body, so perfectly fit and bulging in all the right areas.

You bite your lip over the thought of his hands around your waist. The thought of him pulling you back onto his cock, thrusting you on and on until you both came all over each other. Only then would he refer to you as his wife, when you were just his whore.

Quickly reaching across the bed, you grab your phone and call your husband. The dialing tones give you enough time to scramble open the side table and grab your pink rabbit vibrator. Your heart flutters once wrapping your fingers around its base. He's going to love this. You click it on sending vibrations down your legs. He's going to love -

"This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. Please leave a message-"

"Damn it," you grumble as your brows pinch together and your hands crash at your sides. You have to remind yourself, over and over, that what he's doing is important. You don't get to feel frustrated or upset. It's not like he's out late drinking beer with his buddies. No, he's saving lives.

And you're just here, in your bed, with a husband shaped hole beside you.

The fluttering of the rabbit's ears against your inner thigh is enough to sustain your desires. You take a deep inhale through your nostrils before digging your head back into the pillow with defeat.

You wish it was his tongue flicking against your thighs. His hands hooked harshly against your hips, holding you right where he wants you. His sweet lips flush against your own. You can feel the blood buzzing in your body. The perk of your nipples as your chest rises with each breath.

Never has a man had control of you, like Hotch does. Luck is on your side. You don't even have to think of anyone else while you pleasure yourself. The only regret you have is that he isn't here to see you, to hear you.

Your eyes close as you lightly rest the vibrator against your clit. A gasp escapes you as the, all too familiar, light-headed feeling returns. The sensation euphoric, especially when paired with the thought of his sweet smile between your legs. Those Hershey chocolate eyes gleaming back at you.

You wish his cock was pressing into the side of your thigh. That his hand was guiding his thick head and separating your lips. That he gathers you slick, teasing you by slightly bouncing in and out of your hole. Making little, firm circles around your opening - forcing a soft squeal from your lips.

You wish you could feel his hot breath against your neck. To hear him whisper ungodly things into your ear as he fucks you silly from behind. To feel him bury himself into you. To hear that deep, moan of a sigh as he bottoms out inside you. To feel his hands grip onto harder and harder with each rut of his hips.

You click to add another level of intensity, just enough to send sparkles down your legs and to the tips of your toes. Your eyes are still closed as you rush a sweaty hand through your hair. Still, strands lay caught into the purse of your lips as you allow the hums of pleasure to leave you.

"I got your call, but had a little something better in mind."

Your eyes shoot open as you land an open hand at your chest. You gather the slack of the sheets against your bare chest and let go of the toy that now vibrates your mattress. "Shit!" you whisper into a scream. You take a deep breath, trying to slow that pounding heart beat of yours.

There he rests, arms crossed on his chest and a shoulder leaning against the doorway. His glowing smile pulled to the right as he rakes over your barely covered body.

"At least tell me you were thinking of me..." Hotch whispers as he takes a step into your bedroom.

With a shake of your head, the blush spreads across your cheeks. You bite your lip before taking in another harsh breath. "You scared me. You said you weren't going to make it for Halloween." You tilt your head to the right, taking in the sight with a sour puss on your lips.

"I made arrangements. Had someone special to see tonight," he says with a tight lip. He gently lands against the foot of the bed. He extends a hand beneath the sheets to gently rub up your ankle and calf. "Oh, don't stop on my accord, baby. Just as long as my name is on those lips."

You lick your lips, trying desperately to keep a smile away. His hands slowly creep to your thighs. The sensation forces you to hold your breath. Your body screams while your skin turns into a sizzling, hot mess.

But Hotch's eyes remain on you. Those glowing brown eyes and that beaming smile. He knows every facet of your body, every single detail. He knows where to touch you to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. Where to touch you to make your legs turn into a pile of mush, and yet tighten them so close together that he can barely move between them.

“Always…” you breathe out as you lean back onto your pillow once more.

His hands follow the heat right to your sensitive bits. His fingers guide over the inside of your thighs. Your head becomes dazy as you furrow your brows together. “Mmm, and who do you have helping you today?" he asks as he reaches for the toy between your legs. "Oo, my favorite.”

“Your favorite?” you giggle out as you look down at his gentle eyes. "You have a favorite?"

Hotch smiles as he slowly pulls the cloth away from your bare legs. The pink of his lips land against the smooth of your skin as he makes his way up to your knee. He whispers, "Yes, I have favorites." Another kiss and he begins to climb his body over yours. "This one, in particular, makes you cum all sweet for me. I swear, I can hear your entire body convulsing through the phone."

You scoff, digging your canine straight into the meat of your bottom lip. "Oh, you wish," you mock. Your brow raises just before rolling your eyes and shaking your head softly.

His fingers reach your chin, pulling you back to look right into him. "I do wish," he whispers. His grip between his thumb and index finger tightens as he drags you towards his lips. "I wish you wouldn't stop. I wish you'd let me help you."

Your mouth slightly parts as you lean your weight into his grasp. Your own hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. "You can do more than help me," you murmur, before flipping your hair and exposing the nape of your neck. A seductive smirk thick across your cheeks.

Hotch bites the edge of his lips, taking in a quick inhale through his nostrils. "Tempting," he utters with a cock of his head. In a smooth, quick movement, he presses those fluttering ears back against your clit. Your breath escapes you, taking in a sharp gasp that forces you to straighten your back. The sheets slide off of you with little to no effort.

"Sit back, relax, and let me take care of my wife."

He guides the base of the toy at your opening. He clicks the bottom button, creating a circular motion that massages your hole. Your chin lifts to the sky as your hands fall from his neck and into a scrunch of sheets by your side.

"Look how wet my pretty girl is," Hotch whispers as the sound your slick smacks against the pink silicone. He moves his body beside you. His leg hooked into yours, holding your legs wide open. He breathes a cold breath against your clit before pressing the toy against you once more.

His other hand cups your breast. His fingers tighten around your nipples, creating a sharp and exhilarating energy to flow throughout your body. He then moves his gentle hands to rest against your ribcage as his lips tighten around your tits.

Hotch presses the toy thick against your heat once more. Its head makes it way within which drops a gasp from your mouth. "Let me hear that beautiful voice," he demands in a mumble against your nipple.

Your hand pushes into your hair as you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his mouth. Fuck, you never wanted him to stop. Never did you imagine him coming home early, but you are eternally grateful. He slides the toy inside you ever so slowly, following the lead of your relaxing, tight walls.

You mewl over the sensation. Your hips begin to rut ever so softly against his body. Little, light twitches that guide his firm grasp onto the toy. He pushes it into you, bottoming out within as you lay there gasping for breath.

"Don't stop," you whisper breathlessly.

"Never."

Hotch gently pulls the toy back as it runs thin circles against your walls. Your eyelashes begin to flutter as your body tightens, desperate to curl into itself, but he holds you open. He holds you open and ready for him. This is just the beginning, just a taste of what's to come.

All you know is that you are his and he will do what he pleases with you.

He tilts his head to you, smashing his supple lips against yours. Your hand rushes to the back of his head, pulling him in - no amount was close enough. Your tongues tangle within themselves. Devilish sounds fall from both your lips as you devour each other.

You kick your leg around his back, pulling him into you. Hotch digs the toy deeper within, forcing a harsher stimulation to your clit. It pushes you to the border of ecstasy and overstimulation. Luckily for you, he knows your body so well that he understands exactly where the line lies. He knows how to hold you there, bouncing back and forth before throwing you off the cliff and into a climax that could paralyze you.

He pushes the toy into you in steady pulses. You can feel your legs shaking, wanting nothing more than to quiver against each other. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, holding you right where he wants you.

Instinctually, your hands reach for his cock. A hand harsh and thick against his hardening dick. You dig your hand into your pants, causing him to pull from your kiss and breathe you in with a shuddering gasp. Your fingers easily dig into the soft cloth of his boxers before gently playing with his balls.

"You first," Hotch grunts out as he quickens his movements in and out of you. You bite into his lips, dragging him closer to you. "Just as long as you're next," you purr, pulling away to stare into those sweet eyes. His balls soft as they roll over the insides of your fingers and palm.

His mouth perks into a smile as he breathes you in once more. His mouth flush against your own as he pumps you firmly and steady. Each thrust, each circulating movement, each vibrating burst pushes you closer and closer to the rubber band in your stomach snapping.

Hotch's hand finds its way at your neck, his index finger and thumb pressing ever so lightly against the sides of your carotid. The light headed feeling causes you to see stars. Your breath hitches as you gulp in with each powerful thrust.

"Hotch," you mewl as your entire body hardens beneath him. You push your hips harshly against his own. Your nails dig into the base of his scalp, gathering as much hair as possible before crashing him against your lips once again. This time your kisses are bites, leading with your tongue and teeth as you take all of him in.

With a swift movement, you pull Hotch atop of you. His hand still wrapped tightly around the toy's handle, pulsating thrusts within you so deep that you can feel his fingers against your soaking flesh. His hips grind against your own, moving at the same rapid rhythm as his ruts.

He hovers over you with eyes glued and a smile growing with each passing second. The way he looks at you sends butterflies to your chest. A fluttering feeling of love that makes you feel like you could float.

Hotch’s hand sits at your cheek, a thumb grazing over your skin. He leans in, but pauses just before your lips meet. The tension is electrifying. You could feel the static between you both. Before you another second passes, he gently lowers himself and kisses you with the very vibrant passion you’ve come to love.

His movements continue, fast and rapid, as you struggle to hold on - not wanting any of this to stop. Your toes begin to curl. Your knees dig into his side, tightening around him. His thumb finds it way to your lips, dragging across before dipping into your mouth. You suck against him, holding him tight between your teeth.

Hotch presses his forehead against you. His breath hot against your skin. His arm moving quickly and swift. Your lashes begin to flutter as you feel your word shaking and crumbling around you.

“Oh God,” you whisper as your nails dig into his shoulder blade. He winced against you, but digs into his hips. One more of click and the vibrations flutter faster and faster against your clit. You can feel your skin prickle across your body. Your back arches to the heavens as your flooded with oxytocin.

“Hotch, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear it. Let me hear that sweet, little mouth.”

“Aaron!” you shout as your walls clench around the toy. You shudder into yourself, closing off as Hotch buries himself with kisses into the nape of your neck. “Yes, baby. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” You moan out, thrusting into the sky with each convulse of your orgasm.

Your legs grow weak, barely able to move and practically trembling. Hotch brushes the hair from your face, watching as you take shuddering breaths while shaking beneath him. “Mmm, this one’s definitely my favorite,” he whispers before landing light kisses against your eyelids.

You groan, pulling him tight against your chest as you hook your legs around his. “Why do you still have clothes on?” you whine. “I’m leaving that part for you. I remember that’s your favorite,” he teases.

“Yes please,” you utter as you dig your fingers against the leather of his belt. “Hm, we could use this - like last time.”

“Naughty girl.”

notes: yummmmmmyyyyyy, never thought being hotch's wife would come with so many benefits 🤤

coming up next sunday → week three: anonymous sex with eddie munson

kinktober taglist? 🎃

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thank you to my beta reading bestie, @nackrosor

#Aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron hotchner imagine #Aaron hotchner scenario #Aaron hotchner oneshot #Aaron hotchner one-shot #Aaron hotchner one shot #Aaron hotchner headcanons #Aaron hotchner headcanon #Aaron hotchner hc #Aaron hotchner hcs #Aaron hotchner fanfiction #Aaron hotchner drabble #Aaron hotchner dialogue #Aaron hotchner fluff #Aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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ssamorganhotchner · 2 years

Text

Maybe a Little Tired (Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader)

Parings: Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader

Word Count: 655

Tags/Warnings: SFW, typical CM canon violence, mentions of rape & torture, fluff, Aaron being absolutely adorable even when he’s serious, pet names, some suggestive language

Summary: Aaron gets burned by the coffee pot

Authors Note: this was based on a request by @originalsoulduck. I hope y’all enjoy this small fluffy piece ❤️

MASTERLIST

Walking through the threshold into your shared home, Aaron sets his briefcase down and tosses his keys into the bowl by the door. Shrugging off his jacket, he walks into the kitchen and looks at the clock.

10:00PM

He sighs, turns on the coffee pot, and silently hopes he can finish the reports before you realize he isn’t in bed yet.

While the coffee is brewing, he grabs his briefcase and retreats into his office, throwing his jacket over the chair. Taking the case files out, he sorts through them. One of them in particular made even Jeffrey Dahmer look tame - three women, brutally raped and tortured in Chicago with body parts that were sawed off antimortem and thrown into the Chicago River. Flipping through the file, Aaron realizes how thankful he is that you don’t have to see the gruesome and disturbing parts of his world.

It's the harsh beeping of the coffee pot that finally pulls him out of his thoughts. He sits down the file, pads into the kitchen, and reaches for a coffee cup out of the cabinet.

He reaches too fast, hand brushing up against the scalding pot and he yelps, jerking back as his brows furrow further together.

He doesn’t see you come out of the bedroom at the sound of his scream, and as you go to ask him what’s wrong, he puts his hand on his forehead and scoffs. “Motherfucker, can you not?,” he asks, sending a deep glare in the coffee pot's direction.

Still standing behind him, you can’t help but laugh, and Aaron raises his eyebrows and turns around.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks, crossing his arms and running his pointer finger and thumb over each other.

Still giggling, you walk towards him and wrap your arms around his torso. “Long enough to hear you shit talk an inanimate object.”

Feeling of your warm body flush with his, he wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles on your back. “I’ve had a long day,” he mumbles into your hair. “I couldn’t help it. What was so funny? That stupid thing burned me.”

Raising your chin to his chest, you look up at him with a grin. He looks so boyish like this - his jacket is shed, the tie he once had in pristine condition is now loose and wrinkled around his neck, there’s a slight pout on his face from you making fun of him, and his hair is tousled like he had been running his fingers through it - he looked cute.

“It’s funny because out of all the things you could curse at, you chose a coffee pot,” you answer, raising up and giving him a soft kiss. “Honey, you go to work everyday saving lives and making sure the scum of the earth pay for what they do, even if that means you get hurt. I’ve seen you come home some days looking like you’ve been hit by a bus,”

He laughs, and leans down to kiss your forehead.

“You act like it’s nothing and take it in stride. Hell, Aaron you’ve been shot at, blown up, stabbed,” you emphasize the last word, feeling his grip become tighter around your body. “… and the coffee pot is what set you off? Of all things?”

He shrugs, pulls you tighter and buries his nose in your hair, kissing your scalp, “It was a reflex… and I might be a little tired.”

“How about instead of doing paperwork, you come to bed with me and I’ll get you out of that suit and into some comfy pajamas, hmm?,” you whisper into his shirt.

He puts his head into your neck and growls, nipping at your throat while his hands move down your waist, grabbing your ass. “Mmm my sexy wife is going to undress me, huh?,” he mumbles, taking your earlobe between his teeth, “I like the sound of that.”

@wishuhadstayed, @angelic-kisses13, @dadbodhotch11, @unicornprancing, @arsonhotchner, @ashhotchner, @ssahotchsbitch, @haley-h0tchner, @heliotropehotch, @doctorstethoscope, @rexit-mo, @reidstyleshotch, @hoe4hotchner, @wheelsupkels, @cance1medaddy, @newlydevouthotchgirl, @hotchs-bitch, @aleck-cross, @shyhotch, @hotchnerxo

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spacecowboyhotch · 2 years

Text

State of Grace - Part 3

summary: after all the time apart, aaron and reader can’t help themselves.

pairing: fem!reader x aaron hotchner

warnings: 18+/nsfw/MINORS DNI, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex

an: finally getting this last part out of the way…unsure about putting out the blurbs just bc of engagement but we’ll see!

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist | cm masterlist | requests are open

Aaron has never been dragged somewhere so willingly, his hand in yours as the two of you practically sprint back to the hub. He keeps his expectations low, assuming that you’re just in a hurry to get out of the rain.

Once inside you fumble with your keys, cursing under your breath when you drop them once. He murmurs something like slow down but you ignore him, finally getting the key into the lock. As soon as the door opens you turn around, and pull him by his shirt into the room and against you. You kiss him with fervor, your tongues mending together as his hands lightly skim over your curves.

“Touch me. Please, god, just touch me,” Your voice shakes, your hands guiding his to touch you more firmly.

He backs you against the wall, peeling you and then himself out of your soaked jackets. Neither of you could care less about being chilled to the bone by the rain. It won’t take much time to get warmed up.

Your nipples are hard, showing through your flannel. He runs his fingers over them, watching how your pupils dilate and your breathing catches. He bends down and places his mouth over one of them, fully clothed, flicking his tongue against the bud while his hand toys with the other.

“Aaron,” You moan, hands dropping to work yourself out of your pants before you do the same to him. “Fuck, I love you.”

How easily those words fall from your mouth sends a welcome shiver down and warmness through his chest. Leaning up he takes your face into his hands, pulling you in for a kiss that says those words. He says them anyway, “I love you too.”

He leans away, peeling his shirt over his head to reveal his torso and his stomach littered with scars that you quickly avert your gaze from. He would tell you if he wanted to, and you were in no rush to make him. Relief rushes through him when your eyes meet his again, still full of wanting, and his lips attached to your neck, sucking and nipping.

The air in the room is thick, lust palpable, the smell of your perfume permeating the entire space. He doesn’t know why he didn’t notice it before, maybe because you almost smell like the forest. Like fallen leaves, and cedar wood but with a touch of sweetness.

He rips open your flannel, buttons flying before he just pulls your bra down allowing your breast to spill out of the cups. Slowly, savoring you like a man having his last meal he kisses every inch of your exposed skin. You wouldn't be surprised if in the morning marks from his lips are left from the way he’s taking his time. They’re gentle, searing kisses; kisses that claim you as his and make up for the lost time.

He makes his way down your body, through the valley of your breast, around your belly button, to the waistband of your panties. His fingers tease the fabric but he looks up at you for confirmation. You nod desperately, needing to feel his mouth there. He gets you out of your panties, then hoists your legs up on his shoulders, completely exposing you to him. You’d feel shy and self-conscious if you weren’t so ready for him.

“Make it messy,” You beg in a needy voice, one that would make him give you whatever you wanted if he hadn’t already decided on satisfying you.

“Whatever you want,” He agrees, leaning in to lick a long, flat line up your pussy.

“Mhmm, yes, Aaron, fuck,” Your hand fists into his hair, not to control, just to feel him as you make sure this is real.

He turns to kiss the inside of your thigh, “I’ve thought about what you would taste like for so long. You’re perfect.”

“You’re everything,” You moan, your head falling against the wall as he licks up you once, twice, three times.

Pulling back he collects spit onto his tongue, looking up at you as he slowly lets it spill out of his mouth and onto your clit. Impatiently, you tilt your hips against him and he chuckles before giving your pussy an open-mouthed kiss, one that makes you shudder against him. Tightening his grip on your thighs he gives you what you want, eating you out sloppily, his entire face covered with a mixture of his spit and your arousal. All you can do is hook your feet behind his head and take it, circling your hips to match his rhythm.

He keeps at you, lapping and sucking, but he can tell that you need more, like his fingers, and wonders if you’re holding out or if you want to cum like this so he asks you.

“Do you want to cum like this? What do you want, baby?”

“No, not until you fuck me. Can you, please? Now?”

“Yes,” He sets you down for just a moment before wrapping his hands around your thighs again and picking you up.

He can barely get his boxers down and around his ankles before he starts to grind against you, both of you groaning into the other’s mouths.

“God, Aaron, please.”

“Are you sure we don’t need-“

“No, we’re safe, please.”

“Okay, I’ve got you,” He murmurs against your lips before thrusting into you, causing you to cry out. One of his hands flies to the wall, slamming against it as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. You feel so good and it’s been so long. “Fuck.”

Your hand knots in the hair at the nape of his neck, legs tightening around his waist to spur him on, “Move.”

He’s so deep, each time withdrawing completely before he guides himself back into you with each thrust. The sounds of your bodies working together are wet and slick, mingling with only the sound of your breath.

You try to kiss him as deeply as you can, your tongue licking into his mouth, collecting as much of his essence. You can’t help but think that you have to take as much as possible as you don’t know if this is it. He can always change his mind and leave again. If that is the case you have to consume him the best you can. You want to always be able to describe the way this feels. After years of trying to forget, even if this is it, you need to remember.

“You’re in your head love, just let me make you feel good. Focus on us.”

“Oh,” You breathe, inhaling sharply when his head dips to take your nipple into his mouth, pleasure hitting a new peak within you. “Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, god, yeah, fuck me.”

He’s slamming into you as hard as he can now, the top of his pubic bone creating friction against your clit, his mouth suckling your nipple. He pulls back, a line of spit connecting you to him, “Are you close? Because baby-”

“If you cum and don’t finish me I’m never talking to you again, Aaron.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He smiles into the kiss he gives you, his hands angling your body further off the wall, allowing him to penetrate you deeper. “Better?”

“Fuck, yeah, just like that.” You reach down to rub your clit but he swats your hand away before rubbing it himself with two fingers.

“I told you I’d take care of you. Good?” He examines your face, wanting to not only hear your feelings but see them.

“Yes, but harder, please baby?”

He doesn’t know if you mean to fuck you harder or to rub harder, but he gives you both. From the way your eyes roll back in your head, he assumes he’s given you exactly what you need. He’s close, incredibly close and he grits his teeth together as he tries to hold on for you, trying to ignore how warm and tight you are around him.

You pull him for an uncoordinated kiss, a clash of lips and teeth and tongues. “Cum for me, Aaron. Deep, please? I’m close and if you just-“

“If I fill you up you’ll cum for me too?”

“Yes, I just need to feel you let go, please. Claim me.”

And with just two more thrusts he does, spilling long and hot, a groan just as long building in his chest. He doesn’t stop moving, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into you, and at the thought of that, you follow suit, cumming just as loudly as him. His head is buried in the crook of your neck, soft praises leaving his lips as he holds you tightly through your orgasm.

When he pulls away to look at you his hand caresses your cheek, smoothing away hair that sticks to your sweaty face, “You’re incredible.”

With a lazy smile, you say, “I didn’t do much but take it.”

He chuckles, pulling out of you and letting you go, allowing you to pee. While in the bathroom you grab a set of towels for him to use.

“You can shower first,” You hand him the towels, a shy smile on your face as the gravity of what just happened sinks in.

“Thanks,” He plants a kiss on your cheek before heading into the bathroom.

Aaron has never felt better, the usual fog that clouds him lifted, his body feeling light and pliable. He washes himself quickly but thoroughly, eager to get back to you.

You on the hand are in a full-blown spiral wondering how any of this will work. Could you trust him? Would he want him to stay? Do you want him to stay? What about his kid? What if he leaves? What if he chooses her all over again? You hope that by the time you’re finished he’ll be exhausted or already asleep.

You pass him quickly when he comes out, giving him the best smile you can muster and a squeeze of the hand. When you get out of the shower, he’s dressed in one of your oversized flannels and his boxers and you realize that even if you didn’t want to have this conversation, you have to because he doesn’t have any dry clothes. Or a place to stay, not without making it clear you slept with a customer. Fuck.

“I know that face,” He looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What face?” You ask nonchalantly, throwing your wet clothes into the hamper.

“The one that means you’re overthinking this.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to overthink something this big.”

“Come here,” He holds his hand out for you, and you take it, allowing him to pull you into his lap. “Tell me what there is to overthink.”

“Aaron, I don’t think we have enough time,” While you know it isn’t true, you know that your mind could easily replace the worries at the forefront of your mind with new ones.

“You haven’t lost your flair for the dramatic,” You glare at him, and his mouth twists like he’s trying not to smirk. “I’m sorry, tell me. I’m listening, you know that I am. I always have.”

“Well there’s all the hurt from when you weren’t honest with me, and then grief and pain over all these years trying to get over you. The fact that you leave in two days. Not to mention your living, breathing child. Then there’s that you could always want her back.”

“Does that cover it?”

“That covers it.”

“The hurting and the grief and pain, you didn’t go through that alone. I went through my own version of that, and I think that if we're open and honest with each other we could heal. Together. As for me leaving in two days, I live three hours away by car.”

“Decided the last two aren’t relevant, have we?” You try to appear playful but your heart beats loudly in your chest.

“If you weren’t off to the races you’d know I was getting there.”

You mouth sorry and he leans in for a kiss before continuing. “Jack would love you, it would just be a matter of us taking things slow and making sure we don’t push this on him too fast. And when it comes to Haley,” He pauses, searching for the right words, “I don’t want to try again with her. I’ll always love her, but that chapter of my life has closed and I’m okay with that. I want you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Does this make you feel better? Are you out of your head now?”

“Yes. Yeah. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Don’t thank me, this has been a long time coming, I’m just grateful we have the chance.”

“Me too.”

He lays the two of you back on the bed so that your head rests on his chest. “What were you thinking about when you got in your head earlier? While we were ya know,” He trails off.

“Having sex? Are you afraid to say it?”

“Answer the question.”

You look up at him with a sly grin. “You’re a prude?”

“(Y/N),” He scolds.

“Alright, relax. I was just thinking about what if this was it and in the morning we decided to go our own ways. It made me kiss you harder because I always want to remember what you taste like.”

“If you want me, I’ll be here, okay? I promise,” He cups your cheek, looking you in the eyes. You nod, resting your forehead against his. “Do you want another taste?”

Your answer comes in a bruising kiss that’s transformative. It feels like you're stepping into a brand new age with Aaron by your side; it’s golden.

nsfw tagged: @ssahotchsbitch, @azenpal, @chelseyjoyce, @dadbodhotch11, @ssamorganhotchner, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @akira-155, @laurensprentiss, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @silvermercy, @fightingdragonswithreid, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack, @ssahotchnerxx, @sunshinexhotchner, @angelfxllcm, @wheelsupkels, @jaspxr, @sadgirlml, @gspenc, @hotchs-bitch, @hotched, @crowfootwrites, @reidselle, @haley-h0tchner, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @scargarcia-magshotchner, @honeybrowne, @aaronhotchy, @rousethemouse

series tagged: @zaddyhotch, @thenewnormalforensicator

#fem!reader x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem! reader #fem!reader x hotch #female reader x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #arson writes #state of grace series

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ssahotchnerr · 2 months

Note

okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??

i just… aaron’s reaction?????

the parentals

i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.

a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.

but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.

"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.

"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"

"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."

aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.

"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"

jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.

"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.

aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"

spencer flushed. "uh..."

"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"

"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."

"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."

"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.

"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."

you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"

"old."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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headkiss · 5 months

Text

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

༄

Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

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pathologicalreid · 5 months

Text

nicknames | S.R.

in which you meet the team for the first time, and receive your first nickname

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: reader is referred to as a girl. i have this headcanon where when reid's IQ gets slashed to 60, he'd get so distracted that he'd run on autopilot, hence the willingness to handshake.

word count: 591

a/n: happy finals szn! this fic has been rotting in my brain for weeks and i finally decided to flesh it out. and maybe you should like and reblog this if you enjoy it (no pressure tho)

You were still filtering through your entry paperwork when the rest of the team filtered into the bullpen. David Rossi, who had helped you land this job in the first place, nodded in your direction before disappearing into his office. “Hey!” Someone called from across the bullpen, “Y/N, right?” Emily asked, setting her go bag in the chair at her desk before making her way over to your desk.

Smiling in response, “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you responded, reaching your hand out for her to shake. It was nice to be in the BAU, complete with a promotion from Special Agent to Supervisory Special Agent.

JJ walked over next, waving, and introducing herself as the communications liaison. “I’ve heard a lot of great things from your old CARD team,” she said, “I’m sure your skillset will come in handy here.”

You nodded in affirmation, “That’s the hope!” You answered, smiling at the prospect of your old team singing your praises.

Next, Derek approached, reaching out his hand for you to shake. Of course, you obliged and grinned at him. Part of you felt like you were meeting celebrities, the BAU was a big deal in the bureau. “Derek Morgan,” he introduced himself, “How long were you with CARD?”

“Five years,” you responded, it was a long time for anyone to deal solely with child abduction, but your team had the best rate in the bureau. Besides, you found the work rewarding.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “that’s impressive.”

You nodded, “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to working with you all.”

JJ looked behind her, “Oh, have you met Garcia?” She asked, peeking around the corner to where the technical analyst's office was.

Glancing down at the cat-shaped stress toy that she had given you when you arrived this morning, you smiled, “Yes, she was the first to greet me this morning. I think I’m just missing Dr. Reid.”

As if on cue, the young doctor walked into the bullpen, he had a worn leather satchel over his shoulder and looked like he might be talking to himself, “Reid!” Emily called over, getting his attention, and causing him to change course, approaching your desk. “Come meet, Y/N.”

He adjusted the strap of his satchel over his sweater before you reached out your hand for him to shake. “Oh, he doesn’t…” JJ began, but her voice trailed off when Dr. Reid shook your hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” you said, smiling at him. It felt good to know you had finally met the entire team.

He gave a close-lipped smile in return, “Reid is fine, or Spencer.” He said as you each dropped your hands to your sides.

Noticing everyone looking back and forth between the two of you as if you had already managed to do something wrong, you gathered all of your paperwork in your hands, “I should get this to Hotch.”

The rest of the team got the message and started to disperse to their respective desks, Reid’s being adjacent to yours. “Welcome to the team, pretty girl,” Morgan said to you before turning to his own paperwork.

You hugged your paperwork to your chest as if you were protecting it. Quietly, you muttered, “I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”

Across from you, there was a short laugh, almost a scoff. “It will,” Spencer responded in the same reverent tone. For a second, you thought it might be a joke, but you could tell by his facial expression that he was serious.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #written by margot #spencer reid x fem!reader

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chr0llossexygf · 1 year

Text

IN RUINS

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

“ what happened?” hotch says standing infront of the big white board that had some very gruesome pictures of 5 victims splayed out on a park bench. he’s standing tall and strong with his hands crossed in his dark grey suit. he’s looking at you and spencer, who’s walking in right behind you slamming the door close.

“ It’s her fault.” spencer says quickly moving to the other side of the room opposite you, trying to get as far away from you as possible.

you take a deep breath in trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes and cross your hands in annoyance and disappointment. “ it’s not my fault reid-”

“ woah woah what the heck happened?” morgan says pushing himself back in the precinct chair watching you and spencer. he looks at spencer, he sees the strong look of disgust and annoyance spencer is shooting at you. he looks at you, he notices you looking at spencer with a disappointed look.

“ she told the unsubs family we are after the unsub-” spencer spits out looking over at hotch, waiting for him to yell at you or lecture you.

“ wait spence we don’t even know who the unsub is. what do you mean?” jj says turning her head to look at spencer confusion written on her face. “ exactly! thank you jj!” you reply throwing your hands up.

“ michael miller is our unsub hotch.” spencer says completely ignoring your attempt to reason with him, his eyes stay on hotch waiting for him to snap at you or just lecture you. “ wait a minute i thought michael miller had a solid alibi.” morgan says laying back in his chair resting his arms on the arm rests. “ he does have a solid alibi it checks out-” spencer cuts you off. “ it does not check out!” spencer says.

“ yes it does! hotch we asked his dad who confirmed his son came home at 8:30 pm from football practice.” you say growing impatient looking at hotch, hotch’s eyebrows are furrowed tightly. his arms are still crossed listening to you and spencer bicker back and fourth.

“ just because his dad showed the tiniest bit of concern about his son when the fbi showed up to his doorstep does not make him a reliable source, just because you never had a dad who showed any bit of concern and now when you finally see a dad care about their kid does not mean you should not fall into their trap just because you never had a trap to fall into.” spencer spits out finally looking at you.

he watches as your expression hardens. he watches as humiliation and embarrassment fill your once determined eyes, the determined eyes who tried to reason with spencer at-least 4 minutes ago. 4 minutes, that’s how long it takes for your perspective of someone to change. he watches as your eyebrows tremble, a habit you have when your trying to fight back tears. he watches as your throat trembles too, probably trying to fight back that agonising choke you get when your about to cry.

the entire room goes quiet. spencers gaze remains on you, slowly watching your soul shatter because of his words. your gaze remains on spencer, slowly feeling your soul shatter because of his words.

the door that spencer slammed close 4 minutes ago opens, rossi and emily walking in. “ michael millers alibi checks out. we’ve got pictures of him at football practice from 5pm to 8:25pm. he wouldn’t have had the time to commit the murders.” rossi says opening the door for emily. “ also his teammates described him as an extrovert and outgoing which is not what we profiled the unsub to be.” emily says with her hands inside her pockets nodding looking at everyone surrounding the table.

“ i feel as though we interrupted something.” rossi says eyeing everyone in the room raising an eyebrow in confusion. he could feel the tension. emily could too. which is why she immediately looks over at morgan for answers. morgan looks at her for a split second before returning his gaze on you.

“ y/n-” spencer attempts. he tries to bring himself to take a step towards you, but it’s like his words somehow built a barrier between you and him that he now can’t even physically cross. or maybe he’s just scared that if he takes a step towards you, you’ll take a step back. away from him.

you swallow the gut wrenching feeling of tears crawling up your throat. you look down to your converse. “ i’m gonna go…uhm get coffee.” you say turning around immediately walking towards the door. “ excuse me.” you whisper pushing past rossi and emily.

“ oh wonder boy..” garcia says through the tv screen, her bright purple tinted lips which usually wear a bright smile on her face now wearing a frown. her tone disappointed as she presses her heart eye fuzzy emoji pen into her cheek. “ i uhm did my usual background checking on the uhm..list of potential unsubs and a uhm…scott anderson has a sketchy background. i’ve just sent his file to you my pretties.” garcia says stuttering quite a few times finding it hard to sneak her usually bubbly nicknames into the conversation after what had just happened. “ thank you garcia. jj take y/n and check out scott anderson.” hotch says looking at jj his arms finally by his side.

jj nods standing up walking towards the door “ i-i can go” spencer says turning his body towards jj. “ stay.” hotch replies his voice stern and bold. he looks at spencer his eyebrows furrowed.

jj closes the door. “ sit.” hotch says to spencer pointing to the empty seat at the table, spencer slowly walks towards the seat sitting down. “ you shouldn’t have said that spencer.” hotch says crossing his hands. “ hotch-” spencer attempts but is quickly cut off, “ i’m not finished. I get it. your worried spencer. your scared-”

“ hotch-” spencer is cut off once again. “ you may think your hiding it well spencer but your not. we know the unsub is targeting female victims which have similar features to l/n. if your too close to the case spencer-” it’s spencer’s turn to now cut hotch off. “ but i’m not too close to the case hotch!” spencer replies. he wanted the similarities between you and the victims to only be in his head because he wanted only him, himself to notice the similarities between you and the victims. you both have the same hair color, hair length, both considered to be attractive, both have similar personalities, and similar taste in clothing. he didn’t want it to be true. but now he knows that they are, and they’re not just in his head he’s even more worried.

“ your stuttering spencer. you do that when your worried or nervous.” emily says pulling a chair from the table. spencer shoots his eyes away from hotch to emily’s. his gaze softens a bit, emily’s tone wasn’t like hotchs. it wasn’t as stern or bold. it was rather understanding and gentle. “ i just cant control myself around her.” spencer says looking down at the picture of the fourth victim who had been wearing the exact same pair of converse your wearing now. “ well your going to have to learn how to control yourself pretty boy. you shouldn’t have said that.” morgan says looking at spencer. spencer sighs hiding his face in his hands. “ i just..god i’m so stupid.” spencer groans rubbing his tired eyes.

“ stupidity is what ended my third marriage.” rossi says crossing his hands leaning against the bulletin board with a small chuckle, morgan looks at rossi and laughs. “ well thank god pretty boy isn’t married. he’d be the new rossi.” morgan says tilting his head to the side looking at spencer trying to lighten the mood, spencer who still has his head in his hands. there’s a million thoughts going through his head, all of them are about you. all of them are about how he should apologize. is he even allowed to apologize? will you let him apologize to you? would you accept his apology? what if you didn’t? did he just ruin his friendship with you? no screw friendship, he doesn’t just want to be friends. he wouldn’t be as sensitive as he is to this case if he just wanted to remain friends. he’s in love with you. spencer reid is in love with you. and he just potentially ruined any slight chance of ever having you know that he loves you. just because he’s stupid and didn’t think before he spoke.

“ are you okay?” jj says both hands on the steering wheel turning around to look at you next to her, in the passenger seat. your heads turnt towards the window, your picking at your nails. a habit of yours. you turn to look at jj and nod. “ yeah i’m fine why wouldn’t i be?” you ask tilting your head to the side with a confusing smile. you know exactly why your not okay. but for some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to actually be upset over it. what’s there to be upset about? what spencer said is true. he’s not wrong. why are you making excuses for him? what he said was not okay. totally not okay. why do you have to make excuses for every male figure in your life for when they’ve done something wrong? why do you always make them the victim and you the villain. you just don’t wanna lose them right? because you know that if your the victim and their the villain they’ll never apologise and the entire relationship will disappear, it always does.

“ what spencer said-” jj is talking in that tone, that tone that she would speak in whenever something was wrong. in a motherly kind of tone. you immediately shake your head, “ it’s- it’s fine jj really, i don’t care. can we just please forget it ever happened? lets just work on the case.” you say running a hand through your hair biting your lower lip trying to stop your voice from trembling, you know when your about to cry and you have that heavy feeling in your throat? you swallow it hard. you turn your head to look at the window not waiting for a response from jj. jj clears her throat, “ no yeah of course.” she nods smiling turning her head back around.

“ this should be it…” jj mumbles stopping the car, parked infront of a 2 story cabin. you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. “ it looks like no one’s home, there’s no car. we profiled that the unsub would have a van or a truck..” jj says closing the car door looking at the house. “ maybe he wouldn’t leave something so valuable to him outside, to the eye of the public. he’s possessive he thinks the entire world revolves around him he probably thinks someone would try to steal it.” you reply reaching in your pocket for your id. jj doing the same thing. you two walk to the front door, you in the front,

you knock on the door. you put your hand against your hip waiting for the door to open. “ we should ask the neighbours. maybe they’ll know-” you knock on the door again. “ scott anderson. fbi.” you say knocking on the door again. jj puts both of her hands on her waist. “ looks like he’s not home-” your cut off by the door swinging open.

you immediately turn your head around. “ scott anderson?” you ask looking at the man infront of you. you know it’s scott anderson, penelope had already sent his id picture on the drive over. he looks at you, then looks at jj. “ who are you..” he says looking directly at jj. “ i’m agent l/n with the fbi and this is agent jareau. do you mind if we come inside?” you ask smiling holding up your id.

he doesn’t even bother looking at your id. “ yeah whatever.” he moves to the side, making room for you and jj. you nod turning around to look at jj. she nods. you step inside jj following you.

“ do you live alone?” you ask analysing the house, its organised. weird for someone that’s his age. “ uhm yeah i do. what’s wrong with that?” he asks crossing his hands. you chuckle, “ no no nothings wrong with that, i also lived alone when i was 17.” you reply smiling. “ i’m 19.” he says looking at you, eyeing you up and down smiling. “ your pretty organised for a 19 year old.” jj says raising an eyebrow also crossing her hands smiling. “ guess i was just raised that way.” he replies rubbing his lips together. you nod. “ how were you raised scott..if you don’t mind me asking.” you say looking around the house. “ yeah scott how did you manage to score such a house at your age. do you work?” jj asks grabbing a picture frame. “ no i don’t work-” he turns to look at jj. “ put that down.” he snaps speed walking to jj. you immediately reach for your gun.

“ right..sorry. you don’t like people touching your stuff.” jj replies throwing her hands up in defeat. he snatches the picture frame. he grabs it caressing it gently, jj looks at you with wide eyes. you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “ scott. why do you have a picture of my colleague framed?” jj asks looking at the frame scott’s holding. your eyes widen.

“ oh god oh god. where’s y/n and jj?” penelope says aggressively tapping on her keyboard. “ what? what’s wrong?” spencer is the first to respond shooting up from the office chair just at the mention of your name. “ they’re at scott anderson’s why?” hotch says turning around, away from the white board to the tv. garcia starts tearing up, “ i-i did some deep digging and scott anderson has a blog about y/n..” garcia says in a shaky tone. no. no. no. no. no not again please.

his heart stopped for a split second. his hand start sweating. the air has been sucked out of his lungs. why is it so hard to breathe? why is there no air to breathe? there’s a million thoughts running through his head, they’re still about you. but now they’re worse. your in danger. your with the unsub. the unsub who has already killed five people. your in the same house with the unsub. the unsub who has a blog dedicated to you. and the last time you saw spencer you were teary eyed. no it can’t be the last time. no. please be safe.

his sweaty shaky hands reach for his phone. he clicks on your contact. hotch grabs his phone and immediately calls jj. spencer immediately puts the phone up against his ear. it rings. rossi and emily immediately stand up, “ penelope send us the address to scott’s house now.” emily says walking to the door. it’s still ringing. spencer starts biting his nails. his hearts pounding. the ringing of the phone case is haunting him. what is happening on the other side of the phone. why aren’t you answering. you always answer the phone. why is it still ringing? y/n why aren’t you answering.

“ god damn it!” spencer shouts into the phone as it keeps ringing. morgan stands up, “ hotch we gotta go.” he says standing up shoving his phone into his pocket.

the ringing stops. spencer’s heart stops. his breathing stops. everyone in the room looks at spencer waiting for any kind of confirmation. “ y/n you’ve gotta get out of there with jj!” spencer says stuttering with a shaky voice. hes scared. hes so so scared. hes never been more scared in his life. it’s quiet. why is it quiet? why aren’t you answering? what’s wrong. god y/n.

“ hey mom.” you reply. spencer takes a deep breath in. he stops biting his nails. he wipes his wet fingers on his pants. his hearts racing. your in danger. why are you calling him mom if your not in danger. oh god. he feels like he can’t breathe again. he can’t focus. he can’t do this. he can’t do this. he can’t do this without you. breathe spencer. she’s in danger spencer. she’s all that matters.

“ y/n. god i…” he chokes. “ you already figured it out didn’t you.” he says his throat feeling scratchy. he hears you giggle on the other side of the phone, your laugh erupts the butterflies in his stomach. under any other circumstances he would absolutely hate the butterflies in his stomach and would be mad at you for making him feel such way. but now they bring a sense of comfort, they make him feel normal for a split second. that this is not that big of a deal, he’s just calling the girl he really likes and he got butterflies from hearing her beautiful laughs.

“ yeah of course. i called aunt lizzie for her birthday mom i’m not stupid.” you respond. god your voice is so beautiful, but he can hear it. he can fear the slight fear in your voice. maybe other people wouldn’t hear it, but he can. spencer can. and it’s killing him. it’s tearing his heart apart. it’s making his legs shake. “ d-did he hurt you- is he gonna hurt you?” spencer says gripping his jeans tightly. he hears you laugh again, “ yeah mom.” you say.

he feels his legs going weak.

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ddejavvu · 7 months

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Wait Omg the thought of bau!reader and Aaron being secretly married but reader forgetting to take their ring off?? (Opposite to Spencer’s LOL). Everyone instantly zeroes in on it like ?????

You're not sure why you're on the receiving end of Prentiss's cheshire cat grin, but she's somewhat of an office prankster, so you assume that when you open the top drawer of your desk, a rubber band will fly out and whack you in the forehead. When no such thing happens, and JJ greets you with her own wide-eyed smile, you know something's wrong.

You retrieve the handheld mirror that you keep stashed away in your purse, trying to appear nonchalant as you glance over your face for any possible makeup smears. There's no smudges of eyeliner down your cheeks, mascara isn't dotted on your eyelid, and your lipstick is perfectly lined around your mouth; nothing is wrong.

You reach up to flick a wayward strand of hair away from your eyes, nothing big enough to attract the stares you're getting, but undesirable nonetheless. When you do you catch the glint of your wedding ring in the fluorescent lights of the bullpen, and your stomach drops.

That's not supposed to be there.

You snap the mirror closed and slide the ring off of your hand but it's too late, and both girls are snickering at your piss-poor attempt at concealment.

"Sooo," JJ hums, leaning over her desk with her chin propped on her hand, "When were you gonna tell us about that?"

"It's just a ring," You scoff, shoving it into the depths of your purse. You'll regret that later, when you're digging through napkins and lotion to find it, but for now evasion is key.

"Please," Emily scoffs, "That rock looks like it could pay my rent five times over. Are you seriously married?"

"No!" You gush, and you're sure they regret phrasing it as a question, because it gave you the opportunity to lie in answer, "No, I am not married, it's just a regular ring."

"Yeah, that's why you hid it from us," JJ drawls, "Morgan, did you know about this?"

"What?" The man's head pops up from his desk, "What do I know?"

"JJ, please-" You beg, but Prentiss is the one who answers, "Y/N's hitched!"

Derek's brows shoot comically high on his face, "Married-hitched?"

"No! I just wear rings sometimes," You insist, "Guys, I'm not married, this is ridiculous!"

"No one wears a ring that big unless it comes from a man who's equally endowed," Prentiss winks, that devilish grin on her face ever-present, "Come on, don't make Penelope deep dive, who's the lucky man?"

"What am I deep-diving for?" Garcia peers around the corner of the kitchenette, and you shoot Rossi a pleading look where he stands behind her. He'd been on his way back to his office, but apparently your drama has piqued his interest.

"She's married." Derek jerks a thumb at you, and it actually drops Garcia's jaw; you've always delighted in how cartoonish her reactions could be. Now, though, it provides enough silence for Rossi to speak, setting one of his hands on Penelope's shoulders.

"Don't waste your talents, Penelope. You don't need a deep dive to figure it out."

"Dave," You start, your voice sharp, but JJ cuts you off.

"Come on, you told Rossi before you told us?"

"She didn't tell me," Dave shakes his head, amusement glimmering in his eyes. You know he's absolutely ecstatic to be the one to let the cat out of the bag, and you resign yourself to slumping back in your chair as he changes the BAU forever more with two meager words: "Hotch did."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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hotchs-big-hands · 10 months

Text

What did you call me?

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|4.9k words

Aaron Hotchner x plus size fem!reader

NSFW Minors dni please

Warning(s): some angst, yearning, details about graphic crime scenes, strip clubs/sex clubs.

When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.

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Hey everyone, welcome to my first fanfic! I used to write and post stuff back in 2018ish but it was a different fandom. I've not written and posted anything tho since then so I'm a bit nervous! But idk I just got back into cm recently and I saw Hotch and my brain was like oh yeah 👁️👁️ (I used to be a Spencer girlie) and I've mostly written stuff for myself but I decided imma start doing stuff on here too! I hope you enjoy and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future writings 🥰 side note, I'm a fat gal so I will probably centre most of my stuff around plus size readers cuz there's not enough of it for plus size Hotch girlies 😔 but technically anyone can read and enjoy it! This was getting extremely long so I'm splitting it into three parts so here's the first one! Anyway, enjoy 💅

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The feeling of something blunt lightly bounced against your forehead, making you blink a few times and rub the area with your hand.

"Hey... Who did that?" You grumbled, eyes darting from one face of your coworkers to the next. Three of them all pointed towards the culprit and as your eyes drifted back to him you were met with a cheeky grin on the charming, dark-skinned man's face.

"You were spaced out, sugar." Derek Morgan said. "Got a lot on your mind?"

"Got a lot of him on her mind, more like." A voice cut in smugly, flustering you in an instant, your heart beginning to race. Your eyes flicked to Prentiss, the pristine raven haired woman was smirking at you, her eyes glinting. You squeaked and shifted in your office chair nervously.

"No, Em! Just... couldn't sleep last night."

The weak explanation didn't help, it only widened the smirk on Prentiss' face as she leaned forward.

"Oh? Do tell us more."

"There's nothing to say!" You abruptly turned to the casefile that lay open on your slightly messy desk and tried to ignore the movement at the corner of your eye; Emily was shuffling her chair over to you, no doubt still with that annoying smirk on her face.

"Oh it sure sounds like there is though."

Before you had the chance to defend yourself an all too familiar voice demanded everyone's attention and subsequently caused a shiver to trickle down your spine. Your hands gripped onto your chair.

"My team; in the conference room now. We have a case." Your unit chief spoke. All heads turned to the direction of a slightly elevated walkway where a sharply dressed man stood for a mere moment, locking eyes with yours, before he began walking briskly towards the mentioned conference room.

Fuck. Hotch was wearing your favourite suit and tie today and a few stray wisps of his short, dark hair stubbornly lay over his forehead, no matter how often he must have tried to push them up off his face. Everyday was harder than the previous working with that man. The moment you'd attended your interview months ago, sitting in front of the brooding man, you knew you were fucked. Yes, you had been eager to join the famed BAU unit and were grateful for the opportunity that arose but you'd be lying if another reason you eagerly answered all the questions prompted to you in that interview wasn't because you were instantly attracted to Aaron Hotchner. However, that was almost a year ago now and you were struggling with your growing attraction to the man the more you were around him. Your coworkers and friends certainly were no help, given they'd soon caught onto your crush.

A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked.

"Time to go, lovergirl." Prentiss teased and you sighed, quickly joining the others as they made their way to the case briefing. You needed to focus.

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Landing in Chicago a few hours later, the team were thrust into a gnarly investigation involving couples being murdered in their hotel rooms mid-coital. The crime scene photos were hard to look at, to say the least. Setting up a base of operations in the police department didn't take too long and currently you were in the midst of interviewing family members of the deceased along with Hotch at his insistence. It wasn't often that you took part in these interviews, even less often did Hotch ever team you up with him. Quite frankly, it made you feel a little nervous, but there was no way you'd question his decision. And certainly, you did not miss the subtle smug look Emily gave you as you trailed after the man you thought about way too much.

Sitting beside him in the SUV, just the two of you alone made your head feel a little bit floaty as you tried your best to remain as stoic as possible, reminding yourself of the details of the case so far and of the little bits of information from the families you'd spoken to. Even with the effort there was no preventing the permeating scent of his cologne and a hint of his own natural musk from scrambling your brain. He smelled good, too good, and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel from the quick glances you dared peek developed a heat to coil within the depths of your lower abdomen.

"Are you alright?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts. You felt flushed.

"H-huh?" You felt dumbstruck, all because of him. He exhaled through his nose sharply, clearly dissatisfied with your response.

"You're distracted."

Oh. Of course he could pick up on it. You shifted in your seat, subtly rubbing your plump thighs together.

"I'm okay, I guess I've not had enough to drink today though. I'll get some water when we head back to the station." Not a lie, technically. You'd forgotten your bottle of water you normally had ready to fill up to take on cases. Hotch hummed, the sound deep and making you clench between your thighs.

"I did notice you didn't have your water like you usually do. I should have said something." He said. Wait, he noticed? You didn't think he picked up on things about you, he didn't often appear to pay attention to you besides on a strictly professional level. But as you turned your head to him in surprise his brows were furrowed in frustration, as though annoyed with himself for not saying anything.

"Oh no, it's fine. I've been a bit of a scatterbrain as of late." You admitted sheepishly, a little smile on your lips. Hotch glanced at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, then back to your eyes, making your breath hitch.

"Anything I can do to help?"

You bit your lip, your mind flooded with a whole array of thoughts that you knew you shouldn't be having about your boss. He didn't know he was the reason you were so distracted, desperate to feel his lips on yours, on your body and his hands on your skin, his fingers inside you. Fuck. You needed to get it together, for goodness' sake. You quickly glanced back towards the road.

"Ah, no. I'm okay, sir. I'll sort myself out." You murmured, missing the way his knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip on the wheel.

"Don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

You tried not to think of what you wanted him to do to you, instead humming in response.

"Thank you, sir."

You needed to get out of this damn car as soon as possible.

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Immediately upon returning to the station you rushed off to find a vending machine so you could grab a bottle of water. As soon as you had your hands on the cold, plastic bottle you were gulping down the cool liquid, not realising just how flushed you felt.

"Whoa, slow down there, (L/n)!" You heard JJ's voice from behind you and you turned, pulling the bottle from your mouth wide-eyed. The blonde woman looked slightly alarmed. "Are you okay?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I just forgot to bring water so I kinda got a bit dehydrated I think." You explain quickly. JJ frowned a little.

"You'd better be careful next time. And don't drink too quickly, you could accidentally choke."

You smiled sheepishly under her scolding and screwed the lid back on.

"Sorry, I'll drink slower."

JJ led you back to the office where you found the familiar sight of Spencer pouring over a map of the area. Pieces of string had been wrapped around pins indicating the last locations victims were seen and the scenes of their murders, no clear pattern in sight as there sometimes was. On one of the tables lay several empty paper coffee cups, a few rings of spilled coffee staining the surface top. He was speaking quietly to another member of the team, David Rossi, and Hotch; of whom stood beside the young Doctor with his arms folded across his chest, inevitably tightening the suit over his physique. You forced yourself to focus on the map.

Not long after your arrival you heard two sets of footsteps trudge into the room.

"No employees or frequent customers that are of note. We have nothing." Derek huffed as he made his way over to one of the chairs and slumped down into it. Emily joined you and JJ, her face appeared neutral but you could tell there was a hint of annoyance behind it. You heaved a deep sigh and felt eyes on you which made you instinctively seek out who it was, only to be startled when your eyes met deep brown ones, almost black in the artificial lighting. Hotch didn't look away, instead holding your gaze until you quickly turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"There has to be something that connects them all." Rossi said. Your eyes drifted across the map, narrowing a little. There had to be a mutual place that all these couples had been to in the final week leading up to their deaths. Somewhere that couples who enjoy sexual relations more than the average couple would go. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolled through your contacts until you found the one you were looking for. As you pressed dial you put the call on loudspeaker it merely rang once before there was an answer.

"Hello, you've reached the hotline for the simply fantabulous Penelope Garcia; how may I assist you?" A bubbly voice filtered through. All eyes were on the phone as you placed it on the table in front of you.

"Hiya, babe, I have a request for you. We're trying to find a link between the couples but so far nothing has cropped up. But I have a theory," you spoke, feeling a little awkward at what you were about to say. "Uhm, do you think you could try search for any strip clubs or even straight up sex clubs in the area? Easily accessible or possibly a more hidden club?"

You could feel his eyes on you again but you tried hard to stare at the phone. Garcia gasped from the other end of the line, but the sound of nails on a keyboard reassured you she was already on the case. Beside you, you felt Emily poke you and you lightly shoved her with your wide hip.

"Oh wow, I did not think I would be looking at this sort of thing today. But lucky you, I have a whole list of places! I-" there was clicking, followed by another gasp. "Oh my! That is certainly a homepage! You have no idea about the things I'm seeing right now, well, I mean I'll be sending these to you anyway but gosh! I'm going to do a thorough clean of my history once this case-"

"-Garcia, focus." Hotch said firmly and you heard a quick apology from the other end of the line. He moved to lean over the table, propping himself up with his hands as he took charge of the phone call. "We need security footage from these locations. Whatever you can give us, we'll take it."

More clacking of nails, you tried not to stare at your boss as he leered over your phone, forcing yourself to look away from his straining suit, the dangling tie, his large hands. Horrifically, you instead met eyes with the oldest of the group, Rossi, who had clearly caught you ogling Hotch from the glint in his experienced eyes and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Shit. You could only hope no one else had witnessed your blatancy. Thankfully, Garcia's voice came through again.

"I'm sending over whatever footage I can find as well as the addresses to the establishments now."

You reached across the table, hyper aware of how close you were to Hotch as you took hold of your phone. He studied you carefully when you hurried backwards, swallowing thickly. You cleared your throat.

"Thanks, babe, you're a star." You said.

"Well of course, I'm your star." Garcia responded cheerily and the line went dead. Hotch straightened up and pulled his suit back into place, turning to address everyone.

"We need to review the footage and find out which location all the victims visited at some point within the last few weeks, then we can make a plan of action." He was stern as he spoke, hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared. There was a mutual noise of agreement from everyone and you all split into smaller groups around the monitors in the room. Hotch disappeared off to find the chief of police and you couldn't help but let your eyes follow him as he rushed out of the room, eyes transfixed on the tight fabric of his dress pants.

"Girl, you aren't even hiding it." You heard Derek say and you huffed, walking over to Spencer and sitting down next to him. He offered you an awkward smile and shuffled his chair to the side so you could get closer to the computer he was working on.

"Shut up, Derek." You muttered and he chuckled.

"I'm just saying, you should probably talk to him."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"Excuse me?"

Spencer cleared his throat.

"I agree, It's a bit obvious that he's interested in you too." He said softly and you huffed, shuffling your chair closer to the table and leaning towards the computer screen.

"Stop saying ridiculous things like that, both of you. We have work to do anyway."

Derek stepped back with his hands raised in surrender before retreating back to the computer he was situated at whilst Spencer simply watched you carefully, frowning a little.

It was dangerous for you to even dare think of such things. There were so many reasons why you couldn't let your mind go there. If not for the ethical reason due to his and your job statuses, then maybe because he was much older than you with a son. But also you'd seen photos of his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend and you certainly didn't look like his type. Not slender, not sleek like they were. You didn't think he was a shallow man but you'd also dealt with disappointment after disappointment with how others had treated you based on your appearance. You had to keep yourself safe, so your attraction for your boss would remain nothing more than a secret from him. You sighed softly as the young man beside you clicked on the first video footage from one of the private sex clubs. There was no more time to waste.

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The following few hours were downright miserable, viewing video, after video of footage from various clubs until you felt as though your eyes and your brain would melt out of your head. Finally, however, Emily made a noise of alarm, mouth full of cheap coffee, and alerted everyone to her computer. Swallowing the burning, bitter liquid, she retracted the footage a little and replayed it.

"Look, It's the Smiths! The first couple to be murdered. They came in to this very exclusive private sex club at the end of last month." She said hurriedly. In the slightly fuzzy camera quality indeed the couple waltzed into the lobby of the facility and approached the reception desk.

"Fast forward the feed." You heard Hotch say, causing goosebumps to bristle across your skin. You knew he had returned at some point but didn't expect him to stand right beside you. Someone made a call to Garcia and she confirmed with her database that it was indeed the couple. Further analysis of the footage from days afterwards showed that every single of the other couples had also been to this sex club too shortly before they were murdered. And yet they had no indication still of who was the murderer.

The day was drawing in at this point but as a final task before anyone would return to the hotel, Hotch sent out Morgan and Prentiss to the club to ask some questions, something that you couldn't help but chuckle at. The raven haired woman narrowed her eyes slightly at you.

"Laugh all you want but I'd be careful if I were you." She warned but you simply smirked.

"Don't have too much fun now, you two." You said cheerily, Morgan raised a brow at you and then the two were off begrudgingly. You felt JJ sidle up beside you.

"You know she will get you back." She murmured and you shrugged.

"She doesn't scare me."

"She scares me a little." Spencer said aloud, causing the two of you to turn your heads in his direction. He flushed, ducking his head slightly. "I- uh, well you know how she is."

"I wouldn't think you were intimidated by her, Spence, I mean you're the one who won the prank war with Morgan." JJ said, chuckling. A small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I wouldn't cross Emily, though."

You hummed and pushed up out of your chair.

"Well anyway, either of you want a hot drink?" You offered. JJ smiled.

"Oh no, thank you." As Spencer opened his mouth to respond she lifted a finger up at him. "Ah- you definitely don't need anymore coffee at this time of day."

A quiet giggle passed your lips and you turned to head to the kitchenette of the station.

"I'm not getting involved."

Walking out of the office you crossed the police department, avoiding any officers who still remained within the building, and came to a pause in the entryway of the kitchen, dipping away from the doorway out of sight. The two oldest members of the team were in a deep conversation, Hotch with his back to the door and Rossi facing the direction you were in. They spoke quietly, you knew you shouldn't listen in and yet you couldn't help it.

"Stop being absurd. What makes you think I'd even consider doing that?" Hotch hissed, his voice barely audible from where you were.

"Come on, Aaron, you can't keep this going forever. You know that." Rossi countered. There were more words said but were too quiet for you to decipher. That was until Hotch spoke a little louder again, sounding more frustrated.

"I am not currently wishing to be involved with anyone like that, Dave. I just can't."

In an instant you felt your heart in your throat, your eyes stinging.

Oh.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn't interested in dating anyone. Even despite closely guarding your feelings for Hotch to be nothing further than a personal crush that he would never find out about it still hurt knowing you never had a chance to begin with.

Walking a few steps away from the kitchen, you made a point of entering the kitchen area, feigning surprise as your eyes landed on the two men in the room. Clearly, your entrance startled them, particularly him, who looked a little guilty before the slight expression glossed over with stern stoicism. Hotch glanced away, turning to Rossi.

"I'll see you at the hotel." He muttered and then he was brushing past you, his hand grazing your arm slightly and his scent consuming your senses. And then he was gone, all that remained was the slight coolness of his absence. You swallowed thickly but tried to mask your emotions from the seasoned agent still remaining.

"Coffee? There's some left still, maybe enough for one last cup." Rossi said softly. You smiled slightly as you approached him but shook your head.

"Ah no, thank you. I'm going to have tea. It's way too late for coffee, don't you think?"

The man hummed, watching you carefully. You suspected he had seen you earlier, that you'd heard the conversation but you didn't feel like talking about it.

"I hope you know that if you ever need someone to lend an ear that I'm always willing to listen."

Your hands faltered slightly during sorting out putting a tea bag in a clean mug. Your eyes flicked to the side at Rossi briefly.

"I know that."

"I know you heard what you think you heard but-"

"-Let's not- We aren't talking about this." You cut him off shakily, stopping yourself before you poured the hot water into the mug. "There's nothing to say about it."

You turned away from the kitchen counter to lean against it, rubbing your tired eyes with your palms. Rossi sighed quietly.

"You didn't catch the whole conversation." He tried after a moment. You scoffed.

"It wasn't for me to hear. I only did so by accident. I'm not going to read into it because the only people who were meant to hear what was discussed was you and-" Your throat felt tighter still, an unseen coil constricting you, just as the man you longed for constricted your heart and soul. You didn't say his name, couldn't. Mercifully, the man before you understood.

"I know."

You nodded. The mug of tea wasn't appealing anymore; the quiet promise of solitude in a hotel room called to you more than all else.

"I.... I think I need to call it a night. I don't feel well."

Rossi placed a hand on your upper arm and squeezed lightly.

"I'll inform the others and grab your stuff then I'll drive you to the hotel we're staying in," he fished out the keys to one of the SUVs and handed them to you, the metal clinking together. "Go, wait in the car for me." He said. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards in appreciation and you hurried out, eager to have even a moment to yourself.

The moment you pushed the doors of the building open and stepped outside you exhaled, grimacing slightly at the still, warm air of the night. You'd hoped it would have cooled down more, now that the sun had long since settled behind the horizon, but you felt stifled, the heat doing nothing to soothe the tightness in your throat and chest. Breathing shakily, you unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger seat, laying your head back against the head rest.

There was no reason for you to feel so upset about this. It wasn't as though you intended on ever approaching your boss about your ever growing feelings for him, you wouldn't dare do that. And yet you felt almost physically sick from heartbreak and the worst part was he didn't even know the pain you were in. Hell, you didn't even know where he was right now after he rushed out of the kitchen.

You knew the moment Rossi obviously had retrieved your belongings judging the way your phone had begun to vibrate from text notifications, no doubt from your coworkers. You'd answer them when you made it to the hotel, you decided. A few minutes later you spotted the older man exit the station and approach the car you were in, your bag and coat in hand. The sight made you smile even the tiniest bit, something that he noticed. You felt the car jolt a little as he opened the trunk so he could put your belongings down and jolt again when he slammed it lightly. A second later he was climbing in on the driver's side where you held out the car keys to him.

"Thanks." He took the keys and inserted them into the ignition, the engine roaring to life and you slipped your seatbelt on. Rossi glanced at you. "Let's get you to the hotel. Best thing about this is if there aren't enough rooms for one each you can have first pick on if you want the single or not." He said as you pulled out the station parking lot. You scoffed.

"Oh you know I'm absolutely taking the single this time." You retorted. In any other scenario you would have risked sharing a room, risk being paired with him. Now the thought made you want to cry. Your little smile faded and you turned your head to the window, resting on the cool glass. Sensing you were finished talking, Rossi didn't say anything else for the remainder of the drive.

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A little groan escaped your lips when you collapsed backwards on the single bed in your hotel room, exhaustion overrunning your very being from the long day. For a moment you simply lay there silently, staring at the dulled white ceiling whilst your mind raced. You knew this wasn't ideal, you couldn't let yourself be distracted from the case.

Huffing, you remembered that you needed to respond to messages to let the others know you would be alright by the morning. After pulling your phone out of your pocket, the screen lit up and your eyes flicked across the notifications on the lock screen. Lots of messages from your worried coworkers. You unlocked the phone and set about answering them one-by-one. JJ and Emily offered to stop by your hotel room to check in on you, not knowing you'd been feeling unwell up until this point, but you reassured them you would be okay.

Just as you finished your nightly routine and pulled the covers back, there was a knock on your door. Your brows furrowed slightly. Who would be knocking at this time? Sighing, you approached the door and leaned close to the peephole, expecting to see one of the ladies or maybe even Rossi.

Standing tensely with his shoulders squared was Aaron Hotchner. A quiet gasp escaped you and you jolted backwards from the door. What the fuck was he doing here?! With shaky hands, you pulled the door open and slightly covered yourself with it, hyper aware of your clothing situation. Hotch perked up and stared down at you.

"Rossi informed me that you weren't feeling well and had to retire early." He murmured gently, his face stern. You swallowed and silently invited him into your room by stepping back, pulling the door with you. He cautiously walked into your hotel room and you closed the door behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble attempt to cover your body up. Why, oh why did you have to wear shorts that barely covered your ass and an old tee that wasn't as baggy anymore from being washed one too many times?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking in Hotch's direction.

"He's right. But I'm sure I'll feel better by tomorrow though."

You offered a little smile, eyes flicking to his face and realised he was staring. Except he wasn't staring at your face, no, his eyes were focused lower down at your chest. Christ. You quickly looked away again before he realised you'd caught him out and he hummed, the sound making you clench.

"What's wrong?"

Oh no. You couldn't answer that. Your eyes met his and you opened your mouth, hesitating with no response to give.

"I.... Just felt sick, that's all. I'll be okay though."

You never were good at hiding how you were really feeling, the deepening frown on the man's face before you merely evident of this.

"Are you certain? You can tell me anything, you know that." He said softly as he stepped closer to you. You nodded and tried smiling again at him.

"I know, sir. I promise I'm alright though." You tightened your arms around yourself until your flesh dipped under the pressure of your fingertips. Hotch's eyes trailed over you from head to toe, clearly unsatisfied with your reluctance to tell him the truth, but didn't push the matter further. You inhaled as he stepped closer still, his scent once more overwhelming you. His fingers flexed at his side as though he was conflicted and you wished he would reach out and touch you. Eventually, he sighed quietly and retreated a step.

"Alright. But I will be keeping an eye on you now."

Not good. You nodded though, then yawned and your cheeks flushed with warmth. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Hotch's mouth.

"You should get some rest." He said. You chuckled.

"Yeah, you as well though. I know what you're like."

He raised a brow at you.

"Really now?"

Your eyes widened and you stuttered.

"W-well I'm just saying, you do leave the office last, you're up earlier than everyone else too-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to dig your hole any deeper. You dared a quick glance his way and he was still slightly smirking.

"Get some rest, your boss is going to be up early again tomorrow to call everyone in."

A little chuckle escaped you and you followed Hotch to the door, grabbing the door as he opened it and hiding behind it again as you watched him make his way out into the corridor. He turned back to you and gazed down at you again.

"Good night, (L/n)." He murmured. Your eyes met and you gripped onto the door.

"Good night, sir."

He shifted, as though debating something in his head, then he turned and stalked down the corridor. You didn't close your door until he disappeared from sight. When you returned to your bed you collapsed down onto it whilst your mind raced. That night your dreams were filled with forbidden touches and kisses from the man you loved.

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And that's part one for now pls lemme know what you think and if anyone wants to be tagged in future works! Thank you for reading 💖💖

#a writes #a's writing #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size!reader

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bau-drabbles · 8 months

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a/n: if it doesn't make sense my bad. i'm not rlly good at writing smut LOL. but smut with hotch :") pls ignore any mistakes, i know it's ooc 😩🤲

mdni!! 18+

aaron hotchner ♡ who loves to wake you up by eating you out. he can't help himself when he sees you're sweet face on the brink of waking up. he sneaks down the sheets, settling between your thighs. his cheeks are already pink, eyes blown with desire while he gingerly moves your panties to the side. he's too desperate to pull them all the way back.

his tongue licks a long strip, shivering in delight as he licks you again. and then he's sucking on your clit so eagerly like a man starved, his own hips grinding into the mattress as he groans into your wet cunt. his hands grab your thighs closer around his face while he continues to lick and suck you. your hand pushing his head deeper into your aching core is all he needs before he holds your legs higher. his tongue worked you so deliciously bringing you closer, swirling around your bud.

he pulls away for a few seconds, sucking the sensitive flesh so lightly and perfectly this time. the heat unravelling on your lower abdomen, the familiar waves of pleasure hitting you. your legs shake and tremble as the orgasm comes slamming down on you. resulting in your hips lifted off the bed and releasing all in his mouth. the mere force of it leaves you panting and breathing deeply while he lightly hums, lapping at your essence. making sure he got every last drop before finally he releases you from his mouth with a soft chuckle and peeks his head back up from the blanket

"g'morning my love"

aaron hotchner ♡ the only man that can have you between the line of pleasure of pain. when you're so overstimulated, tears running down your cheeks at yet another orgasm he's trying to coax your body into having when your nails are clawing into his back, muffled whines in his chest as he continues to angle his hips in deeper. he feignes sympathy, kissing your neck as he shushes your pretty sounds. it's not his fault you just feel so good around his aching cock, you wanna be his little plaything don't you?

he brings you into a mating press, groaning as the new position allows him to thrust in a little more deeper. his hips are sloppy, his breaths coming out in short burst while he brings the two of you closer to edge of pleasure. you're not sure what you're feeling, everything is swimming in your head and yet he's never felt so good. he coos in amusement, kissing your lips as he holds your waist down while your legs are shaking around him

"c'mon honey, doing so good for me. just one more for me? fuck, such a good girl"

aaron hotchner ♡ who got jealous one night when you were both out having a nice dinner. he saw just how flirty the waiter was and even if you didn't reciptste any energy back, he still felt the need to make you as his. so he took you by hand and to the nearest bathroom to pound his frustrations into your eager cunt. he's not usually one to simply have his way with you whenever but tonight was different.

every thrust, every spank, all of it hit so different especially when you know the reason why. your hands are clutching the sink as he holds your hips higher, practically growling in your neck when he can feel you tighten. you're biting your tongue to stop any whimper come out when his every thrust feels like your eyes are going to roll back into your head everytime he hits that special spot within you. he doesn't grant you any mercy, pounding deeper everytime you move. and when you're squirming underneath him, he's already using his knee to separate your legs even more so he can penetrate you a lot deeper

"let them hear how pretty you sound. let that waiter know exactly who you belong to"

aaron hotchner ♡ who came back from a long case, so incredibly desperate for you. it'd been too many days, he was going simply stir crazy without your touch. and he practically moaned when he saw you in the blankets, a soft look on your face as you hold him close. he's so needy tonight, he doesn't even make it out of his boxers as he eagerly bucks into you.

soft moans falling from his swollen lips, his hands clenched around you tightly while he's singing your praises. he was just dry humping you, the only sounds were his soft whines as he came closer to his relief. you opened your legs a little more to help aid him and he could've fallen apart then and there, babbling at how good you feel when his breath hitched. he's close, his arms wrapped around your waist while his face is buried into your neck as his hips continue to rock against yours desperately. he whimpers when he slowly begins to stop his pants soiled with his release. his breathing is erratic as he mumbles out his apology, still holding your close.

aaron hotchner ♡ who cockwarms you early in the morning, muffling his whines into your neck because you feel so tight and good around him. he resists the urge to eagerly buck his hips into you, not wanting to ruin the moment but you feel so good he can't hold it back. he loves the closeness the both of you have, his arms encasing you between his warm body as he pushes slowly into you. he stretches you over his cock, mindful not to go too fast for you this early in the morning. you look like an angel under him, he can't help but press a few tender kisses to your face in pure adoration.

there's no rush, the morning is quiet and calm. the sun barely rising over the horizon. he's too sleepy to go any faster, his hips going at a leisurely pace in and out of your walls. he can feel your muscles clenching around him, indicating just how near your climax is. but he doesn't stop even when you've come, still moving his hips into you enjoying how you felt around him.

"t-that's it princess, easy easy-- so good for me-"

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch hotchner

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

Text

Hold On

Summary: When a case hits a little too close to home, it’s time for Aaron to face the music and be honest about his feelings after the breakup

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Hotch x Beth mentioned, Emily Prentiss x mentioned oc (aka @leftoverenvy)

Word count: ~12k (the girl cannot shut up) (it’s closer to 13 but it’s worth it I swear to god it is)

Warnings: hotch pov, case-compliant violence/injuries, mentions of suicide, mentions of pregnancy & pregnancy scares, domestic actions without fluff, relationship talk/references to relationship, angst angst angst, deep delving into their feelings, this is basically a case study, I once again leaned way too heavily on song lyrics so pls listen to it

A/N: As Taylor Swift said…. Dear reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one. Mwahaha. Anyways I hope you enjoy this. Massive shoutout to @munsons-curls and @doctorstethoscope for fixing my many mistakes and validating me, and to everyone who has let me take them on this little ride. I can’t express how much I’ve enjoyed writing this fic, or how excited I am to write the epilogue

Find it on ao3 here and as always, happy reading <3

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—————

There's so many dreams that we have given up

Take a look at all we've got

And with this kind of love what we've got here is enough

So hold on to me tight, hold on, I promise it'll be alright

'Cause we are stronger here together than we could ever be alone

Just hold on to me, don't you ever let me go

Once upon a time, Aaron had considered himself lucky. He had a steady job, as dangerous as it was fulfilling, with the BAU. He had a son, energetic and joyous despite all he’d been through. He had you, beautiful and strong and endlessly supportive of him. He had a version of the life he had always wanted, the normalcy of family game night and someone else making Jack eat his veggies. It had been perfect.

But then, he’d screwed up. Hadn’t he? He had opened up, just a bit too much, and told you something you didn’t want to hear. Scared you off.

Instead of spending the rest of his life with you, as he’d planned, Aaron found himself alone. He tried not to blame you, tried not to feel bitter about the inevitable result of finally opening up to someone so wholly.

He bit back every thought of how conditional your love turned out to be, every scathing remark about how Biometrics was one of the most useless departments in the Bureau. He pretended not to care when he overheard that you were dating again, courtesy of JJ and Prentiss’ water cooler gossip.

He’d done what Aaron Hotchner always did; he’d buckled up, lifted his chin, and done what was expected of him. He’d found a nice girl, one that fell for him quickly, and he wished he could return the depths of her affection. He’d continued to work, putting away bad guys with Morgan and Reid while missing the easy way you’d always been able to read his mind in the field.

He moved apartments as soon as it became apparent that the ghost of you would never leave; he just wished that it hadn’t followed him, haunting him with thoughts of you dancing around the new stainless steel kitchen, or flopping onto the brand new suede couch.

He’d done what you asked him to, two years ago when you’d walked away from him and left him to pick up the pieces of his son’s broken heart and ignore his own.

Everyone has a breaking point, though. Aaron, to his credit, hadn’t reached it many times in his life.

There was the first time his father hit his little brother; the first time Aaron fought back. Open-handed slaps, broken noses, Sean screaming. He had never regretted it, not even when he wound up in the hospital that night.

There was George Foyet, dead on the blood-soaked carpet after a blur of a fight. Bloody knuckles, blurry vision, Haley’s blood flecked on her killer’s face. He’d do it a hundred times over if he had the chance.

There was the breakup, the one that simultaneously snuck up on him and had been inevitable. Crumpled flowers, Aaron yelling, you packing your desk. If he hadn’t snapped, would you have stayed?

And then there were the breaking points Aaron never expected to reach.

Leaving for a case the day you broke up with him, only to return to a half-empty apartment. Empty closet, the ‘hers’ sink from the his-and-hers themed bathroom scrubbed clean, your favourite mug left in the dishwasher. He had shattered the mug, thrown it off the balcony where you liked to drink your coffee in the mornings.

The first time you’d come along on a team outing after the breakup. Laughter, avoiding glances, ignoring how good you looked. He had taken home the first woman who caught his eye that night, learned her name- Beth- and given her a place in his life, like that would solve anything.

No matter how many breaking points he experienced, Aaron could never be sure about when the next one would occur. His saving grace through it all was that at least he could keep his composure at work.

Where Aaron failed, Hotch wasn’t allowed to.

Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock when the team gets news of a bombing in New York, just days after Emily’s wedding, and Hotch nearly keels over at his desk.

You’re in New York.

— — —

The drive to the airstrip is a blur; the whole team is worried, of course, but Aaron can hardly see straight until he’s on the plane with a file in his hand and Emily is squeezing his arm.

He remembers giving a quick and quiet order to Garcia, to call you and find out if you’re okay, and it doesn’t help his nerves that all she could tell him was, “Her phone is off.”

“She’s okay, you know,” Emily murmurs, discreet enough that no one else can hear. “It’s a big city. She’s just fine. We’ll catch this guy, and then you can see her. We just need to work the case first.”

Aaron- Hotch, now- takes a deep breath and does his best to hide that those words are exactly what he needs to hear right now, even if he doesn’t plan on seeing you. She’s right; they just need to work the case. “Alright. Okay,” he says a little louder, “What do we know?”

“Not much,” Morgan frowns at the file in his hand. “A bomb went off at The Vessel. It was a structure, I guess, but no one was allowed inside and that’s where the bomb was. Makes sense with the casualty numbers- Seven wounded, two dead.”

“Probably nearby tourists, taking pictures with it,” Prentiss says thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s sending a message to outsiders, but didn’t want a high body count.”

“That could be it,” Rossi agrees. “‘Stay out of my city’.”

“There’s been no communication to any news outlets so far,” JJ chimes in. “I don’t think we’ll learn much more until we get there and have a chance to check out the scene.”

Reid adjusts a few papers so they align, most of his attention focused on the task. “You know, most seemingly random bombings have a high chance of being followed up with a string of serial bombings, for a number of reasons. Sometimes the unsub gets addicted to the attention, or the feeling of killing, or the initial bomb doesn’t impact the intended target,” he continues, not noticing the look Rossi is shooting him.

Hotch takes a deep breath and tries to push back the feeling in his chest that resembles a brick being crushed into his sternum. “Alright. JJ is right. There’s not much more we can do with no signature and no other bombings. Everyone, just try to relax; I have a feeling we won’t be getting much rest in New York.”

He watches as the team follows his instruction. The tension is palpable but they know there’s nothing they can do; the waiting is everyone’s least favourite part of the job. Still, they try to relax. Morgan pulls on his headphones and closes his eyes, JJ and Reid start to play cards, and Prentiss and Rossi re-open their file folders to review case details.

As much as he’d like to do the same, Aaron can’t bring himself to move. He sits there, head against the window, and he wonders if you’re okay. Were you caught in the blast? Did you become one of Reid’s bombing statistic numbers? Or are you perfectly fine, content somewhere in the city with no idea that Aaron is on his way there?

He wonders, briefly, against his will in a moment dripping with guilt, which potential is worse.

———

Aaron Hotchner is something of a practiced master at hiding his agony. Maybe that’s why his voice is so level when the plane starts to descend, and he finally speaks to do the one thing he knows how; direct his team.

“Morgan and Rossi, go to the bombing site. See what you can find. Prentiss, head to the hospital with Reid and start talking to victims, and JJ, see if any news outlets have been contacted yet. We’ll meet at the station later.”

As though on cue, Garcia’s computer screen against the wall of the jet lights up. The tech analyst looks a bit paler than usual, and Hotch crosses his fingers and chalks it up to bad lighting until she speaks.

“Sir, there was another bombing. Three minutes ago, in a grocery store near the Village. There’s no casualty numbers yet.” She looks like she might cry now, and it’s not hard to figure out why.

“A grocery store is a serious escalation,” Rossi says, opening the file folder he’d just closed. “There’s locals, long-stay tourists, families shopping. Big jump from a tourist trap.”

“So we know he’s not possessive of the city. At least, he isn’t just trying to get rid of perceived outsiders,” JJ offers, and Morgan shakes his head.

“If this guy is looking for the homey-cozy ‘love thy neighbour’ deal, he’s not about to get it in New York no matter what he bombs,” he points out.

When the plane jostles them all a little, Hotch takes the moment of silence to re-assess assignments. “Garcia, is search and rescue at the second bombing site?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. The team is split between doing recovery at both locations,” she says, and one nod from Rossi means Hotch doesn’t hesitate to reassign.

“Morgan, you’re with me at the new site. We’ll be assisting with search and rescue before anything else. Rossi can handle the first scene by himself. Everyone else, stay as assigned.”

“Hotch, are you sure about that? I might be able to…” On what was probably going to be an offer of how he can assist at the original scene, Morgan falters. Of course he does. There’s nothing to be done when the bomb’s already gone off.

“I’m sure. There are people out there, and they deserve to be saved.”

———

When the plane hits the tarmac, his team is ready. It’s like watching a well-oiled machine, the way they pair off and head off to their assigned zones. The only pause is between Aaron and Rossi, when he grabs his friend’s arm on the way off the plane. “Dave…”

“I’ll tell you if she’s there,” Rossi promises, and then he’s gone in a black SUV while Hotch climbs into one with Morgan and heads to the Village bombsite.

“So, search and rescue,” Morgan says, raising his voice to speak over the sirens that Hotch has turned on. “Are we heading in, or assisting from the sidelines?”

“According to Garcia, the ambulances aren’t able to make it out to the grocery store. There’s too much rubble blocking the roads that aren’t under construction, and it’s New York traffic in addition to the media outlets swarming the place.” Hotch lets out a concentrated breath. “It’s going to be all hands on deck. Look for survivors, get them to an ambulance.”

“Got it.” The second Hotch throws the car into park, Morgan is sliding out of his seat and onto the sidewalk. Both men make their way through the media storm, past the ambulances that managed to park closer than they did, and into the store.

Search and rescue is there already, along with the SWAT team. They’re moving debris, lifting fallen shelves, and occasionally carrying people out to the ambulances waiting for them.

Hotch sets into motion instantly. He breaks off for the frozen food aisle where he doesn’t see anyone searching. “Is anyone over here?” He calls out, but there’s no answer.

The bomb must have come from across the store; there’s less debris here, but the shelves are twisted and collapsed all the same. Shattered glass from the freezer doors covers the ground, and he tries to avoid it as best he can as he walks down what once was an aisle.

He steps around stray items- a warped metal freezer door frame, a pile of frozen pizza boxes, pints of melting ice cream- while keeping his eyes trained for any sign of another person anywhere.

When he finally does see something, it makes his adrenaline spike. It’s a leg, poking out from under a freezer shelf. If he has to venture a guess, he’d say that someone is pinned under the bent freezer frame, but whether they’re merely unconscious or dead remains to be determined.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Hotch raises his voice a little and gets closer to the figure. He can see the leg a bit more clearly now, and a hand poking out from under the side of the freezer. The fingers twitch slightly. Thank god.

The sweatpants the person is wearing look vaguely familiar, and Hotch can’t place them until he sees the image of Nemo on them, and it clicks. As soon as he realizes, his stomach drops. His hands go clammy, the blood rushes from his face, and it’s all he can do to stay on his feet.

When the dizziness hits him, he wants to throw something and scream and maybe sink down onto the floor and cry, but he can’t.

He can’t, because he remembers when Penelope made sweatpants out of quilts for everyone on the team four Christmases ago. He can’t, because she’d had more than enough Disney quilt for two pairs, and had given you and him matching pants.

He can’t, because he recognizes those pants because they’re in his closet at home, but the only other person who owns a pair like this, obviously handmade, from a quilt covered in Disney characters, is…

It’s you.

Aaron can’t help himself, couldn’t stop it if he wanted to; he turns his head, bends over, and throws up on the grocery store floor, on layers of glass and rubble and thawed boxes of Pizza Pops. Right there, staring at your leg and hand, Aaron almost breaks.

But where Aaron has chinks in his armour, Hotch has none. Hotch is the one who takes a deep breath and wipes his mouth and straightens up, the one who uses every bit of strength to lift a warped freezer shelf up and reveal you, with a mangled wrist but looking generally otherwise unharmed.

You look terrified.

Not that Hotch can blame you, of course.

“It’s alright. You’ll be okay,” he says, and he doesn’t know if it’s Hotch or Aaron talking, because he sounds calm but he has no idea what happened or how hurt you are. “Were your neck or back hurt? You need to answer me.”

You’re looking up at him, gaze half-lidded, and he doesn’t know if he should be scared or relieved when you shake your head and croak out, “They’re fine.”

He knows it’s risky, knows he should call for Morgan or a member of SWAT or anyone with a gurney to transport you safely. But you’re in front of him, dazed, grimy and half-conscious with your wrist bent at an angle, and all he can do is pick you up and hold you close to him. “Hold on,” he instructs, and he feels your arm wrap around his neck.

“Aaron…” you whisper, and he strains to hear you as he makes his way towards the doors with you in his arms. No words follow, though, and he looks down to see you crying against him, silent with tears slicing through the coat of dust on your face. Your arm starts to slip, and he squeezes you a little.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” he promises, “But you need to stay with me. You’ve probably got a concussion, so don’t close your eyes. Hold onto me, tight. I’ve got you.”

When your grasp tightens again, he resumes moving towards the exit. The first breath of fresh air must invigorate you, because he feels you tighten your grip even more. “Aaron,” you repeat, less feeble than before, but he doesn’t want you wasting an ounce of energy.

“I know, but it’s going to be alright,” he shushes you as gently as he can until you arrive at the ambulance, and he passes you off to two paramedics who slide you onto a gurney.

He tries to step back but your hand shoots out and grips his dirtied suit with more strength than he thought you had. “Will you visit? At the hospital?”

The correct answer is no. No, there’s a case to work. No, you’ll be fine. No, we broke up and that’s weird. “We all will,” he promises instead without a hint of regret. “Just let them take care of you, and we’ll be by when we can.”

Relief shines in your eyes, and it’s the last thing he notes before your grip loosens on him and you’re wheeled up into the ambulance.

A minute or so passes before Aaron senses someone behind him and turns to see Derek, who’s watching the road the ambulance disappeared down. “She’s gonna be okay,” he says to Aaron, offering him a nod of support.

Hotch doesn’t know who he’s trying to reassure.

— — —

They reconvene at the station a few hours later, and Aaron sits mostly silent while his team discusses victimology, motives, and the chemical makeup of each bomb. He tries to contribute once or twice, but he falls quiet every time he recalls the way you’d looked up at him.

There had been fear in your eyes, of course. You’d been in a bombing, and he knows how natural fear is after traumatic events. But there had been recognition there too, a solemn kind. He wonders to himself if you wish anyone other than him had found you and brought you to safety, or if he’s worrying about nothing.

You’re safe now, and that’s what’s important. Even if you recover and stay in New York and Aaron never sees you again, at least you’re safe.

Who is he kidding? He can’t go along with never seeing you again, safety be damned. And yet…. He clenches a fist, ignoring Morgan and Reid’s discussion about chemical compounds. And yet, you’d been so close to dead. An aisle or a footstep away, and you could have been ripped away forever.

It makes him sick to think about.

He’s thinking so hard about it that he’s got no idea how long he’s had his gaze fixed on the table before JJ’s sharp “Hotch!” breaks through and gets his attention.

He clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught off guard. “I’m sorry. I was… elsewhere.”

“Did you hear what Emily said?” She asks, and he shakes his head. When he makes eye contact, JJ’s features soften. “You should go see her.”

“No. No, that’s unnecessary. We have a case to work,” he says, and Morgan scoffs at that. “We need to work it like any other case.”

“Any other case? Hotch, you carried her to the ambulance! It’s first aid 101. She could have had a broken spine, and you threw protocol out the window,” Morgan says, staring his boss down. “This isn’t any other case. You guys were in love, man. Go see her.”

Hotch sighs, wishes that the floor could open up and swallow him. Of course he wants to see you, buthe needs to catch the person who did this, first. “It’s not my priority. There are people dying, and we need to stay focused on that. I told her that we would all come visit her after the case is closed.”

“We are focused,” Emily points out. “You aren’t. You’re not helping anyone like this. Just go talk to her, see how she’s doing.” When Aaron opens his mouth to protest again, she cuts him off. “I’m not saying you should live at her bedside or propose to her, but just go say hi. It’s going to help both of you.”

When he looks to his right, Rossi has one eyebrow up. “You know you aren’t winning this one, right?” he asks, and Hotch sighs again. “Bring the girl some flowers, too.”

Aaron closes his file and stands up. “I’m not bringing her flowers,” he mutters. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. If anything else happens, keep me updated.”

——

When he gets to the hospital, flowers in hand, Aaron finds your room almost immediately. He knocks twice on the door, is greeted with a soft, “Come in.”

“Hi,” he says gently, leaving the door open. He watches, waits while you do a double-take like you can’t trust your own vision when Aaron Hotchner is standing at the door.

“You came,” is your response, and he can’t decide if your voice is coloured by exhaustion or disbelief. Maybe it’s both, but he doesn’t like the idea of not being seen as dependable to you, even now.

Encouraged slightly, Aaron takes a further step into the room. Maybe you do want him here, and you weren’t delirious when you asked him to visit. “You asked me to; of course I came. How do you feel?”

While he waits for an answer, he observes you. You’re in a fresh pair of clothes, and before he can enquire about it you’re speaking.

“I’ve been better.” You hold up one arm in a cast. “But I’ve just got this and a concussion, so it could be worse. Remember that case in Kansas where I broke my leg? That was way worse.”

Aaron shakes his head, wanting to scold you for speaking so lightly of an event that had very genuinely terrified him, but he stops himself. It’s not his place. In lieu of conversation, he raises the vase of flowers slightly.

“I, uh, brought you these.”

In the two long years that you’ve been gone, Aaron has never stopped reading human behaviour. More than anything, he has experience with your body language, and he looks over you with a familiar eye.

He sees the tension in your shoulders, your eyes narrowing slightly in the direction of the arrangement, and he knows that you’re remembering the last time he brought you flowers. “Thank you,” you say after a pause that’s almost too long. “What kind are they?”

“They’re Gladioli,” he says, and the words are fully out of his mouth before he remembers that he should have lied.

When you were dating, he had always brought you flowers. On your birthday, when you solved a case, when you just felt down; Aaron was there with a bouquet, one that always meant something. Celebration, or supportive love, or some other flower language message that he knew you would understand even when he couldn’t say it out loud.

He’s pretty sure that by the time you broke up, you had memorized the whole flower dictionary. But it’s possible, he hopes, that you never came across the Gladiolus flower. Hope. Love. Remembrance.

Why he bought them, he can’t say for sure. Maybe old habits die hard. Maybe he wants to know what you’d do if you recognized the flowers.

When you finally speak, it’s with an indecipherable voice. He’s got no idea whether or not you know what these flowers mean. “They’re beautiful. Can you just put them there?” You point one finger at the windowsill, and he follows your directions to place the vase down.

“Of course.” He sets the flowers down in a beam of sunlight, adjusts them this way and that until he’s satisfied. Once he stops moving, a heavy silence falls over the room.

What is there for you to discuss?

He’s racking his brain looking for something, anything, to talk about, until you speak bluntly.

“What do you know about the bomb?”

“What?” He hadn’t even considered that you might want to talk about the case. You’re a former agent of his unit, so ethically, it’s fine to discuss this with you. Still, he’s concerned about the trauma to your body and mind. Before he can speak again, or protest, you’re already talking.

“The bomb,” you repeat. “Do we know who it was placed by? Is it connected to any other bombs? What was it made with?”

This is familiar. This is okay. This is something Hotch knows how to talk about, even when you’re laid up in a hospital bed and he’s only talked to you a handful of times since you broke up two years ago.

At least it’s not awkward anymore. He can read it in the way you sink back into the bed, and how his own shoulders release a bundle of tension that’s been there since he initially heard that there was a bombing in New York this morning.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” he admits. “It was made with the same chemical compound as the one that blew up The Vessel this morning. It was a homemade compound, nothing that could have been acquired naturally without extensive knowledge of bombs.”

“The Vessel? That’s a tourist attraction.” You sit up, but Hotch shakes his head.

“A closed one,” he corrects. “People just go there to take pictures outside the structure, now. That’s why there’s such a low body count.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not just closed. The Vessel is the attraction that closed after a string of suicides,” you say, and Hotch’s head snaps up in attention. “It was a big thing on the news. Have you looked into anyone related to any of those suicides?”

“No, we haven’t.” He’s already fumbling for his phone. “I’m going back to the station. Just… keep us updated on your condition, okay? We would all like to know how you’re doing.”

“Absolutely not.” Hotch can’t decide if he’s more annoyed, impressed, or concerned when you stand up. “I’m coming with you.”

“You aren’t a part of the BAU anymore,” he reminds you. “You made that choice.”

“Yeah, well, there weren’t any lives at stake. He went after a grocery store, Aaron! What’s next, the Empire State Building? Times Square?” You grab your bag of possessions collected from the bombing and rustle through for your purse. “Did you drive here?”

“You can’t come with me. You’re in the hospital for a reason.”

“For a concussion! People are dead.” You stride towards the door, holding your purse and jacket in the hand that doesn’t have a cast around the wrist. “Can you bring the Gladioli, please?”

Is he caught? Do you want to bring them because you know what they mean, or just because they’re nice flowers? With a sigh, Aaron picks them up and pulls his car keys out, knowing that you’ve won this one. “We aren’t putting your name on any reports,” he warns, taking your jacket and bag of possessions in his other hand. “Strauss would kill us both if she thinks I’m borrowing agents from other units.”

“I don’t need credit. But we need to find this guy, before he hurts anyone else.”

———

When Aaron gets back to the station, he thinks that his agents probably expected him to come back with something like Thai food, or information about a new bombing.

They likely weren’t expecting him to bring you with him. Or maybe they were, because the response of greeting waves and murmured ‘hello’s are less surprised than he had expected.

“How are you feeling?” Prentiss asks casually, but Hotch can see the flicker of panic in her eyes when she glances at your cast.

“I’ve been worse. Listen, Aaron told me about The Vessel…” you start talking to the team as Hotch calls Garcia to loop her in, and suddenly everything feels more normal than it has in two years.

When you’ve finished filling the team in, Hotch starts to speak. “Garcia, we’re going to need history on the deaths that occurred there before it was closed down. Rossi and Prentiss, go through medical reports. Reid, I want you going through any written notes or other evidence found with the bodies.”

While he talks, he notices you slipping out of the room out of the corner of his eye. Morgan grabs his phone and calls Garcia, trying to help her comb through articles for a list of suicides that occurred at The Vessel.

Hotch sits down with Reid, paging through suicide notes and crime scene photos sent by Garcia until he feels like his head is spinning.

That’s right around when you come back, your presence subtly announced with a cup of tea placed in front of Hotch and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder as you pass.

When he brings the cup to his lips, he smiles. It’s English Breakfast tea with a dash of sugar in it; his beverage of choice when it’s too late in the day for coffee. “Thank you,” he says, and you just give him a grin before going to assist Rossi and Prentiss.

After a few minutes of idle work and murmured discussion, Derek shushes everyone and puts his phone on speaker. “Okay, baby girl, tell us something good.”

“None of that, crime fighters. After a truly depressing deep dive through news articles, I’ve got 37 names belonging to people who… you know, died at The Vessel.”

“That’s not workable,” JJ remarks, “We need to narrow it down.”

“We said he has a protective, low body count style. Could be the family member of a suicide victim. One who doesn’t have the guts to cause the maximum amount of carnage,” Rossi suggests.

“That’s good,” Hotch hears himself say, like he’s hearing it from a distance. “A parent would show aggression. Garcia, look for suicide victims with surviving siblings in the area. Focus on the ones with older siblings.”

The click-clack of her keys is the only audible sound before she reports, “16 left. Still too many names.”

“Do any of them work in auto mechanics, or in proximity to cars?” Reid asks. “There’s a specific compound in the bomb that’s almost impossible to come by unless you have access to garage-grade chemicals or a specialized lab, and the lab is unlikely for him.”

“Two names. Anything else?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch sees you perk up. “Did any of the victims work at that grocery store?”

“Uhh…. One! He wasn’t on our list of two, but his name was Jackson Moyer.”

“Wait, I’ve got something here.” Reid sorts through papers- suicide notes and similar images sent from Garcia, and Hotch doesn’t know when he had time to get them printed out- until he pulls out a sheet of paper. “Jackson Moyer. It says in the note that his girlfriend broke up with him on the same day he got fired.”

Emily leans over to look at the note. “It’s dated nine months ago.”

Nine months. “She was pregnant,” Hotch blurts out, and a heavy silence falls over the group.

Moments later, Garcia gives the confirmation. “Nora Carr, Jackson’s girlfriend, had the baby…. Three days ago, but she gave it up for adoption,” she reports.

“Right before the bombings started.” Rossi’s observation sits heavy for a second until you speak again.

“Back to the victim. Does he have a surviving family member matching the description?” You hold the end of a pen in your mouth, worrying it between your lips while you look at your files. “A sibling or close cousin, maybe.”

There’s a moment of typing before Garcia says, “Bingo. His older brother, Jeremy. It looks like they were really close growing up; same sports teams, friend group, classes, you name it. He doesn’t work at any kind of auto shop, though. He works in retail.”

“He felt betrayed when his brother killed himself,” Hotch starts.

He’s caught off guard when you continue his train of thought for the first time in two years. The ease with which you take over his idea is one that he’s missed; sometimes, when he’s having difficulty going somewhere with a profile, he misses working with you. It’s like you hold the other piece of the puzzle.

But now, even if just temporarily, you’re here and you’re fitting the puzzle piece into place

“And he saw giving away Jackson’s child as the ultimate betrayal. Does he have a boyfriend or girlfriend with access to the chemicals used?” You ask.

“Yep. Her name is Erica Harmon and she’s a grad student at Columbia. She’s a TA in a load of undergrad chem classes, too.”

“He’s got access to the chemicals through her,” JJ says, frowning at her list of materials found in the bombs. “Almost all of this is lab-grade, and the rest of it wouldn’t be hard to find at a supermarket.”

“And he’s probably going after Jackson’s ex-girlfriend next,” Morgan says, already grabbing his gun as the rest of the group stands up.

Prentiss looks at her boss. “Where do you want us?”

“You and Reid, head to Jeremy’s house. Rossi, Morgan, JJ, I want you at the ex-girlfriend’s apartment.”

“Where am I going?” You ask, using one hand on the table to steady yourself when you stand up and wobble slightly. “I need a gun.”

“No, you don’t. You need to stay here, and I’ll stay with you.” Aaron sits back down, pulls you into your own chair with both hands on yours while he ignores the team’s stares.

“Hotch, are you sure?” Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn’t even look over.

“Go.”

He hears the sounds of rustling to his side, his team leaving as fast as they can while Garcia says something about sending them the addresses, but he can hardly focus. “Are you okay?”

“A little…” You bring a hand to the centre of your forehead. “A little dizzy, that’s all. Are they going to be okay?”

“They’ll be just fine. We profiled that he targets the buildings themselves, not the people in them. He won’t be able to take a hostage successfully.” Aaron promises.

He hopes he’s right.

He hopes he hasn’t lied to you yet again, especially when you give him a hopeful smile.

“I missed this,” you say, so casually that his heartbeat falters before you continue to speak, giving him clarification that he doesn’t want. “Working with everyone, being on cases. Biometrics isn’t nearly as interesting.”

The confession cracks his face into something resembling a smile. “Never a dull moment here,” he agrees before the two of you fall into a silence that he can’t decipher.

Should he have said something else? We missed working with you, or I missed having you around, or Biometrics is practically an entry-level unit. Maybe even, Are you thinking of rejoining the team?

He still doesn’t know why he lied to you on the day of the breakup, why the words ‘it’s not reversible’ had ever left his lips. You could have come back to the BAU at any time, Strauss be damned. Of course, it would be his head on the chopping block, but still. You deserved to know.

He doesn’t say anything.

“How’s Beth?” You blurt out, and he wonders how long you’ve been holding onto that question before you asked it.

He wishes you hadn’t asked. He has a moment of panic, gives you a reaction he already hates himself for before he does it. Instead of answering, he stands up and picks up his now-empty mug of tea. “I’m going to get another. Do you need anything? Some water?” He suggests, brushing the back of his hand on your forehead the way he does when Jack is sick.

The look in your eyes is unreadable when you slump down into your seat further, staring at the table. “I’m okay,” you mumble, and Aaron hates himself even more for the familiar way he caresses your hair before he walks off.

His return a few minutes later finds you curled up in one of the large office chairs, your head leaned back while you speak into your cell phone. “… not sure when I’ll be back,” you’re saying, and you glance up when he enters the room. “I’ll call you back later, okay?”

You hang up and tuck the phone under your leg before you look up at him. You don’t say anything.

He doesn’t say anything.

You don’t say anything.

“I brought you tea,” he blurts out.

Aaron Hotchner, ex-prosecutor, Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, well-known in more than one elite circle for his nuanced understanding of the human mind and what makes it tick. That’s him.

Or maybe it’s not, because after two seconds of awkward silence he’s offering you the mug of tea he made for himself.

“I thought you went to get yourself one,” you say, but a barely-trembling hand reaches forward to accept the mug nonetheless. Thank god he’d grabbed a clean one.

“You need it more. How’s your arm doing?” He asks, and you shrug.

“It’s been better, but it’s been worse. Hurts less when I don’t think about it.”

Aaron has always prided himself on giving you what you need. If you’re telling him that you don’t want to think about it, he can work with that. He can distract you. “Who were you on the phone with?”

It’s excruciating, the length of time that he sits in silence before you answer. It feels like he’s waiting for a signed murder confession. He sits there and waits for what feels like days, weeks, maybe a month or two to hear you say, “My friend.”

“Garcia said you were visiting a friend. That’s why you bought the onesie, isn’t it?” He guesses, remembering that awkward run-in with Beth and Ella at the museum gift shop.

He can’t believe he brought it up. Can you see the shame for it on his face, or the tips of his ears red with embarrassment?

It had been a great day. He had had a rare day off, and he and Beth had taken the kids to the park. They’d gone out for ice cream afterwards, and finally for a tour of Jack’s favourite museum that ended with the museum gift shop. It’s almost a perfect memory, a day that he would fit into a snow globe to preserve if he could.

He knows that if he did that, somehow preserved the day in a sphere full of glycol, he would just remember the look on your face in that gift shop. He still can’t put a name to the emotion other than ‘torn’.

Aaron Hotchner; the master of understanding every human mind except yours.

“She just had a baby,” you respond, and he blinks twice before he remembers that you aren’t in the gift shop anymore and that he asked you a question.

You’re here in front of him now with a broken wrist and a concussion and you finally seem to be opening up to him, and he doesn’t want to risk missing it by staying in his own head.

“Boy or girl?” He asks while you sip the tea. It's an English Breakfast with nothing but a bit of sugar, but you don’t seem to mind.

“He’s a boy. His name is Tristan and he’s cute, too. Do you want to see a picture?” You’re already eagerly reaching for your phone, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you now whether he wants to see the pictures or not.

When you show him the screen, a part of him wishes he had stopped you.

The baby is tiny. Tristan is swaddled in a blanket, the top half of his head poking out just for tiny eyes to squint at the camera. Aaron can see the top of a scrunched nose, maybe the beginning of a cry or a yawn. He examines the details, the obviously-plush blanket with grey-blue floral detailing.

Aaron does his best to fixate his attention on Tristan and ignore the fact that the photo is of you holding the baby, looking almost maternal and definitely happy and…

He looks away.

He can’t help it; he hardly stops himself to consider whether it’s rude of him to actively dodge the photo. Instead, he clears his throat. “Very cute,” he agrees, “You’re right about that.”

“Yeah. He was born a little premature, so I thought I’d take some time off of work, come up and help her out for a little while.” You look down at your cast and let out half a scornful laugh. “Some help I am. I don’t even think I could hold him now.”

“I’m sure you’ve been plenty helpful,” he assures you without a thought. After all, for years you had as much of a hand in raising Jack as Aaron did. “It just might have been cut short a little.”

“Yeah, a little. I’m probably going to have to head home after this. It doesn’t make sense to stay when I can’t do anything.” You look glum at the prospect, and without a thought Aaron reaches a foot out to bump against the roller wheels of your chair. It’s a gentle tap, one that just serves to get your attention.

“Talk to your friend,” he advises. “Maybe you can still cook, or help her clean up around the house. There’s no need to cut your time off short just because you can’t hold a baby.”

Your head tilts just a bit, and your eyes narrow as though you’re looking at an equation in the air that Aaron can’t see, let alone guess the factors of. He hopes you can solve it, whatever it is. “Maybe,” you say, and that’s when he hears the conference room door open.

“Hey, double trouble.” Morgan has a trademark grin from ear to ear as he sits down at the table, and Hotch swivels in his seat to face the team as they file into the room.

How did it appear to them? Him close to your chair, you tucked into it with one leg under you and the other hanging off the side. Did it seem uncomfortable, like you didn’t want to be there? He wishes he could have taken a picture of the two of you, somehow, something he could study and examine and hope to understand.

You’ve been alone in a room for… well, he’s lost track of time, but it’s been a while and he still can’t tell if you’re comfortable or not. He’s got no clue until you pipe up and wheel your chair closer to the table.

“Dibs on being ‘double’. You can be ‘trouble’.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, and Hotch does his best not to smile. There’s no use in encouraging you, after all. Still, he can feel some of the tension drain from his shoulders at the light tone; you’re happy to be here, happy to work on this case and to talk to him.

“Actually, you can’t assign nicknames based off of a group nickname when the name itself is a play on how many members there are,” Reid corrects as he sits down with his case file in hand. “You can only do that if each nickname is a separate title.”

Morgan groans out loud at that and reaches over to swat Reid’s arm. “C’mon, man, you’re taking all the fun out of it,” he complains, leaving Reid with a mildly perplexed look on his face.

“We can try again,” Prentiss offers, slipping out of her bulletproof vest. “Hey, sugar and spice.”

Aaron can feel your reaction before you can even open your mouth, and he beats you to it by a half second by warning, “Don’t say that I’m spice.”

The look on your face tells him that that’s exactly what you meant to say. He pushes away thoughts of Look how well I know you in favour of We’re at work.

“How did takedown go?” He asks. The debrief usually happens on the jet, but it feels wrong to discuss the case without you now. Debriefing is an essential part of each case for everyone who works on it, and he does his best to make sure that each member of his team- past or present- can leave each city with a sense of closure.

If anyone needs closure on this case, it’s the woman wearing a cast who hasn’t had to face the horrors of the BAU in two years.

And maybe Aaron, because it’s just as important to him that you feel okay after the events of the last day. Maybe you need to know that the unsub is behind bars, but Aaron needs to know that you know.

Dave, who has been smirking ever since he saw Hotch quickly wheel his chair away from yours upon the team's arrival, speaks first. “Nice and easy. We caught him while he was assembling a bomb in the apartment complex's boiler room. Taking a hostage never crossed his mind.”

“He didn’t even go to Nora’s apartment. She had no idea what we were talking about when we tried to interview her,” JJ says. She hasn’t sat down yet, and is already working to gather up the metric ton of paper covering the conference room table.

Maybe Hotch should have thought to do that.

“Good. And Erica, the girlfriend?”

“She had no idea about any of it. Morgan found a copy of her keys on the unsub’s keyring, and her best guess was that he copied them right out of her purse.” Prentiss passes JJ a stack of papers and sighs. “I feel bad for that girl. She had no idea what was happening right under her nose.”

“She had no way of knowing that her boyfriend would be pushed over the edge like he was. She’s gonna need help after this, for sure,” Morgan says thoughtfully, and the group mumbles out a collective agreement.

“Either way, mi bellos,” Rossi stands up to clasp his hands together, “The case is closed and we’ve got someone in cuffs. All’s well that ends… well, you know.”

It catches Hotch off guard when his stomach pangs at the thought of leaving. Boarding the jet and heading home. Leaving New York, leaving Jackson and Jeremy and their girlfriends in the past, leaving you to deal with the aftereffects of being injured on your own.

He can’t stop himself from speaking, even if just to re-think his words before they become law. “We can stay the night.”

There’s no subtlety to the rise of Morgan’s eyebrows, or the glance that Prentiss and JJ exchange. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. The words are out there. It’s already done.

“Why would we do that?” Reid asks, always one to voice the question no one wants to vocalize. Hotch has always loved his curious mind and his need to understand every aspect of something.

Even if he kind of wants to throttle the kid right now, because how the hell is he supposed to answer that?

“Because you all did some good work today,” he answers after a painfully long minute, “and deserve a night off. We can all go out for dinner and be on the jet early in the morning.”

That answer seems to satisfy the room, and Aaron ignores the look Rossi is giving him as he glances over at you and drops his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you promise. “Do you, you know, maybe have an extra seat at that table?” You look nervous; he can read that clear as day. The idea that this could put you on edge almost makes a laugh bubble up in his stomach but he shoves it down in favour of a smile.

“I’m sure we can pull one up,” he assures you in a murmur. “We’d love to see you a bit more before we leave.”

“Oh.” You sound almost surprised, and he’s glad that he thought to hide behind the royal ‘we’. “Okay. Can I ride there with one of you?”

“Of course.” Aaron stands up and pulls your chair away from the table so you’ve got room to stand. Unnecessary chivalry; he has to remind himself to cut it out. “We can take a taxi.”

—

That’s how, fifteen minutes later, he finds himself in the passenger seat of a cab with you, JJ, and Garcia squished together in the backseat.

He wonders what you’re talking about back there behind the partition in low whispers, the occasional giggle, and one or two sharp “Shh”’s. The taxi stops too soon for him to find out, and your little group finds the rest of the team at a table already.

You slide into a seat and Hotch unconsciously moves to take the seat farthest from you- a habit he’s built in the last two years- only to find Morgan already sitting in it. “Sorry, Hotch. You snooze, you lose,” he defends with a wide smile.

By the time he turns to see what other seats are free, the only one left is right next to you. “Aaron, over here,” you say, and with all eyes on him there’s nothing to do but come around the table and sink into the stiff chair.

The waitress comes by to take drink orders a minute later, and Hotch orders himself a water. He’s here on official business, and he refuses to get drunk. It’s what his father did, and that always ended up in violence or big scenes made in public. Hotch does everything he can to avoid that side of himself, especially when he’s representing the government.

“What kind of wines do you have?” He hears you ask, and he turns his head to see the waitress produce a menu from what must have been thin air.

“She can’t drink,” he says loudly, putting out a hand like he can stop the menu from making its way to you. “She has a concussion.”

Speaking around you, to you, for you, is a dance, as Aaron is slowly learning.

You frown, and he hopes he hasn’t overstepped. You don’t say anything, and he holds his breath. You finally look up at the waitress and order a water, and he sighs in relief.

“Thanks, it slipped my mind,” you murmur once she’s walked away, and he gives you a tight smile before getting dragged into an argument between Morgan and Reid.

Dinner, for the most part, passes in a blur of quiet conversation and polite laughter. It isn’t until everyone is eating dessert, half the team feeling the effects of the wines they’ve been indulging in, that everything goes to hell.

He really shouldn’t be so surprised. The evening has gone without a hitch so far- Aaron’s left arm occasionally bumping your right when you try to eat at the same time has really been the only obstacle- so he figures that you’re about due for something to go wrong. Some event to stir up the peaceful bubble he’s stumbled across.

It happens, as many things do, in the form of Emily Prentiss opening her mouth. She leans over you to speak to Aaron, and it’s like he’s watching the train crash in slow motion when she says to him, “So, how’s the single life?”

He can feel the way you stiffen up next to him, white knuckles on your fork, peering out of the corner of your eye. Do you want to hear the answer? “Prentiss, please. That’s hardly appropriate.” His voice is being held together like it’s wrapped in duct tape, but it comes out steady enough.

Emily sighs at the scolding. “I just wanted to know,” she grumbles, pushing a piece of cheesecake around on her plate. “You and Beth broke up a week ago; I’m just curious.”

“Good question,” JJ says. “Have you talked to her since? Wait, is that why she wasn’t at the wedding?”

“You told us she was sick, but statistically this is the least likely time of year for someone to experience cold or flu related symptoms.” Spencer frowns down at his rootbeer. “Did you lie? You could have told us that you broke up. We could have helped.”

“Same way I got over the second Mrs. Rossi,” Dave jokes, lifting his glass in a salute. “I don’t think I left the strip club for a month.”

“Please,” Aaron repeats, raising his voice slightly. “This isn’t appropriate.” He directs it primarily to Emily, who started this whole thing, and he notices the shell-shocked look on your face out of the corner of his eye.

“I just wanted to know,” Emily repeats, as petulant as a stubborn child.

She wanted you to know, more likely. Aaron has been careful about not talking about his relationship- Emily only knows because he developed a case of drunkenly loose lips the night of the wedding and overshared to her wife, Katie- and now you know the one thing he didn’t want to become widespread. There’s no way that wasn’t intentional.

“I should…” You push your chair back with a ‘screech’ and stand up, hurrying out of the restaurant in the direction of the lobby without further excuse.

Hotch watches you go, lets out a groaned “God.” while he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to- I’ll be back.” He tosses down his napkin and takes off in the direction you exited.

“Now, that wasn’t too nice,” Derek points out, and Emily shrugs.

“I didn’t like the tension. At least now they’ll talk.”

Meanwhile, Aaron finds himself rounding the large fountain display in the lobby to talk to you. “Are you leaving?”

When you look up, there’s vague surprise on your face. Did you think he wouldn’t follow you? If there’s one thing Aaron knows about himself by now, it’s that he would follow you to hell and back.

“I think I should. I think that would be best.” Instead of looking at him, you fiddle with your keys and look everywhere else. The chandelier, fountain, reception desk; everywhere except at Aaron himself.

“Just… just hold on, a couple of minutes. I didn’t mean to upset you, by not saying something. I thought it would be… easier.”

That gets a reaction. Your eyes snap to his, and he can see something like hurt swimming in them. “Easier?”

“Yes. You didn’t have anything to do with it; why should I have to tell you?” He challenges, even though it’s half a lie. You weren’t faultless in the breakup, but he’s not going to be sharing that fact.

“You don’t think I would want to know?” You take a small step towards him. “Even just so I could be there for you?”

“That’s not a good idea,” he counters. “I have friends I can speak to about breakups.” He regrets his words the second that he sees the pain in your eyes. Oh, because you’re supposed to be friends now. That’s right; his last breakup was with you.

Three feet away, perched on the edge of the fountain, an older woman is watching the two of you intensely. She’s obviously listening, and that’s something that Aaron doesn’t want to deal with. “Look,” he says, his voice low and quiet, “Will you come up to my room? We can talk there, but I’m not doing this in public.”

The conflicting emotions on your face seem to be going to war until you take a deep breath and take Aaron’s hand, your fingers wrapping around his as you board the elevator.

He hopes you don’t notice David Rossi standing near the elevators. He hopes you don’t notice the thumbs up that the older man gives him, or the middle finger he gives in return.

The elevator ride is silent and long, almost excruciatingly so, and he’s half relieved once you get into the hotel room and take a seat on separate beds facing each other. His suitcase is against the wall, zipped up, and the desk is covered in various writings and readings that he doesn’t even know when Spencer had time to unpack.

You break the silence first, your face expressionless like it’s an interrogation. It feels like he’s on the wrong side of the interrogation table for once when you speak. “You and Beth broke up.”

“We did,” he agrees, and that’s when he wonders if he made a mistake bringing you up here. He doesn’t want you to hear the whole story; why not just confirm the breakup in the lobby and send you on your way?

Well, he couldn’t have done that, and he knows why. It’s still a half-decent alternative to this, though.

“Why?”

“Why… did we break up?” He clarifies, and you nod. “We wanted different things.”

Finally, emotion crosses your face; a flicker of anger. He doesn’t blame you, especially when he remembers the sacrifice you made. “Different things? So, she didn’t want more kids? Or was it work-related?”

He isn’t going to get through this without telling you the whole story; he can see that now. As hard as it is, he knows you aren’t letting this rest until you get a comprehensive answer.

“She had a pregnancy scare.”

Your sudden bark of laughter is hardly a surprise, but it makes him wince all the same. “You broke up because you don’t want to have another kid? Are you serious?”

He tries to answer. Instead, memory hits him like a brick wall, wraps its arms around him and drags him down into it.

“Aaron? Honey, where are you?” Beth’s cheery voice entered the room before she did, and Aaron looked up at her with a smile.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?” He asked. He hated this domestic part, the part where he had to pretend to be just as in love as she was.

But love grows, he knew. Just as flowers could blossom from cracks in the pavement, love could develop with time and affection. It wouldn’t be fair to her, to not return the open affection she gave him.

He always wondered why it never felt easy or effortless, why he often felt like he was just a young boy playing at being in a relationship, instead of an adult who was actually in one.

“My day was good,” she said, a barely-contained smile on her face. “So, you know how I’ve been under the weather lately?”

That was an understatement. She’d thrown up more than once in the last couple of days. Love or not, Aaron cared enough that he was on the verge of taking her to the emergency room himself. “Of course. Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really. But my period was late yesterday, so I thought, why not?” Why not, what? She wasn’t making any sense, and it wasn’t until Aaron saw the little stick in her hand that the pieces flew together for him, like a puzzle begging to be solved. “And, well…”

He stared down at tanned hands presenting him the stick, two tiny lines deciding his future for him. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant,” she confirmed, throwing her arms around his neck. He slowly brought both arms up to hug her- a facade of excitement, even though his face would certainly betray him if she were to look at it. “Isn’t that great?”

“That’s… wow.” It was as honest of an answer as he could give. “Are you going to see a doctor to make sure?”

“Of course I am.” She pulled away just enough to kiss him, but he broke away soon enough. “Aaron? This is great, isn’t it? Aren’t you excited?” There was an edge in her voice, one that told him that his face- expressions of shock, uncertainty, certainly no joy- was giving him away.

He couldn’t dodge the direct question, the look in her eye. She already knew the answer before she asked the question, and they both knew that this was his chance for redemption.

He didn’t take it.

A week later, the doctor confirmed the false positive. Aaron couldn’t have brought himself to be upset if he tried.

The same afternoon, Beth packed up hers and Ella’s things, and they were gone.

He wanted to feel sad. He wanted to feel heartbroken. He wanted to punish himself, for knowing that he had missed out on the closest chance he had had to a real family in years.

It was the reason you left; your sacrifice, the heartache you’d both been left with, everything you’d both gone through was deemed useless in the deciding moment. It was his one chance, and he hadn’t taken it.

He just felt numb.

“Aaron.” Your voice, pitched sharp, manages to pull him out of his trance. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He wants to know if you’re okay. He wants to apologize, to fall to his knees and hold onto you the way he should have two years ago.

“I’m fine.”

“So, Beth had a pregnancy scare,” you prompt. “And that’s why you broke up?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

He hesitated too long.

“Why?” You ask.

He knows that you’re only pushing it because you know him.

You know him better than anyone; you know that he doesn’t walk away from things that he wants, not when he has a choice.

And wasn’t that what he wanted? Didn’t he want Beth, more children, a family of his own?

“Don’t do this.” It’s a plea, and it goes unanswered.

“Why did you break up? Aaron… come on.” The desperation in your voice kisses his ears. It reminds him that you’ve been hurt at least as badly as he’s been. It tells him that you aren’t there as a concerned friend; you’re there as someone who deserves the answer to the question you asked. Someone who’s a part of the twisted equation, who fits into the formula of the last two years. Someone who’s been hurt by him, for him, only for him to throw that sacrifice away.

He replies by just saying your name, the name he’s spoken so many times. He’s said it before with love, playful annoyance and affection. After the breakup he said it less often, and it was often delivered with spite or tears of proportions that he didn’t know he would, or could, shed.

This time, when he says your name, he thinks he sounds… broken. His voice cracks, his face flushes, and he looks down at his feet. He’s still got his dress shoes on, and he counts the eyelets- 3, 4, 5 pairs of them, black laces looped neatly through- without saying another word.

Your name, as broken as it is between his lips, is an admission of guilt. It’s a confession, an entreaty for you to stop pushing, and it contains unspoken defeat.

“Aaron.” Your voice is firm when you repeat his name, and his eyes snap up from his shoes- 3, 4, 5, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5- to meet yours. “Don’t I deserve to know?”

You do. He knows you do. The ‘don’t I deserve?’ angle is never something you’ve used, and he knows this is a last ditch effort to get the truth out of him.

You do deserve to know.

How can he say it? How can he tell you the truth? How can he possibly look into your earnest eyes and pretend that he can defend himself and the decisions that he’s made?

He can tell you that more kids doesn’t make sense; he knows that, in a factual sense. He wasn’t around enough when Jack was little, is hardly better at being around now. The job is priority; he could get hurt or worse, and leave behind a widow with more mouths to feed than she can handle. He could become a twisted version of his father, pitting his children against each other. He’s too old to run around with toddlers for the next ten years.

He can tell you any number of things that make sense, but you won’t accept anything less than the truth. That, at least, is written plain as day on your face.

“She isn’t you.”

His words hit you like a bucket of ice water. They slap you so hard that you have half a mind to bring a hand up to your cheek and check for sore spots. “Aaron-”

“It’s true. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you wanted the truth and that’s it.” His breathing sounds more ragged now, like he’s fighting to stay collected.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking, telling you. He isn’t trying to get you back. You made your choice, you walked away, and that’s that.

“Aaron. You want a family,” you remind him, your voice cracking. How can he not remember? How can he throw away the last two years, disregard your sacrifice like this?

Hadn’t that always been his dream? A positive pregnancy test with a woman who loved him? And yet, in the final hour, he’d walked away. He’d made a choice, one that he has to face now, with you.

“I know. God, I know, but it just… it couldn’t happen.”

“Because she’s not me? Are you serious?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, fraught with disbelief and maybe a hint of fear at the potential weight of his answer, and you wish that Aaron were speaking even quieter when he responds. You wish you couldn’t hear him at all.

“Because there’s no family without you.”

The dry scoff that escapes you is answer enough, especially once it’s paired with your head dropping into your hands. “Then what the hell have we been doing?”

“I tried,” he defends. Desperation is poured into every syllable, filling in the spaces of the things he can’t say like resin on wood. “I gave it a chance, she was happy. But when I saw that test…”

Neither of you knows if he’s stopped to figure out what he should say, or if it’s because he can’t say it. He looks small, appears defenceless in a way that he never lets himself.

“I couldn’t do it,” he finishes. He spreads his hands out, a placating gesture. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want a family with her. When I saw that test, I was scared. Terrified. A baby is a commitment, and I don’t- I can’t- see myself making that commitment with anyone but you.”

“You know how I feel about kids.” For a moment his eyes flicker down, to where your phone sits on the bed, and you have half a mind to wonder if he’s going to bring Tristan into this.

Maybe he’s settled more into this conversation. Maybe he’s realized that he doesn’t have much to lose here. For whatever reason, his rebuttal to you, perched facing him on the opposite bed- worlds away, yet only mere feet- is more of a challenge than a question. “When did I ask you to have any?”

“What?” You tilt your head the slightest bit, stray hairs illuminated in the yellow-grey light, and he thinks his heart skips a beat when you blink.

“I didn’t ask you to have kids. I never asked for that.” He knows it for a fact; that simple thought has been his port at sea more than once, on the nights where he wondered exactly how things had gone so wrong.

You blink again. ‘I want us to get married, have as many kids as we can, I want all of that and I want it with you.’ Those were his words, spoken so passionately two years ago.

But there were other words, too, and they fly back into your mind like they’re trying to haunt you. Words that circle you, remind you that you were the reason he couldn’t have that life.

‘I’ve been thinking, and you’re more important to me than having more kids.’

‘Just say the word, and I’ll never bring it up again.’

‘I’m not going to sit here and tell you what I want, because I’m not forcing you into that. You don’t want it, fine. We don’t do it.’

You remember him confessing what he wanted, so earnest and unexpecting of you to go along with it.

Phrases swirl your head, sentences that haven't done so since the breakup.

Sentences that you hadn’t let yourself understand until now.

‘I would be happier knowing that I’m in a relationship with someone who wants the same things I do. I want that with you, I want you to want it, but that isn’t happening.’

‘I want us to go back to normal. How we were.’

‘You’re all I need. I mean it.’

“You want a family. That’s what you want.” Your protest is weak, and you don’t know if it’s a protest for your self-protection or his feelings.

Maybe it’s both.

“You were my family. You and Jack. I was so happy with you.”

“Not as happy as you could have been,” you counter. Aaron visibly hesitates, a moment of back-and-forth sway before he crosses the room to sit next to you on the other bed.

“You…” the breath he takes is deep and rattling. “You made me happier than I could ask for.”

You move back and he does too, kicking off his shoes to mirror your crossed legs. The two of you sit and face each other. The headboard sets the scenery behind him, cheap hotel wall art behind you. When you take a breath, so does he.

“You walked away,” you remind him. It isn’t a show of blame; it’s a reminder, pure and simple, that he wasn’t happy with you.

“No, I didn’t.” He reaches out, one of his hands trembling as it grasps yours. “I wouldn’t have.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he watches as his hand wraps around yours, squeezes it once.

He’s just about to let go when you squeeze back.

“You told me to go,” he whispers, staring down at those linked hands. If he looks you in the eye now, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. “It’s what you wanted.”

You laugh, and the sound is humourless and dry. “What I wanted? Aaron, you only stayed past that first day for me, to make me feel like I wasn’t ruining your life. I didn’t kick you out; I let you go.”

“I didn’t get a choice. I chose to stay, I chose you above a bigger family, and you didn’t let me,” Aaron says, and your hand tightens on his. “I tried, okay? I- I found Beth, we moved in together. For God’s- Ella called me ‘dad’. I did my best to have that life. I tried. It didn’t work.”

“I don’t know what you want,” you confess, and he hates himself a little more when he sees the heartbreak in your eyes. “I just want you to be happy. I thought I was giving you that.”

Aaron shifts himself, moves a little closer to you. He thinks he might be about to say the wrong thing, the thing that destroys whatever tentative relationship the two of you have built.

He doesn’t care.

This relationship, this dance of overdoing and understepping and caring too much without saying enough? He doesn’t want it.

He doesn’t care about throwing it away.

“Nothing,” he vows, extending one hand to raise your chin when you look down, “Nothing has ever made me as happy as you did. That’s all I wanted. You.”

You avert your gaze, and you feel your face grow warm. It’s been a long time since he looked at you like this, with all of the care and attention in the world somehow pouring from the gaze of warm hazel eyes locked on yours.

“What do you want me to say?” You ask after a stretch of silence. Not even the sound of breathing dares to disrupt the quiet; neither of you want to make the wrong move right now, not when you can see the crossroads ahead.

“Whatever you want to say. Just not what you think I want to hear.”

That’s what it’s come down to, at the root. Both of you lying, sneaking, saying and doing whatever you can to protect the other’s feelings and do what you think is best. He’s tired of it.

You did what you thought was the right thing, and let him go. He did what he thought was the right thing, and chased the life you made possible by leaving. But neither of you are happy, and he can admit that now.

“I still don’t want kids.”

“I’m still not asking you to have any.” He waits two beats, unsure if he can even bring himself to ask what he knows he has to.

“Does Jack count?” He’s breathless as he waits for the answer. You could have found freedom in the last two years, after several spent living a mother’s schedule. Maybe you don’t want a hand in any child’s life, and he won’t begrudge you that.

“He’s… no,” you say, and Aaron exhales in what might be relief. “But that doesn’t mean I want more. You want more.”

“I want you,” he corrects, the same way he did two years ago. Maybe this time you’ll listen, and accept his words for the truth that they are. “I had more. I didn’t want it, not without you.”

Your breathing, shallow and timid, hitches at his words. He notices the slip-up in a heartbeat, wants to trip over himself and correct it. Before he can, you say, “But the future-”

“The future,” he interrupts, clasping one of your hands in both of his, “My future, it only matters if it’s you.If you’re happy with Jack, I’m happy. You’re what I need. You’re all I need.”

“Aaron, please.” Your voice is small, and that’s when he realizes that he’s been trailblazing this conversation with hardly a thought about what you want. Maybe you’ve moved on, or fallen out of love.

He doesn’t think you have, though. Between your conversation at the wedding and the fact that you’re still here, both hands now holding onto his, wide eyes peering into his own, he thinks he’s made a safe bet.

“Please, what?” He murmurs. He can defer to you now, let you approach this at your pace. He’s said his piece.

It’s not until he sees your eyes squeeze shut that he remembers your concussion, and he’s sure that this conversation isn’t helping what must be a painful headache.

“I… it’s getting late. And I really should sleep. My head...”

Every instinct in Aaron’s body is well-honed, trained to take opportunities that might pass him by otherwise. It’s what got him Haley, what got him into the BAU, and now it’s what might get you back.

Every instinct is screaming not to let you leave.

“Do you want to talk more about this later?” He offers, his right hand releasing your left. The other two stay linked, his fingers brushing the cast, and you make no move to loosen them as you nod.

He waits. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, but he waits.

You close your eyes, already on the verge of rethinking before you speak. But you’ve got instincts, too, and they’re all telling you to stay in this room. Your future is in this room, and you aren’t about to close the door on that. Even if the conversation can wait, you know exactly how it will end.

It’s clear to you now that Aaron only left because he did the same thing you did, tried to protect your feelings. He never would have left if you hadn’t forced his hand and left first, and the thought of the time that you lost makes your chest seize unpleasantly.

It’s not too late to undo old mistakes, though.

“Can I sleep here? It’s not really safe, getting a taxi this late.”

Aaron lets go of your other hand first. “Of course, you can.” He’s half situated to go to sleep already, just has to take off his tie and loosen his shirt. He doesn’t get off the bed, and that’s why it surprises him when you lay down in the same bed, on your side.

“So you don’t have to share with Spencer when he gets here,” you explain through a yawn, and his heart hurts when he sees the way your nose crinkles. He’s missed it, missed you.

Sleep comes quickly, somehow. The exhaustion of the day, of the conversation, overtakes you both in what feels like mere moments.

When Aaron wakes up, it’s with his arms around you and his nose pressing into your neck. He holds on for a moment before he has to let go; you’ll have time later, and the team is waiting.

Getting out of bed, Aaron finds the other queen bed- Spencer’s- empty, untouched.

When the two of you arrive at the jet, late with your suitcase, he says, “I stayed with Morgan and Rossi. We thought you could use some privacy.”

You let go of Aaron’s hand to reach out and ruffle Spencer’s hair, ignoring the look he gives you when you mess up his curls. “Thanks, Spence.”

If the team is anything, it’s ‘respectful when the time calls for it’. No one says a word when you and Aaron sit next to each other. No one blinks when your hand slides home into his.

His fingers lace around yours. He squeezes once, and you squeeze back. As the jet takes off, soaring towards DC and your new future, you hold onto him. It’s going to be alright.

Once upon a time, they always said that you and Aaron were the lucky ones. Maybe they were right.

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tlou-reid · 6 months

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Baked Goodies ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

♡ SUMMARY: aaron is smitten for his new graduate student neighbor as soon as he meets her.

♡ WARNINGS: male masturbation, allusions to smut but nothing fully written (part 2?), tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining & slowburn, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)

—♡

Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever blushed before now. The warmth on his cheeks was an unfamiliar feeling, as was the smile that was slowly making its way across his face. “Thank you,” He says with a voice that’s slightly lower than his usual tone. His hand reached out to grab the Tupperware container you were holding in yours. He tried to ignore the gentle shock that reached his fingertips as they made contact with yours. He also tried to ignore how soft the skin of your manicured hand was. It was probably a lotion, one with the same lavender scent radiating off your body.

“No need to thank me!” Your voice was so lively, so excitable. It was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. “If you ever need any more baked goods, I’m right across the street.” As you spoke, you lifted your arm to point at the house across the street from his.

You were his new neighbor. The house had been on sale for a few weeks and Aaron had been keeping his eye on it, seeing who the new family would be. He was hoping it would be a family that had a child similar to Jack’s age. He didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood, they all lived a few blocks over. Having someone Jack could bond with right across the street would make things easier for both him and his son. Especially when Aaron had to leave for days or weeks at a time due to his job.

But, selfishly, he was not disappointed it was you at all. You hadn’t disclosed if it was just you living in the house or not, but Aaron had already formed an imaginary life for you. It was just you and some pet living in the house, and he was going to be the protector. He’d check on you, you’d come to him when you need some manly job done at the house. And he hadn’t known you for more than five minutes yet.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a slight chuckle. “It was nice to meet you, Aaron!” You called to him as you stepped off his porch, heading to the next house to take your fresh-baked goods to. He closed the door, stepping in and taking a look at the container you’d dropped off. It had a mix of different treats, all homemade. There was a little note inside.

“Jack, I got food!” He yelled to his son as he made his way to the kitchen. He quickly sat it down, opened it, and took out the note before Jack could see it. “Hi! I’m Y/N, your new neighbor! I hope you enjoy these! (p.s. there’s no peanuts!) x” is what the note read. He smiled at the fact that you didn’t give off any real personal information, and even more at the fact that you worried about the allergies of the neighborhood. Not even people you knew. You were worried about the allergies of strangers. He felt his blush come back.

“What’s that?” Jack’s voice tore him away from his thoughts. “Someone moved into the house across the street, she baked some stuff and is giving it out,” Aaron explained. “For free?” Jack inquired, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie. Aaron laughed, “Yeah, she was introducing herself.” Jack nodded, biting into his cookie. “Wow!” He exclaimed, surprised at how good it tasted. Aaron laughed again, reaching for one of his own.

It was almost a week before Aaron saw you again. The team had been called in to work on a semi-local case that lasted four days. It wasn’t the worst thing Aaron had been through, but it’s never easy to come face-to-face with a serial killer. Then, he’d just become busy with paperwork and Jack’s after-school activities. Aaron had helped coach one of his soccer games, which wasn’t something he got to do often.

So now, late Sunday morning, he was finally making the walk across the street to your house. He had planned this since the moment you’d dropped the Tupperware container into his hand. He was going to return it just so he could see you again.

He gently knocked on your door, loud enough you would hear it if you were around, but not loud enough to wake you up if you’d decided to sleep in today. He hadn’t seen enough to observe your routine. Not in a creepy way, just the way you notice when your neighbor’s car is in its driveway or if they do yardwork every Saturday evening. Come to think of it, he didn’t know any of his neighbor’s routines. He was never around enough to notice them.

When you opened the door, his attention left the surrounding houses and landed right on you. He had been looking around upon realizing how little he knew about the people in his neighborhood. You’d be the first one he’d get to know, he decided.

“Aaron!” You were basically beaming at him. He smiled and mumbled out a, “hello”. “How are you today?” You smiled, stepping out onto the porch to stand near him. “I’m good, I was just coming to return the container.” He explained, holding out the Tupperware. You reached out to take it from him, looking at his hands. You couldn’t help but notice the veins that ran along them.

“Oh! You didn’t have to,” You chuckled, moving your eyes up to look at his again. If you were being honest, you’d been surprised when he answered the door. Chatter about the older man from the neighbors you had given your baked goods to prior to arriving at his house had you ready to be nervous and intimidated.

Instead, you were undeniably attracted to him. When he had first opened the door after hearing your timid knocks, you couldn’t help but let your eyes scan his broad form. You didn’t think he had noticed, as he was too busy trying to figure out why someone was unexpectedly knocking at his door.

“Did you like them?” You asked with wide eyes. He could tell you were genuinely curious. “I did,” He smiled as he continued, “With the few that I had at least. My son loved them.”

“Your son?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. Of course, an attractive man like him was married with kids. You weren’t sure why hadn’t assumed that before. “Yeah, Jack. He’s my son.” Aaron was awkward, not really knowing what you were asking. You recovered quickly, “Which ones were his favorite? I can make more!” Aaron smiled with a slight shake of his head, “He loved them all, you don’t have to worry about any of that.” You laughed, “I do! I love baking, it’s a nice way to pass time.” Aaron nodded along to your words, “I guess he liked the brownies the most, they were gone in a day.” You smiled, taking a mental note.

“And your wife?” There was a hidden motive behind this question, one you hoped Aaron didn’t pick up on. You wanted, no, needed to know the details of this man’s life. You needed to know if you could keep up the fantasy you were creating of him. He let out an awkward laugh, “Uh, no,” he cleared his throat, “No wife. Just me and Jack.” You almost wanted to break out into a smile at his words, but you knew that would be inappropriate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to like, pry, or anything.” The awkward tone of the conversation was beginning to make you uncomfortable. As much as you wanted to know, you didn’t want to blow your chances with him. “It’s okay,” he comforts you when it should definitely be the other way around, “Just a bit of a touchy subject.” You nodded in understanding. You two stood there in silence for a little bit, before Aaron stepped back. “I should get back,” He said, nodding towards his house.

“Yeah, yeah. It was good to see you again.” Aaron took note of the awkward smile and lack of eagerness in your voice. “You too, Y/N. See you around.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked down the steps of your porch

He was just reaching the curb on his side of the street when he heard someone yell your name. You hadn’t retreated back into your house, instead opting to tidy up the furniture on your porch. He didn’t know you were waiting to make sure he had made it into the house safely. Aaron watched as the man who lived two houses down from you began to approach your porch.

“The cookies were delicious!” The man was still shouting as he walked over. Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He watched as you giggled at his words, yelling back, “Thank you!” When the man approached you, he handed off the same kind of Tupperware container Aaron had given you. Aaron couldn’t help the jealousy that took over him as he realized this man and he had the same idea: returning the container just to see you again.

Once the man reached you and Aaron could no longer hear your conversation, he turned to continue walking back toward his home. He couldn’t help but notice how you giggled at this man’s words. Your conversation with him felt so natural, which was very different from the uncomfortable conversation you two had.

Aaron couldn’t help but feel insecure about this. Of course, you’d want to conversate with the younger, handsome, athletic guy who lived in the neighborhood. Why would you choose an older man who had a child and knees that creaked when he stood from his office chair? You wouldn’t. No one would.

Little did Aaron know, you had been watching him the entire time you were talking to the neighbor. You couldn’t help but check Aaron out as he walked away. His sweatpants hugged his hips deliciously and the athletic fit shirt showed off the muscles in his back. Aaron was hot and you couldn’t deny it.

The next time you saw Aaron was very unexpected. Your friend, Elise, had convinced you to volunteer at the local middle school, working the door for entry to the soccer game they were hosting on a Friday night. Part of her grad school program involved her working at this school, so you guys had signed up together. She was excited to see the students she had been working closely with.

You, however, had completely forgotten you had a paper due for one of your graduate classes. So, she was up, selling tickets, conversating with parents, and wishing the students good luck, while you had your nose buried in your laptop. Textbooks and articles were spread across the table that was holding the register for the ticket money.

“Jack! You’re gonna do great!” You heard Elise encourage one of the students, not really paying attention anymore. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you looked up from your halfway-done paper. “He’s been practicing hard,” Aaron smiled, touselling the hair on the little boy’s head.

Your movement from behind your laptop caught his attention. “Hello, Y/N,” he said, not expecting to see you there. Jack and your friend both turned to face you, surprised that you and Aaron knew each other.

Aaron pushed Jack forward with a gentle hand on his back, “Buddy, do you remember the cookies and stuff our neighbor had dropped off?” Aaron asked him, ready to introduce you two. “You made them?” Jack asked, stepping closer to you. You nodded at him with a smile, “Yes! I live across the street from you!” You smiled at the young boy. You didn’t notice the eyebrow raise your friend gave you, knowing about the crush you had said you were growing on your older neighbor. She was connecting the dots.

“Do you work here?” Aaron asked as Jack ran into the stadium to join his team. You shook your head, pointing to Elise, “She does. She needed volunteers and asked me to work.” Aaron nodded. He let out a light laugh and pointed to your laptop, “Doesn’t seem like you're doing a lot of work.”

Your cheeks started to warm up in embarrassment, “I have a paper due that I completely forgot about.” Aaron was shocked to hear you discussing college. He thought you were older than that. “You’re in college?” He asked. You nodded again, “Grad school. I only have one more semester until I graduate.” You explained, and he relaxed. You were older than an undergraduate.

He knew you were young, but he didn’t think he was being perverted by forming a small crush on you. Sure, some people may deem it inappropriate, but it is up to you in the end. If, by some miniscule chance, you harbored the same feelings he did, he wouldn’t feel weird about it, he didn’t think.

Aaron questioned what you were studying and you explained your major, your intended career, and how passionate you were about what you were doing. As your face lit up and your hands aided in your expressive explanation, it was as if Aaron could feel fondness growing in his chest. He began to feel warm, as if you were the sun shining on him.

He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. The only feeling that could mirror what he was feeling now was when Jack got crowned MVP at his last soccer tournament. It’s the kind of pride that you feel when you know someone is going to go far. Aaron wanted to go with you.

Unfortunately, the buzzer interrupted his thoughts. He let out a breath, a small “Shit” escaping from his lips before he continued, “I gotta get to my seat.” He chucked, rushing away, “Good to see you.” He nodded at you and your friend before disappearing into the stadium.

“So that’s him? The hot next-door neighbor?” Elise squealed, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Elise! Stop!” You whisper-shouted at her, still weary of Aaron’s presence, “I have a paper to finish.” She laughed at the way you made your eyes big, emphasizing that she needed to drop the subject.

“Okay,” Elise breathed out after a while, relaxing in the seat next to you, “we’re done!” You nodded at her words, moving to save the file on your laptop. “What’s next?” You asked as you closed it, deciding to finish the paper later. “You hungry? The concession stand has fantastic pizza!” Even if you weren’t, the way she practically moaned about it had you wanting this pizza. “Sure,” you shrugged. You packed up your things as Elise dropped off the register where it needed to go, and then you guys headed into the stadium.

The line for the concession stand moved quickly. You couldn’t help but scan the stands for Aaron, wondering where he ended up sitting. When Elise proposed staying to see the end of the game, you agreed, solely because it would increase your chances of seeing him again.

And, you did. Not until the very end of the game, after the buzzer had sounded and Jack’s team ran to the sidelines, celebrating the win they had just claimed. The only way you found Aaron was through the cheers. He was the loudest one, the proudest parent sitting amongst the whole school. It brought a smile to your face to know how much he loved his son.

“Congratulations, kid!” Elise cheered for Jack as he approached the entrance to the field, by where you two were standing waiting to congratulate the team. Jack just smiled before turning back to his friends. “You guys did great!” You called from behind her. Aaron smiled at you as he reached where you and Elise were stood.

“So, will you guys be at more games?” He wasn’t going to invite you, as he felt that would be overstepping some invisible boundary he had made up in his head. But, if you were going to be around anyway he could at least offer to sit with you. “I definitely will be!” Elise cheered, turning to you. “I’ll see. You never know with school and work.” You shrugged, trying to mask the disappointment. You were not aware that Aaron was doing the same.

“Dad!” Jack shouts, running over to his father, “Can I sleep at Chris’ house tonight? The whole team is going!” You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked, and the fond look Aaron gave back to him. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s just run home to get your stuff.” Aaron turned to bid a quick goodbye to you and Elise. To your surprise, he turned back to you. “Did you need a ride home?”

You stuttered at his words, “Uh, no, um, Elise-” “Yes, she does! I was her ride but my boyfriend just asked to meet somewhere!” Elise nudged you as she cut you off. She waved her phone to emphasize her point. “Thanks, Mr. Hotchner, you’re the best! Have fun at your sleepover, Jack!” Elise said as she stepped away from the group. Once you were the only one that could see her, she threw you a big smile and thumbs up, before taking off to your car.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that happened,” You gestured to your friend running off as you apologized. “No need to be sorry, I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me. It’s not like you live far away.” You nodded and smiled at Aaron’s comforting words, thanking him again. “C’mon, the car’s this way.” You followed him and Jack, watching as Aaron congratulated Jack on the win and questioned him on the different strategies the team uses throughout.

Aaron opened the passenger door as Jack climbed his way into the back. Your jaw almost dropped as you realized he opened it for you. It was so casual. He didn’t even stop his conversation with Jack as he held it open for you. He laughed at something as you buckled your seat belt up.

When he leaned over to check that you were comfortable in the seat, his eyes met yours. He gave you the softest smile you’d ever seen and you could feel butterflies take flight in your stomach. Your cheeks felt warm and you looked down at your hands, growing nervous under his gaze. You mumbled a soft “thank you” as he closed your door, walking around to the driver’s side.

Aaron noticed your nervousness this time. He could tell you were shocked at his actions. Initially, this made him sad as he realized that no man had ever shown you the care you deserved. However, that sadness quickly turned to excitement as he realized he could be the first. He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved in so many ways, definitely more than just opening a door for you.

The drive to your homes was filled with laughter as you and Jack tried to sing the pop songs that were steadily playing on the radio. Jack kept stumbling over the words and you could not carry a tune to save your life. Aaron had matching butterflies to yours as you interacted with his son.

His car pulled into the driveway and Jack was inside the house faster than you could even open your door. You both laughed as Aaron made his way around the car to stand with you. “I can walk you across while he gets his things,” Aaron gestured to his house, indicating Jack might be a second inside.

“You don’t have to. Get him to his sleepover, he seems excited.” Aaron laughed, nodding along to your words. “Have a good night, Aaron.” He wished you the same and watched as you made your way to your house. His eyes didn’t leave your figure until you were safely inside.

Jack gathered his things for the sleepover very quickly. Aaron was almost certain he had forgotten something as they made their way back into the car. Once they were buckled and on their way, Jack shifted his body to face his dad.

“Dad?” He asked, getting his father’s attention. Aaron let out a gentle “hmm” of recognition. “Do you have a crush on our neighbor?” Aaron didn’t answer, reaching forward to turn up the radio, but the pink spreading across his dad’s cheeks was the only answer Jack needed.

Aaron was exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted. The case and been long and gut-wrenching. The only victory was the arrest of the unsub, as he had murdered all of his previous victims before the team could save them. Aaron was gone for two and a half weeks, and barely got any sleep while he was away.

“Thanks, JJ,” His voice was weak as he thanked her, reaching into the back of the SUV to get his go-bag. He had been too tired to drive himself. JJ had kindly offered after seeing the dark eye bags he was wearing. “Anytime, Hotch. Get some sleep.” He could only muster up a nod in return.

Aaron was turning the key in his lock when he heard your door. “Shit!” You yelped as the glass outer door slammed. He turned around with a chuckle, never too tired to see you. “Hello, Y/N!” He called as best he could with how tired he was.

He was suddenly wide awake when you faced him. He hoped you couldn’t see his eyes scan the entirety of your body, pausing at your very exposed thighs. You were in a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt that came down the end of your butt. The shorts you were wearing with it were incredibly short, barely covered by the shirt. Even with the distance between your houses, he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra.

He wanted to blame the way his dick was hardening on how tired he was, and definitely not the dirty thoughts he was having about you right now. He could imagine the way his rough hands would trace the skin across your thighs as he pulled you into his lap, preparing to devour you. His fantasies did not slow as you yelled back to him, very excitedly, “Aaron! Where have you been?”

He shook his head, attempting to clear it so he could have a normal conversation with you. His heart fluttered at the fact that you’d noticed his disappearance. “I was away for work,” he informed, “for far too long.” You erupted into a smile, walking off your porch, “Well, the neighborhood missed you!” He knew you were lying. No one in this neighborhood knew him. They didn’t care if he was gone or not.

But, being a profiler had its perks. He knew the hidden meaning in your words. You missed him. His brain was tired and his heart was beating a million times a minute. That must’ve been why his mouth was moving before he could stop it, “I missed you too.” The words rolled off of his tongue, no thought behind them. No thoughts, but definitely feelings.

You hoped Aaron couldn’t see the way your eyes lit up at his words. You could feel the heat growing in your cheeks as you continued to make your way to your little garden. That’s why you were out here, to get your front yard set up for Halloween decorations. “Get some rest, Aaron. Welcome home.

Even with you raising your voice, he could hear the softness behind it. You sounded so fond. This is how he wanted to be welcomed home after every case, with your sweet voice and gentle demeanor. “Have a nice night!” He called to you, before stepping through his front door.

He dropped his stuff by the door and reached up to loosen his tie. He kicked his shoes off and then moved to undo his belt. Leaving both the tie and the belt on the arm of the couch, he made his way right to the master bathroom. He had texted Jessica to let her know he would pick Jack up in the morning during the drive home, too tired to make the drive to her house.

Aaron had forgotten about his half-hard dick, too encompassed by your presence outside. He ignored it, stripping down and climbing into the hot shower. He hadn’t realized how tense his muscles were until the hot water ran down them, relaxing his whole body. As he loosened up, his mind drifted back to you. As he imagined holding onto your thighs as he fucked into you from behind. He could clearly make out the curve of your ass.

He felt as if he wasn’t controlling himself as his hands moved to his now fully hard dick. He didn’t mean to jerk himself off to dirty thoughts of you, his brand new, younger neighbor, but you looked so fucking sexy. His hand wrapped around his cock tighter as he remembered the outline of your tits that he could make out from across the street.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to release as he tried to imagine the noises you would make for him. All the times you said his name replayed in his name and he tried to imagine you moaning it, whining it, grunting it, screaming it. He could’ve sworn he could smell your lavender perfume as he came. He opened his eyes as he finished stroking himself through his orgasm. He watched as the water washed away the cum that had landed on his hand and stomach.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, frustrated with the hold you had on him. Now that he got that out of his system, he couldn’t believe he just came to the thought of you.

He had been having doubts earlier, wondering how inappropriate, how immoral, how wrong his growing crush was. Being a senior in graduate school, you had to be late 20s, maybe early 30s at the most. Being mid-40s, there was at least a 15-year age gap between the two of you.

He had to shake these thoughts. He quickly lathered himself up, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. He slipped on a pair of boxers and climbed into his bed. He was asleep in less than five minutes.

The next morning, he was woken up by knocks on his door. He had slept for about 11 hours, so he wasn’t mad that his slumber was interrupted. “Coming!” He yelled, shuffling for pants to throw on. Once he got a pair of plaid pajama pants on, he made his way down the hall to the front door.

He didn’t have time to register who it was before he heard your voice, “I’m so sorry to wake you up! I know it’s early but my car won’t start and I have an exam at one and I really need to be on time so I was wondering if maybe you could come look at it?”

Your mouth was moving faster than your brain could keep up with, obviously feeling bad about the whole situation. “Slow down,” Aaron breathed out, trying to get you to relax. His efforts failed as you ran your hand along your hairline and mumbled an “’m sorry”. “I can come, give me just a minute.” He stepped back, opening the door further for you to step inside to wait.

Your eyes widened at his silent invitation. You followed him through the door, awkwardly standing by the front door. You could tell from your spot in the entryway that the layout of his house mirrored yours. He was currently on his way down the hall to the master bedroom. To get a shirt, you presumed.

You definitely noticed the lack of clothing on his part. It was clear you’d disturbed him, and while you felt bad about that, you were ridiculously grateful. His morning voice, low-rise pajama pants, and hairy chest will be pressed into your memory, ready to be used when you needed some help finishing yourself off.

He appeared again quickly, fully clothed with socks and slides on his feet. He opened the front door, gesturing for you to go through. He followed you across the street to your driveway, where your very old sedan sat. “Can I have the key?” You nodded, retrieving the key from your pocket and pressing it into Aaron’s large hand.

As Aaron went to start the car, it was hard for him not to realize that this was the dream life he had conjured up for you when you first showed up on his porch. Here he was, being the manly man, helping you with your car. He tried turning it on and the sound of the engine sputtering made you want to cry. Without words, Aaron walked around to pop the hood, analyzing what was going on. He was quiet as he looked, and you wouldn’t dare interrupt it. “I think it’s the spark plugs. I have the stuff in my garage.” He said after a few minutes.

You nodded along to his words, trying to convince him that you knew exactly what he was talking about. As he began to make his way back across the street, you couldn’t help yourself from apologizing again. “Thank you, Aaron. I’m really sorry.” He was quick to turn back around to face you. With a hefty shake of his head, he spoke, “Please stop apologizing, this is what I’m here for.” He smiled at you, before returning to his journey to the garage.

If you were growing a crush on him before, it was full-fledged now. You needed to do something about this before your heart exploded at his actions and you soaked through your underwear at his words.

He returned after a few minutes, carrying a toolbox. You couldn’t do anything but stare as he worked on the car. He didn’t say much, focused on doing this right for you. Every once in a while he would attempt to explain what he was doing, but you were too distracted by the way the muscles in his arm contorted as he worked.

“That should do it,” He said as he made his way back into the driver’s seat. Sure enough, after a few turns of the key, the car sputtered to life. “Oh my god, thank you!” You spoke as he stepped up from the seat, throwing your arms around his neck. “You’re a lifesaver!” You squealed. Aaron’s hands awkwardly found their way around your waist, surprised at the sudden contact. Surprised, but very intrigued.

When you pulled away, Aaron felt cold. “Not a problem, Y/N.” He said as he wiped the grim off of his hands. “Why don’t you give me your number so next time you don’t have to walk all the way over?” The way he asked was so casual. He was so calm as your heartbeat increased with every word. Your number? Next time?

“Yeah! Sure!” You were afraid your voice sounded too excited, blowing your cover. Aaron picked up on it but didn’t mention it. You two quickly exchanged numbers, and he excused himself, stating he needed to pick up Jack. “Seriously, Aaron. Thank you.” You emphasized, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. You were being bold. You pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. He turned away before you could see the pink blush spread across his cheeks. “Anytime.” He said, starting to walk away.

You spent the next couple of hours cramming for your exam and trying to repress any thoughts of Aaron Hotchner that your brain was attempting to conjure up. It was working, your focus on passing this exam. However, on your drive to campus, your phone dinged. Your car showed you a message from ‘Aaron (neighbor)’. You were giddy the rest of the way, not wanting to open while you were driving.

When you parked, you opened your phone to a simple text: “Good luck on your exam! You got this.” You walked into class with a smile, and you were pretty sure you aced the exam.

You were surprised at the amount of time you and Aaron spent texting. It was definitely an assumption you had made based solely on his age, but you did not expect him to want to text. However, he appeared to be better than men your age at it. Quick replies, letting you know when he’d be unavailable, and absolutely never leaving on you read. Sometimes you had to explain emojis or slang to him, but you found it adorable.

You had learned that he works for the FBI in a unit that catches things like serial killers, rapists, and kidnappers. He was away on a case right now, somewhere in California. He had learned that you had a very old dog, but other than that, it was just you in the house.

There were times when the conversation felt a bit flirty. Teasing jokes thrown around, compliments to each other. Part of you was starting to think he may reciprocate your feelings, but the other part was starting to think you were delusional. There was no way he could ever like you back.

Until he did.

Elise and a few of your other friends had dragged to a bar downtown. One you had never been to. Like normal, you and Aaron were in the middle of a text conversation while you were sitting at the bar. You had been up and dancing, having fun with your friends, but you couldn’t stay away from your phone long enough to enjoy your time.

Elise was picking up on this. After a few rounds of shots, she was getting aggravated. She couldn’t comprehend how you were managing an intelligent conversation with him, but she knew she had to get you away from it. She kept telling herself it was for your own good, not wanting to feel guilty about the atrocities she was about to commit.

However, it was going to be so much worse than either of you had anticipated.

Elise slithered her way in between you and the person sitting on the barstool next to you. The older lady on your right was definitely agitated with her actions, but Elise did not care. She saw the white screen of your text messages and long contact name and knew who you were texting. Even in her drunken state, she could recall all of the screenshots you had been sending her from your conversations with Aaron.

“Give it here,” Elise slurred, reaching for your phone. It was still unlocked as she held it in her tight grasp. “You’re texting your hot middle-aged neighbor. Come shake some ass with us and find a guy your own age.” Her words were a little bit harsher than she intended. “Elise, stop. I’m enjoying texting my hot middle-aged neighbor and do not want to find a guy my own age” You demanded with your own drunken slur, reaching for the phone. “Uh-uh,” Elise shook her head, locking the phone and tucking into the cup of her bra, out of your reach for the rest of your night.

Only because you were forced to, you eventually did get up and dance with your friends. Just your friends, no men at all.

Elise only returned your phone at the very end of the night, when you needed to order an Uber home. Your head was starting to spin from all the alcohol, so that was all you did. After the order was placed, you gripped your phone as a way to keep the world from twirling underneath. The Uber arrived, too slow for your liking, and you were home. You immediately made your way towards the couch, ready to pass out.

The loud knocks on your door did nothing to help the pounding headache you had woken up with, and you couldn’t imagine who was knocking. The knocks were powerful and authoritarian. “Hello?” You questioned as you threw open the door. There was clearly attitude behind your greeting. “What did that mean?” Aaron’s voice sounded rushed as he pushed himself inside the door. He was dressed in a suit and acting very different than the Aaron you had known before.

“The message, the last one you sent.” He seemed stressed, running his hand through his hair. Something about the way he looked made him look exhausted. Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he meant. You grabbed your phone from the end table next to your couch and opened your and Aaron’s message thread. Your eyes widened at the voice message marked as “read: 1:32 AM”.

“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered out, afraid to meet his eye, “What did it say?” Aaron took a step away from you. “It was Ms. Landon, uh, your friend from the game,” He sounded nervous as he spoke, “You should just listen to it.” You nodded, checking the volume on your phone and then listening to the message

It was right after Elise had grabbed your phone when she was berating you for being on your phone the whole time. When she mentioned your hot middle-aged neighbor and you replied, also calling him your hot middle-aged neighbor. And saying you did not want to find a guy your age because of him.

“Aaron, I am so sorry-” You started, wanting to apologize for your and your friend’s actions and blame the whole thing on being intoxicated, but he cut you off. “Forgive me for barging in here like this, Y/N, but I need to know why you were ignoring your friends to text me.” He finally locked eyes with you, and the eye bags under his eyes were the first thing you noticed.

There was a beat of silence, until he continued, “Y/N, I have enjoyed the sparse moments we have shared together. And I may be reading this wrong, I may just be incredibly sleep-deprived, but I think you have as well. I understand that I am older than you, but I would like to continue to have these moments with you. I would like to see what else we can do together.”

Your heart started to beat at his confession. You nodded at his words, rendered speechless for the first time in your life. You couldn’t stop yourself as your legs moved forward, reaching for his face and pulling him into a kiss.

There was very little hesitation as Aaron’s hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. You didn’t know he’d been waiting to do this since you met, but you were going to find out soon. His hands gripped you tighter as he deepened the kiss, moving his tongue into your mouth. He was very skillful in the way he held you and the way he kissed you.

You didn’t separate until you needed air. If it wasn’t for the fact that you needed air to live, you could’ve stayed wrapped up with him forever. Your forehead was pressed to his as you whispered, “Are we gonna talk about this?” He knew that you were talking about where you were supposed to go from here. Is it gonna be a relationship? Are you going to be exclusive? How would it work with him being away so much? What would your role in Jack’s life be?

Aaron decided all of these questions would remain unanswered as he said, “Later, we got things to do right now..” He pulled you tight against him, roughly pressing his lips to yours again.

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