loveereid

[loveereid]

Paparazzi 🫶🏻💜

Dang it Matthew

[loveereid]

Does he not realize the hold he has on me like what the heck are you doing to me Matthew gray gubler like come on for real tho what are you doing to me :(

[loveereid]

◦˚~ BUNCH OF LIGHT GREY/WHITE DIVIDERS by enchanthings ~˚◦

white dividers:

Requested by: anonymous Info: these were all made & edited by me. please reblog/like if using!

[loveereid]

What the heck Rebecca I love this so so much … Aaron a the supermodel heck ya I can actually see this to be honest… you are an amazing writer I adore this piece..

Wow is all I can say … 10/10 recommend reading this one guys .. she is an inspiration for all at least for me … I wanna be a better writer because of her ..

aaron x supermodel reader?? 👀👀

Mystery man | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Supermodel!reader | WC: 1.9k | CW: Fluff, reader is wearing lingerie in a picture at one point

The relentless flashes of cameras were nearly blinding as the black town car came to a halt in front of the venue. You took a moment to steady yourself, exhaling softly before stepping out into the chaos. The city was alive tonight, the buzz of Paris Fashion Week crackling in the evening air like electricity as journalists, media outlets, paparazzi's, and so on had gathered around the velvet ropes to the red carpet.

As you swung one long leg out of the car, the delicate fabric of your gown cascaded in shimmering ripples around you. The dress was a masterpiece—silk that seemed to flow like water, catching the thousand lights with every movement. Diamond earrings glinted against your skin, and your heels—custom-designed, of course—clicked against the cobblestones as you straightened to your full height.

The crowd outside erupted into a frenzy the moment they spotted you, shouting your name in a symphony of accents, the occasional “over here!” cutting through the noise. You didn’t flinch, didn’t falter; you were used to this. It was your stage, and you owned it.

But tonight wasn’t just about you.

You turned, holding out a hand, and watched as he stepped out of the car.

Aaron Hotchner.

Even in the middle of the whirlwind, he exuded a calm authority that made heads turn. The black suit he wore was impeccably tailored, the kind of understated elegance that spoke volumes without trying too hard. You had insisted on having the designer of your attire make something for him too—for the occasion you'd shrugged.

His dark eyes scanned the crowd, not with the excitement of someone dazzled by the spectacle, but with the sharp awareness of a man—an agent—who didn’t miss a thing.

For a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. If he felt out of place or if he was regretting saying yes to your impulsive invitation. But when his gaze shifted to you, the faintest trace of a smile curved his lips, and any doubt disappeared.

You reached for his hand, and when his fingers closed around yours, the crowd’s focus shifted instantly.

“Who is that?”

“Is that her date?”

“Oh my God, he’s hot!”

“Someone get a name!”

The whispers grew louder as the two of you began walking toward the beginning of the carpet. Hotch’s presence next to you was a contrast to your usual presence at these events. Normally you would've given the cameras a little pre-show, before heading inside to get dressed in the collection of the evening.

And where most people—even celebrities—might have preened for the cameras in the slowest way possible, he simply carried himself with confidence, his free hand brushing against the edge of his jacket.

When another wave of flashes erupted, he leaned in closer. “This is... different,” he murmured, his voice so low you could feel it more than hear it.

You glanced up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Different good or different bad?”

He gave you a look—half exasperated, half amused. “Let’s just say I’m starting to understand why you always come home exhausted after these things.”

Your laugh turned brighter, drawing even more attention from the photographers. “Welcome to my world, Agent Hotchner.”

The questions from the crowd grew more pointed. Someone yelled, “Are you two together?” while another voice called out, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Aaron’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over yours as if to steady you both. You could feel his discomfort at the attention, but he didn’t let it show outwardly.

As you approached the gilded double doors of the venue, you slowed, tilting your head toward him. “They’ll figure out who you are by tomorrow,” you said softly with a teasing tone.

He raised a brow. “Is that a warning?”

“More like a promise.” You smiled, squeezing his hand before leading him inside.

Once the heavy doors shut behind you, the noise from outside faded into a muffled hum. Aaron exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked around the space.

“Now that,” he said, meeting your gaze, “was intense.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to fix his tie, which had shifted slightly during the commotion. “And it’s only the beginning.”

The sun had barely begun to stream through the blinds of Garcia’s apartment, casting a soft, golden hue across her kitchen. She hummed quietly to herself, a melody she’d picked up from the latest show she had managed to binge between cases, as she went about her morning ritual.

Her bright pink robe swished around her as she moved. Everything in her kitchen had just as much personality as her; from the gleaming chrome appliances to the rainbow of coffee pods stacked neatly by her machine.

She hit the button for her usual shot of espresso, the familiar whirring sound filling the room as she reached for her favorite mug—a ceramic cat face with ears that doubled as handles and then turned to her fridge to gather all the fixings.

Her TV, mounted in the corner of her living room and perpetually tuned to a morning show, prattled on in the background. It was her morning white noise, the kind of chatter she half-listened to while focusing on more important things, like perfecting her froth-to-espresso ratio.

“...Paris Fashion Week turned heads last night with more than just couture,” the announcer’s voice chimed, accompanied by upbeat music. “A surprise appearance by a supermodel and her mysterious companion has everyone talking this morning.”

Garcia paused mid-pour, her interest piqued. Her gaze flicked to the screen, where a paparazzi photo filled the frame.

She squinted.

The image showed a stunning figure draped in a flowing gown, her hand firmly clasped in a man’s. His face wasn’t entirely visible, but his strong profile and familiar suit cut made Garcia gasp.

“No. Freaking. Way,” she whispered, her coffee momentarily forgotten.

The announcer continued, the screen now displaying the bold headline:

Supermodel Spotted With Mystery Man at Paris Fashion Week!

The next photo zoomed in on the man’s face, his stoic expression unmistakable.

“Oh my God,” Garcia said louder, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s Hotch!”

The caption beneath the image confirmed it, sending her brain into overdrive: Mystery Man Identified as Aaron Hotchner, FBI Unit Chief.

Her half-made latte was abandoned on the counter as she scrambled for her phone. “This is not happening. This is not happening,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the screen until she found the contact she needed.

The phone barely rang before Derek Morgan’s voice came through, groggy and unamused. “Garcia, it’s not even eight, Hotch is away there's no need to wake up this ear—”

“Did you see it?” she blurted, cutting him off.

“See what?”

“Our boss!” she shrieked, pacing the length of her kitchen. “Hotch! He was at Paris Fashion Week! Holding hands with a supermodel! It’s on every channel!”

There was a pause, followed by Morgan’s skeptical laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Hotch? Our Hotch?”

“Yes, our Hotch! The Aaron Hotchner! He’s on TV right now looking like James Bond at a runway show!”

Another pause, and then Morgan’s full-throated laugh rumbled through the line. “This I gotta see. Send me the link.”

Garcia was already snapping a picture of the TV screen, muttering under her breath. “I can’t believe this. He’s going to walk into work on Monday like nothing happened. Nothing happened!”

Morgan’s voice was rich with amusement. “Think he’ll bring her to the office?”

“Oh, don’t even joke,” Garcia groaned, dramatically flopping onto her couch. “This is going to be the topic of gossip for weeks. Months. Years! I need answers, Derek. Answers!”

Morgan’s chuckle softened. “Good luck getting any. You know how tight-lipped he is.”

Garcia sighed, already plotting her strategy. If anyone could get the inside scoop, it was her.

The streets of Paris were alive with the afternoon bustle as busy Parisians were heading home after a day's work. The sunlight streamed through the wrought-iron balconies and cast warm patterns on the cobblestone streets as the sun started to set. You sat at a small café table nestled in the corner of a quiet terrace, the scent of freshly baked croissants and strong espresso mingling in the air. Across from you, Aaron was the picture of peace, a man who seemed utterly unbothered by the flurry of attention he’d unwittingly garnered in just one night.

On the small table between you sat a glossy gossip magazine, its cover adorned with a candid shot of the two of you from the night before. The headline practically screamed: Supermodel’s Mystery Man: Who Is He? FBI Unit Chief Turns Heads at Paris Fashion Week!

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and bubbling as you traced a finger over the grainy image of Hotch, his sharp profile and protective grip on your hand immortalized in print. “They’ve already printed it,” you said, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the notifications relentless, but he didn’t so much as glance at it. Instead, his focus remained entirely on you, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

“They’re calling you a ‘mystery man,’” you teased, flipping the magazine open to the full-page spread inside. The photos captured every angle of the two of you from last night—the hand-holding, the shared smiles, the way he had leaned in to speak to you amidst the chaos of flashing cameras.

“And here’s my personal favorite,” you added, pointing to a particularly flattering shot of him looking utterly smitten as you had walked down the runway in a set of silver lingerie.

Hotch’s dark eyes flicked to the image before returning to yours. “I think I prefer to keep them guessing,” he said, his voice was warm, he knew that wouldn't be the case. He reached for his coffee, the faintest trace of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head as you studied him. “Not sure your team agrees.” You nodded toward his phone, which buzzed again with what had to be its twentieth alert in the last ten minutes.

He sighed, a sound more affectionate than exasperated, and finally picked up the device. “Garcia,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read a series of increasingly unbelieving messages. “And Morgan,” he added, his smirk deepening.

You rested your chin in your hand, grinning at him. “I told you they’d find out.”

Hotch set the phone back on the table without responding to the messages, his gaze softening as it met yours. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his voice carrying the conviction you adored. “Right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you leaned forward, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Good,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Because I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the noise and chaos of the city fading into the background below.

“Though,” you added, breaking the moment with a mischievous smile and a wink, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on next year’s cover of GQ. You know, for the sake of balance.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound so utterly endearing, as he shook his head. “Let’s not get too carried away.”

[loveereid]

This my first fic on my new blog hope you enjoy

I had fun writing it

The confession Aaron Hotchner

Summary , The reader tells Hotch how she feels after the case was over she’s very bold in this . I love her for being bold in this , I hope you guys enjoy this one this my first post for this account on here I Spent a couple days on this with editing it an re writing it with how I liked it .

Paring fem!BAU!reader Aaron Hotchner

Category emotional romantic moments vulnerability

Content warning The story contains, emotional vulnerability , mentions of workplace hierarchy romantic tension of boundaries and intimacy Y/N is mentioned

Word count, 1.115k

Author notes Can I add he’s all I’ve been dreaming about lately ?

Please be kind this my first post of Aaron on this page

And I’m excited to share this with you but nervous

You thoughts are welcome but please be kind and please re blog if you like or enjoy.

Request are open I need ideas

The case had ended, the unsub was caught, and justice was served, but you couldn’t shake the weight still pressing on your chest. It wasn’t the gruesome details of the case that kept you awake most nights. It was him. Aaron Hotchner.

He was always in your head—his voice, his presence, the way he carried himself. You thought about him constantly, the way his hand had rested on your shoulder, the warmth that lingered long after he’d pulled away. It was more than admiration; it was longing.

You dreamed about him, vivid, aching dreams where he held you close, where his lips pressed against yours, where he whispered things that made you feel safe and wanted. And in the moments you were awake, your thoughts weren’t much better. You imagined him pulling you into his arms, tilting your chin up so your lips could meet his. You wanted him to see you—not as one of his agents, but as a woman who cared for him deeply.

The walls you had so carefully built around yourself were crumbling, piece by piece, every time he looked at you, every time he said your name in that calm, steady voice. You didn’t want to fight it anymore. You didn’t want to hide behind professionalism and rules. You wanted to let your guard down—for him.

After Spencer’s gentle push, you found yourself pacing outside one of the empty rooms in the Boston field office. You knew this moment would change everything, but you couldn’t let it go unsaid any longer. With trembling hands, you knocked on his office door.

Hotch glanced up from his paperwork. “Y/N? Is everything all right?”

“Can we talk? Privately?” you asked, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He nodded, setting his pen down. “Of course.”

You led him into the empty room, closing the door softly behind you. The silence stretched, and your heart pounded in your ears as you turned to face him.

“Sir...” you began, then stopped yourself. No, this wasn’t the time for formalities. You shook your head. “Aaron.” His name felt strange and intimate on your tongue, but it felt right.

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“I need to say this,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t get you out of my head. It’s not just admiration or respect—it’s so much more than that. I think about you all the time. The way you carry yourself, the way you care for this team. I dream about you, Aaron. I dream about you holding me, kissing me, being close to me in a way I’ve never let anyone be before.”

His expression softened, but he remained silent, letting you pour your heart out.

“I want to let my guard down for you. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be strong, trying to prove myself, but with you, I just... I don’t want to hide anymore. I need you, Aaron. Not as my boss, but as something more. I know I’m crossing a line by saying this, but I can’t keep pretending that these feelings don’t exist.”

You took a shaky breath, the vulnerability leaving you exposed in a way that terrified you. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, and maybe you don’t feel the same way. But I needed you to know that when I came to you last night, it wasn’t because I just needed anyone. I needed you.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and his dark eyes searched yours for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he stepped closer, his presence grounding you.

“You’re brave,” he said softly, his voice steady and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “Braver than I’ve ever given you credit for. And I’m not going to pretend I haven’t felt something, too. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it aside because of the job, because of the rules, but... you’re right. This isn’t something we can keep pretending doesn’t exist.”

Your breath caught, hope blooming in your chest.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name a plead

He reached out, his hand gently brushing your cheek before settling on your face. “You mean more to me than I’ve been willing to admit, even to myself.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. And when his lips finally met yours, it was everything you had dreamed of—soft, warm, and filled with unspoken emotion.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured. “But I need you to know that I’m here for you, not just as your boss but as someone who cares about you more than I probably should.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they were tears of relief, of joy. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on your chest lifted, and you allowed yourself to hope for something more.

@hoe4hotchner

[loveereid]

This is my other account if you guys want to follow it :)

Him in season seven in this shirt omg 💜— I’m going crazy I’ll pull him in for a hug in stead of a hand shake sorry not sorry this man the hold he has on me right now you have no idea ..

[loveereid]

Daddy’s home S.R

Summary, Spencer is away on a case , you and Camila his daughter your daughter was home waiting for his return cam Kept asking for daddy while he was out on a case .

Gif by @toyboxboy

Paring fem!reader X dad!Spencer Reid

Content comfort/hurt/angst

Content warning fluff/comfort/hurt/angst

You try to comfort yours and Spencer’s daughter the little family you built together who misses him while he’s gone on a case . The only comfort from him being gone is her your daughter .

Word count 1k

Author notes omg this is the cutest ever I loved writing this

Hope you enjoy this was my first fem!reader ! Daughter moment omg this so cute

I had to do this one for you guys

Guys Spencer being a dad woulda been precious I think he should had been a dad for real 😢💔 

Spencer had been away on a case in Boston,you weren’t sure when he’d be back.

With Valentine’s Day approaching, you couldn’t help but feel his absence more than usual. Cam, however, was full of energy and excitement, her little face lighting up with an idea. She jumped up and down, practically pleading with you,

"Mommy, please! Can we make heart-shaped cookies for Daddy?" Her enthusiasm was contagious, and you couldn’t resist the thought of surprising Spencer with something sweet when he returned.

Together, you and Cam set to work, her tiny hands pressing the dough into heart shapes with as much care as a little girl could manage. It wasn’t just about cookies—it was her way of showing how much she loved her dad, even when he was miles away.

Cam kept asking when Daddy would be home, and each time, you weren’t sure what to tell her.

It broke your heart to see her looking up at you with those wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for an answer.

You sat beside her, gently brushing her hair back as she clutched the dough in her little hands.

“But Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?” she asked again, her voice tinged with worry.

You smiled softly, trying to mask the ache in your chest. "He's on a case, sweetheart, catching bad guys," you said, your voice steady despite the weight in your heart.

"But Mommy, I miss him," she replied, her small face scrunching up in longing.

You nodded, brushing a tear from your own cheek before pulling her close.

"I know, sweetheart. I miss him too," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. In that moment, all you wanted was for Spencer to be there with you both. But for now, you would hold onto the love that bound your family together, no matter the distance.

As the day turned to evening, you and Cam sat on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket. She had curled up in your lap, her little head resting gently against your stomach as the movie played on.

The quiet comfort of the moment settled around you, and as the film continued, Cam���s breathing grew soft and even—she had fallen asleep on you.

You looked down at her, your heart swelling as you took in the way her features mirrored Spencer’s.

She looked so much like him, it almost took your breath away. A tender smile tugged at your lips, and for a moment, all was right in the world.

Then, the phone buzzed in your hand. It was Spencer.

“Hey, my beautiful wife.”

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face at the sound of his voice. "Spence," you whispered, a hint of warmth in your voice.

“Daddy?” Cam mumbled, her little eyes fluttering open.

You laughed softly, “Yes, sweetheart, that’s Daddy.”

She perked up, her voice quiet with excitement, “Mommy, can I say hi to Daddy?”

“Of course, baby,” you said gently, moving to hand her the phone. Spencer’s voice came through, warm and familiar, and you could hear the smile in it.

“Hey, baby,” Spencer said, and it almost felt like he was right there, as if the miles between you didn’t exist.

“Daddy, I miss you. When are you coming home?” Cam asked, her voice small with longing.

Spencer’s breath caught, a soft sigh slipping through the line. “Baby, I miss you both so much. I’ll be home soon, I promise. Are you being good for Mommy?”

Cam nodded eagerly, her little hands wrapped around the phone, “Yes, Daddy, I’m being good!”

"Good girl," Spencer’s voice softened, and you could hear the love in his words. "Now, go get some sleep, okay? I’ll try to be home before you wake up."

"Okay, Daddy," she said, her voice just above a whisper, before she handed you the phone and gave you a sleepy hug.

“I love you, Mommy,” she murmured, her arms tight around your waist.

“I love you too, baby,” you replied, kissing her head.

You held the phone to your ear, your heart full, the ache of missing Spencer still present but somehow eased by hearing his voice.

“Spence,” you began, your voice low and tender, “Do you know how much your little family misses you?”

He let out a soft laugh, but it was filled with longing. "Not as much as I miss you. I miss every inch of you... every part of our life together. I’ll be home soon, baby. I promise."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you closed your eyes for a moment, imagining him next to you, holding you close. You whispered back, “I can’t wait.”

A few hours had passed, and you had fallen asleep on the couch, the soft hum of the TV the only sound in the room. Spencer quietly unlocked the door, returning home after being away on another case.

The house was still, except for the faint glow of the television. His heart ached seeing the scene before him—there you were, curled up on the couch, sound asleep, wrapped in a blanket that had long since slipped off of you.

With a soft smile, he walked over and gently draped the covers back over you, careful not to wake you.

You were a light sleeper, and you stirred slightly at the warmth of the blanket returning to your body. Slowly, you rubbed your eyes, still half-dazed.

“Spence?” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep. “W-wait... you’re home?”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with the tenderness of the moment. You reached up, pulling him close to you, your arms wrapped tightly around him as if you were afraid he might disappear.

“Don’t leave me,” you murmured, your voice trembling with a vulnerability you usually kept hidden.

You weren’t sure how long you’d have him before another case called him away again.

Spencer’s arms tightened around you, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not tonight," he whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

"I’ve missed you so much. So has our daughter."

Just then, Cam’s small voice echoed from the hallway. "Daddy’s home!" she screamed in excitement, running toward him with the kind of joy only a child could have. Spencer was ready for her, his arms open wide as she launched herself into them. He spun her around, laughter filling the room.

"Daddy, we missed you!" she exclaimed, squeezing him tightly.

“I know, sweet girl. I missed you both so much,” Spencer said, his voice thick with emotion.

He kissed the top of her head before setting her down gently.

"What’s this I hear about cookies?"

Cam’s face lit up. “We made cookies for you, Daddy!”

Spencer’s heart swelled with love as he looked from Cam to you. “You did?” he asked, his voice soft with appreciation. “Well, I can’t wait to try them.”

You watched them together, a smile tugging at your lips. In that moment, with your family finally home and safe, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t known in days.

Even with the uncertainty of the future, the love you all shared was a constant—something you could always hold on to.

@hoe4hotchner @lover-of-books-and-tea @angellsell @pathologicalreid

[loveereid]

I just wrote a dad!Spencer Reid fic omg 😱

I can’t wait to share it with you guys

Guys it’s posted eeeek …

[loveereid]

Okay guys trivia question for you guys….

“You get asked out on date with Spencer Reid .

In the comments or re-blogs

Tell me what outfit you would wear as your first date

May I say this , you’re going to get coffee in check out books in the bookstore because that’s something you both love .

I need your play list

Your thoughts

If you guys like this idea I can do more

First let’s start with this one :)

Date one with Spencer Reid

@hoe4hotchner @lover-of-books-and-tea @catssluvr

Love Kris ♥️💕💌📁

[loveereid]

Black-White-party. Aaron Hotchner

Paring fem!reader BAU Aaron Hotchner

Summary, Rossi’s annul black-white-party , banter between the team a reader , about them teasing reader to ask Hotch for readers plus one to Rossi’s black-white party Spencer dares her too .

Content hurt/angst/comfort/support form the team for reader slow burn

Content warning, the team teased reader about Hotch and her , and her feelings for him , and dares her to ask him to the black-white-party , Beth is mentioned, Hotch is an ass for the most part but it’s only cause he thought he was protecting reader , he ends up bringing Beth , to Rossi’s party Beth sees how Aaron looks at and the way you look at Aaron , and questions Aaron about it in Beth lets Hotch have it and then leaves .

Word count 2k

Author notes - this is the 2nd part of - their might be apart three I’m enjoying writing this one ..

This one kinda broke my heart 💔 writing it

I hope you like this one .

In my feels the past few days

Had to write something emotional in angst

Didn’t mean for this to get long sorry but I was building up the characters and the moments .

Trying to get better at this ..

It had been weeks since that heated moment in Hotch's office, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The feel of his arms around you, the way your fingers traced down his arm and across his back, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His words replayed in your mind: “You’re beautiful.” “I’ve wanted you for the longest time.” And yet, ever since that moment, he had been radio silent.

JJ’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Are you okay?” she asked, concern lacing her words.

You snapped back to reality, trying to steady your shaky hands as you clutched your files. “I’m fine,” you said, but your voice betrayed you.

Rossi’s voice followed, cutting through the silence. “I’m having my annual gathering. It’s black and white this year, and you’re all invited. Bring a plus one,” he said, nodding toward you and JJ , as he turned to see Spencer and Emily and Derek every one bring a plus one .

Spencer looked at you with a teasing glint in his eye. "So, are you thinking about asking Hotch to go?”

You gasped, your heart suddenly racing. "W-What?"

Derek smirked. "We see the way you look at him, kid. It’s not exactly a secret."

Emily, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. "He even covered the blinds ,He never does that."

JJ, leaning against the doorframe, added with a sly smile, "Yeah, what did go on between you two up there?"

Spencer leaned in, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Seriously, what happened?"

With everyone questioning you, you began to feel overwhelmed. "Guys, it’s nothing, I promise."

They all exchanged looks, clearly unconvinced. "Right," they said in unison.

"Prove it," Spencer said, his tone playful but persistent.

"How do I prove it?" you asked, your voice starting to shake with the pressure.

Derek, ever the instigator, grinned. "I got it. Go ask him to Rossi’s gathering."

"Good idea," JJ chimed in, her voice filled with mischief.

"No, anything but that," you gasped, your heart sinking at the thought. "Please, guys..."

"Nope," Spencer replied, his smirk widening. "That’s a dare."

"Okay," you said, defeated, the weight of their teasing pressing down on you. "If this gets you guys off my back, I’ll go see him about it."

"Great," Garcia chimed in from behind you, having quietly joined the conversation. "I’ll be cheering you on!"

You could feel the familiar sting in your chest—part nerves, part heartache. Was this really what you wanted? Or were you just giving in to their endless teasing?

You made your way to Aaron’s office to inform him about Rossi's invitation, your heart beating faster with each step. When you got there, Rossi was already talking to him. He casually asked if Hotch was bringing a date.

For a moment, you saw Aaron hesitate. He thought about you—he had to, didn’t he?—but then he said, “Yeah. Her name is… umm, Beth.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, Hotch? I thought you had something going with…” He trailed off, the sound of your name hitting Aaron like a train wreck. You could feel the sharpness of the moment, the tension hanging in the air.

Aaron’s gaze shifted uncomfortably. “You know the rules of this job,” the policy . he said, his voice barely a whisper, but it felt like a clear dismissal.

So, her name’s Beth, huh?” you asked, your voice a little too steady for the turmoil you were feeling inside.

You were acutely aware of Hotch’s eyes on you, his expression unreadable, but something in the set of his jaw told you it wasn’t just casual. It wasn’t nothing.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you. “How much did you hear?”

You swallowed, your stomach twisting. “Enough,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but it came out sharp. You glanced at Rossi. “Thanks for the update.”

Rossi, sensing the discomfort, gave you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, kiddo.

It’s not you…”

You interrupted softly, the sting of jealousy gnawing at you. “No, Rossi. It’s not your fault.”

Rossi then offered, his tone gentler now, “I can let you two talk, if you want. I don’t mind stepping out.”

But you shook your head, trying to steady yourself, the tightness in your chest making it hard to breathe. “Nah, probably not a good idea right now,” you muttered, your voice cracking at the end.

You couldn’t trust yourself to be in that conversation, not with the emotions swirling inside of you.

Behind you, the rest of the team stood quietly, sensing the unease, and Spencer—looking both nervous and guilty—was the first to speak up. “I’m Sorry, I—I didn’t mean too.”

You shook your head, forcing a half-hearted smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “No, Spence. It’s not you.

It’s me. I just… I can’t be here right now.”

Before you could make it to the door, Hotch’s voice stopped you. “Wait.”

You spun around to find him standing just a few feet behind you, his eyes intense with something you couldn’t quite place.

“No, Aaron,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s against work policy, remember?

” You could feel the lump in your throat, but you swallowed it down.

He took a step closer, but you held up a hand, trying to keep your distance—physically and emotionally. “It’s better we don’t talk about it right now,” you added, your voice soft but firm.

Tears blurred your vision, rolling down your cheeks, but it wasn’t from sadness—it was from the deep, hollow ache in your chest. You wiped at your eyes quickly, trying to hide the evidence of your distress, but Hotch’s gaze didn’t waver. He saw everything.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but you shook your head, the heartache suffocating you. Without another word, you turned and walked out, the weight of everything pressing down on you with each step, every moment making it harder to breathe.

✩Back at your apartment✩

You stood in front of your mirror, the black silk dress cascading down your body like it was made just for you. It fit perfectly, hugging your curves in all the right places, but it did nothing to quell the storm swirling inside you. The dress was stunning, elegant—everything you wanted it to be, but in that moment, it felt like a cruel joke. The silk felt cold against your skin, the shimmer of it a reminder of everything you wished you weren’t thinking about.

Your thoughts were everywhere. Hotch. Beth. The team. Rossi's party. Your heart was racing, and no matter how many times you tried to push the feelings aside, they kept crashing back in. The phone buzzed on the dresser, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

The first text was from Rossi:

“I hope you’ll still come tonight.”

You stared at the message for a long moment, the words tugging at your chest.

The second text came in quickly after from JJ:

“Hey love, just checking in. I hope to see you tonight! We’re sorry for teasing you this morning.”—You know we care about you .

You sighed and set the phone down, unwilling to respond to either of them just yet.

You needed a moment to finish getting ready, to pull yourself together—at least, that’s what you told yourself. As you slipped on your heels, the pain in your chest intensified.

The dress, the makeup, the whole image—it was just a facade, wasn’t it? Against work policy, you thought to yourself , What an ass.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at your reflection in the mirror. Where was that when he called you beautiful?

The memory hit you like a wave, making your stomach twist. He’d said it was inappropriate, but the look in his eyes told you something else.

You felt it too, didn’t you?

He had wanted it, just as much as you had. But now, all that was left was confusion and hurt.

Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

Before you could stop it, tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling, soft and steady.

They weren’t from sadness, not really—it was anger. Frustration. You wiped them away quickly, but there was no escaping the tightness in your chest as you finished with your heels.

There was a soft knock at the door.

You froze, heart hammering in your chest. You weren’t expecting anyone.

The knock came again, a little louder this time, followed by Spencer’s voice, soft but apologetic.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to apologize for daring you to ask Hotch.

If I hadn’t dared you…” He trailed off, looking guilty.

You opened the door slowly, wiping your eyes one last time.

“No, Spencer. It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s my fault… for falling for him.”

Just as you said the words, you heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps. You turned, and there he was. Hotch. Standing in your doorway, the last person you expected, but the one person you feared the most.

Your breath caught in your throat. "W-wait. What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice trembling. Your heart was aching, a painful tightness spreading through your chest.

“We need to talk,” Hotch said, his voice low, controlled, but there was something raw underneath it.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself.

“What about Beth?” Your voice was barely a whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Spencer, sensing the heaviness of the moment, stepped back. “I’ll… I’ll leave you two to talk,” he said quietly, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m sorry again,” he added, and then stepped outside, closing the door softly behind him.

Hotch stood there, just a few feet away, and for the first time, you let yourself really look at him.

There was an uncertainty in his eyes that made your heart ache even more.

It wasn’t just about the jealousy you felt; it was about everything—the distance, the words left unsaid, the things you both wanted but never gave into.

And now, standing here, facing him again, you felt like you were breaking all over again.

“you wanna talk?”

You swallowed hard, the words thick in your throat.

“Then talk.

Tell me you don’t care about me.

Tell me what we did was wrong.

Tell me you don’t think about it.”

The tears welled up, but you fought them back, your voice shaky.

“You told Rossi it was against work policy.

Maybe if I were Beth, everything would be different.”

That was it.

The tears spilled over, tracing the line of your jaw, and you couldn’t stop them. You let out a broken sob, feeling everything you’d been holding inside unravel.

“Damn it, Aaron. Why…”

You couldn’t finish the thought.

The ache in your chest was too much to bear.

Hotch stepped forward, his gaze soft but filled with guilt. “I never meant to hurt you.

I care about you more than you know.”

You shook your head, the words barely audible.

“Are you going to Rossi’s black-and-white party tonight?” He asked you .

your voice small, as if you were trying to force yourself to be indifferent.

He hesitated, and the silence between you two felt like a thousand unspoken things.

“Is that all you’re gonna say to me?” you whispered, feeling your heart shatter. “I’m falling apart,

Aaron, and you’re just... standing there.”

Before Hotch could respond, Spencer stepped back into the room. “Okay, I think that’s enough,” he said gently, his voice calm but concerned. [“Your name, ] why don’t you ride with me?”

You looked at Spencer, then back at Hotch. The pain in your chest was suffocating, but you didn’t want Hotch to see how much he was breaking you.

You shook your head, barely able to meet his gaze.

“Okay , You should lock up before you leave,” you murmured, trying to keep yourself composed.

Spencer gave you a sympathetic look, and as you grabbed your white cardigan lace jacket to keep warm, he quietly led you outside to his SUV.

You climbed into the passenger seat, the weight of everything still hanging heavy on your shoulders.

Spencer shut the door behind you, and as he got in the driver's side, the silence was deafening.

Your thoughts were everywhere.

The emotions you couldn’t process, the things you wished you could say, and the confusion you felt in your heart.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Spencer said softly, his voice gentle, trying to offer you some comfort in your pain.

But you weren’t sure anything could make up for this.

✩Rossi’s black-white-party✩

As you arrived at Rossi's house, the familiar warmth of his home greeted you, offering a sense of comfort you desperately needed. Spencer opened the door for you, his hand gently taking yours as he helped you out of the car.

"[Your name], I feel bad for daring you this morning, for teasing you about Hotch," Spencer said softly, his voice full of regret.

You squeezed his hand, cutting him off before he could continue. "Spence, please, we don’t need to talk about Hotch right now. I just want to have a good night, okay? Please." You were doing everything you could to push the pain aside, to focus on being here, in this moment.

Spencer nodded, his expression softening, and before walking up to Rossi's door, he offered you a comforting hug. You returned it, appreciating the gesture, even as the weight of everything lingered in your chest.

As the door opened, Rossi's warm voice rang out, "There’s my favorite kiddos! Welcome!" He wrapped you in a tight hug, one that felt like a lifeline. You fought back the tears that threatened to spill, but you couldn’t help giving in to the comfort of his embrace. Spencer stood nearby, giving you a moment to breathe.

“Thank you for coming,” Rossi said, his words filled with genuine gratitude. You smiled, trying to mask the turmoil inside. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Rossi," you replied, your voice a little too quiet, but sincere.

You pulled away from the hug, moving toward the living room where soft music played in the background. The rest of the team had gathered, and as you stepped further inside, Derek grinned and took a step toward you. “You owe me a dance,” he said with a teasing smile.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little shaky but real. "Okay, you got it," you replied, your smile more natural now, even if it didn't quite reach your eyes.

JJ approached you next, her arms open for a hug.

She wrapped you up warmly, and you gave her a soft, sincere smile in return. It was small moments like this that made the night bearable, reminding you that despite everything, you weren’t alone.

About twenty minutes later, you were laughing with Derek in Rossi’s living room. Spencer had his arm around you as you all enjoyed each other’s company.

The easy conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Rossi answered it, just like he had for you and Spencer when you first arrived.

"Aaron," Rossi greeted with a warm smile as he opened the door. "Welcome."

Aaron stepped inside, his presence commanding as always. "This is Beth," he said, introducing her with a nod. "Nice to meet you," Beth added, offering a polite smile.

Rossi, ever the gentleman, welcomed them both inside. Your heart sank as you watched Aaron and Beth enter the room. It felt like the air in the room shifted, a subtle heaviness you couldn't shake.

Spencer noticed the change in your demeanor and leaned closer. "You okay?" he whispered, his voice full of concern.

You quickly plastered on a smile, trying to mask the discomfort. "I’m fine," you lied, but your gaze kept drifting back to Hotch and Beth as they made their way over to the group. The tightness in your chest only grew as they drew closer.

Derek, sensing your distraction, shot you a knowing look. "How about that dance now?" he asked, his voice light, as if to pull you out of your thoughts. "Unless you're planning to just stand there and stare at Hotch and Beth all night."

You managed a weak smile, nodding. "Okay," you agreed, but even as Derek led you toward the dance floor, your eyes couldn’t seem to leave Hotch.

The tight knot in your stomach twisted even more as you watched them interact, a quiet ache settling deep inside you.

Derek leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Come on, [Your Name]," he whispered gently.

"That’s not what you’re supposed to be doing. Eyes back on me, okay?"

You turned to him, your voice barely audible.

"Look at her," you said, nodding toward Beth, the weight of your own words sinking in.

You couldn’t help but feel the stir of emotions as you noticed how close Hotch and Beth had become.

Derek looked between the two of them, then back at you, his expression softening.

"She’s beautiful," you said with admiration. "Look at me, [Your Name].

So are you. If he can’t see that, then that’s on Hotch."

The words hit you harder than expected, and the tightness in your chest grew.

You blinked rapidly, but the tears started to well up in your eyes again.

"No," Derek said firmly, sensing your struggle.

His hand gently rested on your arm. "You’re not gonna do that. Don’t cry, you hear me?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but it was almost impossible.

Every glance toward Hotch and Beth made the ache inside you intensify.

Hotch noticed you and Derek.

His gaze lingered on the two of you for a moment, heavy and unreadable. But he didn’t move toward you.

He just stood there, watching.

The tension in the room thickened, and it felt like time slowed as you tried to make sense of the emotions swirling inside you.

Beth, observing the exchange, couldn’t help herself. She tilted her head, her voice sharp and louder than the music surrounding them.

"That’s who you’re into, isn’t it?" she asked, her words cutting through the room.

"That’s the one you told me about... the one you can’t have?"

Everyone’s attention shifted to you, and the weight of Beth’s question made your chest tighten.

Hotch’s eyes stayed on you, but he didn’t come any closer, and the distance between you both felt more unbearable than ever.

You turned to Derek, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need some fresh air."

Derek glanced at Spencer, his eyes filled with understanding. Spencer, ever the observant one, immediately walked over and took your hand, leading you away from the group.

But before you could escape, Beth stepped in front of you, her eyes soft with an unspoken sorrow. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You know, you're all he could seem to talk about on the team. But seeing him look at you like that... I know he's in love with you."

Her words hit you harder than you expected, and you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. Beth's voice cracked slightly as she continued, "It was nice to meet you. You're beautiful." Her sincerity caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

You nodded, but the tears in your eyes threatened to spill. "I just need some fresh air," you murmured, the weight of everything too much to carry in that moment.

"I can't right now," you added, shaking your head, your voice thick with emotion.

Spencer, noticing the shift in your mood, gently guided you outside, away from the noise and tension. As the door closed behind you, Beth turned her attention to Hotch, her expression resolute.

"Fight for her, Aaron," she said, her words firm, almost a plea. "If that's who you want, fight for her. Don’t let anything stand in your way. You deserve love and happiness. So does she. She seems great... Don’t take her for granted, you hear me?"

Hotch stood frozen, the weight of her words sinking in, but before he could respond, Beth added quietly, "Good night, Rossi. Thanks for the invite." And with that, she left, the tension lingering in the air.

Inside, the room was silent, every eye turning toward Hotch as he stood motionless, lost in thought. His gaze flicked toward the door, then back to the team. He didn't speak, but you could see it in his eyes—he needed to find you.

Meanwhile, outside, Spencer led you to a quiet corner in the back, where the cool night air did little to ease the knot tightening in your chest. You leaned against him, your tears flowing freely now as the weight of everything collapsed around you.

"I love him, Spence," you whispered between sobs, the words a release of everything you had been holding in. "I really do."

Spencer didn’t say anything at first, just holding you as you cried, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions.

Back inside, Hotch finally moved. He pushed through the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for you. His eyes found you with Spencer, your back turned as you rested against him, tears streaking down your face. His stomach twisted with guilt and something deeper—something he had buried for too long.

And then, without thinking, he walked toward you.

Spencer noticed Aaron standing just a few feet away, his presence unmistakable.

He glanced at Hotch briefly before turning back to you. "Hey, [Your Name]," he said softly.

You looked up, quickly wiping your tears away, but it was too late—Hotch had already seen.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice breaking just at the sound of his name.

Hotch stood there for a few moments, his gaze locked with yours, unreadable but heavy with something unspoken.

Spencer, sensing the tension, gave you a gentle nudge. "Spence, can you give us a few minutes?" you asked softly, your voice shaky.

"Of course," Spencer replied, his voice filled with understanding.

"I’ll be right inside if you need me, okay?"

You gave him a small, grateful smile, nodding as he walked back toward the house.

The moment you were alone with Hotch, the air seemed to grow thicker, every passing second heavy with emotion.

Hotch took a step closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "You love me," he said, his words a question, yet full of something deeper, something that made your heart ache.

The tears you'd fought to hold back broke free, and you couldn’t stop them.

"Aaron," you cried, your chest tightening as the floodgates opened. "I… I love you. I’ve always loved you."

Hotch’s eyes softened, the struggle within him palpable. He reached out slowly, as if afraid you might pull away, and cupped your face in his hand.

"I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know, [Your Name]. I’ve always known."

You let out a shaky breath, the rawness of the moment overwhelming. "You’re all I think about," you continued, your voice breaking.

"You’re all I want. But you pushed me away, Aaron... and it hurt. It hurt so much. I wanted you—more than anything."

Hotch closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if your words had hit him harder than he expected. When he opened them again, there was a depth of regret and longing there that you hadn't seen before.

"I never wanted to push you away," he whispered, his thumb gently tracing your cheek.

"I was scared... scared of what we could be, what it might do to the team, to you. But I never stopped wanting you, [Your Name]."

The silence that followed was thick with everything that had been left unsaid for so long. His hand remained on your face, warm and tender, as if grounding you both in the reality of the moment.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, it seemed like the walls between you were finally starting to crumble.

@hoe4hotchner

[loveereid]

Part two will be out soon .. :)

I love writing these … it was fun …

Crave his presence [Aaron Hotchner]

Every time you’re near Hotch you can’t think , every time he folds his arms as he talks about a case he gets to you , all you can think about is being in his arms it’s all you can think about .

Paring fem!reader BAU Aaron Hotchner

Content soft fluff Slow burn/comfort/tension build up

Ranting Slow burn heated moments kissing Strauss is mentioned. [Your name] is mentioned

Word count 1.3k

Author notes I enjoyed writing this one , I’m still learning to write for Hotch but this was so so fun . Think this my favorite writing. I love when he folds his arms ….

This song was playing while writing this .. it’s not a must to listen to but this where the heated tension came from .

Please be kind , please ..

"You know what he's doing to me , right?" you whispered, turning to JJ, your voice laced with both curiosity and disbelief.

JJ raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "No, what?" she asked, her tone light and teasing.

Before you could respond, his voice cut through the room like a blade.

"[Your name]."

You froze, your breath catching as Hotch's deep voice called you out. All eyes turned to you as he stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, his unreadable expression making your heart race.

"Is there something you'd like to say in front of all of us?" he asked, his tone even but his gaze piercing.

Your mouth went dry. "Um, no, sir," you stammered, shaking your head quickly. [ Except that your a pain in my ass ]

Hotch didn’t respond, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he returned his attention to the case file in front of him.

You exhaled, feeling the tension dissolve as you sank back into your seat.

JJ leaned closer, her grin widening as she whispered conspiratorially, "Oh, he's got it bad for you."

Her words made your cheeks heat up, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered at the thought.

After the briefing, the team began to scatter, but Hotch's voice cut through the room like a knife.

"[Your Name], can I see you in my office?"

Your stomach dropped. "S-Sir, is that really necessary?" you asked, your voice trembling, barely louder than a whisper.

Hotch didn’t respond, just gave you that look.

Reluctantly, you followed him up the stairs, feeling the weight of the team’s curious stares. Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door with deliberate precision. Then, to your dismay, he turned to the blinds and shut them, one slat at a time, until the view of the bullpen was completely obscured.

"Sir, I—" you started, but your words caught in your throat.

Hotch raised a hand, silencing you. His face was calm, but the intensity in his eyes sent your pulse racing.

"Let me make something clear," he said, his voice low and measured.

Outside , the bullpen , Spencer frowned, leaning closer to JJ. "What’s going on in there?"

JJ shrugged, her curiosity matching his. "I don’t know, but he never closes the blinds. Whatever it is, it’s big."

"You think she’s in trouble?" Derek chimed in, his tone laced with amusement.

"Trouble?" JJ smirked. "Maybe. But with Hotch? It’s definitely personal."

In Hotch’s office

Hotch takes a step closer to you, his presence imposing, his voice low but firm. "If you want to talk about me, do it on your own time," he says, his tone leaving little room for argument.

"Sir—" you stammer, your voice trembling as you struggle to steady yourself. "The only thing I said was, do you know what he’s doing to me?"

You try to keep your balance, the weight of his gaze nearly crushing you. Your breath hitches as you fight not to look directly at him, but the intensity radiating off him makes it impossible to ignore. There’s a tension between you that feels like it could snap at any second.

Hotch studied you for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. "Go on," he said softly. "What do I do to you?"

You turned away, unable to meet his gaze, your voice dropping to a low murmur. "You drive me crazy," you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "You stand up there with your arms folded, looking the way you do... it drives me mad. I can’t think straight when I’m around you."

You paused, your breath hitching as you glanced at him, searching for a reaction. For a moment, there was only silence between you, the tension thick. Then, he finally spoke, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

"[Your Name]."

It was the only thing he said, and yet it was enough to make your heart race as you gathered the courage to continue.

Turning back to him, you met his eyes and let your emotions spill out. “Hotch,” you said, your voice heavy with longing, “do you have any idea how badly I want you? The way you make me feel... I want you. I really want you.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession hanging heavily in the air. Hotch stood there, his usually composed demeanor faltering for just a moment. His brows furrowed slightly, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of what you’d just said.

He swallowed hard, his voice low and steady as he asked, “How bad?”

The question hung between you, his tone laced with curiosity and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite name. Hotch’s jaw tightened as he tried to gather his thoughts, his composure slipping under the weight of your vulnerability.

“How bad do you want me?” he pressed, his voice soft but commanding, almost daring you to say it out loud again.

Hotch...” Your voice trembled, nerves twisting in your stomach. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you couldn’t hold back anymore. Taking a shaky breath, you whispered, “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Your eyes searched his, desperate for some kind of response—permission, acknowledgment, anything. Slowly, you stepped closer, your hands trembling as they reached for him.

Your fingers grazed his chest, tentative but yearning, and you pulled yourself closer, your body pressing against his. He didn’t pull away.

“I want to be close to you, Hotch,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Just to be near you… every damn time you fold your arms like that, it’s my kryptonite. I can’t think about anything else.”

His silence was heavy, his gaze unreadable, but his stillness spoke volumes. You felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned ever so slightly closer, his composure wavering in the face of your confession.

“[Your name],” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, almost a whisper meant only for you. You do know that this is inappropriate for the work place right?

The sound sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding so fiercely it felt as though he might hear it.

You tried to compose yourself, to fight the pull of him, but it was useless. He stayed close, his presence unraveling every thread of resolve you clung to.

“This isn’t inappropriate,” you said softly, barely convincing yourself, the words trembling as they left your lips.

But when you dared to glance up at him, his dark eyes met yours, steady and unyielding.

Part of you wanted to step away, to retreat to the safety of boundaries and professionalism. But the other part—the part that had wondered, had hoped—refused to move.

“Part of me thinks you don’t care, sir,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “And part of me thinks you want this just as much as I do.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering with something unspoken, something raw. For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension between you crackled like electricity, pulling taut until it felt as though something had to give.

But then, in true Aaron Hotchner fashion, he drew back, the distance suddenly a chasm that left you breathless.

“Careful, [Your name],” he said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet warning. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “Sir,” you said, your voice soft but unwavering, “I know exactly what I want. I don’t want to turn back. I want this—I want you. I want your body close to me.”

Hotch stiffened, his jaw tightening as he glanced away for a brief moment, as if collecting himself. When his eyes returned to yours, they were softer but no less intense. “We can’t do this here,” he said, his tone firm but conflicted.

You tilted your head, a teasing pout tugging at your lips. “If it were anyone else, it’d be fine. But since it’s me…”

His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Stop,” he said, his voice low and warning, though there was no malice in it. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

You stepped closer, your breath hitching as the tension between you became almost unbearable. “I do ?” you asked ? your voice dropping to barely a whisper. “But I can’t pretend I don’t want this, Aaron. I want you—I’ve wanted you for longer than I should, and it’s driving me crazy.”

He let out a sharp breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach for you. “You don’t think I feel the same?” he said, his voice low, strained. “I crave you more than you know, but we can’t—” He broke off, his voice cracking slightly, the weight of his restraint evident. “Not here. Not like this.”

Your heart raced as his words sank in, the layers of his struggle evident in his tone. It wasn’t rejection—it was hesitation born of responsibility, of the lines you both shouldn’t cross but couldn’t stop toeing.

“I don’t care about ‘here’ or ‘like this,’” you said softly, leaning in just enough to close the space between you, but not quite touching him. “I just care about you.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, the storm inside him written plainly on his face. Finally, you whispered, almost to yourself ,

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me he says”.

Hotch’s gaze lingered on you, heavy with unspoken desire. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss. The touch was featherlight at first, as though he was testing the waters, but as you responded, melting into the kiss, it deepened—deliberate and consuming.

His lips left yours only to trail along your jawline, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

He stopped at your ear, his voice low and gravelly as he whispered, “[Your Name], you’re so beautiful. You know that, don’t you?”

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly it drowned out the world around you. “Hotch…” you murmured, your voice trembling as he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, holding onto him like he might slip away.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he admitted, his lips hovering over your skin. Each word sent sparks cascading through your body.

“Let me in, Hotch,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but charged with emotion. “Please, let me in.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his body tense against yours, but then he exhaled, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that promised everything he’d been holding back.

You pull back from the kiss, just enough to take a shaky breath. Your hands drift down his arms, lingering on the strength of his muscles, before moving to his chest. Slowly, deliberately, you circle around him, your fingers trailing across his shoulders and down his back.

"[Your Name]," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver through you.

You stop, turning to face him again, your eyes locking with his. There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze, a silent question you’re not sure you’re ready to answer.

Your hands hover at the hem of his shirt, temptation pulling at you, begging you to undo the buttons one by one and feel the warmth of his skin beneath your palms.

"What’s on your mind?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and something deeper.

You hesitate, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric, your heart pounding as you weigh whether to give in to the moment or step away.

What’s on my mind? You glance up at Hotch, your hands still lingering on the buttons of his shirt.

“Right now,” you say, voice low and breathless, “I want to unbutton your shirt and feel you all over. But... that might be out of line, sir.”—“Right?

Your words hang in the air, heavy with tension. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want it,” you add, the confession escaping like a whispered secret.

His hands catch yours, stopping you in place, his touch firm yet gentle. His chest rises and falls as he steadies his breath.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice rough, his dark eyes locked on yours.

As Hotch slowly pulled away, his hands lingering on yours for just a moment longer, he seemed on the verge of letting you continue unbuttoning his shirt. But just as you were about to, a knock at the door broke the tension. A voice—Aaron, no, it was David Rossi's voice—made you jump, your heart racing as you realized, with some embarrassment, that you'd forgotten you were still in in his office during business hours , in the heat of the moment you couldn’t believe you forgot .

You instinctively stepped back, allowing Hotch to straighten himself out, and you did the same, trying to collect your thoughts.

"Aaron, can we talk for a minute?" Rossi's voice came through the door.

Hotch looked at you for a beat before responding. "Come in."

Rossi stepped into the office, a little sheepish. "Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt."

"No, it’s fine," you replied quickly, stepping back even further from Hotch.

Rossi turned to Hotch, telling him that Strauss needed to discuss something regarding the case. As he spoke, you felt a pang of disappointment, the moment slipping away, the air between you and Hotch thick with unspoken words.

As you moved to leave, Hotch stepped closer to you, his presence overwhelming, yet gentle. "We'll finish this discussion later, okay?" he said softly, his hand brushing your shoulder as though to reassure you, but there was something more in his touch—something unspoken that lingered.

@hoe4hotchner

[loveereid]

Crave his presence [Aaron Hotchner]

Every time you’re near Hotch you can’t think , every time he folds his arms as he talks about a case he gets to you , all you can think about is being in his arms it’s all you can think about .

Paring fem!reader BAU Aaron Hotchner

Content soft fluff Slow burn/comfort/tension build up

Ranting Slow burn heated moments kissing Strauss is mentioned. [Your name] is mentioned

Word count 1.3k

Author notes I enjoyed writing this one , I’m still learning to write for Hotch but this was so so fun . Think this my favorite writing. I love when he folds his arms ….

This song was playing while writing this .. it’s not a must to listen to but this where the heated tension came from .

Please be kind , please ..

"You know what he's doing to me , right?" you whispered, turning to JJ, your voice laced with both curiosity and disbelief.

JJ raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "No, what?" she asked, her tone light and teasing.

Before you could respond, his voice cut through the room like a blade.

"[Your name]."

You froze, your breath catching as Hotch's deep voice called you out. All eyes turned to you as he stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, his unreadable expression making your heart race.

"Is there something you'd like to say in front of all of us?" he asked, his tone even but his gaze piercing.

Your mouth went dry. "Um, no, sir," you stammered, shaking your head quickly. [ Except that your a pain in my ass ]

Hotch didn’t respond, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he returned his attention to the case file in front of him.

You exhaled, feeling the tension dissolve as you sank back into your seat.

JJ leaned closer, her grin widening as she whispered conspiratorially, "Oh, he's got it bad for you."

Her words made your cheeks heat up, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered at the thought.

After the briefing, the team began to scatter, but Hotch's voice cut through the room like a knife.

"[Your Name], can I see you in my office?"

Your stomach dropped. "S-Sir, is that really necessary?" you asked, your voice trembling, barely louder than a whisper.

Hotch didn’t respond, just gave you that look.

Reluctantly, you followed him up the stairs, feeling the weight of the team’s curious stares. Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door with deliberate precision. Then, to your dismay, he turned to the blinds and shut them, one slat at a time, until the view of the bullpen was completely obscured.

"Sir, I—" you started, but your words caught in your throat.

Hotch raised a hand, silencing you. His face was calm, but the intensity in his eyes sent your pulse racing.

"Let me make something clear," he said, his voice low and measured.

Outside , the bullpen , Spencer frowned, leaning closer to JJ. "What’s going on in there?"

JJ shrugged, her curiosity matching his. "I don’t know, but he never closes the blinds. Whatever it is, it’s big."

"You think she’s in trouble?" Derek chimed in, his tone laced with amusement.

"Trouble?" JJ smirked. "Maybe. But with Hotch? It’s definitely personal."

In Hotch’s office

Hotch takes a step closer to you, his presence imposing, his voice low but firm. "If you want to talk about me, do it on your own time," he says, his tone leaving little room for argument.

"Sir—" you stammer, your voice trembling as you struggle to steady yourself. "The only thing I said was, do you know what he’s doing to me?"

You try to keep your balance, the weight of his gaze nearly crushing you. Your breath hitches as you fight not to look directly at him, but the intensity radiating off him makes it impossible to ignore. There’s a tension between you that feels like it could snap at any second.

Hotch studied you for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. "Go on," he said softly. "What do I do to you?"

You turned away, unable to meet his gaze, your voice dropping to a low murmur. "You drive me crazy," you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "You stand up there with your arms folded, looking the way you do... it drives me mad. I can’t think straight when I’m around you."

You paused, your breath hitching as you glanced at him, searching for a reaction. For a moment, there was only silence between you, the tension thick. Then, he finally spoke, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

"[Your Name]."

It was the only thing he said, and yet it was enough to make your heart race as you gathered the courage to continue.

Turning back to him, you met his eyes and let your emotions spill out. “Hotch,” you said, your voice heavy with longing, “do you have any idea how badly I want you? The way you make me feel... I want you. I really want you.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession hanging heavily in the air. Hotch stood there, his usually composed demeanor faltering for just a moment. His brows furrowed slightly, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of what you’d just said.

He swallowed hard, his voice low and steady as he asked, “How bad?”

The question hung between you, his tone laced with curiosity and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite name. Hotch’s jaw tightened as he tried to gather his thoughts, his composure slipping under the weight of your vulnerability.

“How bad do you want me?” he pressed, his voice soft but commanding, almost daring you to say it out loud again.

Hotch...” Your voice trembled, nerves twisting in your stomach. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you couldn’t hold back anymore. Taking a shaky breath, you whispered, “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Your eyes searched his, desperate for some kind of response—permission, acknowledgment, anything. Slowly, you stepped closer, your hands trembling as they reached for him.

Your fingers grazed his chest, tentative but yearning, and you pulled yourself closer, your body pressing against his. He didn’t pull away.

“I want to be close to you, Hotch,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Just to be near you… every damn time you fold your arms like that, it’s my kryptonite. I can’t think about anything else.”

His silence was heavy, his gaze unreadable, but his stillness spoke volumes. You felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned ever so slightly closer, his composure wavering in the face of your confession.

“[Your name],” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, almost a whisper meant only for you. You do know that this is inappropriate for the work place right?

The sound sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding so fiercely it felt as though he might hear it.

You tried to compose yourself, to fight the pull of him, but it was useless. He stayed close, his presence unraveling every thread of resolve you clung to.

“This isn’t inappropriate,” you said softly, barely convincing yourself, the words trembling as they left your lips.

But when you dared to glance up at him, his dark eyes met yours, steady and unyielding.

Part of you wanted to step away, to retreat to the safety of boundaries and professionalism. But the other part—the part that had wondered, had hoped—refused to move.

“Part of me thinks you don’t care, sir,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “And part of me thinks you want this just as much as I do.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering with something unspoken, something raw. For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension between you crackled like electricity, pulling taut until it felt as though something had to give.

But then, in true Aaron Hotchner fashion, he drew back, the distance suddenly a chasm that left you breathless.

“Careful, [Your name],” he said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet warning. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “Sir,” you said, your voice soft but unwavering, “I know exactly what I want. I don’t want to turn back. I want this—I want you. I want your body close to me.”

Hotch stiffened, his jaw tightening as he glanced away for a brief moment, as if collecting himself. When his eyes returned to yours, they were softer but no less intense. “We can’t do this here,” he said, his tone firm but conflicted.

You tilted your head, a teasing pout tugging at your lips. “If it were anyone else, it’d be fine. But since it’s me…”

His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Stop,” he said, his voice low and warning, though there was no malice in it. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

You stepped closer, your breath hitching as the tension between you became almost unbearable. “I do ?” you asked ? your voice dropping to barely a whisper. “But I can’t pretend I don’t want this, Aaron. I want you—I’ve wanted you for longer than I should, and it’s driving me crazy.”

He let out a sharp breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach for you. “You don’t think I feel the same?” he said, his voice low, strained. “I crave you more than you know, but we can’t—” He broke off, his voice cracking slightly, the weight of his restraint evident. “Not here. Not like this.”

Your heart raced as his words sank in, the layers of his struggle evident in his tone. It wasn’t rejection—it was hesitation born of responsibility, of the lines you both shouldn’t cross but couldn’t stop toeing.

“I don’t care about ‘here’ or ‘like this,’” you said softly, leaning in just enough to close the space between you, but not quite touching him. “I just care about you.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, the storm inside him written plainly on his face. Finally, you whispered, almost to yourself ,

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me he says”.

Hotch’s gaze lingered on you, heavy with unspoken desire. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss. The touch was featherlight at first, as though he was testing the waters, but as you responded, melting into the kiss, it deepened—deliberate and consuming.

His lips left yours only to trail along your jawline, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

He stopped at your ear, his voice low and gravelly as he whispered, “[Your Name], you’re so beautiful. You know that, don’t you?”

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly it drowned out the world around you. “Hotch…” you murmured, your voice trembling as he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, holding onto him like he might slip away.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he admitted, his lips hovering over your skin. Each word sent sparks cascading through your body.

“Let me in, Hotch,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but charged with emotion. “Please, let me in.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his body tense against yours, but then he exhaled, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that promised everything he’d been holding back.

You pull back from the kiss, just enough to take a shaky breath. Your hands drift down his arms, lingering on the strength of his muscles, before moving to his chest. Slowly, deliberately, you circle around him, your fingers trailing across his shoulders and down his back.

"[Your Name]," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver through you.

You stop, turning to face him again, your eyes locking with his. There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze, a silent question you’re not sure you’re ready to answer.

Your hands hover at the hem of his shirt, temptation pulling at you, begging you to undo the buttons one by one and feel the warmth of his skin beneath your palms.

"What’s on your mind?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and something deeper.

You hesitate, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric, your heart pounding as you weigh whether to give in to the moment or step away.

What’s on my mind? You glance up at Hotch, your hands still lingering on the buttons of his shirt.

“Right now,” you say, voice low and breathless, “I want to unbutton your shirt and feel you all over. But... that might be out of line, sir.”—“Right?

Your words hang in the air, heavy with tension. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want it,” you add, the confession escaping like a whispered secret.

His hands catch yours, stopping you in place, his touch firm yet gentle. His chest rises and falls as he steadies his breath.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice rough, his dark eyes locked on yours.

As Hotch slowly pulled away, his hands lingering on yours for just a moment longer, he seemed on the verge of letting you continue unbuttoning his shirt. But just as you were about to, a knock at the door broke the tension. A voice—Aaron, no, it was David Rossi's voice—made you jump, your heart racing as you realized, with some embarrassment, that you'd forgotten you were still in in his office during business hours , in the heat of the moment you couldn’t believe you forgot .

You instinctively stepped back, allowing Hotch to straighten himself out, and you did the same, trying to collect your thoughts.

"Aaron, can we talk for a minute?" Rossi's voice came through the door.

Hotch looked at you for a beat before responding. "Come in."

Rossi stepped into the office, a little sheepish. "Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt."

"No, it’s fine," you replied quickly, stepping back even further from Hotch.

Rossi turned to Hotch, telling him that Strauss needed to discuss something regarding the case. As he spoke, you felt a pang of disappointment, the moment slipping away, the air between you and Hotch thick with unspoken words.

As you moved to leave, Hotch stepped closer to you, his presence overwhelming, yet gentle. "We'll finish this discussion later, okay?" he said softly, his hand brushing your shoulder as though to reassure you, but there was something more in his touch—something unspoken that lingered.

@hoe4hotchner

[loveereid]

The Pinterest gods were with me this morning…. It’s that fact that he keeps growing on my day by day in I don’t think it’ll stop Thomas Gibson how dare you find away to my heart … when your 29 more close to your 30s age is just a number at the point … his smile is just as good as Matthew gray gubler… these two will always have my heart no matter what I love them both

[loveereid]

Like why are you the best ever 🫶🏻😢😢😢 this is cute in I love it ♥️♥️

Heyyy, I have a request, for HotchxReader in a established relationship, and i don’t know if you have tiktok but there are these tiktoks I watch about scenarios with a healthy relationship after a toxic one, and I think it would be really cute if you did that with Hotch or reader!! If not I totally understand!!! I love your work and can’t wait for more!! 🫶🏻

Dirty Laundry | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: Hurt/comfort I guess, trauma response, previous toxic relationship, implied abuse i think it qualifies as. Hotch being the best man ever.

You stood by the dresser, carefully folding the last of the laundry, a rhythm you’d long since perfected. Each item was handled with accuracy, creases smoothed with your fingers before you folded and refolded until the edges were perfectly aligned. It was calming, in some way, a way to create order out of chaos, to make things look perfect like they’d just been pulled out of a bag.

Aaron appeared in the doorway, fresh from his shower, wearing a washed-out t-shirt from law school and sweatpants, his hair was still damp and slightly messy. He paused, leaning one shoulder against the frame, watching you silently for a moment. His gaze softened as he took in the way your hands moved, delicate but methodical, almost like folding laundry was some kind of sacred ritual to you.

His own instinct would’ve been to hang the shirt on a hanger or toss it in a drawer, where it’d wrinkle anyway. Besides he would iron it in the morning before work anyway, so he didn't see the big deal in folding it as neatly as you did. But you folded everything with such care, as if giving even this small task your full attention.

“Do you always fold like that?” he asked, his voice soft and curious.

You froze.

Your breath hitched, your mind stumbling over itself to process his words. Was that judgment? Was I doing it wrong?

“I—” Your voice stuttered, and you turned around to face him, holding the neatly folded shirt against your chest like a shield. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to— I can stop doing it like this if you don’t like it. I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Aaron interrupted, his voice was low but firm, his hands already reaching out as he closed the distance between you. “Hey, sweetheart, slow down. It’s okay.”

You couldn’t stop, the spiral pulling you under as memories of sharp words and cold glares from someone else—someone from the past—filled your mind. “Why do you always do things like this? Can’t you just listen for once?” The panic bubbled up, it was hot and suffocating.

“I’ll change how I do it,” you promised, your voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Stop,” he said, his hands gently but firmly finding your shoulders. The weight of his touch anchored you as his thumbs brushed soothing circles against your arms. Aaron moved his thumbs a little harder, putting pressure into his touch as he tried to ease the tension in your muscles. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

You blinked up at him, tears already pooling in your eyes, making his concerned face blur. “I thought—”

“I wasn’t criticizing you,” he said cutting you off before your thoughts took over completely, his voice was gentle yet steady, and his eyes locked onto yours with care. “I wasn’t upset. I was just curious. That’s all. I think it’s sweet how you fold everything so perfectly.”

Your lips trembled, and you felt yourself start to crumble under the overwhelming kindness in his tone. “I just— I didn’t want you to think I was doing it wrong,” you whispered, the words fragile, as if saying them aloud would somehow break the fragile peace you’d found with him.

Aaron’s chest ached at the raw vulnerability in your voice, at the way your shoulders had tensed till you were stiff board, as you had braced yourself for some imagined backlash. He hated that the scars from your past had you doubting yourself in the safety of his home, in his arms.

“You weren’t doing anything wrong,” he said softly, pulling you into him, wrapping you in his embrace. His hand smoothed over your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring against it, “You don’t have to change anything, okay? You’re perfect just the way you are.”

You let out a shaky breath against his chest, the knot in your stomach loosening ever so slightly. “I don’t know why I reacted like that,” you admitted, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Aaron tilted his head to rest his cheek against the crown of your head. “I do,” he said simply, not explaining it further—you both knew what he meant—his voice carrying no judgment, only understanding. “And I wish I could take away all the hurt that made you feel like this. But you’re safe now, with me. I promise you that.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and the tears spilled freely now, soaking into the soft cotton of his shirt. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, only held you tighter, as if he could shield you from the echoes of your past with the strength of his embrace.

“Thank you. I love you,” you whispered after a moment, the words coming easier this time, carried by the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

Aaron pulled back just enough to frame your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “You never have to thank me for loving you,” he said, his voice low and full of conviction. “But I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

His words settled into your chest, soothing the ache you’d carried for so long.

As he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and tender against yours, you finally felt the weight of your past ease just a little more.

"C'mon, let's go lay down a little." He smiled, dragging you towards the bed in an attempt to move your mind away from the chores that still needed to be done and relax for once. After all, you were two to take care of the house.

[loveereid]

Hey Siri play that should be me

[loveereid]

Yes I know I’m in love with to fictional characters, who aren’t real , and I know I can’t have them but a girl can dream my mood right now ! I just need Hotch or Reid to tell me to chill and give me a hug or something not sorry

[loveereid]

I just need him to tell me to chill and give me a hug