#Aaron: Pre - med

[winningmymind]

Aaron studying so hard for his tests, labs, including the MCAT, and Andrew subtly dropping off snacks so Aaron can recharge since he rarely leaves his desk or room unless for exy practice.

If Aaron is so busy studying that he forgets to properly take care of himself, Andrew sends in Neil to annoy the shit out of Aaron so his twin is forced to take a break by chasing a smug looking Neil that never passes up the chance to have free reign of taunting Aaron.

The nights before Aaron has to take a big exam, Andrew actually threatens everyone to either be quiet, go to bed early, or vacant the premises so Aaron can sleep. Aaron has no idea Andrew does all that and just thinks it's convenient that he can get a full 8 hrs before taking his exam.

[blondeheartgirl]

im so glad the one time neil shut up was when he was going to ask aaron when the last time he sat in the passenger seat was because i genuinely think that would have been aarons last straw

[feverdreamsandlucidnightmares]

Aaron: we’re constantly in mortal peril because of your bitchass boyfriends and somehow I’m the bad guy????

[bookburners]

Everybody is wrong actually

Neil: Bard

Andrew: Paladin

Kevin: Wizard

Renee: Monk

Aaron: Cleric

Matt: Fighter

Allison: Rouge

Dan: Paladin

Nicky: Bard

[wherethemothsgrow]

Aaron Minyard in his court trial when he killed Drake

[be-queer-do-arson]

Aaron definitely goes to the accommodations center, about three seconds away from screaming or crying, and starts listing off all the things that happened that year because surely something in there will get him out of an exam

It's so crazy to remember that the foxes are actively in college during the series. Like Neil got kidnapped, they had their whole showdown with the ravens, and then they all just? Had to do their finals??? Insane

[hauntingsunshine14]

"omg those are the exy monsters they're so scary"

you mean nicky? with a mortgage, husband and two kids?

neil? canonically a math nerd who enjoys cross country?

aaron? the pre-med student dating a cheerleader?

kevin? worlds first almond-mom-history-nerd?

andrew? the boundary respecting ice cream addict?

like yeah ok they've killed people but like also they have a cheese drawer so just calm down, be respectful, and don't start punching people - you'll be fine.

[owlarchimedes]

I don't blame Aaron for his attitude at all btw I'm only a fucking English major and if I had to deal with Neil and Kevin's bullshit during PRE MED FINALS? Yeah no you're lucky to be alive if you bother me

[froggisarethebest]

I have drawn the conclusion upon re-reading aftg that Aaron was never an asshole, the poor guy was just some traumatized 20 year old trying to pass his pre- med major while being on a shitty Exy team, having a brother high on psychotic drugs (who also killed his mother), an ex-raven who wouldn’t shut up about how much he sucked on the court, and a cousin who lacked awareness of a social filter. and then a loudmouthed kid shows up and makes everything about 150% more difficult. also he was trying to have a successful secret relationship. i too would be a miserable bitch 24/7 my god

[tessasilverswan]

i can only visualize aaron going in-depth into the sex determination system of Drosophila melanogaster

foxes respond to "how many genders are there?"

dan: ask kevin

kevin: winners and losers

andrew: *long stare*

matt: uhhhh like at least four?

aaron: you want me to say two, but honestly it depends on the species. in humans, it can vary– (long explanation where he says basically nothing until the person who asked gives up)

seth: narcs and everybody who isn't a narc

allison: do i look like i have time for that?

nicky: every time somebody asks, we add another one

renee: it's a social construct :)

neil: what's a gender

[josten4exy]

it actually confounds me how aaron minyard found time to be a pre med student a d1 college athlete and have a murder charge my ass would not survive a day in those circumstances

[rumplereids]

wonderstruck.

part one. tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. tech analyst!reader. early-s1!spencer. a/n: tech analyst!reader won’t leave my little brain. i hope u like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

You were 21 when you got recruited into the bureau. Barely a graduate, and already on a FBI watchlist. Honestly, the only reason you’re under their watchful eyes is because of a lapse in judgment.

To celebrate the semester ending, your roommate decided that you both needed to get drunk. Being a psychology major with a pre-med roommate leads to tequila shots in your own dorm room. It’s the convenience and comfort of your own space that got you so drunk. This situation led to this: you admitting to your roommate, with heavy eyes, that you can “hack, you know. I learned when I was 15.”

She sat up from her place on the floor.

“Really? I don’t believe you!” she giggles, and then hiccups.

“I so can!” there’s indignation and a want to prove yourself in the tone of your voice.

“Okay, show me!”

Shuffling on heavy feet, you plop down in front of your laptop. A few clicks and the comforting clacks of your keyboard, and then a window pops open. You look at the wide-gaped mouth of your roommate. “What are you hacking?”

You hum, “I don’t know.”

And then you remember the talk from a few days ago. Two agents from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit came over to your college to talk about criminal profiling to psychology majors and anyone else interested.

Completely inebriated, you manage to hack into their database. Your hazy mind doesn’t forget to compliment the beauty and intricacy of the codes and firewalls you broke down.

At Quantico, Virginia, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia rushes into her unit chief’s office.

“Sir, somebody is attempting to get into my system. I think they’re trying to communicate?”

Hotch follows Garcia into her office, the quickness of their steps catching the attention of Dr. Spencer Reid who was seated at his desk, skimming over a case report.

When Hotch gets into Penelope’s ‘lair’, his eyes squint, adjusting to the dimmed lights and bright screens. On the main monitor, a window displaying the barebones of a text chat is open.

<ATHEN411> ????

<ATHEN411> hiiiiidfgsd

<YOU> Who is this?

<ATHEN411> ohymgofd i didnt think anyonewould alsnwer

<ATHEN411> wh o it sthis?

<YOU> BAU Section Chief Aaron Hotchner.

<ATHEN411> omfdg i know uuu !! jason mentoined u

<YOU> Jason?

<ATHEN411> yhuhh jason digeon or sumn omg i cant tpoye

<ATHEN411> sorry

<YOU> Jason Gideon? How do you know him?

<ATHEN411 disconnected.>

You’ve completely forgotten about the conversation. Until, a few days later. You’re turning the corner of the hallway to get into your dorm. Backpack slung on a shoulder, arms full of your laptop, binders and a soft-bound copy of your final paper. You stop in your tracks when you see two men stationed outside your room’s door.

One man was in a shirt, jeans, and combat boots. He also had sunglasses on. The other had a permanent furrow to his brows, dressed formally in a suit and tie.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask, hand reaching into your hoodie pocket for your keys and pepper spray.

The one in sunglasses holds up a badge and ID.

“FBI. I’m Agent Morgan, this is Agent Hotchner. Are you Y/N L/N?”

You gulp, wondering why they knew your name.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

Your bring out your keys, and you notice how Agent Hotchner eyes the pepper spray keychained to it.

“Um, yeah. We can talk inside? My roommate’s still out.”

You unlock your door and walk in, the agents following in after you. Dropping your bag on your desk chair, you turn to ask the agents, “How can I help you?”

Agent Hotchner asks, “Are you familiar with the name athen-four-one-one?”

You look up at them guilty.

“It’s athena-eleven.”

“So, it’s you?” Agent Morgan clarifies.

“Yes. How did you find me?”

The two men share a glance. A silent conversation passing with you unknowing.

“Two nights ago, you hacked into the BAU’s database.”

You look at them in suprise, “I did?”

“Yes,” Agent Hotchner says, passing a folder to you. Inside are images and a transcript of messages shared between a ‘P.GARCIA’ and ‘ATHEN411���.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, realizing what’s happening.

“I was drunk off my ass two nights ago! I’m so sorry,” that catches Agent Morgan’s attention.

“You were drunk?”

“Yeah, my roommate and I were celebrating our exams. I didn’t… Am I in trouble?”

Agent Hotchner raises a hand in a placating gesture, “You were drunk when you hacked into the bureau’s database?” Confusion and slight amusement evident in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you confess, “It was just a dare! I don’t even remember much of it.”

Agent Morgan looks as if he doesn’t know what to think about the situation. You feel the same. Agent Hotchner extends a hand to get the file back from you, and you give it to him easily.

“Would you go with us back to the station?”

“What? For what? Am I being sued?”

“The opposite. I would like to conduct a proper interview.” Agent Hotchner explains.

“An interview? For what?”

“A job as a technical analyst at Quantico.”

You look at them, eyes furrowing in confusion and disbelief, “What? I can’t!”

“Why not?”

You gesture toward your desk, “I still have a paper to pass!”

Meeting Penelope Garcia was like a dream come true.

“I should have realized! The triple-stacked firewall should’ve been so obvious! The Black Queen signature!”

The blonde’s eyes sparkle, happy to meet a match.

“Athena-Eleven! I didn’t even notice you were in my systems until you sent your first message.”

You feel your chest puff up at the indirect praise.

“You were one of my idols,” you admit, “Your exposé on Griffith Industries was just… stunning! Absolutely flawless. You had a section in your code that I used to build my private server—” Agent Hotchner interrupts your spiel.

He gestures to the rest of the room, where agents were seated at a round table.

“This is Y/N L/N, the unit’s newest technical analyst. ” he says, and you give a shy wave. You get a wave back from the agent wearing glasses. He’s cute. Have you seen him before?

“This is Jennifer Jareau, our communications liaison,” you shake her outstretched hand. She’s so pretty, you start to think, gorgeous blue eyes too.

“You’ve met Derek Morgan,” Agent Hotchner says, and Agent Morgan gives a two finger salute, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup.

“Agent Jason Gideon,” you return his handshake, mumbling a shy; “Hello, sir. Nice to see you again.”

And then, “This is Dr. Spencer Reid—”

“Oh! You were with Agent Gideon at the seminar! You talked a bit about geoprofiling, and how an unsub’s subconscious can’t help but stick close to home, which helps you triangulate the—” Agent Hotchner lets out another soft cough.

“Um, yeah. I did. Nice to meet you,” he gives another small wave, smile close-lipped and awkward. Endearing. He’s really cute. “I don’t really shake hands.”

You nod, “I get that, germs and stuff. It’s actually, weirdly, safer to kiss.”

You don’t see the way JJ and Derek look at each other, nor do you notice when Penelope whispered, “Oh my God, there’s two of them.”

“Your code name, it’s for the Athena, right? The Greek goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft?” Dr. Reid asks you, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yeah. I love greek mythology.”

He gives you a smile, “I do, as well. I’m wondering about the eleven though. Does it mean anything?”

You tsk’d through your teeth, “The angel number 1111’s often seen as a spiritual wake-up call and awakening. I thought it was fitting, and I was 15 when I chose the name, okay? Excuse little old me.”

“That’s cool,” Dr. Reid admits. If he remembers your file right, you were barely 17 when you became a trademark and known name in underground hacking circles. He can’t properly meet your eyes, struck in awe. Athena. It’s perfect for you.

“Y/N formally starts her job with us in three days,” Hotch informs the team, “Be kind.”

With a final word, Gideon and Hotch start to return to their offices.

Derek straightens from his position on the office chair. “I am very kind!”

“He didn’t say anything about you,” Penelope teases.

“Ooh, that says a lot, Morgan. It says so much,” JJ teases back.

You smile at them, your new co-workers, taking the seat JJ was gesturing at for you. The three continue bickering, you start to tune them out as you make eye contact with Dr. Reid. The apple of his cheeks blush red, and you can’t stop the grin on your lips from getting wider. He’s downright enchanting.

[ashestoashes7]

Aaron Minyard probably deserves more credit for being a college athlete, a pre-med student, and dealing with everything both Neil Josten and Kevin Day brought to Palmetto without murdering either of them.

[hotchnerwrites]

I had a fic request !! I adore your writing sm I loved the soft cute moments with hotch and the reader eee :)

I’ve really been wanting to read pre!relationship hotch x reader or early on when they start showing more care for one another, if the reader is not feeling well or might be coming down with a cold and hotch gets the chance to take care of them in quiet ways! bonus points if he’s being subtle in front of the team, but much more caring in private aaaa I am melting

If you feel like it!! I’ll just be scrolling thru all your works now :)

Warmth

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: SFW, pre-relationship, fluff, no use of (y/n)

A/N: Hello my lovely anon. Thank you so much. You've no idea how much it means to me that you loved my writing. If you want an easy way to navigate through my hotch fics, just look up the tag #hotchnerwritescm. I keep intending to make a masterlist, but I've just been so caught up with IRL stuff and my med exams </3. Anyways, here is your request, I adored the idea! I wrote this in an hour, so I'm sorry for any grammar errors, I didn't proof-read as much as I usually do. Anyways, I hope it's what you wanted, and that you like it!!! Lots of love. Can't wait to hear more from you :)💙

PS. let me know if the formatting is off. looks good on mobile but not laptop for me 🤨

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

It had started as a dull throb at your temple. It was easy to ignore; you’d had headaches like these your whole life. But as the hours stretched on, the pain only intensified. It had spread to your limbs, making your skin feel too warm and your head too foggy.

You weren’t sick, not really. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. You’d push through it. It was probably just the office AC running too cold or just stress from unending paperwork. Either way, you didn’t have time for it.

Which is why you tried to ignore the slight shiver racking through your body as you reached for yet another file.

“Are you all right?”

Hotch. Damn. 

Were you that obvious? 

You blink up at him, feeling like you’d got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. He was standing just beside your desk, arms crossed. His posture was utterly relaxed, but his gaze was sharp, assessing. His expression was unreadable to most, but you’d learned his subtleties. His Hotch-isms, as you’d dubbed it.

“I’m fine,” you mumble. Too defensive.

Hotch didn’t look too convinced. 

You clear your throat nervously, pushing through the scratchiness and offering him a small smile, hoping that would get him off your back. “Just a little tired, Hotch.”

There was a pause. Not long, but you could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Then, without a word, Hotch left. With a sigh of relief, you turn back to your report, forcing yourself to focus on the words. Eventually, one page blurred into the next, the steady scratch of your pen filling your ears. It was almost enough to lull you into a rhythm, your body switching to autopilot.

That was, until a very familiar presence returned to your desk.

You glance up as Hotch places something down beside your elbow— a cup of tea, steam curling up from the rim.

It was chamomile, made just the way you liked it.  “You—”

Your wings curl around the cup, warmth seeping into your skin. You hadn’t asked for this. Hadn’t even thought about it. But as you lift the cup, inhaling the familiar scent, the realisation settles.

Aaron had seen you make it once, late at night on the jet, after a gruelling week-long case. You’d thought everyone else was asleep, so you’d allowed yourself the small comfort of your ritual—quiet, familiar, something just for you. But he’d noticed. And somehow, he had remembered.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. 

Hotch didn’t wait to hear whatever you had been about to say.

“Drink it,” he commands, voice slipping into the space between your thoughts. Then, as if he hadn’t just caught you completely off guard, he turned and walked away again.

You stare after him for a minute too long, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the tea.

Subtle.

But not to you.

The rest of the day, you caught things— small, almost imperceptible. The way he passed you a tissue before you realised you needed one. The way his voice softened when he told you, “Go home. Get some rest.”

————————

By the time you made it home, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. The air in your apartment was still, save for a faint hum coming from your heater. You kick off your shoes by the door, making no effort to line them up on the shoe rack. You were a tidy person by nature, but tonight you couldn’t care less.

All you wanted was the warmth of your bed.

You drift towards your bed, pulling one of your heavier blankets around yourself. You sink down into your bed with a slow exhale, your body releasing some of the tension you had been carrying all day. You curl into yourself, slowly lowering your head against your pillows. You let your eyes flutter shut, willing sleep to take over.

Then, cruelly, your doorbell rang. 

Maybe they’d go away if you ignored the door. But the bell rang again, the insistent tone tearing through your haze. Frowning, you sit up slowly. No one ever came over this late. Dragging yourself to your feet, you shuffle over to the door, the blanket still draped over your shoulders like a sorry cape. When you finally drag the door open, you freeze. 

Aaron Hotchner.

The last person you’d expected to see. Standing in your doorway. Holding a bag with what looked like a robot on it. 

What on earth? Maybe this was the hallucination stage of your fever.

You blink at him, slow and disoriented. 

“Aaron?”

His expression was unreadable, but there was something soft in the way he looked at you—something close to amusement, something fond. “You shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“I—” Your voice came out rough, throat tight with exhaustion. You swallow against it, staring at him like he might disappear if you blinked too hard. Moving slightly to let him in, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He gestures vaguely towards the bag. “I didn’t know if you had anything at home. Figured soup was a safe bet. I even stole Jack’s lunch bag for you.”

You stare at it, then back at him.

For a second, you didn’t move. Your brain wasn’t functioning.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, too overwhelming, too much for how tired you felt.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, voice quieter now.

Hotch met your gaze, steady and unwavering. “I know.”

The words sat between you, heavy with things unsaid.

You reach for the bag, and your fingers brush his. He didn’t pull away immediately. The touch

lingered, warm and deliberate, before he finally stepped towards your living room.

“Sit,” he instructs, voice gentle but firm. “Eat. And try to get some sleep.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you pull the soup out.

“You take care of everyone like this?” you tease, reaching for bowls and cutlery.

Something flickered across his face—something private, something just for you.

“Not quite like this,” he admitted.

And just like that, the cold didn’t seem so bad anymore.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[the-inner-musings-of-a-worm]

aaron minyard had to have had an eidetic memory as well. it’s the only explanation for how he survived doing pre med and dealing with the foxes. you’re telling me the man had time to play video games and go clubbing on the weekends? photographic memory. no other answer

[tessasilverswan]

i was just going over my molecular bio notes and look. I KNOW in my heart that this also happened to aaron minyard, pre-med student-athlete, sleep-deprived, at least once: