#Hotchner

[softtdaisy]

in the meantime / Aaron Hotchner

summary. when hotch gets hurt, you're called as his emergency contact. thing is, nobody knows you're not together anymore.

words count. 2 336

what to expect. a little angst I guess but fluff too, Jack is mentioned but he's a teen

a/n. I first imagined this very funny and light and I ended up adding more angst??? but it's still sweet and cute and hotch is a lover boy

F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

When you got called at school, at first, you didn’t think it could be that moment you’ve been scared of for months finally happening.

Being a kindergarten teacher, it was easy to leave your class and ask for a colleague to take care of your children. They were all occupied with creating a new poster with their names and wouldn't even notice your absence. Well, you imagine they wouldn’t because you weren’t supposed to leave for too long.

“Do you know who’s asking for me?” you asked the principal’s assistant who came for you. He was one of your friends here, so you knew how to analyze his gesture. And from how fast he was walking right now, you could tell this was more serious than you first thought.

“Well, she’s a brunette, dressed in black.” He stopped in the middle of the hallway to think for a second. Trying hard to remember what her name could be. Thing was, you didn’t know that many brunettes, dressed in black that could authorize herself to come here. “I think her name is Emily or something like that.”

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, freezing. 

You appreciated Emily. You would even call her a friend, even if you only knew her through Hotch. But you barely talked outside of the moment you spent together. 

Getting a call from her would have been weird. Having her come to your school wasn’t normal at all.

Yet, here she was. Waiting in the principal’s office. Indeed, she was wearing an all-black outfit but mostly wearing a concerned expression on her face.

When you opened the door, she rushed to you, interrupting her conversation. Her hand was soon on your shoulder and her eyes were locked on yours. You found some comfort in it. The problem was, you had no idea why you needed it.

“What are you doing here, Emily?” you asked, whispering like it was some secret the rest of your colleagues or your superior didn’t need to know. Which was true, somehow. “Is everything alright?” 

But you knew it wasn’t. And the three words that followed were the proof. “It’s Hotch.”

Your heart dropped, and the whole world went silent. 

You’ve spent months afraid of hearing these words one day. Checking your phone multiple times a day, waiting for his text to make sure he was doing fine. There were moments when you would have the same nightmares of coming home to an empty house, sometimes with more graphic images you wished you could forget.

When Emily noticed you seemed to disconnect from reality, she put her other hand on your shoulder. “He’s ok,” she added. 

“I don’t know how, but the unsub managed to stab him in the stomach. He lost a lot of blood and went to surgery, but he should be fine. Spencer told me he was waking up when he arrived here, you heard Emily explain, but her voice seemed like a distant melody.

You tried to focus on the good news, that Hotch was fine. As fine as he can be after an attack that probably woke up some trauma, but fine. Not dead. Not in danger. Fine. 

You took a breath and nodded to accept the information you just got. And showing Emily that you listened, that you understood what she said. 

It wasn’t until you managed to keep your stress as low as possible that the question popped up in your head. “You came all the way here to tell me?”

Emily looked at you with confusion. 

“Well, you’re his girlfriend and his emergency contact. And you weren’t answering your phone. I thought it would be better to bring you to the hospital myself than let you learn about that later by yourself.”

That was the moment you understood why Emily chose to drive all the way here.

Hotch didn’t tell anyone you weren’t together anymore.

Dating Hotch was easy, more than people thought it was.

He was a great listener. He loved to hear you speak about everything in your life just as much as he loved paying attention to small details. Offering your favorite flowers, having your favorite artist in his car, and sending a text about important events at your job even when he was miles and miles away. 

You could tell Hotch was working on the experience he got from his past relationship and all that he still had to learn to be a good partner for you. And he was doing a wonderful job on it.

This relationship did a lot of good for him too. With Jack being a teen and less with his dad, he finally felt like he had a new purpose to come back home. Hotch learned to love opening his door again. This time not being met by the silence. But by you, with some kind of reality TV on, reading a book on a sofa he almost forgot about before seeing you on it—not to mention the memories the both of you created on it. You made him feel loved. At his place but at every place in his life too.

For a year, you two have been the happiest and did everything to make this relationship work. Even the team noticed the change in Hotch’s personality. And after multiple drinks together, you started to call them friends too. You both loved the routine you created together. 

But even with the brightest sun shining on your relationship, the truth was the stress was still there. His job was anxious, to you, but to him too. Having someone to care about in his life once again made Hotch concerned about losing you. He tended to be more protective after rough cases, sometimes leaning to some controlling behavior he hated as much as you did.

The disputes became more and more recurrent. And after another fight, you both decided that maybe you needed a moment away from each other to wonder if this was really worth it. You wanted Aaron Hotchner to be the love of your life; you really did. Just as he wanted to. But was it really the life you both wanted?

It was a hard month away from him; you won’t lie.

And knowing you almost lost him was even hard.

“Let’s go,” you finally replied. And the ride to the hospital was surprisingly calm.

The few times you saw Emily, you both kept chatting for hours to the point Hotch even laughed one day about fearing she might steal you from him. But this time, there were no words. Not only because of the stress, but also because you realized you were lying to your friend because of Hotch. You haven’t seen him in a month, having no idea about what his life might have been these past thirty days. And she was great at worming information out of you. So you would rather not say a thing instead of spilling a secret.

The whole drive to the hospital felt like a fever dream. And nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling you got when you opened the door. A mix of relief and stress.

Hotch was there, indeed. Underneath a white sheet that made his skin look even paler, with dark circles bigger than the last time you saw him and a tired expression that made you wish you could do anything to let him relax and rest for at least a month.

He was facing the window and only turned his head when he heard you coming in. And the confusion replaced the tiredness on his face. Yet, you still noticed the short smile that drew on his lips when he saw you. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was sweet. Sweeter than usual. No matter how down he was, Hotch took everything in him to make you feel welcome. He didn’t want you to question your presence here or to think he was questioning it. He was glad to see your face after the awful day he had. Yet, he was still wondering why you came. After a month apart, he thought you put him aside. 

Deep down, Hotch had the feeling he was easy to forget. But you weren’t. You never felt his head or his heart.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t even talk. You were just focused on the silhouette of the man that shared your life these past months, lying on this hospital bed, looking so fragile.

You walked to him, as close as you could. So close that your knees bumped in the bed without you realizing it. You couldn’t resist the need to brush his hair, putting away some strands that were on his forehead. His confused and drained eyes follow each one of your moves.

“Honey?” he asked again, reaching for your hand. 

When you were together, not a day went by—except for those when he was away—where you wouldn’t hold hands. In the morning, when he was getting up, you tried to keep him with you a little longer. During breakfast, while he was drinking his coffee. When he said goodbye, kissing you before putting a kiss on your entangled hands. Or when you went to sleep, cuddling, with your hands on your stomach—or his, when he needed it after a rough day.

“You didn’t tell them we broke up,” you said in a low voice. It was the first time you said it out loud but also realized what it meant. And having Hotch in front of you, calling you by the nickname that followed you your whole relationship and caressing your hand with his thumb softly, helped see the truth behind that. “Emily came and picked me up because I’m your emergency contact, and I wasn’t answering my phone, and as your girlfriend, she assumed I needed to know. Because you didn’t tell anyone we weren’t together anymore.”

You finally landed your eyes on his, losing yourself in his baffled puppy look. “You’re right, I didn’t.” Hotch said. It was the first time since you came in that you noticed his voice was a little raspy. “And I’m glad it led you here.” 

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, not that you doubted he meant it. Over a year, you’ve learned to recognize Hotch’s expression. Especially the way his face was always softer when he was with you. Or how his very stoic and linear mouth always curled up in a smile around you.

Still, you had one question on your tongue. “Why?”

“Why am I glad?” he replied with a giggle. One that was sadly followed by a grimace. You watched as Hotch brought his other hand to his stomach to ease the pain. The doctor told him that even with the medicine, it would take him multiple days to get better. And until the stitches were gone, he wasn’t allowed to go back on the field.

But suddenly, the idea of being stuck at his office or at home wasn’t as awful as it was when he first thought about it. 

You sighed, focusing on his face rather than the wound he was clearly keeping hidden from you. “Why haven’t you told them?” 

Hotch took a second to look at you. The answer was obvious to him, to the point that there wasn’t a question to begin with. Over this past month, there was not a moment where he thought he had to make things clearer about your situation. Sure, he was a very private man, yet he never lied about you. He just kept things as they were. “Because I didn’t want it to be over.”

Hotch sat up against the headboard and motioned to you to sit on the bed with him. He moved his legs to give you space. And the heat you felt when he held your hand tighter to help you reminded you of the obvious attraction you had for him. Even after he had a terrible day. 

“Listen,” he started again with a tone that imposed on listening to him. That's not to say you weren't paying attention in the first place. “I know we made this decision together, and I respect it. And this month apart gave me the time to think about us.”

The first night coming home to an empty and silent house wasn’t easy for Hotch. He felt like he had failed again at keeping someone in his life. He hated that he lied to Jack, saying you had family obligations to explain your absence. He didn’t want his son to be disappointed about his dad's inability to maintain a great relationship.

And one day, Jack told him about a girl at school he had a crush on and everything he did to prove to her it was worth trying rather than giving up.

“I want to make things right with you.” Hotch pursued, bringing your hands to his chest. “Maybe I need to work on my perception of danger when it comes to you. And if so, I will do it. Because I want you.”

You always found it fascinating how his eyes often spoke louder than his words. And the look he was giving you right now was the best argument he could have found to prove you he meant it. Hotch loved you. And so did you. 

When a smile started to grow on your lips, also a silent answer to his silent confession, you noticed his lips curved too. Hotch let go of your hand to bring his own to your neck and move your face closer to him. But you stopped right before your lips touched.

“Maybe you should just consider not getting hurt the next time we argue.” You whispered, which made him laugh.

“Right, I’ll think about that.” He replied before finally guiding you to his lips.

Hotch never stopped believing he would get you back. So maybe he was right about not telling anyone about the breakup. 

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

FINALLY getting close to being done with this fic after over 5k words. I am very excited for this one!

Hotch x inexperienced!fem!reader snippet

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13

Hotch tags: @14buddy22 @htchnr

Tags for this post only: @prettyevermores @queenofvelaris @oliviabbb @itsneverlupus2

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

*NSFW MDNI*

You return his smile before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his warm lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as you do so. You part your lips just enough to capture his bottom one between your teeth and then you pull back slowly, releasing his puffy lip from your mouth. It was enough to make his pupils look blown with lust, but he keeps himself in line. He'll never understand why he likes that so much, but it didn't take long for you to figure it out even with your lack of experience in every area of relationships. You see Aaron's Adam's apple bob when he swallows thickly. He likes being caught between your teeth. A grin spreads over your face.

You start rocking your hips again and his grip tightens on them like it had before. You struggle to find the right rhythm, but Aaron helps guide you.

"Am....am I doing it right?" Your voice sounds shy and hesitant, like you're embarrassed to ask him.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?"

You just nod and press your forehead against his. He plants another soft kiss on your lips before speaking again.

"Then you're doing it right, princess. If you're feeling good, that means you're doing just fine. And if you need me to help you, just tell me." His hand comes to press on your lower back, pushing you slightly and helping you grind on his cock that he has finally allowed to get hard.

It makes you whine and he smirks. His other hand comes up to hold the back of your head, keeping your forehead pressed to his. This is something he's dreamed of and now that he finally has it, he's going to memorise every sound, every movement, every twitch in your expression as you figure out what feels good.

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[kiwriteswords]

could we get hotch flirting with shy reader but hotch is rusty and out of the dating scene for so long so ultimately doesn't come across as fliriting to reader, so he has to eventually be bold about it?

Sweet Beginnings

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: This sweetness got away from me!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Female Reader

Word Count: 16.6k

Tags/Warnings: Feminine Reader, Shy Reader, Soft and Romantic Smut, Mainly Fade to Black Smut, Romantic Hotch, Hotch in his Courting Masculine Energy, Non-BAU Reader, Bottle of Wine is Mentioned, Romance!! Fluff!!! Enamored Flirty Hotch!!

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner wasn’t one to indulge in leisurely distractions, but a small coffee shop called Sweet Beginnings—and its gentle, shy owner—quickly became a quiet escape from his chaotic life.

Aaron Hotchner had never been one to take advice on leisure activities—especially not from Penelope Garcia. But the way she raved about a little coffee and pastry shop downtown was difficult to ignore, even for someone as stoic as he was.

“It’s cozy, Hotch. The kind of place where you could breathe for a change,” she’d said with a bright smile. “And their pastries? To die for.”

He wasn’t someone particularly picky when it came to coffee or the sweet tooth he allowed himself to indulge in every now and then, but with Penelope Garcia’s dazzling review of this place, he figured he’d give it a try. 

So, one Friday morning, after dropping Jack off at school, Aaron found himself standing in front of the quaint café. The sign above the door read Sweet Beginnings in elegant, hand-painted script. The soft glow from inside beckoned him in, along with the faint smell of coffee and freshly baked goods.

The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside. The shop was warm, decorated with mismatched chairs and tables that gave it a homey feel. Aaron noted the shelves of books and plants along the walls the hum of soft music in the background. It was quiet but alive, much like the woman behind the counter.

You greeted him with a soft smile, barely meeting his eyes as you handed a cup of coffee to the customer ahead of him. Aaron noticed the delicate way you moved, the way your hands wrapped around the mug to steady it as you passed it over. When it was his turn, you offered him the same gentle smile, your voice barely above a murmur.

“Good morning. What can I get for you?”

Aaron had prepared to order the first thing on the menu, but something about you—your calm demeanor, the way your shyness didn’t feel like a wall but an invitation to be gentle—made him pause.

“What do you recommend?” he asked, his tone softer than usual.

You hesitated for a moment as though surprised he’d asked for your opinion. “Um, the vanilla latte is popular… and the lemon scones are fresh today.”

“Then I’ll have those,” Aaron replied, watching the way your face lit up just slightly, like you were proud of your recommendation but too modest to show it outright.

He didn’t expect to find himself at Sweet Beginnings again so soon, but the following Monday, Aaron walked in and ordered the same thing. Over time, his visits became routine—part of the rhythm of his mornings when he wasn’t rushing to a case.

Aaron learned small things about you through your brief conversations. You’d opened the shop a couple of years ago, pouring your heart into creating a space that felt warm and safe. You loved reading, often leaving books on the counter to mark your place. You had a quick wit, though you always seemed surprised when someone caught onto it. And you were so gentle, in a way that Aaron found himself appreciating more and more.

He’d never thought of himself as someone easily captivated, but there was something about you that lingered with him long after he left the shop. The soft way you said his name when you finally learned it, the way your shyness made you blush when he asked about your favorite book—it all stayed with him.

Aaron Hotchner had always been a man of precision. In the field, his words were measured, deliberate, carefully chosen to achieve the best outcome. Flirting, he realized, was a wholly different matter. It wasn’t long before he found himself trying, though, with you—if it could even be called flirting.

At first, it was subtle—so subtle he wondered if it even registered. The first time, he complimented your coffee.

“You’re making it hard to go anywhere else for coffee,” he said one morning, his tone uncharacteristically light. He stood at the counter, his jacket slung over his arm, his tie slightly loosened from the morning rush.

You blinked at him, clearly startled, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh… thank you. I’m glad you like it,” you murmured, your voice soft.

Aaron thought he saw something flicker in your expression—a glimmer of flattered surprise, maybe—but it was gone in an instant. You handed him his cup, offering him the same gentle smile you gave every customer, and he realized you either hadn’t caught on or didn’t think much of it.

But he wasn’t one to give up easily.

A few days later, Aaron leaned casually against the counter, watching as you expertly filled a tray of pastries to restock the display. His gaze softened as he noticed the delicate precision in your movements, the way your hands handled each scone with care. When you finally turned to him, you offered your usual quiet smile, your voice tinged with curiosity.

“Same order as always?” you asked.

Aaron nodded but added, “Do you have any secrets to these scones, or are you just naturally this talented?”

You tilted your head at him, confused at first. Then your lips curled into a shy, almost bashful smile. “It’s the recipe,” you said, your tone light but modest. “I just follow it.”

He couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him. “Somehow, I don’t believe that. There’s a level of care here you don’t find in most places.”

Again, your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, as if unsure how to respond. Aaron took his coffee with a quiet thanks and left, wondering if he’d ever get more than your polite deflections.

One morning, as you handed him his cup, Aaron noticed something different. Written on the sleeve was a simple, hand-drawn smiley face alongside the words, Have a great day! It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tug at something deep in his chest.

He looked up, catching your eyes. “A smiley face?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His lips quirked into a subtle smile.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I’ve been doing little notes for regulars,” you said quickly, your words slightly rushed. “I thought it might brighten someone’s day.”

“It does,” Aaron said warmly. “Thank you.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip in a way that made his chest tighten. He thought he saw your shoulders relax slightly, but you quickly busied yourself with the next customer, leaving him to wonder if he was imagining things.

Over time, Aaron became bolder—or at least, as bold as he could manage within the confines of a café conversation. He tried humor one day, when you handed him a blueberry muffin instead of his usual lemon scone.

“A deviation from the usual?” he asked, lifting the bag and raising an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you looked panicked. “Oh! I’m sorry, I—”

“I’m joking,” Aaron said quickly, his voice warm. “I trust your judgment.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “I just thought you might like to try something different,” you admitted, your fingers brushing nervously against the counter.

He smiled, noticing how your shyness made you fidget. “Then I’m sure I will,” he replied. “Thank you.”

The more he tried, the more he realized you weren’t picking up on his intentions. Or maybe you were, and you didn’t believe them. Either way, Aaron found himself at an impasse. 

It was a rare moment of stillness in the bullpen, the team gathering themselves after wrapping up a grueling case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, papers in front of him, though his focus had shifted to the cup of coffee in his hand. The familiar, comforting aroma wafted up as he took a sip.

“Alright, Aaron,” Rossi’s voice cut through the quiet, drawing Aaron’s gaze upward. The older man leaned casually against the doorframe to his office, arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been walking in here every morning with that same cup. It’s not just coffee, is it?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, come on,” Rossi chuckled, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “You’re not the type to spend almost ten bucks on a latte every day just for the caffeine. You’re going to that little shop downtown, aren’t you? Sweet Beginnings, or whatever it’s called?”

Aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’ve never been a hipster coffee shop kind of guy,” Rossi said matter-of-factly, gesturing toward the cup. “So unless they’re serving something laced with gold, I’m guessing it’s not about the coffee. Am I right?”

Hotch let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. “You have too much time on your hands.”

Rossi grinned, pulling up a chair. “You’re deflecting. So, who is she?”

“Who says it’s about anyone?” Aaron countered, though his slight shift in posture betrayed him.

“Because I know you,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “And I know that look. You’ve got someone on your mind, and I’d bet a week’s salary it’s not the barista’s latte art skills.”

Aaron let the silence linger for a moment before finally relenting. “She’s the owner,” he admitted, his voice low. “She’s... shy, gentle. There’s something about her I can’t quite put into words.”

Rossi nodded knowingly. “Ah, and let me guess—you’ve been trying to make a move, but she’s not picking up on it?”

Aaron hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve tried to show interest. Compliments, humor, the usual... but either she doesn’t notice, or she’s just not interested.”

“Well, have you considered that she might just be too shy to believe you’re serious?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his chair. “If she’s as gentle as you say, she probably doesn’t think a guy like you would be interested in her.”

Aaron frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Hotch. You’re smart, successful, and intimidating as hell when you want to be. A lot of women would think twice before assuming you’re flirting, especially someone shy,” Rossi explained with a knowing look. “You might need to be a little more... direct.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Direct?”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints. Women like her appreciate honesty. She’s probably too busy overthinking to pick up on your breadcrumbs.”

Aaron considered this, his gaze dropping to the cup in his hand. He’d been dancing around the idea for weeks now, unsure if it was the right move. But Rossi’s words carried weight—as they always did.

“And what if she’s not interested?” Aaron asked after a moment.

“Then you’ll know,” Rossi said simply. “But from the way you’re talking about her, I’d say it’s worth finding out.”

Hotch nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Dave.”

Rossi stood, patting him on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Just don’t wait too long. Life’s short, my friend. And good coffee? Even shorter.”

Aaron Hotchner stood outside Sweet Beginnings, the cool morning air brushing against his face as he gathered his thoughts. The warm light spilling out of the café windows contrasted with the nervous energy he felt—a rare sensation for someone so used to control. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind: “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints.”

He stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. It was quieter than usual, with only one other patron seated by the window. You were behind the counter, carefully arranging a fresh tray of pastries on display. The sight of you—focused, gentle in your movements—was enough to ground him, if only slightly.

You looked up at the sound of the bell, offering your usual shy smile when you saw him. “Good morning,” you said softly. “The usual?”

Hotch approached the counter, his expression softer than usual. “Not just yet,” he said, his voice steady. “I was hoping to talk to you for a moment first.”

You blinked, surprised, and set down the tray you’d been holding. “Oh… sure,” you murmured, folding your hands nervously in front of you. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Aaron said quickly, shaking his head. “I just wanted to say something that I think I haven’t been clear about.”

You tilted your head slightly, your curiosity evident despite your shyness. Aaron took a breath, his hands resting lightly on the counter.

“I’ve been coming here for a while now,” he began, his voice calm but sincere. “And while I do enjoy the coffee—and the pastries—what really keeps me coming back is you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he saw the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your apron. “M-Me?” you stammered, clearly caught off guard.

“Yes, you,” Aaron said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re kind, thoughtful, and there’s a warmth about you that I’ve found myself looking forward to more than I expected. I realize I might not have made that clear before, and I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you looked like you weren’t sure what to say. “I… I thought you were just being nice,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought…”

Aaron’s smile grew slightly. “I wasn’t just being nice,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m interested, and if you’d like, I’d love to take you out to dinner. No coffee shop counters between us, just… us.”

You blinked up at him, your shyness warring with a hesitant excitement. “I… I’d like that,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly but full of sincerity. “I’d really like that.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Aaron felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He nodded, his smile softening. “Good. How about tomorrow night?”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, your lips curving into a shy but genuine smile.

Of course, Aaron had the perfect place in mind. He shared that with you, and you both found a time that worked. He would do whatever it took to be here to pick you up for the date. 

As Aaron left the shop that morning, he felt a rare sense of anticipation blooming in his chest. Rossi was right—honesty had been the answer. And for the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to something beyond the next case.

Aaron Hotchner stood on the sidewalk in front of Sweet Beginnings, smoothing his tie as he glanced up at the windows above the shop. The lights in one of them were on—a warm, inviting glow spilling out onto the darkening street. It was where you lived, just above the place you’d built from scratch.

He took a steadying breath and checked his watch. It was still a few minutes before the time you’d agreed on, but he couldn’t resist being early. There was a quiet kind of excitement in him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

The door to the shop opened, and there you were. For a moment, Aaron froze.

You were stunning. The soft glow from the shop lights illuminated you as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your dress simple but elegant, perfectly complementing your natural beauty. Your hair fell just right, framing your face in a way that made his heart skip. He’d always thought there was something enchanting about you—your gentle demeanor, your shy smile—but seeing you like this, he was utterly captivated.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice almost tentative as you met his eyes.

Aaron blinked, recovering quickly, though his usual composure felt shaken. “Hi,” he replied, his tone warmer than usual. “You look… beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down, your fingers brushing against the strap of your small purse. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You look really nice too.”

Aaron smiled, his chest tightening slightly at your shy response. He stepped forward, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You nodded, slipping your hand lightly into the crook of his arm. As he led you toward his car, he couldn’t help but glance at you again. You had an air of grace about you, soft and unassuming, yet it commanded his full attention.

The restaurant he’d chosen was quiet and intimate, a small Italian place tucked away in a corner of the city. Candles flickered on the tables, casting a warm glow over the room. Aaron pulled out your chair for you before sitting across from you, marveling at how effortlessly you seemed to fit into the moment despite your shy nature.

His attention was entirely on you—the way you fidgeted lightly with the edge of your napkin, the faint blush on your cheeks every time his eyes lingered a moment too long.

“So,” he began, leaning slightly forward, his voice soft but steady, “what made you want to open a coffee shop?”

You looked down at your hands, hesitating for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I always loved baking,” you said, your voice quiet but laced with sincerity. “It’s… comforting. My grandmother used to bake with me when I was little. She’d always say there was nothing a warm pastry and a cup of coffee couldn’t fix.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a small smile. “Wise advice.”

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips. “When she passed, I just… I wanted to create a place that felt like her kitchen. A place where people could feel safe and welcome.”

“That’s exactly what you’ve done,” Aaron said, his tone warm. “Your shop has that kind of atmosphere. It’s different from anywhere else.”

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head slightly. “Thank you,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I’m glad it comes across that way.”

Aaron couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He was quickly learning how much he enjoyed making you blush—how your shy responses revealed so much about the gentle person you were.

“What about you?” you asked suddenly, your voice a little hesitant. “What… what made you want to join the FBI?”

Aaron paused, his expression softening as he considered the question. “I’ve always wanted to help people,” he said after a moment. He briefly went on to share about following in his father’s footsteps but creating his own path along the way. The way you allowed a platform for him to share so easily, the words and his own story coming out of his mouth without second thought. Something normally so foreign to him.

You nodded, your eyes thoughtful. “It must be hard, though… seeing everything you see.”

“It is,” Aaron admitted, his gaze steady. “But it’s worth it. And moments like this… they remind me there’s still good in the world.”

Your cheeks flushed again, and you looked down, unable to hold his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m really… good,” you said softly, almost to yourself.

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his voice firm but gentle. “You are. You have a way of making people feel seen, even in small ways. That’s a rare gift.”

You looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise. “I… I’ve never thought of it that way,” you admitted, your blush deepening.

“Maybe you should,” Aaron replied with a faint smile.

Later in the evening, as the waiter cleared your plates, Aaron took a sip of his wine, watching the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you always blush this much?” he teased lightly, his tone warm and playful.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked down, your fingers brushing nervously against the tablecloth. “I—I can’t help it,” you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “I think it’s charming,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Though I’ll admit, I might be trying to make it happen more often.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and bashfulness. “That’s not fair,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your obvious embarrassment.

Aaron’s smile widened. “Life’s not always fair,” he said, his voice teasing. “But I’d say this moment is one of the better ones.”

You laughed quietly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a warmth spread through his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed moments like this—a simple, honest connection.

By the time the evening wound down and Aaron walked you back to your apartment, he felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Standing at your door, he couldn’t resist one last attempt to see that beautiful blush of yours.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told you, his voice low and sincere. “You’re incredible. I feel… lucky to have spent tonight with you.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you smiled shyly, looking down at your hands. “I feel lucky too,” you said softly.

Aaron chuckled lightly, his heart swelling at your words. “Goodnight,” he said gently, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your voice as soft as the warm light spilling from your doorway.

As he walked back to his car, Aaron felt something rare and undeniable. For the first time in years, he felt like he was stepping into something real, something special. And he couldn’t wait to see where it might lead.

The next morning at Sweet Beginnings began like any other for you. The familiar rhythm of grinding coffee beans, the hum of the espresso machine, and the gentle murmur of early-morning customers filled the space. But today, there was something unexpected—a delivery that arrived just before the rush.

The bouquet was stunning. Soft pink peonies, delicate white roses, and sprigs of lavender were arranged with care, their sweet fragrance filling the air as you stared at them in disbelief. Tucked among the blooms was a small card, the handwriting neat and precise.

Thank you for a wonderful evening. Looking forward to seeing you again soon. - Aaron

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you found yourself pressing the card to your chest as if the gesture could steady your racing heart. Flowers. For you. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent you flowers, much less something so thoughtful and beautiful. 

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. You tried to focus on your work, but every time you glanced at the bouquet—now proudly displayed on the counter—you couldn’t help but blush.

When Aaron walked in later that morning, his usual confident stride was accompanied by a small flicker of uncertainty. He spotted the flowers immediately, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice warm.

You turned toward him, your eyes lighting up as you smiled shyly. “Good morning,” you replied softly. “Thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he leaned slightly against the counter. “I’m glad you like them,” he said. “I thought you deserved something as lovely as you are.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you looked down, fiddling nervously with the edge of your apron. “I don’t… I mean, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Aaron interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Last night reminded me of something I haven’t felt in a long time. Romance should be… intentional. Thoughtful. And you inspire me to want to do that.”

You glanced up at him, your wide eyes filled with something between surprise and bashful gratitude. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his gaze steady and sincere. “Just let me keep doing this—showing you how much I enjoy being with you.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, the sincerity in his expression rendering you speechless. Finally, you nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. He could feel the warmth in his chest spreading as he reached for his usual order. But today, when you handed him his coffee, your hands lingered just a moment longer than usual.

“Thank you,” you said again, your voice gentle but filled with meaning.

As Aaron left the shop, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. You’d awakened something in him—a desire to court you properly, to show you just how much you meant to him. And he couldn’t wait to see where this journey would lead.

The BAU jet cruised quietly through the night sky, the hum of the engines a familiar backdrop to the subdued conversations and occasional shuffling of papers. Aaron Hotchner sat at the small table, ostensibly reviewing case files, but his mind was elsewhere. The faint glow of his phone screen on the table seemed to taunt him as he thought about you.

The first date had gone so well—better than he had expected, even. You had been soft-spoken but so genuine, your sweetness and warmth drawing him in like a balm to the chaos he so often faced. He wanted to see you again, to plan the next date, but the timing of this case had whisked him away before he could make it happen.

“Hotch, you good?” JJ’s voice broke through his thoughts, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

He glanced up, meeting her knowing smile with a faint raise of his brow. “I’m fine,” he replied evenly, though he could tell she wasn’t convinced.

“Uh-huh,” Rossi chimed in from across the aisle, his smirk already in place. “Fine enough to be lost in thought for the last hour? Let me guess, you’re not still running through case details.”

Aaron exhaled through his nose, not irritated but resigned. “Rossi, I don’t—”

“Let me guess,” Rossi interrupted with a teasing grin. “It’s got something to do with Sweet Beginnings and a certain someone who runs it.”

JJ’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, her curiosity piqued. “Wait, the coffee shop? The one with the owner Penelope’s been raving about?”

At the sound of her name, Penelope’s voice crackled through the laptop perched nearby, her face appearing on the video call. “Are we talking about her? Hotch, please tell me we’re talking about her.”

Aaron leaned back in his seat, clearly outnumbered, though a faint smile betrayed his amusement. “Yes, we went on a date,” he admitted, his voice calm but tinged with warmth.

The reaction was immediate. Penelope squealed so loudly that Spencer visibly flinched, while Rossi chuckled, clearly enjoying Aaron’s discomfort. JJ, however, leaned in slightly, her expression soft and encouraging.

“And?” JJ prompted gently.

“And it was… wonderful,” Aaron admitted after a pause. “But we didn’t make plans for a second date before I left for this case. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“That’s an easy fix,” Rossi said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Shoot her a message. Let her know you’re thinking about her and that you want to see her again. Simple.”

“Penelope?” JJ interjected, turning to the laptop.

“Oh, he doesn’t need my help,” Penelope said, waving her hand dramatically. “Hotch has his own kind of charm—direct and a little broody, but it works. Just don’t overthink it, sir. She’ll swoon no matter what.”

Aaron shook his head with a faint chuckle, pulling his phone closer. He didn’t need much convincing. The thought of reaching out to you felt natural, not something to agonize over.

As the team’s chatter faded into the background, Aaron composed the message, keeping it simple but meaningful:

Hi. I’ve been thinking about you and how much I enjoyed our evening together. When I’m back, I’d love to take you out again—if you’re free, of course.

After rereading it once, he hit send, the faint hum of anticipation settling in his chest. He placed the phone face down on the table, not wanting to watch it, but his thoughts were already with you.

“Done?” Rossi asked, smirking as Aaron met his gaze.

“Done,” Aaron replied with a faint nod.

JJ smiled, nudging Rossi with her elbow. “Told you he didn’t need our help.”

Penelope’s delighted laugh echoed through the call. “Oh, he’s got this, JJ. We just like to cheer him on!”

Aaron rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head. Despite the teasing, he appreciated their support. For the first time in years, the prospect of romance felt like more than just an indulgence—it felt like something real, something worth pursuing. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

Aaron Hotchner spent the day chasing leads, directing the team, and piecing together profiles—but now, with the case temporarily at a lull, his thoughts had inevitably drifted back to you.

The gentle buzz of his phone pulled his attention, and he felt an inexplicable flicker of anticipation. Picking it up, he saw your name at the top of the screen, along with your response:

Hi, Aaron. I’ve been thinking about you too. I’d love to go on another date when you’re back. Just let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m free.

Aaron exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Relief? Gratitude? No—something softer. Something that warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

He read the message again, letting the simplicity of your words settle over him. You’d been thinking about him. It was such a small thing, but it held so much weight. He could picture you shyly typing the message, your soft smile as you hesitated over every word. The thought brought a rare, genuine smile to his face.

He began typing his reply:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.

He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. It wasn’t enough—not for what he wanted to convey. He deleted the last sentence and replaced it with:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It was bold, direct—words he wouldn’t normally allow himself to say. But you weren’t like anyone else. You brought out a softness in him, a desire to be open, to let you see the man behind the stoic facade.

After hitting send, Aaron set the phone down and leaned back in his chair. The faint hum of the air conditioner in the hotel room filled the silence, but his mind was anything but quiet. He thought of your gentle smile, the way your blush deepened when he complimented you, the quiet humility in everything you did. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and intensity of his world, and yet, it felt like exactly what he needed.

A moment later, his phone buzzed again. He reached for it, his heart inexplicably light as he read your reply:

I’ve been thinking about you too. I’ve never met anyone like you, Aaron. Take your time with the case—I’ll be here when you get back.

Aaron let out a quiet breath, his lips curving into another faint smile. He allowed himself a moment to simply sit there, phone in hand, savoring the thought of you waiting for him. It was a rare feeling for him—a sense of connection, of something good waiting for him beyond the cases, the paperwork, the endless responsibilities.

He typed one final response:

Thank you. That means more to me than you know. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. Sleep well, and take care.

After hitting send, Aaron placed his phone on the nightstand and leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying until now, when the thought of you seemed to lighten the weight. For the first time in years, he felt something entirely his own to look forward to. Something real. Something good.

Aaron Hotchner stood outside your coffee shop, his hand brushing the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on the way over. They weren’t as grand as the first ones he’d sent you—just a handful of simple daisies and lavender tied with a ribbon—but they felt right. Thoughtful, unassuming, like you.

He exhaled a slow breath, running his fingers through his hair before stepping inside. The soft chime of the bell announced his arrival, and his gaze immediately found you behind the counter.

You looked up at the sound, your eyes lighting up when they met his. A warm, shy smile spread across your face, and Aaron felt that familiar tightening in his chest, the one that had been there since your first date.

“Aaron,” you greeted softly, wiping your hands on your apron before stepping closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice softening in a way it rarely did. He extended the flowers toward you, his lips curving into a faint smile. “For you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept up your cheeks as you took the bouquet. “They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the petals. “Thank you.”

Aaron watched as you carefully set the flowers in a vase behind the counter, your touch so gentle it almost made him smile again. He’d spent years in a world where gentleness felt like a luxury, and yet, with you, it seemed so effortless.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady but warm.

You nodded, untying your apron and grabbing your bag. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Aaron said, his tone light but firm, and he was rewarded with the smallest laugh from you as you followed him out the door.

The evening unfolded like something out of a dream. Aaron had chosen a quiet spot just outside the city—a garden restaurant with fairy lights strung across trellises and the soft sound of live acoustic music in the background. He led you to a secluded table near the fountain, the glow of the lights reflecting in your wide, curious eyes.

“This is… beautiful,” you said softly, your gaze sweeping over the setting before landing back on him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Aaron replied simply, his gaze steady on yours.

Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about your day, about the customers at the coffee shop, and how you’d been experimenting with new pastry recipes. Aaron listened intently, his expression softening as he watched you.

“And what about you?” you asked at one point, tilting your head slightly. “How was the case?”

“It went well,” Aaron said, his tone measured. “But it’s nice to be back. To be here with you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re really good at making me blush,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’ve noticed,” he said, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “I think I enjoy it.”

You laughed lightly, the sound like music to his ears, and for a moment, he reveled in how at ease you made him feel.

Aaron walked you to your apartment door, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a warm hue over the quiet street. The evening had been perfect—dinner, conversation, and the kind of connection he hadn’t felt in years. Now, standing outside your door, he found himself reluctant to let the night end.

You turned to face him; your bag clutched lightly in one hand as you offered him a shy smile. “I really had a wonderful time tonight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the same gentle warmth that had captivated him since the moment he met you.

“So did I,” Aaron replied, his voice low but steady. He took a small step closer, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as his gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me take you out again.”

Your blush deepened, and you glanced down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I… I really like spending time with you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that.”

Aaron’s chest tightened at your words, and for a moment, all he could do was take in the sight of you—the way the faint pink in your cheeks mirrored the soft glow of the lights, the way your fingers fidgeted nervously with the strap of your bag.

“I do,” he said softly, his voice holding an honesty that surprised even himself. “And I feel the same way.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something else, but no words came. Instead, your gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest of moments before darting away, your shyness making you retreat a half-step.

Aaron caught the hesitation and knew he had to be the one to bridge the gap. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer, his movements careful and measured, giving you every chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t.

Your breath hitched as the space between you closed, and then his lips met yours—soft, warm, and full of unspoken promises.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if he were afraid to shatter the quiet intimacy of the moment. But when he felt you lean into him, your fingers brushing lightly against his coat sleeve, he allowed himself to deepen it just slightly, his hand coming up to rest lightly on your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his thumb brushing softly along your jawline. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion.

“For what?” you asked softly, your voice still trembling slightly from the kiss.

“For trusting me,” Aaron replied, his gaze meeting yours. “And for letting me be here with you.”

Your shy smile returned, and you shook your head lightly. “I should be thanking you,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice warm but steady.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your cheeks still flushed as you opened the door and disappeared inside.

Aaron stood there for a moment, the faint hint of your perfume lingering in the air. As he turned to walk back to his car, a rare sense of contentment settled over him. The kiss had been more than just a moment—it was a beginning. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would take them.

Aaron sat in his office late into the evening, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. His tie was loosened, his jacket draped over the back of his chair. The day’s paperwork sat in a neat stack on his desk, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He thought about you—the shy way you smiled, the soft cadence of your voice, the way you seemed to bring warmth and light into even the simplest moments. There was something about your gentle, sweet demeanor that drew him in, and made him want to do more, be more. 

Aaron had always been a man of action, of logic and order. But with you, he found himself wanting to lean into something softer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: the romance of it all. Your femininity—delicate but unshakable—called to a side of him he hadn’t tapped into in a long time, the part that wanted to court you properly, to show you how deeply he cared.

Closing the last file of the night, Aaron leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips as an idea began to take shape. He wanted to do something special for you—something that would make you feel cherished. Not because you needed grand gestures but because you deserved to be celebrated.

He stood in the quiet bookstore, the scent of paper and leather-bound spines enveloping him as he carefully ran his fingers over the titles lining the shelves. He’d spent the day thinking about you—about the way your shy smile had lingered in his mind, about how you seemed to carry a quiet strength wrapped in gentleness. He wanted to give you something that reflected that—something meaningful, but not overwhelming.

As his fingers brushed over the spine of a beautiful, hardcover edition of one of his favorite novels, he paused. The cover was embossed with intricate details, and the pages were gilded with gold edges. He smiled to himself, knowing it was perfect. The book was a classic, timeless and heartfelt, just like you.

Later that evening, as you were tidying up Sweet Beginnings, the familiar chime of the bell startled you. You looked up to see Aaron stepping inside, his tall frame silhouetted by the glow of the streetlights behind him.

“Aaron,” you greeted, your voice soft but surprised. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter. In his hands was a small, wrapped package.

Your eyes flicked to the gift, curiosity sparkling in your expression. “What’s this?”

Aaron placed it gently on the counter, his gaze steady but warm. “It’s for you,” he said simply. “Something I thought you might like.”

You blinked, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush as you reached for the package. Carefully unwrapping it, you gasped softly when the book came into view.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the gold edges of the pages. “Aaron, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. “It reminded me of you. Thoughtful, timeless, and more meaningful than you probably realize.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. Finally, you looked up at him, your shy smile softening your features. “Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “This is… perfect.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his chest tightening at the sight of your happiness. “I know how much you love your coffee shop and the comfort it brings people,” he said, his voice low. “This felt like something you could enjoy during those rare quiet moments.”

Your fingers clutched the book a little tighter, and you looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re… incredibly thoughtful,” you murmured, your voice almost trembling.

Aaron stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And you make it easy to be,” he said softly.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both like a warm blanket.

“I’ll let you get back to closing up,” Aaron said after a moment, his voice gentle. “But… maybe we could plan that third date soon?”

Your shy smile widened, and you nodded, the book still cradled in your hands. “I’d love that.”

Aaron left the shop that night feeling lighter than he had in years. You inspired something in him—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long. And with every step forward, he found himself wanting to match your sweetness with a depth of care and romance that felt entirely natural, entirely right.

 Aaron Hotchner turned to leave, but before he could take a step toward the door, your voice stopped him.

“Wait,” you said softly, almost hesitant.

He turned back, his eyes meeting yours, the shy smile still on your lips but now tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

“I was just about to have a little treat before I finished up here,” you said, your voice gentle. “I was going to eat it alone, but… would you like to stay and share it with me?”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, and he took a step closer, his eyes warm. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your blush deepening slightly as you glanced down at the book still in your hands. “I think it’d be nice,” you murmured.

He hesitated only for a moment before pulling off his coat and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. “Then I’d love to stay.”

You disappeared into the back of the shop for a moment, leaving Aaron to settle into a chair by the counter. When you returned, you carried a small plate with two slices of pie, the golden crust gleaming under the soft light.

“It’s just apple pie,” you said, setting the plate down between you. “Nothing fancy, but it’s one of my favorites.”

Aaron picked up the fork you handed him, his gaze lingering on you as you slid into the seat across from him. “Apple pie happens to be one of my favorites, too,” he said, his tone light but warm.

You smiled, your blush deepening as you took a small bite. “Then I guess it’s perfect.”

As the two of you ate, the conversation flowed easily, though Aaron couldn’t help but watch the way you moved—so soft, so unassuming. He found himself leaning into the moment, his tone growing warmer, more teasing.

“You’re a hard person to say no to,” he said at one point, his gaze steady on yours.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes widening slightly as you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile. “The way you asked me to stay just now. I don’t think I’ve ever been invited to something so… sweet. How could I say no to that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, fiddling with your fork. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” you murmured.

“You didn’t,” Aaron assured you, his voice low but firm. “In fact, I’m glad you did. Spending time with you—it’s the best part of my day.”

You froze for a moment, your fork clattering lightly against the plate as you looked up at him, your wide eyes shimmering with emotion. “You… really mean that?”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I do,” he said softly. “You’re… remarkable. And I don’t just mean because of how kind and thoughtful you are. It’s not something I’ve experienced in a long time.”

Your breath hitched, and your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “But I hope you know how much I enjoy being here with you.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both. Aaron could see the way your blush deepened, how your fingers nervously brushed against the edge of the table. It was endearing, and he found himself wanting to put you at ease in the only way he knew how.

“By the way,” he said, his tone turning playful, “if this is how you usually spend your evenings, I might have to make a habit of stopping by after hours.”

You laughed softly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a rare warmth spread through his chest. “I wouldn’t mind that,” you said shyly, your eyes meeting his again.

Aaron’s smile widened, and as he took another bite of pie, he realized that this moment—simple, unassuming, and shared with you—was everything he’d been looking for without even knowing it. For the first time in years, he felt completely at ease, entirely himself. And he couldn’t wait to see where this quiet, growing connection would take them.

Aaron took his last bite of pie, savoring the sweetness, but his attention was fully on you—the way your smile lingered, your cheeks still faintly flushed from his earlier words. You glanced at him shyly, your fork toying with the crumbs on your plate.

“I think you might be dangerous,” Aaron said suddenly, his voice low and teasing.

You looked up at him, startled. “Dangerous?”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. You’ve got me sitting here in a coffee shop at the end of a long day, forgetting entirely about the rest of the world.” His dark eyes softened as they lingered on yours. “I think I could get used to this.”

Your blush deepened, and you bit your bottom lip, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a nervous laugh.

Aaron leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he lowered his voice. “It’s a very good thing. You make everything feel… easier. Brighter.”

You blinked, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” you admitted, your tone almost too soft to hear.

“Well, someone should have,” Aaron said gently. His voice was steady, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you look up again. “Because it’s true. And you deserve to hear it.”

The quiet weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, the air seemed charged with something unspoken. You fidgeted slightly, your fingers brushing the edge of the plate before you finally gathered the courage to speak.

“You’re… different than I thought you’d be,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re so serious at first, but then… you say things like that, and I don’t know what to do.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’m still serious,” he said, leaning a little closer, his eyes crinkling with a rare smile. “But you make it hard to keep my guard up.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I… don’t know what to say to that,” you whispered.

“Then don’t say anything,” Aaron replied softly. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression shifting slightly—something warmer, more vulnerable. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll keep saying these things. Because I want you to know how I feel.”

You blinked at him, your heart racing at his words. “Aaron, I—”

Before you could finish, the sharp chime of your shop’s clock broke the moment, announcing the late hour. You glanced at it, startled. “Oh, it’s so late… I didn’t even realize.”

Aaron smiled, standing and grabbing his coat. “It is late,” he agreed, his tone still warm. “I should let you finish closing up.”

You stood as well, walking him toward the door, your hands twisting nervously in front of you.

Aaron paused at the door of the shop, his coat draped over his arm, his hand lingering on the handle. He didn’t want to leave—not yet. Not when the air between you felt so charged, so full of something unspoken.

“Thank you again,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the edges of your sleeves as if to steady yourself.

Aaron turned back to face you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m the one who should be thanking you—for tonight, for letting me see this side of you.”

Your cheeks flushed, but instead of looking away as you usually did, you stepped a little closer. There was a flicker of resolve in your gaze, something shy but daring, and it caught Aaron off guard.

“Aaron,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about this all night—about you.”

His breath hitched slightly, his posture straightening as he watched you, waiting.

“You’re kind and thoughtful and… everything I didn’t think someone like you would be,” you continued, your blush deepening. “And it’s making it really hard to not want to kiss you right now.”

Aaron blinked, stunned for a moment by your boldness. His lips parted slightly, and then a warm, genuine smile spread across his face—a rarity for him, but one that felt entirely natural in this moment.

“Then don’t stop yourself,” he said softly, his voice low and inviting.

Your breath caught, but before your nerves could take over, Aaron closed the space between you, his hand brushing gently against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like he was memorizing every small detail. But when he felt you relax into him, your hands lightly gripping the front of his shirt, he let himself deepen it just slightly, his other hand settling lightly on your waist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his dark eyes searching yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that tonight,” he murmured, his voice rough with honesty.

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers still clutching his shirt. “I thought I was imagining it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You… being interested in me.”

Aaron shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing along your jawline. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he confessed. 

Your cheeks flushed again, but this time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you surprised him again, your boldness returning. “Well, if that’s the case, you should probably kiss me again,” you said, your tone soft but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and his smile widened as he leaned in once more. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured before his lips found yours again.

This time, the kiss lingered, filled with a quiet intensity that made the world outside the shop disappear. When he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling your face, he smiled at you—genuine, warm, and entirely captivated.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, your smile shy but glowing. “You’d better,” you teased lightly.

Aaron chuckled again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back toward the door. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice laced with quiet promise.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your voice filled with something hopeful and certain.

As Aaron walked out into the night, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. You had surprised him, challenged him, and made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in far too long. And he couldn’t wait to see where this path with you would lead.

Days later, Aaron Hotchner stood at the door of Sweet Beginnings once again, the soft glow from the shop's windows spilling out onto the quiet street. In his hand, he carried a bottle of wine he’d picked up on his way—a thoughtful gesture for what you’d described as a more casual date tonight. You had insisted he didn’t need to bring anything, but Aaron couldn’t help himself. He wanted to show you how much he cared and how much he valued this time with you.

When you opened the door, you were already smiling, your cheeks faintly flushed from the lingering warmth of the shop’s ovens. You were dressed comfortably—a soft sweater and jeans—but to Aaron, you looked as stunning as ever.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hi,” Aaron replied, his voice warm. He handed you the bottle, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. “I thought this might pair well with dessert.”

You looked at the bottle and then back at him, “You didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice grateful.

“I wanted to,” Aaron said simply, his dark eyes steady on yours.

You smiled again, setting the bottle on the counter before turning back to him. “I was thinking,” you began, your voice tinged with nervousness, “instead of staying down here… maybe we could go upstairs? It’s more comfortable.”

Aaron blinked, momentarily surprised by the invitation. He hadn’t expected you to suggest something so intimate, but the idea of seeing more of your world—of being closer to you—was one he couldn’t resist.

“If you’re comfortable with that,” he said gently, his tone leaving the decision entirely up to you.

You nodded, your smile shy but certain. “I am,” you said softly, turning toward the back staircase. “Come on.”

Your apartment was as warm and inviting as the shop below, filled with soft colors, cozy textures, and personal touches. Aaron took it all in as you gestured for him to sit on the couch, your nervous energy evident as you moved about the small space.

“I thought we could have dessert up here,” you said, your voice light but a little rushed. “I made a tart earlier, and—”

“Take your time,” Aaron said gently, cutting through your flustered tone. “It’s perfect.”

You paused, looking at him as he settled onto the couch, his expression soft and encouraging. His presence had a way of grounding you, even as the tension between you began to build.

You busied yourself in the kitchen for a moment, retrieving the tart and plates before joining him on the couch. Your hands trembled slightly as you handed him a plate, and you avoided his gaze, afraid he’d see the way your shyness warred with the growing tension between you.

“This looks amazing,” Aaron said, his voice sincere as he took a bite. “You really do have a gift.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” you murmured. “It’s just something I’ve always loved doing.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. You could feel it—his intensity, the way he seemed to be taking in every detail. It made your heart race, the room feeling suddenly smaller.

After a few bites, Aaron set his plate down, leaning back slightly as he looked at you. “I wasn’t expecting to be invited up here,” he said softly, his tone measured but warm. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You laughed nervously, setting your own plate down. “I just thought… I don’t know. I wanted to share this part of me with you,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I know it’s not much, but it’s… mine.”

“It’s beautiful,” Aaron said, his voice low. “Like everything about you.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, the tension in the room becoming palpable. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the space between you that seemed to shrink with every passing second.

“I don’t know how you do that,” you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?” Aaron asked, his tone soft but curious.

“Say things like that,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing deeper. “You make me feel like I’m… someone else. Someone braver than I am.”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t need to be anyone else,” he said firmly. “You’re already more than enough.”

The air between you felt electric, the pull undeniable. Your shyness kept you rooted in place, but the growing tension was impossible to ignore. Your fingers trembled as they brushed against the edge of your sweater, your eyes darting to his lips before you quickly looked away.

Aaron noticed, his sharp instincts picking up on every subtle movement, every unspoken thought. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving you space while his own restraint was tested by the sheer pull he felt toward you.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

His words broke something in you—the careful wall you’d been holding up against the intensity of your feelings. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him, your voice trembling but bold.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” you said softly, your eyes locking onto his. “I just don’t know how to… do this.”

Aaron’s expression softened, and he reached out slowly, his hand brushing against yours. “You don’t have to know,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The tension between you was unbearable now, your shyness colliding with the desire blooming in your chest. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward, your lips brushing softly against his.

Aaron froze for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden boldness, but then his hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips moving against yours in a kiss that was tender but filled with unspoken promise.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven. Aaron’s dark eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“Was that brave enough for you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and leaned in to kiss you again. His answer was clear without needing words.

The space between you small but charged. His arm rested on the back of the couch, and though he wasn’t touching you, the closeness of his presence made your skin tingle.

You had leaned back after the kiss, trying to calm your racing heart, but Aaron’s eyes hadn’t left you. His steady, dark gaze followed every nervous movement of your hands as they fiddled with the edge of your sweater, every flutter of your lashes as you avoided his intense look.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded quickly, though your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “It’s just… you.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Me?”

You exhaled a shaky breath, finally daring to glance up at him. His eyes softened as they met yours, and the warmth in them gave you just enough courage to speak.

“You make me so flustered,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing even deeper. “The way you look at me… like right now. It’s… it’s overwhelming sometimes.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his head dipping slightly as if to meet your eyes more fully. “Overwhelming in a bad way?” he asked, his tone teasing but still gentle.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not bad. Just… I don’t know how to handle it. You make me feel like I’m about to melt when you look at me like that.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. His hand moved from the back of the couch to rest lightly on your knee, the weight of it grounding you even as your heart raced faster.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his voice steady but filled with warmth. “The way you get flustered, the way you blush when I say something—it’s… charming. Sexy, even.”

Your eyes widened, and you froze for a moment before looking away again, your fingers brushing nervously against your lap. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me sexy before,” you whispered, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Well,” Aaron said, leaning in slightly, his lips quirking into a small smile, “they should have. Because you are.”

Your breath caught, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks again. “Aaron…”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady on yours. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat, but his patience and warmth made it impossible to hold back. “I want you,” you blurted out, your voice trembling but honest. “I don’t know how to say it without sounding… I don’t know. But I do. I really, really want you.”

Aaron’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly, though his smile remained. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about that,” he said, his tone low but full of reassurance. “Hearing you say that? Knowing you feel that way? It’s… everything.”

You bit your lip, your fingers gripping your sweater tightly as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You just make me so nervous,” you admitted, your voice still trembling. “But I don’t want to be nervous. I want to be… confident. I want to be the kind of woman who can look at you and not completely fall apart.”

Aaron leaned closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “Just be you,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. “I like that you get nervous. I like that you’re shy. It makes every moment with you feel… real.”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching at the sincerity in his voice. “You mean that?”

“I mean it,” he said, his gaze steady. “You’re perfect just as you are. And if I’m making you melt just by looking at you…” His lips curved into a faint smirk, and his tone dropped slightly, “I’d say we’re off to a good start.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking through your nervousness, and Aaron smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. This time, you didn’t pull away or shy away from his intensity. Instead, you let yourself lean into it, into him, feeling the tension between you shift into something warm and electric.

When the kiss ended, you rested your forehead against his, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous?” Aaron echoed, his voice filled with playful curiosity.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice tinged with teasing. “For my heart.”

Aaron chuckled again, the sound low and rich as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I’ll have to handle it with care,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet promise.

Aaron’s forehead remained lightly pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. The weight of his hand on your cheek felt grounding, yet the tension between you still simmered, charged with an unspoken pull that neither of you could ignore.

“I mean it,” Aaron said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was low but steady, filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You don’t have to hide how you feel. Not with me.”

Your fingers trembled as they brushed against his shirt, gripping lightly as though to steady yourself. “It’s just… it’s so new,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone.”

Aaron pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His dark gaze was steady, reassuring, but there was something else in it now—a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. “Neither have I,” he admitted, his words honest and deliberate. “Not like this.”

Your eyes searched his, the sincerity in his voice making you feel both exposed and comforted all at once. “You… you make it feel easy,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Even when I’m nervous, even when I feel like I’m going to fall apart… you make it okay.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his hand brushing softly along your cheek. “That’s how you make me feel, too,” he said, his voice low and warm.

The air between you thickened, the tension growing as his thumb traced slow, gentle circles against your skin. You leaned into his touch, your breath hitching as your body betrayed the restraint you were trying to hold onto.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I want you to kiss me again.”

His gaze darkened slightly, and his smile softened, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he leaned in. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve wanted anything else all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

The kiss that followed was deeper this time, more purposeful. Aaron’s other hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch firm but not demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pressing for more, but his presence alone made your skin tingle and your heart race.

You felt your shyness melting away under his attention, replaced by a slow-burning confidence that you hadn’t realized was there. Your hands moved from gripping his shirt to sliding up toward his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his sweater.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathing heavily, the silence filled with the sound of your shared breaths. Aaron’s forehead rested against yours once more, his eyes closed for a moment as though he were steadying himself.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he said softly, his voice rough with restraint. “But I can’t lie—it’s taking everything in me not to lose myself in you right now.”

Your blush deepened, but instead of retreating, you surprised yourself by speaking boldly. “I don’t want to rush either,” you said, your voice trembling but certain. “But… I don’t want you to hold back, either. I want to feel this. I want to feel you.”

Aaron’s eyes snapped open, his dark gaze locking onto yours as though he were searching for any sign of doubt. But when he saw none, his lips curved into a small, almost reverent smile.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone low but steady.

You nodded, your fingers tightening slightly on his shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered.

Aaron leaned in again, his kiss slower this time, more deliberate. His hands moved gently, one brushing along your back while the other cradled your face. Every touch felt like a question, and every response from you—whether it was a sigh, a soft touch, or the way you leaned into him—was an answer.

The tension between you no longer felt like a battle but a dance, one that neither of you wanted to end. For the first time, you felt yourself fully surrendering to the moment, to him, letting go of the nervousness that had always held you back.

The warmth of Aaron’s touch grounded you, even as the tension between you spiraled into something electric. His hands, steady yet gentle, moved with purpose—one cradling your cheek, the other brushing down your back, pulling you closer. Every kiss seemed to deepen the connection, erasing the space between you both physically and emotionally.

You leaned into him fully, your hands sliding over his chest and up to his shoulders, clutching him like he was the only thing tethering you to the ground. Your nervousness was still there, but it was drowned out by the intensity of the moment, by the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world.

Aaron pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing uneven as he searched your eyes. “You can tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Anytime. I need you to know that.”

You shook your head quickly, your hands tightening on his shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

His gaze softened, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your shyness battling with the growing desire blooming in your chest. “I… I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before capturing your lips again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with unspoken promises. His hands began to roam, exploring cautiously but with intent, and every touch sent a new wave of heat through your body.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your hands slid into his hair, your fingers curling as you tilted your head, giving him better access. The sound of your sighs, soft and breathy, seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more confident.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours once again. “Say the word,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “Tell me what you want.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze. “I want you,” you said softly but firmly, your hands sliding down to his chest. “All of you.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, one filled with warmth and desire. He leaned in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before standing, effortlessly lifting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. The sudden motion made you laugh softly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carried you toward your bedroom.

The tension between you reached its peak as he laid you down gently, his touch careful but sure. His gaze lingered on you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of admiration and desire that made your heart race. You reached for him, pulling him closer, and as his lips found yours again, the world around you seemed to melt away.

And then, as the night deepened, the rest was lost to the soft whispers of your names and the quiet, shared discovery of one another, every barrier between you finally falling away.

Time seemed to slow as Aaron’s lips pressed against yours, each kiss deeper, more tender than the last. His touch was reverent, like he was memorizing every curve, every sigh, every part of you that made you uniquely you. The tension between you wasn’t rushed or frenzied but deliberate, a dance of unspoken words and shared longing.

His hands, warm and steady, mapped your body like a treasured discovery. Every brush of his fingers was gentle but purposeful, igniting a warmth in you that spread like the soft glow of dawn breaking over the horizon. He treated you with a care you’d never known, as though you were something precious he’d been entrusted to protect.

Aaron’s gaze, dark and full of emotion, never left yours. Even as his lips traveled down your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that made your breath hitch, he watched you, his eyes seeking your every reaction. You felt seen in a way that made you both shy and emboldened, your body arching instinctively toward his touch.

The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, every movement a reflection of the care and trust you’d built together. His whispered words, soft and low against your ear, sent shivers down your spine, and when he murmured your name, it sounded like a prayer.

You gave yourself to him completely, your hands exploring his strong, steady frame, marveling at the way his body responded to your touch. Each sigh, each quiet moan that escaped his lips, felt like an answer to the questions you didn’t know you were asking.

The way he held you, the way his touch lingered as though savoring every moment, made your heart swell. You’d never felt so adored, so cherished. The tenderness in his movements spoke of more than desire—it was devotion, a quiet declaration of everything he couldn’t yet put into words.

As the night deepened, you found yourself lost in him, and he in you. The world outside your small apartment faded into nothingness, leaving only the quiet rhythm of your shared breaths and the gentle hum of something deeper—something neither of you could deny.

And when the crescendo came, it wasn’t with fireworks or grand gestures but with a soft, shared sigh that spoke of contentment and connection. His forehead rested against yours, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as he whispered your name one more time, his voice filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt safe, seen, and completely loved. It wasn’t just a joining of bodies—it was the start of something bigger, something that neither of you could deny. And as the night gave way to the quiet stillness of early morning, you knew that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

The first thing you noticed was the warmth—the kind that wasn’t just from the heavy quilt draped over you but from the solid presence beside you. Aaron’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand resting gently against your stomach. The steady rhythm of his breathing brushed softly against the back of your neck, grounding you in a way that felt almost surreal.

The faint golden light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Everything felt still, suspended in a quiet kind of intimacy that made you hesitant to move. For a moment, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly over Aaron’s hand where it rested against you.

“You’re awake,” his voice came, low and rough from sleep.

You turned slightly, your cheeks warming at the realization that he’d caught you watching the way his fingers curled against your stomach. “I… didn’t want to wake you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I’ve been awake for a while,” he admitted, his arm tightening slightly around you. “I didn’t want to move and risk waking you.”

The tenderness in his words made your chest ache in the best way. You turned in his arms so you could face him, your eyes meeting his. His dark hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and the faint stubble on his jaw only added to the softness in his expression.

“Hi,” you said shyly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Hi,” he replied, his own lips curving into a faint smile. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch slow and deliberate.

You looked down for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “Last night…” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Aaron’s thumb brushed lightly along your jawline, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. “It was perfect,” he said simply, his tone filled with quiet conviction. “Because it was you.”

Your breath hitched at the honesty in his voice, and you felt the familiar heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re too good at saying things like that,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his chest.

“I only say what I mean,” he replied, his gaze steady on yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was warm, filled with the unspoken connection that had grown steadily between you. You reached up tentatively, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before,” you admitted softly. “Not with anyone.”

Aaron leaned into your touch, his eyes softening as he covered your hand with his. “Neither have I,” he said, his voice low but certain. “And I don’t want it to stop.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “It scares me,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. “How much I feel for you. How much I… want this.”

Aaron’s hand slid down to rest against your waist, his grip firm but comforting. “It scares me too,” he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. “But I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for the first time, the fear that had been lurking at the edges of your mind seemed to fade. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and when he pulled you closer, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the quiet morning light, the world outside your small apartment seeming far away. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel it fully—the hope, the joy, and the undeniable certainty that you had found something worth holding onto.

“Time for me to get up and open the shop,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “And for you to get to work.”

Aaron sighed, his grip on you loosening reluctantly. “I suppose we can’t stay here all day.”

As you slipped out of bed and began to get ready, Aaron remained stretched out, watching you with a quiet intensity. You moved around the room with a blend of shyness and ease, glancing back at him occasionally, your cheeks flushing each time you caught his gaze.

“You’re staring,” you teased softly as you tied your apron over your casual dress.

“I am,” Aaron admitted unapologetically, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. “You make it hard not to.”

Your blush deepened, but you didn’t shy away this time.

At the BAU, Aaron Hotchner checked his watch as he sifted through a mountain of case files on his desk. He was already late for a briefing with the team, his morning a whirlwind of calls and paperwork. As he stood to leave, the familiar voice of Penelope Garcia carried across the bullpen.

“Hotch! Your favorite person is here—and no, it’s not me this time!”

He glanced up, eyebrows raised, and froze for a brief moment when he saw you standing beside Garcia, a tray of coffee in one hand and a small brown bag in the other. The sight of you in his office, your shy smile softening your features, made his heart tighten in a way he hadn’t expected.

You. Here. For him.

Aaron crossed the room in quick strides, his expression softening as he approached. “You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he said gently, his voice dropping to a private tone meant just for you.

“I wanted to,” you replied softly, holding out the tray. “I know you’re busy, and I thought… maybe this could make your day a little easier.”

The sincerity in your voice, the quiet thoughtfulness of the gesture, struck something deep within him. Taking the tray, his fingers brushed yours briefly, and he allowed himself a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm. “This means more than you know.”

Before he could say more, Penelope stepped in, her enthusiasm uncontainable. “And a pastry? Hotch, you’ve got a keeper!”

Aaron sighed lightly, glancing at Garcia with a faint shake of his head. “Garcia,” he said, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“What?” she said innocently, gesturing toward the tray. “I’m just stating facts.”

By now, JJ and Spencer had noticed the commotion and approached, curiosity evident in their expressions. JJ gave him a knowing look before turning her attention to you.

“You must be the owner of Sweet Beginnings,” JJ said warmly, extending a hand.

Aaron watched as you took the handshake, your shy smile making an appearance again. “I am,” you said softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’ve got good taste, Hotch,” JJ teased, her gaze flickering back to him with a grin.

Aaron felt a faint warmth creep up his neck, but he kept his expression composed. “Let’s not make this a spectacle,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

Spencer stepped forward next, his natural awkwardness on full display. “I’ve read about coffee shops like yours,” he began, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke. “They act as community hubs, reducing isolation and fostering social interaction. It’s a fascinating model.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted to you, watching as you smiled gently at Reid’s rambling. “That’s one of the reasons I started it,” you said, your voice soft but genuine. “I wanted it to feel like a place where people could feel at home.”

Hearing you speak about your passion made Aaron’s chest tighten. He’d always admired your gentleness, but seeing you hold your own in the midst of his team—your shyness balanced by quiet confidence—made him feel something deeper, something solid.

Penelope, never one to let a moment pass without commentary, clapped her hands together. “You have no idea how much joy this brings me. Hotch hasn’t smiled this much in years, and now you’re here with coffee? You’re a saint--Hotch, can we keep her?”

Aaron gave her a sharp look, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s enough, Garcia.”

You laughed softly, your blush deepening as you glanced at him. “I should probably let you get back to work,” you said, your voice still tinged with nervousness.

Aaron stepped forward slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you toward the elevator, the rest of the team’s chatter fading into the background. When you reached the doors, Aaron turned to face you fully, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you—your shy smile, the faint blush still lingering on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “For coming here. For this.” He gestured toward the coffee tray still in his hand.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, though your smile told him otherwise.

“It’s not,” Aaron replied firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve made my day better in more ways than one.”

The elevator doors opened, and you hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “I’ll see you soon?” you asked softly, your eyes meeting his.

“You will,” Aaron said, his voice steady but warm.

As the doors closed and you disappeared from view, Aaron stood there for a moment, the coffee tray still in his hands. His morning had started as chaos, but now, with the simple gift of your presence, everything felt lighter.

He returned to his desk, Penelope’s teasing grin already waiting for him. But as he sipped the coffee you’d brought, Aaron couldn’t help but think about how seamlessly you’d begun to fit into his life—and how much he wanted to keep it that way.

The weeks that followed were a blur of quiet mornings, shared laughter, and the slow, steady building of something undeniable between Aaron Hotchner and you. Each date felt like peeling back another layer, revealing more of who you both were beneath the carefully constructed walls life had required you to build.

Aaron found himself drawn to your world—the warm, comforting atmosphere of your coffee shop, the way you spoke about your love for creating a place where people could feel at home. He loved the way your cheeks flushed when he surprised you with flowers or when he praised your baking. You, in turn, found yourself mesmerized by the way Aaron balanced his intensity with softness, his protectiveness with vulnerability. He opened up to you in ways you knew were rare, sharing pieces of his past, his fears, and his hopes for the future.

The intimate moments between you grew, each one deepening the connection. There were stolen kisses in the quiet of your apartment, his hands gentle but firm as he pulled you closer. There were late-night phone calls when his cases kept him away, his voice low and soothing as he talked to you about everything and nothing. There were mornings where he lingered at your shop before work, his dark eyes lighting up at the sight of you bustling behind the counter.

Your shyness began to ease in his presence, replaced by a quiet confidence that bloomed under his care. Aaron, in turn, found himself leaning into the romance of it all—bringing you small gifts that reminded him of you, planning thoughtful dates where he could watch your eyes light up, and holding you close as though afraid to let go.

It wasn’t long before you both realized the depth of what was forming between you. Love, quiet and sure, began to weave its way into your lives. And while neither of you said the words out loud just yet, it was clear in the way he looked at you, in the way you reached for him, and in the way you both felt when you were together: like you had finally found a home in each other.

The day you met Jack was unassuming but transformative for Aaron. He had been nervous, more than he cared to admit, as he brought his son to your coffee shop one sunny Saturday morning. Jack, curious and wide-eyed, had taken to you immediately, charmed by your gentle demeanor and the way you spoke to him with such genuine care. 

You had knelt to his level, offering him a cookie you’d saved for him and asking about his favorite games with such ease that it made Aaron’s heart ache. Watching the two of you laugh together over a shared joke—or seeing Jack cling to your hand as you guided him behind the counter to show him the “secret bakery magic”—solidified something deep within Aaron. 

In that moment, he saw not only how naturally you fit into his world but how much joy you brought to his son’s life as well. It was as if a missing piece he hadn’t realized he was searching for had finally clicked into place, and for the first time in years, Aaron allowed himself to hope for a future filled with the love and warmth you brought so effortlessly into their lives.

The soft hum of the heater filled the quiet of your apartment as Aaron sat on your couch, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up after a long day. The scent of tea lingered in the air, the steam curling lazily from the cup you’d placed in front of him. He felt the weight of the day still on his shoulders, but the warmth of your home—and your presence—was already easing it away.

“You wouldn’t believe the guesses I got today about the ‘secret ingredient’ in my apple tarts,” you said with a small laugh, sitting across from him in the armchair. “Cinnamon, nutmeg… someone even suggested lavender.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Lavender? In an apple tart?”

“I know,” you said, laughing as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I couldn’t tell her the truth. It’d ruin the mystery.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, your laughter soft and genuine, the way your hands moved expressively when you got caught up in a story. It was the kind of moment he never thought he’d have again—simple, comforting, and entirely yours.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

You looked up at him, tilting your head slightly. “At what?”

“Making things feel lighter,” he replied, his gaze steady. “Easier.”

You blushed, a shy smile playing on your lips. “I think you just need more nights off.”

Aaron shook his head, his eyes not leaving yours. “It’s not about nights off,” he said quietly. “It’s you.”

The words came so easily, so naturally, that they surprised even him. He hadn’t planned to say them, but now that they were out there, he realized just how deeply he meant them.

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sweater. “Aaron…”

“Come here,” he said softly, patting the seat beside him.

You hesitated for only a moment before moving to sit next to him, leaning into his side. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was filled only with the soft ticking of the clock and the quiet hum of the heater. Aaron’s fingers traced absent patterns along your arm, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he began, his voice low but steady. “But I need to tell you something.”

You turned your head slightly, your wide eyes meeting his. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his hand stilling on your arm as he searched for the right words. But then, as he looked at you—your shy smile, your gentle eyes, the quiet strength in the way you leaned into him—he realized there was no point in holding back.

“I love you,” he said, the words quiet but firm. There was no hesitation in his tone now, no doubt. “I didn’t plan to say it, not tonight, but it’s true. And I need you to know that.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you stared at him, your cheeks flushed with emotion. “You… you do?”

“I do,” Aaron said, his voice softening as his hand moved to cup your cheek. “I know it’s fast, and I don’t want to overwhelm you. But you’ve brought something into my life I didn’t think I’d ever have again. And I mean it—every word.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you reached up to cover his hand with yours. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Aaron exhaled, relief and something deeper flooding through him. He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and tender, filled with everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a rare, genuine smile that you knew was just for you. “You make me feel like myself again,” he murmured. “Like I’m not just… getting through the day.”

“You make me feel the same way,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

In the quiet warmth of your apartment, with your heartbeats steady and aligned, Aaron realized that he hadn’t just fallen in love with you—he had found a future he hadn’t dared to hope for. And with you in his arms, it felt as though everything in his world had finally fallen into place.

The months that followed were filled with a quiet joy that neither of you had anticipated but both of you cherished. Aaron found himself carving out moments of calm amidst the chaos of his work, prioritizing time with you in a way that felt natural, even necessary. You, in turn, opened up in ways you never thought possible, letting him see every piece of you—your dreams, your fears, your past—and finding that he met each one with unwavering patience and care.

One evening, after a long day for both of you, Aaron arrived at your apartment with Jack in tow. The boy had insisted on bringing you a drawing he’d made—two stick figures holding hands, standing in front of a coffee shop with the words “Y/N and Dad” scrawled in his careful handwriting. The look on Aaron’s face as Jack handed it to you, beaming with pride, spoke volumes. He was proud of the life you were all building together, the way you had seamlessly become a part of his and Jack’s world.

Later that evening, as Jack dozed off on your couch, Aaron helped you clean up after dinner. The domesticity of the moment struck him—his sleeves rolled up, you at the sink rinsing dishes, both of you working in quiet harmony. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was home.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Aaron asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You glanced over your shoulder, your brow furrowing slightly at the question. “I do,” you said softly, drying your hands on a towel. “Why?”

Aaron turned to face you, his dark eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Because I see it. With you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your lips parting as you struggled to find the words to respond. Before you could speak, Aaron stepped closer, his hands settling lightly on your waist.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” he admitted, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “A home. A partner. Someone who makes me want to be better every single day.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in, and you reached up to rest your hands on his chest. “Aaron…”

“I love you,” he said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “I’ve loved you since I walked into your shop for the first time, even if I didn’t realize it then. And I’ll keep loving you—for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your tears spilled over, and you let out a soft, breathy laugh as you nodded. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I always will.”

Aaron leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The challenges of his job, the weight of his past—they didn’t disappear, but they no longer defined him. You were his future, and he was yours.

As Jack stirred on the couch, mumbling something about cookies in his sleep, Aaron pulled back with a soft chuckle. “I should probably put him to bed,” he said, his forehead resting against yours for a moment longer.

You smiled, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “Stay,” you said softly. “Both of you. Stay tonight.”

Aaron’s eyes softened, and he nodded, his heart swelling with a quiet certainty. “We’d like that,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

That night, as the three of you settled into the cozy rhythm of your home, Aaron couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new. Not just a chapter, but an entirely different book—one filled with love, laughter, and a life he hadn’t dared to dream of until he met you. And as he held you close, with Jack asleep nearby, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[hoe4hotchner]

Hiii!! Could you do another non bau rich fem!reader where she gave Aaron lots of designer stuff and he starts wearing them to work? Like maybe ties, cuff links, and like an LV duffel bag and the team is just like “??? Woah dude where’d you get that??”

Subtle flex | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader| WC: 0.9k | CW: nothing

Aaron Hotchner was usually not one for excess. His wardrobe was practical and professional, his tastes minimalistic, and his life, outside of Jack, revolved around efficiency and exuding authority on the job. Sure he had splurged occasionally on a stray high-quality tie here and there as well as his Rolex watch. At least that was until you entered his life.  

The first gift was a tie — a deep navy one in silk with subtle pinstripes. It came in a sleek wrapped box with some designer brand he had never even heard of before. You’d handed it to him with a casual smile, brushing off his initial protests with a light, “Aaron, I saw it and thought of you. Let me spoil you for once.”  

He wore it the next day, paired with his standard black suit, and noticed how it caught the light in the mirror. “Looks good,” he muttered to himself, brushing his hand over it. As hesitant as he had been to accept it, he was thankful for the present and happy that you'd chosen one that wasn't smothered in logos or brand names.

Then came the cuff links. They were sterling silver and engraved with his initials. He opened the box late one evening after you handed it to him over dinner. “You didn’t have to,” he said softly, though his smile betrayed how much he loved them.  

“Of course, I didn’t have to,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “But you deserve nice things, Aaron. You do so much good without even expecting a thanks.”  

And so it continued. A Louis Vuitton duffel bag for his work trips, a black leather wallet that somehow managed to look even more professional than the one he’d carried for years, and a collection of even more ties that were understated yet undeniably luxurious and seemed to multiply in his closet every so often.  

At first, he rotated the items slowly into his everyday wardrobe, unsure if they would draw attention. But one particularly chaotic morning, he grabbed the LV duffel, clipped on the cuff links, and shrugged into a jacket before heading into the office having gotten an urgent notification for a case.  

It didn’t take long for the team to notice.  

“Uh… Hotch?” Morgan’s voice cut through the usual buzz in the conference room as Hotch entered. “Is that a Louis Vuitton bag you’re carrying?”  

Hotch glanced at him briefly, setting the duffel down by the door before striding towards the front of the room to grab the file Garcia was holding outstretched for him. “Yes. Why?”  

Morgan blinked. “Why? Man, you’ve been holding out on us. Since when do you roll up looking like you just stepped out of GQ Magazine?”  

Emily leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “Is that a new tie, too? That’s at least Tom Ford.”  

Hotch adjusted his tie instinctively. “It’s not. It’s Brioni.”  

“Oh, excuse us,” JJ chimed in throwing her hands up and exchanging an amused glance with Emily.  

“I’m sorry,” Spencer Reid piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are those cuff links monogrammed?”  

“Okay, seriously,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “What’s going on, Hotch? You win the lottery or something? Cause if your salary is high enough for those purchases Imma have to talk to Strauss about a raise.”  

Hotch, shrugged lightly as he opened his case file. “No. My girlfriend has… a habit of giving gifts.”  

The room fell silent for a beat before Emily’s jaw dropped. “Wait, girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us in more ways than one!”

"Who is she I need details," Garcia cut into the conversation, her excitement starting to bubble over.

JJ smirked. “Are you telling me she just gives you designer gifts casually? I agree with Garcia, who is this woman?”  

Hotch allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he glanced up from his paperwork. “Someone who insists I deserve the finer things.”  

“Damn,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head. “Where can I find one of those?”  

“Maybe start with charm school,” Emily teased.  

As the team bantered, Hotch’s phone buzzed on his desk. A message from you:  

Miss you already. Hope you’re putting the cuff links to good use. Dinner at my place when you get back?

He smiled quickly at his phone before typing back a quick reply.  

Always. I’ll bring the wine.  

When he looked up, the team was staring at him, curious. “What?” he asked, his tone amused, knowing fully well that they wouldn't stop bothering him about you until he eventually agreed to let them meet you.  

“Nothing,” Emily said, though her grin suggested otherwise. “Just trying to imagine Aaron Hotchner in love with a rich fashionista.”  

“Not just a fashionista,” Morgan added, gesturing toward the duffel. “An angel sent from the heavens, apparently.”  

Hotch shook his head, lifting his file up in the air in a quick and smooth motion as if to remind them why they were there. “Focus, everyone. We have a case.”  

A few days later, when you saw Aaron again, he mentioned the team’s reaction with a mix of exasperation and amusement.  

“I think they’re more interested in my wardrobe than the case,” he said, loosening his tie as he sat beside you on the couch.  

You laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Let them wonder. They’ll get used to it eventually.”  

“I’m not sure they ever will,” he muttered, leaning into your touch.  

“Good,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him. “I like keeping them on their toes.”  

[juniperskye]

Take A Seat.

A lil Blurb - Based on the following request: Please Aaron Hotchner x BAU! fem reader smut? like they are just lazily making out on the couch and things get hot? (Reader rides Hotch like her live depends on it and Hotch clingy for dear life while she does it)

Hotch x Fem Reader

Word count: 607

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, SMUT, porn with no plot. Let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Aaron had just returned from a two-week long case, and you were feeling pretty needy. Jack had been spending the night with his aunt and you had never been more grateful for that fact. The second Aaron had walked through the door you had pounced on him.

That was nearly thirty minutes ago now. His go bag, shoes, and suit jacket long forgotten in the entryway.

Now, Aaron was sat on the couch with you straddling his lap. Your shirt had been tossed over somewhere near the coffee table and the buttons on Aarons had been pulled open in a heated frenzy.

He was sucking deep purple marks into the skin where your neck and shoulder met while you grind your hips down into his lap. A moan slipped past your lips as Aaron nipped at your skin. His gaze lifted to meet your own and if you looked anything like he did…you were both completely wrecked. Hair tousled, lips swollen, pupils dilated and dark with lust, desperate. You knew what he needed and even more so, you knew he was going to give into your desires before anything else. That’s the thing about Aaron…he was a giver.

“I need you.” You gasped as Aarons lips pressed into the top of your barely covered breasts.

“You have me sweetheart. Take whatever you need.” He mumbled, pulling the lace of your bra down to expose your peaked nipple.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips when his teeth grazed over the sensitive nub. With shaking hands, you moved to pull at his belt, trying to free his achingly hard cock. It had been straining against his slacks, pressing hot against your core for the better half of the last half hour.

Aaron tapped your thigh, signaling you to stand momentarily to allow you both to rid yourself of the remaining clothing you had on. After a moment of tender hands assisting one another to undress, you made your way back to your previous positions.

As you lower yourself back into Aaron’s lap, he guides his cock into your waiting entrance.

“God your cock feels so good.” You groan into Aaron’s ear.

“That’s it baby. Take what you need.” Aaron praises as you find your rhythm.

--

The room was hot, salacious sounds of skin slapping against skin the only audio in the room. Your hands were white knuckled, holding the back of the couch as you bounced up and down on Aaron’s cock. His hands gripping your hips, supporting your movements. While his face pressed to your skin, moving from your neck to your breasts as you moved against him.

The sounds escaping both you and Aaron were pornographic, loud and uncontrolled as you both neared peak.

“Aaron baby I’m close!” You gasped.

“Cum for me sweet girl, let it go.” He instructed.

After a few more thrusts, you felt the band snap, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. All the while Aaron is now guiding your hips, chasing his own release. His hands wrapped around you in a bruising grip while his lips attach to your skin.

Sweat was cast over your skin, your hands were holding onto Aaron’s shoulders, you’re thankful for his grip on you as you are sure you’d have collapsed by now. His continued ministrations have sent another wave of pleasure to wash over you and the convulsions of your pussy finally sending him over the edge.

Aaron painted your walls with a grunt of pleasure, and as his breathing settled, he placed a sweet kiss against your lips.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“I missed you too sweetheart.”

[ikinremu]

DUTY CALLS

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

a/n: i wrote this super quickly bc honestly i’ll never get enough of this idea however many times it’s done😭

-> drabble <-

"God, you feel so fucking good." Aaron groaned, his voice both hoarse and breathy as he thrust his hips in quick succession against your own, trailing the pad of his thumb over your pebbled nipple, the warmth of his body looming over yours as he toyed with the stiff peak.

“Aaron..” His name fell from your lips amidst a soft moan, feeling heat burn through your skin with each stroke of his hips against you.

"I know." He breathed, "Taking my cock so well, honey."

He thrust his hips quicker, splaying his large hands across your chest, squeezing possessively at your breasts as he ran his opposing hand from its grip of your hips to your bare ass.

"That's my good girl." He practically grunted, warm skin smacking together. Purposeful in his teasing, Aaron rolled the hardened peak of your nipple between his fingers, pulling a shaky moan from your mouth.

"Fuck, yes.." You whined back arching in a plea for more - his touch somehow both firm and tender against the sensitivity.

"Such pretty tits, darling." He praised, hungry gaze running deep as it wandered back between your thighs. His cock twitched between the pulses of your walls as he absorbed the sight of him disappearing inside your cunt, your arousal soaking his shaft.

As your teeth punctured into your lower lip, a blaring ringtone escaped Aaron’s phone as it lay atop the beside table.

"Shit." He hissed, eyes flitting to the number that presented itself on his screen.

"Aaron.." You begged, "Please don't- fuck- don't stop.."

Your words sent heat pumping through him as he kept up the pace of him without fail, teeth gritting in response to your plea, his jaw tight with conflict. After the passing of a few short moments, he seized the phone in his hand, shooting you a stern look as he swiped his thumb over the screen.

“Hotchner.” He spoke, clearing his throat as he brought his rhythm to be much slower, assuring the sound of your skin colliding wasn’t audible over the line.

Your eyes widened in an instant, the thrill of it only heightening your arousal. You breathed softly, trying your absolute best to remain quiet as you heard a male voice mumbling on the other end of the exchange.

With his remaining hand, Aaron slid the pad of his thumb upward from your breasts, sliding it messily over your lips as he silently mouthed, ‘Open.’

Suppressing your desperation to make a noise, you parted your lips and allowed him to slide the pad of his thumb against your tongue.

"Have you sent the files over?" He inquired, keeping his voice impressively steady as he moved slowly against you.

Satisfied whimpers fought to escape your throat as you pushed them down, feeling Aaron’s thumb pressing against your tongue. Without the need to be told, you wrapped your lips around the thick digit, muffling yourself around his thumb as you watched him clutch the device against his ear.

His eyelids shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, clearly struggling to hold back as he felt you squeezing him. The sight of you certainly didn’t help either, cunt full of his tauntingly slow thrusts as you sucked sweetly at his thumb, only nearing his release, “Alright. Be there soon.”

The very moment the phone beeped and the call cut, Aaron let out a frustrated groan. He wasted no time in picking up the pace of his hips once more, dragging his now damp thumb down your chin, “You did so good for me, honey. Now show me how loud you can be.”

[luvvyouforever]

undercover - aaron hotchner x reader

synopsis: in the middle of a case, your worst fear comes true. you have to go on an a date with aaron hotchner, the boss you've been crushing on for months. content: canon-typical violence, tropey, kissing, flirtatious aaron, mentions of alcohol, afab reader who wears a dress. word count: 4k+ a lil bit oops author's note: ahhh my favorite trope in crime shows. enjoy!

"so based on this geographical profile y/n and i worked on, there's only two bars our unsub could frequent with his victims. the first one is more of a nightclub and we don't think it's likely that he'll be bringing them to such a rowdy environment," reid spoke to the crowd of officers and agents awaiting instruction. "the other bar also has a restaurant attached so we'll be keeping our investigation here."

jj grabbed a handful of papers with the bar's information and passed them out to the officers. once reid had stepped to the side, aaron came forward to wrap up their profile.

"he's cunning, yet incredibly violent. do not ambush him. he will escape your grasp and hurt you in the process. be on the lookout officers," he said with a tap to the desk that sent everyone back to work. with a subtle turn, aaron gazed at you and reid. "good work on the mapping. meet back up in the conference room in 5."

"thank you, sir," you and reid echoed before beginning to organize your files back into a folder.

all the while you tried to remain professional, your heart throbbed in your chest at the smallest ounce of praise from your boss. the way he held the room in his hand and demanded respect without ever having to actually ask for it was a part of the reason why you've had a crush on them for the better part of a year.

crush, now, felt too small. it was an infatuation at this point.

it didn't matter much, however, because would you ever confess your feelings for your boss? the boss who has been nothing but stoic your entire time of knowing him? absolutely not.

shrugging the butterflies in your body away, you head over to the impromptu coffee station created for the large number of people inside the police station and pour a cup of stale yet hot and much needed energy. this case was a doozy, one that had every agent just wishing for its end. and it felt like it was soon to come to a close. they had been coming up with some kind of plan. what that plan was, you weren't entirely sure.

when you managed to snap a lid on the coffee cup, you headed into the conference room where the rest of the bau were seated haphazardly around the room. you took a spot between emily and reid, eyes focused on aaron and rossi standing in front of a whiteboard.

"that coffee's not any good, is it?" rossi asked, noting the cup in your hand.

"every sip is somehow worse than the last, but i think we all need it," you said, following your statement up with another pained drink. rossi laughed and out of the corner of your eye, you could've swore that the corner of aaron's lips titled into a smirk. you ignored it, though, and began reading the words on the board.

"so, we're hoping to catch the unsub tonight," aaron started suddenly, turning with his ever-present air of professionalism. "if he's still following his schedule, he'll find his next victim tonight, most likely at the bar reid and y/n found. we've thought about how we're going catch him and i think we'll have to go undercover. two of us."

"under what pretenses, exactly?" derek asked on the other side of the table.

"on a date," rossi answered. just faintly, a red tint appeared on aaron's cheeks. you wondered what could possibly have made him- "we've picked our two already. y/n and aaron."

"oh!" you said surprisedly. "what led to this decision, pray tell?"

aaron looked down at his folders as if they were the most important thing in the world in that very moment. rossi glanced over, shook his head, then looked at you again.

"you two just seem the most likely out of any of us to go on a date. we don't want to look suspicious, no?" rossi answered.

"i-uh-i suppose not," you said. "my go bag isn't really packed with date wear clothes. mostly just pantsuits and academy t-shirts."

aaron finally cleared his throat and met your eyes for the first time since it was announced that you two would technically be going on a date. even if you would be wearing bulletproof vests under your clothes.

"that's okay. we won't be going out till 7pm. it's only three now. you're free to find something. as long as it's easy to move in," he said in a voice that felt an octave deeper than usual. and then he did something that almost made you faint on the spot. aaron dug into his pocket, fished out his wallet, and pulled out a credit card. his credit card. "use this."

sheepishly, you took the card from his hands and placed it into your own bag. "thanks," you muttered. an elbow jabbed its way into your side from beside you and emily was smirking at you. you dismissed her with your hand and stood to exit the room.

"hotel lobby at 7, yeah?" aaron said.

you forced a nervous smile to your face and nodded, then left the room. with aaron's credit card in your bag. about to buy an outfit. for a date with him. you weren't entirely positive you could safely drive.

౨ৎ

with the information you had about the bar, you picked a semi-formal, simple dress that paired well with heels you already packed. aaron was already paying for the dress. you couldn't ask him to also pay for the accessories.

after some test laps up and down your hotel room, you declared the outfit was "easy to move in" and grabbed your bag, ensuring that his credit card was still inside. the time was only 6:45, but you knew aaron would already be there, waiting.

with a check that your holster was properly attached to your thigh, you left the room and took the elevator down to the first floor. your heart was beating irregularly in your chest and your hands were clammy, but the reflective surface of the elevator's walls let you know that you looked good. for a fake date with aaron hotchner.

the elevator dinged when the doors opened and immediately, you saw aaron sitting in a lobby chair. he looked up at the sound and stood. he was dressed impeccably well in a suit with his hair done in its usual middle part. handsome was the only word on the tip of your tongue.

"you look beautiful," he said upon reaching your figure. it seemed like he didn't mean for the words to slip out, but instead of retracting them, he simply held out his arm for yours to wrap around.

your mouth went dry, but you knew you had to say something back. "thank you, hotch. you look handsome yourself."

"i think for the purposes of tonight," he said, "you can just call me aaron."

you nodded, finding words hard to muster up. instead, you allowed him to lead out of the hotel to one of the least suspicious looking SUVs parked outside. when he reached the door, he opened it for you.

you couldn't hold back a little laugh at the gesture. "you know...we're not on the date yet," you said. regardless of the light humor of the situation, you allowed him to help you into the passenger seat. he smirked, shut the door, then walked around to his door.

when he got in, his usual stone expression found its way to his face again. "forgive me for wanting to make this feel as natural as possible. i'm sure it's awkward going on a date with your boss. even if it is undercover."

"oh, no!" you blurted out. his eyebrows raised as he backed out of the parking spot. his arm wound its way around your seat, neglecting the back-up camera for the traditional method. "sorry. it's not awkward. you don't have to worry. promise."

"yeah?" he asked, putting the car back into drive and heading to the downtown area of the small town you were in. at a stop sign, he turned to look at you. if you weren't such a highly trained profiler, you would've certainly missed the way his eyes raked up and down your body, taking in your dress of choice. "you made a good pick."

your cheeks warmed with his flattery. to avoid meeting his gaze, you fished the credit card out of your purse to offer back to him. "thanks," you muttered. "you didn't have to pay for it, you know?"

he took the credit card from your grasp and shoved it into his pants pocket. "don't worry about it," he said with a wave of his hand. "figured if you're forced into going on a date, you should have something nice to wear at least."

you looked over to his body in the driver's seat, his face focused on the road ahead of him. "why do you keep assuming that i'm hating every second of this? i mean...how rare is it that we get to eat somewhere nice while on a case? and i'm getting paid for it while in the presence of a handsome man. could be worse things." you didn't know what compelled you to add on the last bit, but when you saw his cheeks flare up, you didn't regret it.

instead of responding, aaron's body relaxed in the driver's seat.

after several minutes of driving, the bar came into view and you bit your lip in nervousness. this unsub was pretty intense and you were heading directly into the lion's den. you tried to cram the nervousness deep down in the pit of your stomach as aaron pulled into the small parking lot next door.

before turning the car completely off, aaron turned his body towards yours. "now we really need to look as inconspicuous as possible. it might feel weird, but we need to look like a real couple on a date, okay?"

"yes, sir," you responded on impulse. "i mean...yes, aaron."

despite his attempts not to, he breathily chuckled. "already off to a great start," he joked. you chuckled with him and unbuckled your seat. "i'm gonna text the team that we're heading in. don't open your door. let me do it."

a minute of quick texting passed by and aaron shut off the car, then stepped out. a few seconds passed before your door opened and aaron was extending his hand to yours. you took it with a sweet smile and let him lead you out of the car. he shut the door behind you and your arm found his own again.

regardless of the reason being for the case or for just the pure want to be closer to him, you leaned into aaron's strong body. he took to the gesture immediately and held you even closer. it was intoxicating, but you kept your gaze focused on the bar ahead.

after what felt like agonizing hours of walking side by side, you came onto the host stand at the front of the restaurant.

"how many?" the host asked.

"two," aaron responded. the hand that was holding on to your arm began rubbing the skin there up and down. every touch of his fingers left goosebumps.

the host gestured for the two of you to follow her. quicker than you'd like, she led you towards a table in the middle of the restaurant. your eyes surveyed the restaurant and bar around you, scanning for someone that resembled the unsub's profile. once the host walked away, you and aaron looked at each other and shook your heads, signaling that nothing felt out of the ordinary so far.

"order whatever you'd like," aaron said, his head pointing towards the menu in your hand. "hon," he added.

the petname rolled from his tongue naturally, as if it was a name he had been calling you for years. you tried to not show that it affected you much, but aaron noticed the way your breath caught in your throat. despite the nervousness that settled over your body, you decided to take another leap and with a shift in your seat, your heeled foot grazed over his leg. he was shocked at the sudden touch, but spread his legs further nonetheless.

you didn't pull away either when the server came forward.

"welcome, guys. date night tonight, i'm guessing?" she asked with a smile.

"mhm!" you answered first. "decided to get out and dress up for once in a while."

aaron looked at you with an almost impressed look. maybe rossi was right. you did look like a couple.

"isn't that nice? well, what would you two like to drink tonight?"

"an old-fashioned, please," aaron responded. "and a water."

"i'll take a cosmopolitan and a water," you added.

the server noted down the drinks and walked away. your foot continued sliding up and down aaron's legs, becoming a subconscious act at that point. he flipped through the menu once, then glanced around the room again. still nothing.

"an old-fashioned, hmm?" you asked, eyeing one of the meals on the menu that sounded particularly tasty.

"is that shocking?" he asked.

"no," you answered honestly. "just learning more about you, aaron."

aaron hummed, as if he were about to say something, but instead focused on his menu again. a few minutes of comfortable silence passed before the server came over with a tray of your drinks. she sat them down on the table, along with the waters, then pulled out a notepad again.

"had enough time to pick what you'd like?" she asked.

"know what you want, dear?" you asked, looking up at aaron.

"i'll take the steak frites," he said to the server.

both he and the server looked at you. you told her what you'd like from the menu, hoping it wasn't expensive enough for aaron. he barely registered the price, though, and instead collected your menus to hand to the server. if this was what dates were usually like with him, you could definitely tolerate them.

"you look like you're thinking about something," aaron said from the other side of the table where he had been watching both you and the door intently.

you took a sip of your drink and sat it back down. "i thought we said no profiling your coworkers, dear," you teased. "i feel like that applies tenfold when you're on a date."

he chuckled and took a sip of his own drink. you noted just how attractive he was with a glass of whiskey in his hand, laughing.

"pardon me for wanting to know what my beautiful date has in her head," aaron said. his words made you bite your lip and look down at the table. suddenly, though, his demeanor shifted as his eyes connected with someone coming in at the door. "don't turn around."

"is he here?" you whispered.

he nodded and picked up his drink, eyes following him to the bar. almost imperceptibly, he tilted his head towards the bar. "fifth seat," he whispered back.

sure enough, an unsub matching the physical profile had seated himself next to an alone woman at the bar. almost immediately upon sitting down, he began talking to her. the fact that the man you had been trying to catch for a long time, the man who committed some really gruesome murders was that close to you made you almost ill. you passed your emotions off by taking a drink.

"i'm gonna grab another drink, baby. i haven't seen the server around," aaron suddenly said. he nodded to you, perhaps for reassurance, before standing and adjusting his blazer to ensure the holster on his side was covered. luckily, the seat directly next to the woman was empty and he positioned himself on the other side of it. the unsub barely registered his presence, which was good. you took note of his clothes, his hair, everything, just in case she slipped through your grasp again.

eventually, aaron had flagged down the bartender, ordered his second drink, and came back with it in his hand.

"he's just flirting with her," aaron whispered once he was out of earshot. "but she's falling for it. probably not long till he tries to leave with her."

"i won't get to finish my food," you said half-seriously.

"i'll get it boxed up for you, hon," he said. though that time, aaron's voice was a whisper. the petname was for you alone.

just as aaron had expected, the unsub stood from his seat at the bar, the woman next to him following suit. together, they headed towards the back where the bathroom was, along with an exit inside the kitchen which he was likely going to use. both yours and aarons followed them and with a curt nod, you both stood to head towards the back, several paces behind them.

suddenly, they went through a door, to what seemed like a closet first before going into the kitchen. you and aaron paused at the beginning of the hallway. then some noises erupted from the closet, ones that would make an older woman blush and hold her hand to her mouth.

aaron looked back at you with a confused look on his face. at that very moment, the closet door opened. you and aaron looked at each other in panic, but just before they stepped out of the closet, you grabbed aaron by his tie and pulled him closer to you.

within seconds, you had hiked your leg up his own, revealing your thigh in the dress. his hand quickly came to the skin and he squeezed tightly. to add to the scene, you wrapped a hand around the base of aaron's neck and pulled him down. his lips met your own with a rough clash, but then the kiss smoothed out.

at first, he was still, lips unmoving against yours. when your fingers tangled themselves into the short hairs at his neck, he finally kissed you back. acting, he thought to himself as he deepened the kiss and pulled your leg higher up his. undercover, he tried to remind himself when your lips let forth a whimper into his mouth.

neither of you wanted to pull away. you only pulled your head back when you heard the kitchen door swing open and closed. you inhaled a deep breath and met aaron's dark brown eyes. they were wide and his cheeks were flushed.

"sorry. i-it was all i could think to do," you stuttered out.

aaron shook his head. "don't be," he said quickly. "come on, he's about to leave. we'll talk after."

you felt the warmth of aaron's body leave yours as he pulled the gun from his holster. you retrieved your own from your thigh and followed him through the kitchen. he flashed his badge towards the chefs to get them to stop yelling and they pointed towards the exit where the unsub had just left.

both of you picked up your pace. had the kiss deepened for a few more seconds, you would have certainly missed him. however, as soon as you threw open the exit door, the unsub was forcefully shoving the young woman into his car.

"fbi! put your hands up and back away from the car!" aaron yelled. the unsub didn't do immediately as asked, despite two guns pointing in his direction. "i won't ask again! put your hands up and back away from the car!"

in a quick flash, the unsub reached inside his jacket. in the streetlight, you saw the glint of a gun. hardly a second passed before he pulled it out, aimed, but then fell to the asphalt.

your finger came off the trigger and before lodging it back into the holster, you turned the safety back on. you hadn't killed him, only immobilized him in his right leg. it was enough for aaron to run forwards, take the gun and throw it to the side. while he placed handcuffs on the unsub, you ran to the other side of the car and rescued the woman from the passenger seat. crying, she fell into your arms. suddenly, you were surrounded by the town's police department, along with the rest of your team who had been waiting just down the street.

before everything got too hectic to seek each other out, you and aaron took a long look at each other. he nodded with a smile, his form of praise, before hauling the unsub into a police car.

౨ৎ

a few hours had passed before everyone was released from the scene. the bau loaded up into their SUVs, aaron taking the one you had rode together in. much to your chagrin, his car filled up before you could get in with him. instead, you rode with emily and reid on the way back to the hotel to gather your belongings.

when you arrived to the hotel, everyone split off into their rooms. aaron seemed to be speaking privately with rossi so you opted to go upstairs and change out of the outfit you had been wearing for the better half of the night.

as you were unbuckling your heels and placing them back into your go-bag, you heard a faint knock on the door. you rose from the bed, feet aching, and answered it.

there, aaron stood with a white t-shirt on, having had to change out of his clothes from the scene.

"hey," you said.

"can i come in?" he asked.

only then did you notice that he was holding something behind his back. you stepped to the side to allow him to enter and he scooted the item in front of him to prevent you from seeing.

"what do you have there?" you asked. slowly, he brought forth two boxes of food, having kept his promise from earlier.

"it's probably not the freshest anymore, but nothing that a microwave can't fix," he said sheepishly.

you could've cried on the spot. smiling brightly, you took the food from his hands and sat it on the hotel desk. a grunt escaped his lips as your arms engulfed him in a hug. his arms wrapped around your body and your feet lifted from the ground a little.

"thank you," you said genuinely.

aaron watched as you took the food and warmed them up, going for yours first so that he could have the slightly warmer meal. once they were both ready to be ate, you found some plastic silverware in the little coffee tray and handed one set to him.

"round two?" you said with a shrug.

"round two," he agreed. "but...i wouldn't mind a round three, or four, or five, when we get back home." he picked up a fry from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

"glad to know my impulsive gift didn't scare you off," you joked. you paused for a second and set the food down. "which, i mean, i wouldn't mind a round two on that either."

aaron paused too, setting his own box back down on the desk. he stood and offered his hand to help you up from the bed. you took it and rose. then, his hand wrapped around your back where his palm was splayed across the skin there.

"i wouldn't mind a round two either," he said quietly. "but i call the shots this time."

your knees felt weak being so close to aaron. you didn't miss the way his cheeks flared and one of his hands shook nervously. had he been feeling the same way for you for this long too?

"you can call the shots anytime, hon," you teased, echoing the petnames for earlier.

smirking, his free hand ghosted up your side till it met your chin. his fingers titled your head upwards and ever so softly, he leaned in. this kiss was much more romantic, more loving, less rushed. he had time, now. he wasn't kissing you to hide from someone else. he was kissing you because he has been wanting to for oh so long.

minutes must've passed before the two of you pulled away to a pure need to breathe. he smiled. "good round two?"

"i think i'm gonna need a few more just to double check."

[sincerelybubbles]

hi!! i love the shy!reader x hotch fics, but i was wondering if you could do a completely opposite dynamic? where it's like a super flirty and playful reader who's goal is to try to fluster and get a reaction out of hotch? <33 feel free to ignore !!

cannon typical violence, mentions of blood, hospitals. not my best but it's something!! ty for the request <3

"Any chance to get your hands on me," you say, breathless, as Hotch presses the fabric of his jacket into the wound at your side.

He ignores you, shouting for a medic.

"Nothing to say, handsome?" Leaning back on your elbows, you watch as Hotch focuses entirely on the injury. Anything to distract against the pain would be welcome but you'd be lying if you said you'd ever abandoned any opportunity to fluster the man in front of you.

"I have plenty to say to you," Hotch says, voice low, peering up at you from under furrowed eyebrows, "starting either with personal safety or inappropriate conduct at work."

"Inappropriate? So you have noticed the flirting." You're starting to fade, the telltale signs of an impending faint thrumming in your numb fingers.

"Okay, save your breath," Hotch implores, hands pressing harder on the wound, shouting for help again.

You're sure the paramedic's are on their way, you watched Morgan slam the unsub to the ground moments before, and you're certain enough in your safety to chuckle and send a wink to him, "ah, got other plans for how I can waste it later?"

It doesn't even make total sense but Hotch chuckles, exasperated, still. Slowly shaking his head, he lets out a slow breath. "You're more trouble than you're worth."

"We both know you don't mean that." Pounding head, flashing lights (ambulance, maybe?), ringing ears. Yeah, you're going to pass out. Before you succumb, though, you reach forward to pat Hotch's cheek. "You care too much to mean it. And hey, handsome?"

Hotch hums, eyes blurring in your sightline and refusing to come back into focus. "Don't freak out."

---------

"Morning, sunshine." Hotch is reading in the chair next to your hospital bed, case files resting on his knee. The pain on your side is incessant, constant and unignorable.

"Don't freak out?" Hotch asks slowly, shutting the folder without looking at you. "A proper warning that you're feeling like you're going to pass out would be appreciated."

"It's okay, handsome, I'm good." Hiding a wince, you sit yourself up. "See, I was right, though."

"About?" Hotch asks, finally looking up to watch you at your movement. You can tell that he sees your pain so you talk quickly to cover it.

"You care! About little ole me, how flattering."

"Of course I do. Do you want me to call the nurse?" You feel out of breath, cramps between your ribs, white hot pain settling.

"And interrupt our alone time? Never."

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" You're distracted, banter subpar, as you struggle to maintain even breath.

"Hiding your pain."

"I'm not?" You pitch your voice up, questioning, attempting to trip him up so that he forgets his original argument.

"You are. I know you better than that - you're usually better at this," he gestures between the two of you, setting his case file on the table beside him and leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees to get a better look at you.

"What're you talking about?"

"Come on," he sighs your name, shaking his head and frowning at you. "Let me call the nurse if it hurts, you should sleep more."

"Trying to get rid of me?" You ask, flashing the smile at him that you always use to disorient others. Wide, all teeth, wrinkled nose, distracting distracting distracting.

It usually works but Hotch looks past it, catching the way your eyebrows pinch in the center.

"I'm calling the nurse."

"Stop, no," you reach forward to snatch the remote before he can grab it. You don't want to sleep, you want to spend more time with him, you want to get out of this bed, you want to stop feeling helpless as soon as possible.

"Seriously?" Hotch asks, half standing, leaning over you now.

"Seriously. I'm good. Maybe you don't know me as well as you think." You're half teasing, hints of truth littered behind the words.

You feel that way, sometimes. You're always fast to hide behind a tease, a flirt, a well placed laugh. You're aware it's a defense mechanism - do your best to make them love you superficially, they can't see the dirtier parts of you and run. Fluster Hotch so he can't see your attraction to you and reject you quicker than you can catch hope.

Hotch raises an eyebrow, settling back in his seat. "You take two sugars in your tea unless people aren't watching, then you add a third. You always triple lock your car, too aware that it doesn't do any good - we've all seen how little it matters in the end. You sit next to Spencer when he sleeps on the plane to help him with his nightmares when he wakes up, you pack an extra banana for early mornings to give to Morgan - you actually hate them, you just pretend to help him. You're more than you give yourself credit for."

Blinking slowly, mind sluggish from pain medication, you watch Hotch, fully aware that maybe you've been watched more than you've realized.

Slowly, you pass him the remote, a silent omission of relenting.

Perhaps it won't be so bad to be seen.

[rosemilo]

Aaron Hotchner in the black polo shirt has my heart ♡

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“hungover” - hotch x fem!reader

after a girls’ night in, you wake up next to your boyfriend.

1380 words - FLUFFY FLUFF

cw; mentions of alcohol and food, implied age gap?, typical hangover, jemily agenda (sry not sry)

a/n: I wrote this on my phone on vacation bc I have a serious problem

———————

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you are not in your clothes.

You aren’t in your clothes. And you only realize it because of the scent wafting up your nose. Sea Salt Breeze - the cologne you’d gotten him for Christmas last year - emanates from the t-shirt that envelopes your upper half. You dip your chin for another whiff, breathing him in deeply. You want the smell inscribed into your brain.

You feel the bed dip and creak and you instinctively shut your eyes, playing possum as Aaron pads into the bathroom. The door whines as he shuts it most of the way, not totally closing it because he thinks you’re still asleep and that the sound of the door shutting will wake you.

Each of your senses turns on one at a time, like your brain waves run on dial-up Internet. You open your eyes and the room is mostly dark, save for the sliver of light creeping in through the outline of the curtains. You run the palm of your hand along Aaron’s sheets and marvel over how soft they are - Egyptian cotton, he’d told you once before.

Your head hurts, but only mildly. You’d certainly been drunker before, but last night was still up there. Penelope made her mojitos strong.

You slowly sit up in the bed as Aaron opens the door, flicking the bathroom light off in the same motion. Your eyes meet his and he cracks a small smile. “Thought you’d still be asleep,” he muses. You love his pale blue boxers and seeing the hair on his legs. His calves are crazy defined - he’s a runner, after all, but still. You rarely see him in anything but a suit and tie, so it’s always a treat. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shake your head, wincing slightly at the movement. Maybe you’re a little more hungover than you thought. “I was already awake,” you mumble, running a hand over your face. “Did you put me in your own clothes last night? I have pajamas in my drawer,” you point out, gesturing to the second drawer of Aaron’s dresser, the one that contains your set of pajamas, a few spare pairs of underwear, and a couple of emergency outfits, just in case you end up sleeping over at his place.

It happens more often than not, so you keep the drawer decently stocked at all times.

“You insisted,” Aaron climbs into the bed, reaching for you. He tugs you to him and you roll over onto your side, and then halfway onto your tummy so that your leg drapes over his and your palm rests flat on his chest.

You can hear his heart beating. It’s like a metronome, steady and guiding and calm. You feel his pointed chin nuzzle into your hair and then, his lips, quick yet effective, against your forehead.

Flashes of last night run through your head. You, Emily and JJ, over at Penelope’s apartment. A symphony of girlish giggles, talking about Emily and JJ’s upcoming wedding date, drinking at least three pitchers of mojitos among the four of you. Watching Dirty Dancing and gabbing the entire time, realizing it’d be a bad idea to drive yourself home, and calling Aaron to come get you.

When he arrived, you called him Hotch and apologized for him having to come get you, and he reminded you that he was Aaron and he was your boyfriend and he would pick you up anytime you needed it. You were determined to play the Dirty Dancing soundtrack on the ride home, fumbling with his phone until you found it.

You belted out (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life and demanded Aaron sing along. He admitted that he didn’t know all the words and you gave him a stern lecture until you started laughing so hard that you were in tears. Traffic lights reflected Christmas ornament colors in Aaron’s brown eyes as he drove, occasionally glancing over at you.

You swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as you berated him for not knowing the words to such a classic song.

And then, once you were back at his place, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at your shoes dumbly until Aaron offered to help you take them off. “Laces too hard,” you mumbled, and Aaron just hummed in agreement before kneeling down to help you.

And then he helped you out of your clothes. He went for your drawer, and you threw a pillow at him. “The college t-shirt,” you demanded with these Bambi-esque eyes.

“Arms up, baby,” Aaron said as he slid his law school t-shirt onto your upper half. He saved that specific term of endearment for times like these, when he was taking care of you, when he himself was exhausted. You could tell he was, too, not only because he kept yawning, but because of that glazed-over look in his chestnut eyes.

You glance down at the words George Washington University, printed over your chest.

Aaron’s arms around you tighten for just a moment as he embraces you, and you dig your face a little further into his chest. “No Jack today?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky.

“At his grandparents’,” Aaron murmurs, and you yawn. He strokes your hair. “How’s your head?”

“I haven’t had any complaints so far.”

Aaron’s hand freezes in your hair, and you lift your head, smirking at him. His mouth has formed a straight line, but you snicker and you can tell he’s trying not to smile at your dirty joke. “Degenerate,” he calls you.

“Prude,” you tease back, inching closer to kiss his jaw briefly before laying your head back down. “It hurts,” you answer his question. “But not as bad as it could.”

“That’s good,” Aaron comments, his hand running through your hair again, gently, the world’s most relaxing and least effective hairbrush. It feels nice, but his hands are so big that his fingers snag on the tangles, accomplishing nothing but making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Nothing wrong with that, though.

“Do you want some Tylenol for your headache?” Aaron asks, and you just curl up into him even more. He’s so warm, and sturdy, and it’s so rare that you get mornings like this. Either you’re both working or Jack has a soccer game or there’s something else going on. It’s nice just to lay around with him, to be mildly hungover and pretend like that’s the only thing going on in either of your lives.

“That would require getting out of bed,” you protest, and feel Aaron’s arms tighten around you. He’s a very doting boa constrictor.

“How about I get it for you, then?” He offers, and you shake your head and shift all your weight onto him. He chuckles, a deep, throaty noise you know you’re only privy to for about twenty minutes right after he’s woken up. “So that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” you confirm, settling back in to your original position.

You lay like that with him, in comfortable silence, for a few minutes. Until it feels like you’ve melded into one being. Then Aaron finally shifts under you. “Honey, my arm’s asleep,” he whispers, as though he’s afraid to disturb you.

You slither off of him, then clamber out of bed with no amount of grace, going so far as to trip over the corner post of the bed. As Aaron sits up, you exclaim, “I’m okay!” and hold your hands out to steady yourself.

Aaron stifles a laugh and you watch him stand from the bed and he walks towards you, steadying you with one of those gargantuan hands on your shoulder. He then lifts that hand to tip your chin up. You step forward in a silent dance, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him. “Oh, shit,” you murmur. “I bet I have really awful morning breath.”

He just blinks a few times, and then offers you a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, honey, you kind of do,” he admits. You lightly punch him in the pectoral and then head to the en suite to brush your teeth.

[softtdaisy]

a better father / Aaron Hotchner

summary. All Hotch wanted was to get a second chance to be a better dad. And now that you were offering him this chance, he fears he might have failed already.

words count. 2,465

a/n.  I got this idea with the episode from season two when Haley comes and she tells Hotch that he forgot about an appointment for Jack and I was like omg I need to do something with that so here's sad Aaron again

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. Hotch knew something about that. 

He had a lot of regrets about Jack. Not being there much when he was a baby, not seeing his first steps, hearing his first word, and missing so many memories that were nicely caught on camera by Haley. Things he could never make up for.

And no matter how often Jack could tell him that he didn’t hold any grudge against his dad, Hotch still felt bad most of the time. Wishing he could get a second chance to be a better dad. 

At some point, he accepted that it would never happen. He was getting older, and the morality wanted him to date women close to his age. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all. He had wonderful dates with them. But none of them wanted to have a child. Some already had one, some never wanted to get pregnant, and some simply couldn’t. And of course it was never a cause of a breakup—or stop seeing them, because Hotch didn’t date most of them. Hotch simply accepted he won’t be a dad again. 

Then he met you.

You were an old friend of JJ's that he met at her birthday. Your work made you travel around the world for many years, which explained your absence during the past parties and you being unknown to most of the team. But you were back in town, ready to meet new people and start a new life.

Hotch never believed in fate.

But he was sure he was destined to meet you.

You were so full of life, acting like a ray of sunshine in every room you were in. And not that he considered himself dark, but he had to admit that his life and job had quite an impact on how he perceived himself. As someone who wasn’t very funny or joyful to be around. Not a very good dad or a nice partner. And sometimes, not even a great boss.

His life was pretty much in black and white. And when you came around, you brought colors with you.

It started that very first night, when you spent almost an hour sitting outside with Aaron. Drinking and watching the stars.

“Shouldn’t you be with JJ?” He asked after you finished a conversation about your favorite countries to visit and the one you recommended for someone like him.

“Don’t know,” you replied, shrugging. “I like being with you.”

Aaron could blame the alcohol for the redness on his cheeks, but you both knew it was insecurity and flattering. It’s been a long time since someone pointed out how they liked spending time with him. He felt…alive, knowing that you wanted to be around him.

And you weren’t lying for a single second. “You’re an interesting man, Aaron Hotchner. You need to let people see that.” you added, giving him a little shoulder bump. You kept your shoulder against his for a second. You loved the little smile your words created and the sparks that appeared in his eyes.

You felt lucky that you were one of the few people he offered a glimpse of the real him.

It started with coffee dates once a week. Before he went to work, and while you were still discovering your new life back in town, you met at the same coffee shop for an hour. You talked about everything, more life than work. You wanted to see Aaron, and not Hotch, the man JJ told you about. 

Even if she gave you such a good description of him that you were already willing to give him your heart without any hesitation.

You loved discovering new things about him every week. 

Each smile was breaking the wall around him.

Each time he put his hand on yours was him installing himself in your life.

And each kiss was you giving your heart to each other. 

These coffee dates were still a thing.

They just happened every day, at the place you were now sharing together.

And not only did you give him a lot of things already, you offered him the chance he thought wouldn’t come again, which he sadly accepted. 

To be a dad again.

You were four months pregnant, and it wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. Either the stress that comes from work or the fact Aaron still felt like he was too old for this, for you. But he was trying his best to make things as perfect as they could be. He was leaving the BAU earlier than before, and every day off was for Jack and for you. 

And every night, he made sure to have at least half an hour with you in the baby’s room to talk about the future.

But sometimes, dealing with both situations can be difficult. And today was another proof.

What was supposed to be a calm office day turned out to be more rough and animated. A new case came in the morning and turned out to be in town. 

Hotch was part of the team that went out to catch the unsub. He was going less on the field these days. There was a selfish reason behind that: he didn’t want to stress you or miss anything important with the baby. But the case being in Virginia, he took the opportunity to follow Spencer and Emily outside while JJ stayed with Penelope, like the good old days.

“God, I wish every case were as simple as this one.” Emily said when they came back to the car, the unsub was with the police officers. And Hotch had to admit it was pretty easy this time. He couldn’t wait to tell you about this one, how good it felt to be back there.

He could already hear you say something like, “We’ll tell our baby how their dad is a superhero,” which reminded him of when Jack used to see him like that. He hoped your baby would feel the same about him.

What if they hated him? What if they blame him for being away, for not doing enough? What if someone terrible happened to them because of his job?

Most of the time, Hotch managed to put these bad ideas away. And when he couldn’t, he found comfort in your arms. That’s what he needed right now.

He only had one thing to do: check on JJ and Penelope once he was back at the office to conclude his report and make sure everybody could go back home soon. Him included.

When Hotch entered Penelope’s office, he was welcomed by her confused and surprised face. “Sir? What are you doing here?” she asked. She got up and took a few steps towards him to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he asked, even more confused than her. 

And the confusion just kept growing when he looked around and noticed Penelope was alone. “Where is JJ?” 

“Hmm, at the hospital?” From her tone, Hotch could tell that Penelope assumed he was supposed to know about her absence and the reason behind it. “[Y/N] called her?” This wasn’t a real question, because Penelope was there when you called. She heard you. But she couldn’t understand why she would know about that before Hotch.

And he couldn’t believe what he just heard. Sure, it made sense that you would call JJ if you needed help. She was one of your emergency contacts. But why wouldn’t you call him? 

Looking for his phone to check on you, Hotch realized his mistake.

He forgot his phone at his office. And spend the whole day assuming you were fine.

Before Penelope could explain the situation, or maybe she did, but he didn’t listen, Hotch ran to his office. He probably jostled some people in the rush, and there was a high possibility that he forgot to apologize. But it wasn’t his priority. Especially not when he grabbed his phone and saw the notification.

Six missing calls.

Around ten texts.

All from you.

You’ve got awful cramps when you wake up, and nothing would make them go away. You spent most of your day in bed, crying—which you didn’t tell Aaron, but he could hear the tears in your voice in one of your voicemails. You were asking him to come and bring you to the hospital to make sure the baby was doing fine.

But he never answered.

“I called JJ; she’s coming. Please don’t worry and text me when you see this. I love you,” said the last one.

When he dialed your phone, Hotch met your answering machine. 

He kept trying during the drive to the hospital. But all he could hear was your joyful voice asking to leave a message and that you would call back later. 

Never has Aaron needed to hear your voice so badly as right now.

The hospital wasn’t too far away from the bureau. Which didn’t prevent him from driving way above the limits. Not that he cared this time. 

Even if Aaron had prepared his speech in the car to appear calm, he lost his words right when he made his first step in the hospital. Being there was scary. Hopefully, when he arrived, the first person he saw was JJ. He rushed to her, almost scaring her from the way he grabbed her arm.

“Where is she? How is she? And the baby?” 

“Slow down, breathe for a second,” she replied, putting a hand on top of his to try and reassure him. “She is fine. And the baby too.”

The seven words that he needed to hear the most.

“I was supposed to bring her home, but she’ll be happy to have you.” JJ added with a sweet smile. If someone could understand Aaron’s position here, it was her.

Once she indicated to him the room you were staying in and he introduced himself to the nurse, Aaron rushed to meet you.

He was relieved to see you, for real. Sitting on the bed with your eyes closed. He took a second to look at you. Aaron hated that feeling in his stomach. He didn’t realize that until now, there was a quiet thought in his head saying that maybe he wouldn’t see you again. 

But you were there, looking better than he imagined you would. 

And when you opened your eyes and saw the man you love in front of you, you lit up the whole room with your eyes. “Aaron, you’re here!”

“Of course, I am,” he sighed, with a tired smile. He finally walked up to you and accepted the arms you were opening for him. It’s been a long time since a hug had felt this good for him. He let it go for a few seconds, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you close to him like that. He imagined you were home, in your bed, on a Sunday morning. Not at the hospital. 

Then everything hit him back. You, being sick and pregnant. Him, not being here for you.

Aaron kissed your forehead before cupping your face with his hands. “What happened?”

“The doctor said it wasn’t serious. Sometimes you get cramped and sick during the second semester. Basically, the baby is telling me to relax and stop overworking.” You replied with a soft laugh that wasn’t effective enough to stop him from frowning. “Love, we are both fine.”

“But I wasn’t there.” 

It hurt you how his voice sounded so sad. 

You heard Aaron speaking when he was physically hurt. And you already hated the way he would contain the pain by gritting his teeth, making his voice sound deeper and heavier. You always thought he was blaming himself for not being careful enough, which explained the tone.

But this time it was different. Aaron sounded like he hated himself for what he thought was a disappointment for you. But for him, mostly. His voice was broken, almost unintelligible. Like he didn’t want to be heard. And deep down, even if it was a part of his life you’d barely ever talked about, you knew where this was coming from.

"Aaron," you said softly, asking him to focus on you and not his pain. "I'm good. We're good.”

When he finally looked up to you, you met his red eyes. “These moments, they’ll happen again, you know.” 

He let out a sad sigh. “That’s not what I want.”

“I know, but you can’t blame yourself for that. This is your job. And we all accept it,” you said. You took one of his hands to put on your rounded belly. “She does too.”

Aaron opened his mouth to reply and argue on how this wasn’t the family dynamic he wanted for his second child. Not again. 

But no sound left his mouth. Which made you smile. This was exactly the reaction you expected from your so serious and composed boyfriend.

“She?” he finally replied, this time the glow in his eyes being replaced by happiness and surprise.

“The doctor did an ultrasound to make sure everything was alright. And this little princess inside finally decided to stop the mystery around herself.” You explained, but it would be a miracle if Aaron even heard you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction: his mouth open, his eyes going from yours to your belly like he was trying to comprehend what you said. “We’re having a baby girl, Aaron.” This time, you couldn’t contain your own tears.

This was all Aaron needed to put all his stress behind. He couldn’t think about his job and everything that came with it when now he knew that in a few months, he would hold in his arms the miracle he couldn’t wish for anymore. A daughter that will be the result of the love he had for you. A daughter that he will love as much as he loves you. As much as he loves Jack.

Even if he still couldn’t speak, you could tell he was as excited as you by the situation. But there was still one thing that was waiting to be clarified.

“And wanna know the best part?” you asked, slowly caressing your cheek. “She’ll be the biggest daddy’s girl and will always love you. When you’re home, at work, or away. You’ll hold a special place in her heart, forever, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. But Aaron knew that he was fighting alone to find the perfect balance between both. 

He had you. And a perfect family to make sure he was a great man and a great father.

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Okay we'll see if I can finish this hotch x inexperienced!reader fic now 💞💞.

I'm so close to being finished with it ugh I can't wait to be able to post it <3333.

[mariasont]

Spoiled - A.H

a/n: felt feral writing this hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did

think im ovulating or something YALL IDK

anyhow happy reading let me know what yall think 🤭

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

warnings: 18+ MDNI, phone sex!, sex toy!, fem solo masturbation, penelope being a little instigator lmao, dirty talk, soft dom!hotch, established relationship, honestly a little bit of angst whoops, reader is slightly dramatic like hotch has been gone for prob 5 hours STAND UP!

wc: 3.3k

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her comment earned her the full government name, igniting a burst of laughter that you attempt to smother behind your hand. Sinking deeper into the couch, you dismiss the absurdity with a shake of your head. You even find yourself glancing over your shoulder even though you know no one is home.

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but trust me, that's the least of our worries in this relationship."

"Look, whatever floats your love boat or rocks your bed frame is strictly your business," she comments as if that were the most casual thing to say.

You giggle, a warmth spreading through you as you tread across the kitchen tiles, the phone pressed against your ear. 

"Oh my god, Pen," you let out a laugh, feeling a soft crimson spread across your cheeks, while your thighs swell with the thoughts of your doting boyfriend. "No, no, like I said we're more than okay in that department. It just gets, well, lonely when he's away."

Your hand curls around the neck of your favorite bottle of red, easing the cork free with a satisfying pop. The liquid swirls into the glass, a little more than probably necessary, as the gentle hiss of water beginning to simmer breaks through the kitchen. 

"You, my dear, are a saint among mortals."

"Well, he makes it easy," you shrug, pouring the rice into the bubbling pot, a cloud of steam rising to paint the windows.

"Honestly, I don't know how you manage. I'd be itching for it, especially if it's as good as you say," Penelope admits with a dramatic sigh.

You laugh, propping the phone against the backsplash, its speaker projecting the conversation into the room. Aaron stands just out of sight, unnoticed, taking in your every syllable.

"When he gets back, trust me, every second apart seems like a small price to pay."

"Ever thought about getting yourself a toy? You know, for those long nights?" Penelope hints not (at all) so slyly. 

The wine almost sprays from your mouth as you stifle a surprised splutter. Aaron, still unseen, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no, I haven't really considered... a toy," you murmur, cheeks burning. You clear your throat, pretending to be engrossed in the simmering pot. "Aaron might have an opinion on that, I guess."

Your attempt at nonchalance was failing, you definitely knew that.

Aaron rested casually against the door frame, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of your bashful laughter. He'd always had a soft spot for the way your cheeks bloom with color--a sight he wasn't afraid to go great lengths to witness. The idea of a toy seemed to pique his curiosity, drawing a pensive frown as his attention stayed fixed on you for a moment longer.

He slips away silently, his steps carrying him to the front door as you continue your conversation with Penelope.

The call disconnects with a soft click, and you're left in the quiet of the kitchen, unwittingly promising to keep Penelope updated. Turning back to the stove, you stir the sauce with a distracted hand, your lips downturned. Aaron should have been home by now.

The dining table is set, candles flickering, their glow falling on the chair he's yet to fill. You let out a sigh, stealing another look at the ticking clock. The food is ready, but with each passing minute, it grows cooler, just the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment settling in your chest. 

The audible twist of the key catches your attention, and you can't help but glance over your shoulder. Aaron walks in, his lips curving into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hi, my gorgeous girl," he greets, his voice a familiar sound that kindles a familiar flutter into your heart.

He places his briefcase down, the sound muted, and as he approaches, his lips brush a tender kiss against your temple. The annoyance that had been bubbling inside you melts away with his touch. Damn him.

You turn to him, a sheepish "Hi" fluttering out, your cheeks tinged with heat. It's a feeling that's always fresh, the way he still makes you feel like you're back in high school, hearts doodled in the margins of your notebook.

Aaron settles into his chair, the soft scrape of wood against the tile following his movements.

"Sorry 'M late," he offers, his tone warm, appreciative. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. Thank you."

His fingers gently sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his smile softening you, disarming you. He's so beautiful.

"You're welcome," you reply, your cheeks growing warmer with each word. "And, um, I hope it's okay. It might be a bit cold. I thought...I guess I assumed you'd be home sooner."

You voice trails off, leaving behind a trail of embarrassed concern, wondering if perhaps you'd somehow overstepped. 

Aaron looks at you, his eyes turning kind as he discerns the unease on your face.

"I'm sorry, baby, got held up with a little errand." He bites into the food, and a gratified hum indicates his approval. "This is delicious."

You find yourself beaming at the praise. He had a talent for that--praising you, almost as if he'd made it his life mission. This was a first for you in a relationship, and it's exactly why the late nights and time spent alone didn't weigh so heavily. 

After dinner, you're rinsing off the plates when Aaron's hands draw you close, his hands claiming your waist, the heat of his palms radiating through the fabric of your shirt. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Let me help with that. You're spoiling me," he insists, his words spoken into your damp skin.

You lean back into his embrace, his chest flush against your back.

"I like taking care of you," you admit, heart skipping a beat under the weight of his gaze, the softness in his eyes dissolving your concentration on the task at hand. 

A deep, affectionate groan escapes Aaron as he pulls you even closer. But all good things come to an end, and the ringing of his phone seems like an icy intrusion, like a sudden draft into the kitchen.

"Hotchner," he answers, and even though the word leaves his lips, his fingers gently sketch patterns across your hip. 

You feel your heart sink. When he hangs up, his eyes lock with yours, brimming with an apology he doesn't voice. It's unnecessary, you already know.

"A case?" You hate how small your voice sounds, dipped in an understanding you wish you didn't have.

He nods, a simple stupid gesture that sends a lump of disappointment soaring up your throat, which you desperately try to swallow down. 

"Okay... just, be careful, okay? I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, angel. Be good for me."

There's a hollowness in the house that follows you through each room. You were well aware of Aaron's demanding job when you started dating--the unpredictable schedule, the sudden departures, the cases that required his immediate attention. Still, this awareness did nothing to soften to sting of his absence. At all. 

You found yourself wandering aimlessly, picking up a book only to set it down unread, starting a movie but not really watching. Eventually, you ended up in the bedroom, his bedroom, where the subtle scent of his cologne lingers. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching. God, you felt like you were being so dramatic.

You climb into the bed, the sheets cool against your skin, too big and empty without him. Your eyes darts to the phone resting on the nightstand. You've always been careful not to disturb him while he's working, but tonight felt different.

With a trembling hand, you pick up the phone, your thumb hovering indecisively over the screen. Reluctantly, you returned it to its place. There was no point in bothering him.

A sudden draft sent a shiver up your spine, reminding you of the blanket Hotch had bought for you a couple months ago. You sighed, rising from the bed and moving to the closet.

But your eyes skipped over the blanket, instead fixating on a shiny pink bag tucked away in a secluded corner. Compelled by a spike of curiosity, you grabbed the bag and pulled it open. Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a sudden flush as you placed it on the bed. How long had this been hiding here? And the timing--just after your conversation with Penelope--felt almost too uncanny. 

You went back to your phone.

Hi

The message was simple. You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated--Aaron's name illuminated the screen. You answer, and his voice was there, infused with immediate concern.

"Hi honey. You okay?" His question was straightforward, cutting through the noise.

You nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see you. Shifting on the bed, you said softly, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to bother you. Is it a bad time?"

His response is quick. "You could never bother me."

A blush flares on your cheeks, and a smile instinctively forms. You fidget on the bed, the sheets sighing with your movements, sounds that don't escape Aaron's attentive detection.

"Can't seem to find the right spot without me there, huh?"

"I can't seem to do a lot of things without you here," you grumble under your breath, intended more for yourself than for him. The bed emits a soft creak as you turn again, your breath hitching in a pout that he can almost see through the phone. "Aaron, I found something in the closet..."

You lost your words, fingertips tracing the toy's edge, as you fumbled with the strings of your shorts.

"Hmm? Care to enlighten me."

"You know."

You weren't in the mood for his teasing, because you knew he knew. You could sense his smugness, his voice dripping into that familiar, velvety register that prompted your lips to purse.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Once again, you found yourself stirring against the linen, nibbling on your lip as a wave of exasperation washed over you, your eyes rolling into their sockets.

"Where are you?"

"Just got to my hotel room." You could hear the subtle movements in the background, accompanied by the soft groans of the mattress under his weight. "What did you find in the closet that was so urgent you needed to text me in the middle of my case?"

Your face was warm. "You said it wasn't a bother."

"And I meant it, now spell it out for me."

Your hands cautiously pushed over the toy, examining its buttons and sides. Subconsciously, your tongue swept over your top teeth. You lowered your voice as though someone else might overhear.

"The toy...is it for me? I mean, I would hope so. If not, well, we'd have a rather awkward issue."

"Yes, it's for you, baby."

You stifled a grin. How could he have known? That profiling business was really no joke.

"Why?"

His muffled chuckle filtered through, and you could almost see the flash of his pearly whites. You really missed him, so much so that you were conjuring vision of his mouth of his on places that should not be said aloud. 

"I just want to make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not home." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You were deep in your fantasy now, your free hand sliding down your shorts as you envisioned him propped against the headboard of his hotel bed, tie hanging loosely, hair tousled just so.

"I'm always taken care of by you, Aaron," you said quietly.

You didn't know how to go about this, whatever this even was. You were treading into unknown territory; never having had phone sex with Aaron--or anyone for that matter.  It was a far cry from the occasional suggestive text.

"That's right." His voice flowed like honey in your ear, causing a shiver as your finger skimmed over your underwear, your breathing momentarily faltering. "You're going to be well taken care of for the rest of your life, yeah?"

"Yeah."

You could hardly breathe, squirming against your own touch, glancing over at the toy that sat beside your hip.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience. You're a good girl, honey. Far too good for me." You weren't. It was the other way around; you didn't deserve him. You told yourself that every day. "I know you get lonely, and I know it's something you'd never admit to."

"Aaron..."

He didn't let you finish. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing right now?"

Your actions came to an abrupt standstill, thumb suspended above your clothed clit. You entertained the thought that this FBI gig might have been a front for a psychic, maybe one of those fortune teller types.

You were mumbling into your sleeve, a private conversation with the threads. "Just...um, well it's hardly worth mentioning, honestly."

Wow you're sure you fooled him.

"I'm not fond of dishonesty." The low rumble of his voice sent a tremor through your core. "I'm giving you a final chance. Tell me what you're doing, sweetheart."

A hard swallow passed your throat, your thumb rubbing idle circles into the band of flesh on your hip. 

"Well, I, uh, was touching myself." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, an internal wince accompanying each syllable at how unsexy you were speaking.

"Where, sweetheart?"

You exhaled sharply at the question, heavy with exasperation at his insistence on drawing this out. But the slickness between your legs was undeniable. Your hand slid back to the delicate skin between your thighs.

"Aaron, please," you breathed out so faintly it was almost inaudible.

He was playing a cruel game, and he knew it. You hardly cussed let alone talk about your lady parts so openly.

"I hope I've never given you a reason to feel judged, honey." There was a sweetness in his voice that masked his darker intentions. "Just tell me where. I want to help."

Your tongue flicked nervously across your lip, your finger dipping into the valley of your folds as you mulled over his offer. You were wet, far more than you had anticipated, practically coating your thighs in the process.

"No, 'course not," you said softly, biting back a sigh as your thumb worked slowly against your inflamed clit. "It's just, you're so far, Aaron."

"Why do you think I got you that toy?" Your gaze darted to the pink thing, resting against your hip. "I want you to use it. I'll walk you through it, just like I would in person."

You could melt. You could liquefy into nothingness on the spot. Your fingers pressed more urgently against yourself, a deep-seated wish for him to be here surfacing, knowing all the while it was a baseless hope.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"There you go, that's my girl."

You couldn't hold back the whimper that fell from your lips as you arched against the bed, fingers diving into your cunt.

"My needy girl," he repeated, his laughter resonating with a patronizing tone that oddly egged you on. "Alright, can you pick up the toy for me?"

You wedged the phone snugly between your shoulder and ear, your hand closing around the pink, curved object, scrutinizing its every detail with careful eyes.

"Okay."

It was big, not as big as Aaron, but its dimensions were nonetheless imposing. You felt your chest heave in anticipation, waiting for his instructions.

His silence was stretching your patience thin. You turned it on, and it came to life, watching as it vibrated, the soft buzz permeating the space. You let it trail over your stomach, fabric gathering as your shirt rode up. Nearing your clit, you braced, taking in a quick breath.

But that breath was released in a strangled moan as you pushed the toy firmly into your sopping hole, legs spreading expansively as a taut sensation gripped your center.

"Did I say you could use it already?" he questioned, his tongue clicking in disapproval as you strained against the device, the second prong vibrations coursing against your nub, your whole-body jerking in response.

"N-No, 'M sorry," you panted, your focus narrowing as you pushed to toy in and out, your lips rounding into an 'o'. "It feels really good, Aar."

"I'm sure it does, baby," he teased, his voice carrying a certainty that your own lacked. "Let me hear you fuck yourself with it.

You loved hearing him curse, it was rare, and usually reserved for intimate moments like this. It fueled your actions, your wrist quickening, driving the device deeper, your stomach twisting in tight knots, a loud moan escaping unrestrained, suddenly you were thankful for the distance between Aaron's house and the next.

It felt so good, and yet somehow still not comparable to how it was with Aaron. Weren't you spoiled?

"Miss you so much," you slurred, your movements stuttering as the device worked your body in ways you didn't know were possible.

"Miss you too, angel. You're doing so good."

"Can you, ah, come home, p-please?"

You weren't even sure of what you were saying, all your thoughts on chasing your high and pretending the toy was Aaron's cock. Thinking about how he'd fill you up right now, how he'd press you to the mattress, how his body would cover yours.

"Your present isn't enough?" His tone was taunting, your eyes welling with tears, clouding your vision as your hips bucked against the toy. "That's a shame, sweetheart, think maybe you've been a little spoiled. You can't have my cock all the time."

You were completely dazed, his sentences barely making their way through the fog as you'd like them to. You were crying, you think, hot and relentless tears carving a path down your face as you fucked yourself harder against the toy.

The noises coming from your pussy were obscene, soaked and squishing as you tried to respond to Aaron, but nothing but small hiccups were escaping your mouth.

"It's okay, baby, I know. You're doing so good for me. I can hear it."

Your cheeks and ears flared with a heat that spelled out your shame, but it was the least of your concerns. Your walls tightened against the device, the pressure on your clit suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. Gasping for air, your breaths came out in uneven bursts. When you tried to call out Aaron's name, it emerged as nothing more than a choked sob.

"C-Can I? Please, need to so bad." You weren't entirely convinced you were speaking English, but Aaron understood. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

That was all you needed. Your cunt contracted again before vaulting over the edge, nearly losing consciousness in the process, a string of moans and half-said words pouring out of your lips.

You could hear the sound of his voice, but the words were just out of reach, not fully making sense. You felt your body twitch, and you blinked deliberately, once, twice, three times, in an effort to reconnect your body to your mind.

"You're so good, baby. So good. Miss you so much."

You pulled the toy, now soaked, from yourself, cringing at the lewd sound as you laid it beside you, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. Although if Aaron had his way that wouldn't happen.

"I miss you." You hated the way your voice betrayed ever emotion you had.

"Need you to go pee for me, sweetheart."

He sounded so soft and tired, but somehow still present. You let out a soft snicker as you curled onto your side. 

"Can't move my legs," you mumbled, the sound muffled by the way your cheek was squished into the pillow. "Need you to come carry me."

His laugh was something you wished you could bottle up. "Spoiled."

"And who's to blame for that?" You were ready for his witty retort, but it was cut short by the sudden flash of your phone. You squinted at the caller ID. "Sorry, Penelope is calling me, can I call you back in a second?"

"Course, honey. Thank her for the idea, yeah?" Your mouth fell open as you scrambled for the right words. Of course he had heard. "Also, I plan on spending a few solid hours fucking you when I get home, so I suggest you get some rest."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[kiwriteswords]

Hey, may I request a Hotch x Reader age gap story, where she's in her late 20s and not a BAU member. I think it would be a nice little twist into their dynamic, also he's such a daddy. Much appreciated and thanks in advance.

The Girl Next Door

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I had a dream about Hotch being my neighbor the other day that sort-of inspired this one! Thanks for the request!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: Age Gap, Romantic Tension, Alcohol Consumption, Alcohol Mention, Insecurities, Mentions of Canon-Typical Plot Themes

Sypnosis: When you move into your new apartment, the last thing Aaron Hotchner expects is for his quiet, orderly life to be disrupted by his intriguing new neighbor. At first glance, you seem like a contradiction—poised, accomplished, and wise beyond your years, yet far younger than anyone else in the building. As a profiler, Aaron prides himself on his ability to read people, but you defy easy categorization, stirring something in him he hasn’t felt in years.

The day you moved into your new apartment, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t expecting much beyond the usual polite introduction. A quick hello in the hallway, a nod of acknowledgment over packages left at the concierge desk. But when the door across from his opened, and you stood there with a warm smile and an extended hand, it was as if something jolted awake in him.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor,” you said, your voice confident yet gentle, the kind that demanded attention without trying. “I hope I’m not intruding. Just wanted to introduce myself.”

He shook your hand, taking note of the firm grip. His profiler’s instincts, so finely tuned, began to buzz. Your demeanor was composed, polished. You carried yourself as someone well-accustomed to holding their own in rooms filled with people twice your age. Yet, as he looked at you, he couldn’t reconcile your apparent youth with the sophisticated way you spoke or the fact that you could afford an apartment in a building like this one.

“Nice to meet you,” he replied, keeping his tone neutral. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

Your smile widened. “Aaron. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

He would have guessed you were in your early to late twenties if not for the depth in your gaze and the way you seemed to study him, as though cataloging details in the same way he was. But still, you couldn’t be older than thirty, could you? How could someone that young afford this building? Hotch, ever practical, knew he overpaid, even with his federal paycheck. And he wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was because he couldn’t peg you, and as a profiler, that was frustrating.

Weeks passed, and though your paths crossed occasionally—quick hellos in the elevator or casual small talk in the lobby—Hotch found himself thinking about you more than he cared to admit. You were intriguing, beautiful in a way that made his chest tighten when you smiled, and far too mature for him to simply brush off as someone fresh into the adult world. But he told himself it was nothing. Jack, now a teenager, occupied most of his thoughts, and the idea of pursuing a neighbor felt inappropriate. Unprofessional, even.

Still, after a grueling case that left a bitter taste in his mouth and the weight of mortality pressing heavy on his shoulders, Hotch let Rossi convince him to grab a drink at the bar near the BAU.

It was a dimly lit, intimate place that felt quieter than most bars in the city. Rossi nursed a scotch while Hotch stared at his whiskey, his mind elsewhere. He thought of the case, the current emptiness that filled his personal life with Jack beginning to pull away into his own world, and then that’s when he saw you.

You were sitting at the far end of the bar, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. The soft overhead light highlighted your features, and for a moment, Hotch forgot how to breathe. You seemed so at ease, lost in your book, unaware of the buzz of conversations around you.

“You’re staring,” Rossi said, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Hotch blinked, dragging his gaze back to his drink. “I wasn’t staring.” He almost mumbled it under his breath, feeling like a kid caught red-handed. 

Rossi scoffed. “Sure you weren’t. Who is she?”

“She’s my neighbor,” Hotch admitted reluctantly. “She just moved in a few weeks ago.”

“Well, your neighbor has good taste in wine and literature,” Rossi remarked, glancing in your direction. “Go talk to her.”

Hotch shook his head, grimacing at the idea of making a move like that.. “She’s too young.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “How young are we talking?”

Hotch hesitated. “Late twenties, maybe. She looks young, but she doesn’t act it. It’s hard to tell. Either way, it would be inappropriate.”

“Why? Because she’s younger? Aaron, come on. She’s not a child.”

“I could be her father,” Hotch countered, his tone sharper than he intended; the words felt like poison on his lips. “What would she want with someone like me?”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, his expression amused. “You know, the younger ones have a way of keeping you young.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “Not helping, Dave.”

Before Rossi could retort, you looked up from your book, your eyes landing on Hotch. Recognition lit up your face, and you smiled, raising a hand in a small wave. Hotch froze. The way you looked at him like you were genuinely happy to see him, made something in his chest ache.

“She’s smiling at you,” Rossi pointed out with a grin. “Now’s your chance.”

Hotch hesitated, his heart thundering in his chest. What would he even say? But then you beckoned him over with a tilt of your head, and for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to take a leap.

Hotch lingered for a moment too long, his feet rooted to the floor as he debated whether to stay put or heed Rossi’s unsolicited advice. He wasn’t sure if it was fear, pride, or something else entirely keeping him from standing up. The thought of your smile, though—warm and inviting as it was—made the decision harder.

Rossi, ever perceptive, patted him on the back with a grin. “Go on, Aaron. I’m heading out anyway. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at his friend. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

Rossi chuckled. “Fair enough. Let me put it this way—don’t think about it too much. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, you know.”

And with that, Rossi tossed back the rest of his scotch, clapped Hotch on the shoulder one more time, and left Hotch standing alone with his swirling thoughts.

He exhaled, trying to quiet the insecurities gnawing at him. What could he possibly offer someone like you? Yet the way you had smiled at him just moments ago—so genuine, so effortless—spoke to something deeper. Maybe you didn’t see him the way he saw himself: older, wearier, with too many ghosts lingering in the corners of his mind. Maybe you just saw…him.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Hotch pushed back from the barstool, his steps steady but deliberate as he approached you. You glanced up as he neared, your smile widening. That warmth in your eyes—it was enough to melt some of the tension in his chest.

“Hey, Aaron,” you said, your voice carrying the kind of excitement that made it seem like you’d been hoping he’d show up. You patted the empty seat next to you. “Join me?”

He hesitated briefly before sitting down, your proximity somehow calming and unnerving at once. The soft scent of your perfume wrapped around him, and he caught himself lingering too long on the way your lips curved upward when you smiled.

“Nice choice,” you said, gesturing to the glass he’d brought with him. “I’d guess it’s a single malt whiskey. Neat.”

Hotch tilted his head, impressed. “That’s right.”

You chuckled, holding your own glass of wine. “You don’t strike me as anything less.”

His lips quirked in a subtle smile. “And what does that mean?”

“You’re precise,” you said easily, leaning slightly toward him. “Thoughtful, composed. Someone like you wouldn’t order anything overly sweet or complicated. You keep things simple, but you expect quality.”

He blinked, caught off guard by how accurately you had read him. It wasn’t often someone did that, not even outside his work at the BAU. Yet here you were, confidently pulling back the layers he thought he kept well hidden.

It also caught him off guard because here he was, someone who was taught to keep himself a mystery while reading others, but it was now the other way around. You read him like a book while he could not put his finger on what it was about you. 

“You’re observant,” he remarked, lifting his glass. “Not many people would pick up on that.”

You shrugged, your smile modest but pleased. “I like to notice things. It’s useful.”

“You could’ve been a profiler,” he said without thinking, then quickly added, “Not that I’m suggesting a career change.”

You laughed softly, and the sound settled in his chest like warmth on a cold night. “I think I’ll stick to what I do for now.”

“And what is it you do?” he asked, genuinely curious. Despite your shared moments in the hallway and now this unexpected meeting, he realized he knew so little about you beyond the fact that you were maddeningly intriguing.

“I’m in finance,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “Nothing too exciting, but it’s steady, and I’m good at it.”

That explained some things—your confidence, poise, and ability to afford an apartment in his building. Still, he found himself wondering how someone your age could have such a solid footing in life.

“You’re impressive,” he said honestly, surprising himself with the admission.

Your eyes sparkled, a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give out compliments lightly.”

He laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, covering everything from favorite books to why this particular bar was a hidden gem. You were strikingly beautiful, yes, but it was your confidence and the way you carried yourself that held his attention. Yet, as much as he enjoyed your company, that familiar self-doubt crept in whenever the age gap came to mind.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” you said, interrupting his spiral.

“Just wondering,” he began carefully, “how someone so young ended up being so…accomplished.”

Your brow lifted slightly, and then you smiled, a touch of mischief in your expression. “Is that your way of asking how old I am?”

Hotch cleared his throat, a rare flicker of nervousness crossing his face. “I wouldn’t ask directly.”

“Well, for the record,” you said, leaning in just enough to make his pulse quicken, “I’m twenty-seven. And yes, I know I look younger. But I’ve worked hard to get here, and I don’t take it for granted.”

He nodded, letting your words sink in. Twenty-seven. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the brilliance of those younger than him, he’d worked side-by-side with Reid, more years than he could count, but the gap still gave him pause. There was no denying the respect he felt for you, nor the pull that kept him rooted to your side.

You tilted your head, studying him with a playful smile. “Did I pass whatever test you were giving me?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You weren’t being tested.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you teased before lifting your glass. “To new neighbors, then?”

Hotch clinked his glass against yours, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “To new neighbors.”

As you both sipped your drinks, Hotch couldn’t help but feel that maybe Rossi was right. Maybe it was okay to let himself enjoy something—or someone—good for a change.

As the bartender passed by, you reached for your wallet, signaling for the check. Hotch, noticing, set his own glass down and spoke before you could finish.

“I’ve got it,” he said firmly.

You looked up, slightly surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist,” he replied, already sliding his card across the counter to the bartender. “Consider it a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gesture.”

There was a flicker of hesitation in your expression, but eventually, you smiled. “Well, thank you, Aaron. That’s very kind of you.”

He nodded, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction as the bartender returned his card. It wasn’t just about paying—it was the subtle act of taking care of you. Even though he’d only known you for a short while, the protective instinct that came naturally to him was already stirring. His line of work had shown him too much about the world, and the idea of you walking alone at night didn’t sit well.

As you both stood to leave, Hotch glanced at you. “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, I don’t have one,” you said, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. “I take public transportation to work. I was just going to grab a cab home.”

Hotch frowned slightly. The thought of you waiting for a cab at this hour didn’t sit right with him. “That’s not necessary. We’re going to the same place anyway—I’ll drive you.”

“Aaron, you really don’t have to do that,” you said, but there was a softness in your tone like you were touched by the offer.

“I insist,” he repeated, his voice steady but gentle. “It’s no trouble.”

For a moment, you studied him, then gave a small, amused shake of your head. “All right, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

The two of you walked out of the bar, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Hotch instinctively slowed his pace to match yours, his hand twitching briefly at his side as though tempted to offer it. When you reached his car, he unlocked it and opened the passenger door for you.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” you teased lightly as you slid into the seat.

Hotch smirked faintly as he closed the door and rounded to the driver’s side. “Not entirely.”

The ride started quietly, the hum of the engine filling the space. You glanced out the window, watching the city lights blur past, but after a moment, you turned to him.

“So,” you began, “do you always offer rides to your neighbors, or am I just special?”

Hotch’s lips curved in a faint smile as he kept his eyes on the road. “Let’s just say I don’t make a habit of it.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” you said, leaning back in the seat. “But you didn’t have to. I would’ve been fine.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But...I’ve seen too much in my work to feel comfortable letting you take a cab alone.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “What is it you do, exactly?”

“I work for the FBI,” he said simply, glancing at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

You blinked, clearly intrigued. “So you’re a profiler?”

“Something like that,” he admitted. “We study behavior to catch criminals. Serial offenders, mostly.”

“That explains why you’re so observant,” you said with a small smile. “And why you seem so serious all the time.”

He chuckled under his breath, a rare sound that surprised even him. “It comes with the territory.”

“Well,” you said, your tone thoughtful, “I think it’s a good thing. That you care enough to notice things, I mean.”

He glanced at you, caught off guard by the sincerity in your voice. “Thank you.”

The rest of the drive passed in a comfortable silence, the kind that felt natural rather than awkward. When Hotch pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, he turned off the engine and looked at you.

“Thank you again,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “For the ride. And the drink.”

“It was no trouble,” he replied, his voice softer now.

You lingered for a moment, your hand on the door handle, before turning to him with a small smile. “You’re a good neighbor, Aaron.”

Hotch sat for a moment longer, his fingers gripping the steering wheel as he watched you head toward the elevator. Something in the way you said his name lingered in his mind, a warmth spreading through him that he couldn’t quite explain.

He shook his head slightly, snapping himself out of it, and grabbed his keys before stepping out of the car. By the time he caught up to you at the elevator, you were already pressing the button for your floor.

“Thought you were going to stay in the car all night,” you teased lightly, glancing over at him as the elevator doors slid open.

“Just taking my time,” he replied, his voice steady but faintly amused as he stepped in beside you.

The elevator ride was quiet at first, the kind of comfortable silence that seemed to follow your conversations. Hotch leaned against the wall, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, while you stood with your arms crossed lightly over your chest. He caught himself glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, taking in the relaxed way you carried yourself despite the late hour.

When the elevator doors opened onto your floor, you both stepped out and walked down the hall side by side. The muffled hum of the building at night—the soft whir of air vents and the occasional creak of floorboards—felt strangely intimate.

“I still can’t believe we live right across the hall from each other,” you said, breaking the silence as you reached your doors. You turned to face him, your expression playful. “Guess I’ll have to start baking cookies or something neighborly like that.”

He smirked faintly, a rare softness crossing his features. “I’m not sure I’d have time to return the favor.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll let it slide,” you said with a mock sigh, your grin widening.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand resting on the doorknob to your apartment. “Thank you again, Aaron. For everything tonight.”

He nodded, his dark eyes meeting yours. “It really wasn’t any trouble.”

As you unlocked your door and stepped inside, you glanced back at him one last time. “Goodnight, neighbor.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as the door closed softly behind you.

For a moment, he stood there in the hallway, staring at your door. That same warmth from earlier crept through him, something he couldn’t quite name but wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Finally, with a small shake of his head, he turned and entered his own apartment, already wondering when he’d see you again.

The night you shared a ride home lingered in Aaron Hotchner’s mind longer than he cared to admit. He told himself it was nothing—just neighborly kindness—but the warmth in your voice when you said his name and the way you looked at him as if he weren’t just another face in the crowd were impossible to forget. There was something about you, something that stirred feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to entertain in years.

But life moved on. Cases came and went, the BAU’s relentless pace leaving little room for personal indulgences. Still, when he’d return home to the quiet comfort of his apartment, he often found himself glancing at your door across the hall, wondering what you might be doing, who you might be with. He chided himself for the thoughts—he was too old, too busy, and too set in his ways to be thinking of you like this.

It was a rare Saturday afternoon off when he found himself in the building’s mailroom with Jack. The teenager was practically vibrating with anticipation, tearing through envelopes in search of one in particular.

“Anything?” Hotch asked, glancing up from his own stack of bills and promotional flyers.

“Not yet,” Jack muttered, his brow furrowed as he sorted through the last few pieces of mail. “Do you think maybe it got lost?”

Hotch shook his head with a small smile. “It’ll come. Just be patient.”

The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention, and when he looked up, there you were, a cheerful smile lighting up your face as you entered the mailroom.

“Hey, neighbor,” you greeted, your eyes flicking between him and Jack. “And who’s this?”

“This is my son, Jack,” Hotch said, stepping aside slightly so you could get a better look. “Jack, this is our neighbor, [Your Name].”

Jack looked up from his stack of envelopes, offering a polite smile. “Hi.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” you said warmly. “You’re the spitting image of your dad, you know.”

Jack wrinkled his nose playfully, glancing at Hotch. “I hope not too much.”

You laughed, the sound drawing a small chuckle from Hotch as well. “What’s got you so focused on the mail today?” you asked Jack, noting his eager expression.

“I’m waiting to hear back about a summer art program I applied to,” Jack said, his tone hopeful but tinged with nervousness.

“Art? That’s fantastic!” you said, genuinely impressed. “What kind of art are you into?”

“Mostly sketching,” Jack replied, his shyness melting under your encouragement. “But I’ve been getting into painting too.”

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” you said sincerely. “I’m sure they’d be lucky to have you.”

Jack smiled, visibly more relaxed in your presence. Hotch observed the interaction quietly, noting how effortlessly you connected with his son. It tugged at something deep in his chest, that mix of admiration and longing he was becoming all too familiar with around you.

“Oh, before I forget,” you said, turning to Hotch. “I’m throwing a little cocktail party at my place next Friday night to celebrate settling into the apartment. Nothing fancy, just a few friends and some good drinks. You and Jack should come.”

Hotch hesitated, his mind racing. A cocktail party? With your friends? He imagined himself standing awkwardly in a room full of people your age, wondering if he belonged there at all. But before he could respond, you added with a playful smile, “I really hope you’ll come. It won’t be the same without my favorite neighbor.”

The glimmer of hope in your tone, the sincerity in your smile—it made his chest tighten. Still, the self-conscious voice in his head whispered doubts. Would your friends think he was too old? Would you regret inviting him once he showed up?

“I’m not sure,” he said carefully, his voice steady but uncertain. “With my schedule, it can be hard to plan ahead.”

“Well,” you said, your tone light but insistent, “I’m holding out hope. And Jack, you’re more than welcome too. I’ll make sure we have something non-alcoholic that’s party-worthy.”

Jack grinned. “Thanks. I’ll see if I can convince him.”

Your laughter was warm, and it stayed with Hotch long after you left the mailroom, waving goodbye with a cheerful promise to see him soon. As you disappeared down the hallway, he felt that familiar tug again—part curiosity, part hope, and part fear.

Did he imagine the glimmer in your eyes the other night? The way your words seemed to linger just for him? Or was it possible—just possible—that there was something real here? Something worth risking the carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself to explore.

As Jack tugged his sleeve, reminding him they still had to sort the rest of the mail, Hotch shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. Whatever the answer, he couldn’t deny the pull you had on him. Maybe he’d find out next weekend.

Friday night found Aaron Hotchner in his office, the quiet hum of the BAU’s bullpen far below offering no distraction from the thoughts circling his mind. The stack of case files on his desk was unusually light for a change, and the rare lull in their schedule had granted him a night off. Yet, instead of heading home or unwinding with a book, he sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on the invitation you’d extended days earlier.

Jack was spending the night at a teammate’s house for a soccer sleepover, leaving Hotch without the comfortable excuse of parenting duties. But the thought of showing up at your party, surrounded by people your age, feeling out of place—it made him hesitate.

He was still mulling it over when a knock sounded at his office door. Looking up, he found Emily Prentiss leaning against the frame, a file folder in hand.

“Final report from the Clarke case,” she said, stepping inside and placing the folder on his desk. “You’re officially done for the night.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his tone clipped but polite.

Emily tilted her head, studying him with the kind of perceptiveness he usually reserved for himself. “You look…pensive. Something on your mind?”

For a moment, Hotch considered brushing her off, offering some vague comment about work or letting the conversation drop entirely. But then he remembered how much he valued openness among his team, a quality he wished they were better about embracing. Perhaps it was time to practice what he preached.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been invited to a cocktail party tonight. My neighbor’s hosting it.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a slow smile forming on her lips. “A cocktail party? Sounds fancy. What’s the dilemma?”

“It’s not about the party itself,” he admitted. “It’s…her.”

Her curiosity sharpened, and she took a seat across from him. “Okay, now you have my attention. Tell me more about ‘her.’”

“She’s my neighbor,” he began, his voice even but hesitant. “She’s in her late twenties, successful, confident. We’ve talked a few times, and she’s…invited me tonight.”

Emily’s smile widened, though she kept her expression neutral enough not to tease. “And you’re debating whether or not to go because…?”

“Because I’m twice her age,” Hotch said bluntly. “Because I don’t want to feel like I don’t belong. And because I’m not sure if the interest I think I’m seeing from her is even real or if I’ve imagined it.”

Emily let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Hotch, you’re overthinking this. And so what? Age is just a number. What matters is the connection.”

Hotch’s brow furrowed. “It’s not that simple. She’s…young, full of life. I’m a widower with a teenage son and a career that doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”

“All the more reason to go,” Emily countered. “Look, you’ve spent years putting everyone else first—your son, your team, your cases. When was the last time you did something for yourself? Took a chance?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the file in front of him. Emily leaned forward slightly, her tone softening.

“Hotch, you’re allowed to let yourself be happy. And from the way you’re talking about her, it sounds like she could be someone worth getting to know better.”

He glanced up at her, a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. “What if it’s inappropriate?”

“Now, you’re definitely over thinking this,” Emily snorted, “You’ll handle it like you handle everything else—with class and integrity,” she said with a shrug. “But you won’t know unless you try. And who knows? Maybe tonight’s just a party, or maybe it’s the start of something more. Either way, you owe it to yourself to find out.”

Hotch let her words sink in, the weight of his own self-doubt pressing against the hope he’d buried deep. Finally, he nodded, a small, almost reluctant smile forming on his lips.

“You’re relentless,” he said, his tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

“It’s part of my charm,” Emily replied, standing and smoothing out her blazer. “Now go home, get dressed, and show up. And Hotch?”

He looked up at her, his brows lifting slightly.

“Make a move,” she added with a grin. “You’ve got this.”

As she left his office, Hotch sat for a moment longer, her words echoing in his mind. Maybe Emily was right. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

With a deep breath, he grabbed his coat and headed out, the decision finally made. Tonight, he would go to your party. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find out if the glimmer of hope he thought he saw in your eyes was real.

Hotch stood outside your apartment door, adjusting his tie as he willed himself to ignore the nervous energy thrumming through him. It wasn’t nerves, not exactly, but something close—a self-consciousness he hadn’t felt in years. The faint sound of laughter and soft music spilled out from your apartment, and for a moment, he considered turning around.

But then he thought of the way you’d looked at him, the hope in your voice when you’d said you really wanted him to come. That was enough to steel his resolve. He took a breath and knocked.

When you opened the door, Hotch’s breath hitched. You stood there, radiant, wearing an outfit that was the perfect balance of elegance and allure. It hugged your figure just enough to make his pulse quicken, yet the overall effect was sophisticated and tasteful. The soft light from your apartment cast a warm glow over you, highlighting every curve and detail.

“Aaron,” you said, your face lighting up with a smile that felt like it was just for him. Before he could say anything, you stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug, catching him completely off guard.

“Hi,” he managed, his voice steady despite the way your touch had sent a jolt of something warm through him.

“I’m so glad you made it,” you said, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting briefly on his arms. “I’ve been wondering all night if you’d show.”

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, his lips curving into a faint smile. “But I’m glad I did.”

You beamed at that, stepping aside to let him in. As Hotch entered, he took in the space, his eyes immediately drawn to the careful details of your apartment. It was stunning—every corner thoughtfully arranged, every piece of furniture and decor intentional. The warm, inviting tones of the room mirrored his own taste, but where his home was functional, yours was artfully executed.

Bookshelves lined one wall, filled to the brim with titles that made him want to linger and browse. His eyes caught on a few photographs interspersed among the shelves—travel shots, candid moments, and one of you laughing with someone who looked like an older family member. The charm of it all struck him immediately, and he couldn’t help but feel impressed.

“You’ve done an amazing job with this place,” he said, his tone genuine.

“Thank you,” you said, closing the door behind him. “I’m glad you like it. I put a lot of thought into it—wanted it to feel like home.”

“It does,” he said, glancing around again. “It suits you.”

You smiled at that, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then your expression shifted to one of curiosity. “Where’s Jack?”

“He had teenage obligations,” Hotch replied, a hint of humor in his tone. “A soccer sleepover.”

You laughed softly. “Of course. Well, I’m glad you could come. I know your schedule’s crazy, so it means a lot.”

He was about to respond when you gently touched his arm, guiding him further inside. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”

He wasn’t sure what to expect as you led him toward the small group gathered in your living room. But as you began introducing him, your words caught him off guard.

“This is Aaron, my favorite neighbor and new friend,” you said warmly, gesturing to him with a smile.

Favorite neighbor. New friend. The way you said it was so easy, so unselfconscious, that it disarmed him entirely.

The group—five or six people, all older than he’d expected, not just a group of twenty-something-year-olds partying like he imagined—greeted him with nods and polite smiles. It was immediately clear that you surrounded yourself with maturity and wisdom, which made sense. You were wise beyond your years, someone who fit seamlessly into this crowd despite being the youngest by far.

Hotch felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders as you moved gracefully between your guests, checking on everyone while still managing to include him in the conversation. It wasn’t just your decorating style that impressed him—it was the way you carried yourself, the natural elegance and charm that seemed to radiate from you.

As the evening settled into a warm rhythm, Hotch found himself standing near one of your bookshelves, thumbing through the spine of a title that caught his eye. The sound of your laughter drifted from across the room, and he couldn’t help but glance in your direction. You were chatting animatedly with one of your coworkers, your smile radiant, your presence magnetic. He marveled at how effortlessly you moved through the room, making every guest feel like they were the most important person there.

A moment later, you appeared at his side, a delicate martini glass in your hand, the liquid inside a rich, dark brown.

“For you,” you said, holding it out with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, taking the glass cautiously. “And what exactly is this?”

“An espresso martini,” you replied, the corners of your mouth curling into a grin. “My specialty. I make a mean one, and I’m certain you’ll like it.”

He regarded the drink with a playfully suspicious look, tilting the glass slightly to inspect it. 

“I know,” you said easily, gesturing toward the glass. “But I see you leaving in the mornings with your coffee cup. Think of it as adult coffee in a martini glass.”

He chuckled softly at that, his fingers brushing yours as he accepted the drink. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“Of course,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “Though, if this doesn’t suit your taste, I did pick up a whiskey I think you’ll like. It’s over by the bar.”

Hotch blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged, your smile warm. “I wanted to. Besides, I hope this isn’t the last time we spend time together, so I’m sure we’ll enjoy that whiskey at some point—even if it’s not tonight.”

Something about the way you said it—the quiet confidence, the way you looked at him like he mattered—made his chest tighten.

“Well,” he said, lifting the glass slightly, “I suppose I can’t turn down a signature drink.”

“That’s the spirit,” you teased, nudging his arm lightly. “Try it. I promise it’s good.”

He brought the glass to his lips, taking a tentative sip. The rich, velvety flavor hit him immediately—the perfect balance of espresso, a hint of sweetness, and the warmth of vodka mingling with the coffee liqueur. He lowered the glass, nodding slightly as a small, almost reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

“It’s…better than I expected,” he admitted.

“Better than expected?” you repeated, laughing softly. “I’ll take that as a win.”

He shook his head, amused. “It’s good. Really.”

“I knew you’d like it,” you said confidently, your eyes sparkling. “It’s got just enough sophistication to suit you.”

He chuckled again, a rare sound that felt more natural in your presence than it had in a long time. As you stood beside him, the rest of the room seemed to fade into the background.

For the first time in years, Aaron Hotchner felt like more than just a profiler, more than just a father or a leader. He felt seen. And, for once, he didn’t mind indulging in the moment.

As the evening wound down, the energy in the room shifted. Guests slowly trickled out, offering you hugs and handshakes on their way to the door. Each one left with a warm smile, a testament to your natural charm as a host. Hotch lingered, sipping the espresso martini you’d made him, more out of a desire to stay close than a need to finish the drink.

You returned from the door after bidding goodbye to the last pair of guests, finding him still standing near the bookshelf where the two of you had shared most of your conversation that night. His shoulders looked more relaxed now, the edges of his stoic demeanor softened in the warm glow of your apartment.

“Well,” you said with a soft laugh, glancing around at the aftermath of the party—empty glasses, plates, and the faint echo of laughter still hanging in the air. “That’s it. A successful cocktail party in the books.”

“You made it look effortless,” Hotch said, his voice warm. “But I know it’s anything but.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge as you started gathering a few glasses from the table.

He stepped forward, setting his now-empty glass down and reaching for a plate. “Let me help.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” you said, waving him off. “You’re a guest. Go relax.”

“Consider it repayment for the drink,” he countered, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, shaking your head but relenting as he began stacking dishes with practiced ease. The two of you moved through the space in comfortable silence, cleaning up the remnants of the night. Occasionally, your hands would brush as you both reached for something and each time, he felt a quiet thrill that he was certain he shouldn’t.

When the room was mostly back to its pristine state, you turned to him, holding a dish towel and looking a little sheepish. “You didn’t have to do all that, you know. But thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, his tone soft but sincere. “I’m not much of a sit-back-and-relax type anyway.”

“I’ve noticed,” you said with a small smile, stepping closer to him.

The quiet that settled between you felt heavy in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable—just charged. Your gaze met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. He wasn’t sure what it was about you—the way you seemed to see right through him, the way you made him feel like he could finally let his guard down—but it made him want to say something, to do something, even if it was just a small step forward.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I wasn’t sure if I’d fit in, but…it was nice.”

“I’m glad you came,” you replied softly. “I was hoping you would.”

The sincerity in your voice struck him, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. It wasn’t much, just a fleeting touch, but it was enough to make his heart race.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your gaze searching his face. “Aaron?”

“I…enjoy spending time with you,” he said, his tone careful but honest. “More than I expected to.”

Your lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, and you stepped just a fraction closer. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said, his voice steady now.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the soft light of your apartment casting gentle shadows across the room. He didn’t know what he expected to happen next, but when you placed a hand lightly on his arm, your touch warm and grounding, he felt the last of his reservations slip away.

“It’s late,” he said finally, his voice low. “I should probably head back.”

You nodded, your hand lingering on his arm for a moment longer. “Thank you for coming. And for everything tonight.”

He gave a small nod, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

As he walked back across the hall to his apartment, he felt a quiet sense of contentment settle over him. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a dramatic moment, but it was something—a step forward. And for now, that was enough.

In the day that followed, Hotch pulled his go-bag over his shoulder when he noticed something out of place under his apartment door. A small, cream-colored card peeked out from beneath the frame. He bent down, retrieving it with a curious furrow in his brow.

It was a card, handwritten in neat, elegant script.

Aaron,

Thank you for coming last night. It was wonderful having you there—it made the evening that much more special.

If you ever feel like sharing that whiskey, or even just enjoying each other’s company (with or without alcohol involved, haha), give me a call. I’d like that.

Hotch stood there for a moment, the weight of his bag forgotten. He read the note twice, his eyes lingering on the small smiley face you’d drawn next to your name. It was a simple gesture, but it left him feeling both surprised and oddly warm.

He slipped the card into the inside pocket of his jacket, shaking his head with the faintest smile. The timing couldn’t have been worse—he had a flight to catch and a case that demanded his full attention—but for the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing he didn’t have to leave. 

Duty called, and as the jet soared through the sky, Hotch pulled the card from his pocket and ran his thumb over the textured surface. He wasn’t a man who took chances lightly, and his initial instinct was to keep the card tucked away to avoid what could become a complication in his carefully constructed life.

But then he thought of you—the way your smile had lit up the room last night, the effortless warmth in your voice, and the quiet confidence in the note you’d left. You weren’t pushing; you were simply opening a door, one he realized he wanted to step through.

He stared at the number on the card, debating. Finally, he reached for his phone, texting you something simple but deliberate.

Aaron: Thank you for the note. I’m currently out of state on a case, but when I’m back, I’d like to meet for coffee.

He stared at the message for a moment, wondering if it felt too casual or too formal. But then he thought of you—your easy smile, your genuine warmth—and decided that simplicity was best. He pressed send before he could overthink it.

For the rest of the flight, his mind kept circling back to the text. He wasn’t sure if you’d respond right away, or at all, but the act of reaching out was enough to stir something unfamiliar in him. A quiet kind of hope.

You: Coffee sounds perfect. Just let me know when you're back, and I’ll make sure my schedule is clear. Be safe out there, Aaron.

When he read your reply, a small smile tugged at his lips. He slid the phone back into his pocket, leaning back in his seat. The case ahead loomed large in his mind, but for the first time in a while, there was something waiting for him on the other side of it. And for now, that was enough.

The case continued far too long, but Hotch finally stepped off the BAU jet just as the first rays of morning light broke over the tarmac. The case had been grueling—long nights, dead ends, and the weight of too many lives disrupted. But they’d managed to close it, and now all he could think about was the coffee date waiting for him. 

The team moved silently, exhaustion etched into their faces as they grabbed their bags and headed for the SUVs waiting nearby. Emily caught his eye as they walked toward the cars.

“Plans for the morning, Hotch?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Just coffee,” he replied simply, his tone giving nothing away.

Emily’s brow quirked, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. She knew it wasn’t like Hotch to not go settle back into the constraints of his desk, post-case. She had hoped he’d taken her advice when it came to you. 

“Coffee, huh? Well, enjoy.”

Hotch gave her a faint smirk in response but said nothing more. He loaded his bag into the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat of his SUV, his mind already shifting to you.

He hadn’t told you the details of the case, of course, but he’d sent you a text two nights ago letting you know he’d be back this morning and suggesting the café. 

He arrived at the café with minutes to spare, parking his SUV and grabbing a quick look in the rearview mirror. He looked tired—there was no denying that—but he decided against going home to change first. Something about coming straight here felt more honest, like he wasn’t trying to put on a front. Besides, he doubted you’d mind.

When he stepped inside the café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around him, chasing away some of the lingering fatigue. He chose a table near the back, where the noise of the bustling morning crowd was muted. As he sat down, he checked his phone, confirming the time.

You’d be here any minute.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself anticipating something outside of work. And as he waited, he allowed himself the smallest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something he hadn’t dared to imagine for years.

The sun cast a warm glow over the café, soft light filtering through the wide windows. Hotch had chosen a quiet table near the back, away from the bustling chatter of patrons. He arrived a little early, a habit born of years of precision and punctuality, and ordered a simple black coffee while he waited.

His gaze drifted toward the door as he wondered what to say to you. He’d thought about this meeting—about you—more than he cared to admit during the case. And now, with the moment so close, he wasn’t sure how to navigate the emotions that came with it.

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, and there you were, stepping inside with an easy smile. You spotted him quickly and made your way over, looking effortlessly put together in a way that still felt warm and approachable.

“Hi,” you said, your smile widening as you reached the table.

“Hi,” Hotch replied, standing instinctively to greet you.

You set your bag down, glancing at his coffee. “Already ahead of me, I see. What’s your drink of choice?”

“Just black,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Classic,” you said approvingly. “Let me grab something, and I’ll be right back.”

As you stepped away to order, Hotch took a steadying breath. It was strange how easily you disarmed him with just your presence. When you returned with a latte, he stood again, waiting until you were seated before sitting himself.

“So,” you began, wrapping your hands around your cup. “How was the case?”

“Challenging,” he admitted. “But we managed to resolve it.”

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. “I imagine they’re all challenging in their own ways. I don’t know how you do it.”

He gave a small shrug. “It’s what I’m trained for. Though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t take its toll.”

“I can imagine,” you said softly. “It’s why I was surprised you even had the energy to come to my party last week.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “It was a good distraction. I’m glad I went.”

Your smile softened. “I’m glad you did too.”

For a moment, the two of you sipped your drinks in companionable silence. The warm atmosphere of the café seemed to cocoon you from the outside world, giving Hotch a rare sense of ease. But the weight of unspoken words pressed against him, and he knew he couldn’t leave without saying something.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

You looked up, your brows lifting slightly in surprise. “Oh?”

“More than I probably should,” he admitted, his dark eyes meeting yours. “I try not to let my personal life interfere with my work—or vice versa—but…you’ve been on my mind.”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you seemed at a loss for words. “Aaron…”

“I’m not saying this lightly,” he continued, his tone careful but sincere. “I don’t know where this is going or what it means, but I do know that I enjoy spending time with you. More than I expected to.”

A smile slowly spread across your face, warm and genuine. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

That admission caught him off guard, though he didn’t let it show. He felt a quiet relief, a sense of validation for the risk he’d taken in being honest.

“Well,” you said, leaning slightly forward, your tone playful yet soft. “I guess that makes two of us who aren’t sure where this is going. But I think I’d like to find out.”

Hotch’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “So would I.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the conversation flowing easily as it always seemed to. For the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to consider the possibility of something more—and for once, he wasn’t afraid of what that might mean.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

[hoe4hotchner]

False Security | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader CW: Angst, physical abuse, kidnapping, captivity, hospital, light use of Y/N, hotch is in love with you, r is only wearing underwear, chains, morphine. WC: 2.6k

           The bullpen was eerily quiet for a late evening. Papers were scattered across desks, half-empty coffee cups forgotten in the rush of trying to piece together the puzzle of the case they were working on.

           The tension in the conference room was palpable - each agent hunched over their work, mentally and emotionally drained from the brutal reality of the case. Every passing hour without a breakthrough weighed heavily on the team.

           Garcia had moved from her tech cave to stay near the rest of the team. Something about this case, the brutality of it, had shaken her, she wasn't her usual cheerful self. Her fingers tapped anxiously against her keyboard, eyes darting between monitors, scanning data, hoping for a clue - anything that would help them find the unsub before another victim was claimed.

           Hotch stood near the whiteboard, staring at the photos pinned up - the faces of victims staring back at him, haunting him. There was a pattern here; they all knew it. They could feel it. But none of them had been able to put the final piece together yet. Everyone was running on fumes.

           "Garcia," Hotch’s voice broke the silence, low but with the familiar edge of urgency. "Pull up the financials again. There’s something we’re missing."

           Garcia nodded, already typing, her colorful nails clicking rapidly against the keys. But even she seemed distracted, her brow furrowed in worry. She wasn’t just focused on the case anymore - she was thinking about you. About how you had been recently, about the relationship you had confided in her about a few weeks ago. A relationship that seemed to be bringing you joy, a brightness that Garcia had been happy to see. But now… something about this case was stirring up an unsettling feeling in her chest.

           Reid was standing across from her, his eyes darting across the case files, muttering half-thoughts under his breath. Morgan was pacing, unable to sit still, his frustration growing with each dead end.

           Then, it happened.

           Garcia’s fingers stopped, hovering above the keyboard. The silence in the room grew thicker as everyone waited for her to speak. She was staring at her screen, but the bright color had drained from her face. Slowly, almost as if she didn’t believe it herself, she turned in her chair, wide eyes meeting Hotch’s.

           "Sir," her voice was trembling. "You need to see this."

           Hotch’s stomach dropped at her tone, something was off. He crossed the room in quick strides, looking over her shoulder at the screen. The room held its collective breath, all eyes now on them. Garcia was scrolling through the financials, linking transactions, showing a pattern of behavior that had gone unnoticed until now. At first, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. Just a name, a routine list of purchases. But then it hit him. A familiar name.

           Hotch froze. His heart slammed against his ribs, dread flooding his veins.

           “No,” he breathed, disbelief clouding his thoughts.

           Garcia turned, biting her lip. Her fingers trembled as she pointed to the screen. “It’s him, Sir,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It’s… it’s (Y/N)'s boyfriend.”

           The words hung in the air, heavy, suffocating. Everyone stared, the weight of Garcia’s revelation hitting them like a freight train. Morgan stopped pacing, Reid’s muttering ceased, and Rossi’s eyes darkened as he stood from his desk.

           "Are you sure?" Hotch’s voice was low, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable.

           Garcia nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I cross-referenced his name with the locations. He fits every single one of the victim’s timelines, and… the patterns match. It’s him, Hotch.”

           For a moment, no one moved. It was as if the very air in the room had thickened, weighing them all down. Hotch felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under him. His chest tightened painfully, his mind racing with fear and anger. How could they have missed this? How could he have missed this?

           Morgan was the first to break the silence, his voice sharp and filled with disbelief. “Wait, (Y/N)’s dating this guy?” His eyes darted between Garcia and Hotch, trying to piece it together. “How long has this been going on?”

           “A couple of months,” Garcia whispered, guilt washing over her at the mere fact that she knew about your relationship. “She… she didn’t want anyone to know. But… I thought he was just a regular guy.”

           Rossi was already moving toward his phone. "Has anyone contacted her?"

           Hotch’s blood ran cold. He reached for his phone, his fingers fiddling slightly as he dialed your number. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Straight to voicemail.

           Panic settled in his chest like a stone.

           “Garcia, try to ping her phone,” he ordered his voice tight, betraying the rising anxiety within him.

           “I’m on it,” she replied, her fingers moving across the keyboard in a blur. The seconds dragged on like hours as she tried to locate your phone. When she finally spoke again, her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s off.”

           Morgan swore under his breath, his fists clenched. “We have to find her. Now.”

           Hotch felt a surge of terror, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. His thoughts were racing— Where were you? Were you okay? Did you even know what kind of danger you were in? The idea that the person you had trusted, had been intimate with, was the same monster they were hunting - it made his skin crawl. And now, they couldn’t reach you.

           Garcia's voice broke through the haze. “I’ve got his phone,” she said, her voice shaking with urgency. “It’s pinging at a location near the docks - an old warehouse district.”

           Hotch didn’t waste another second. He was out the door before anyone could speak, his mind focused on one thing - finding you. His heart pounded in his chest, each step toward the SUV filled with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between you two. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

          The warehouse loomed ahead, its shadowy silhouette stark against the faint glow of the city. Inside, the darkness was suffocating, every echo, every creak of the metal beams overhead seeming to mock the haste coursing through Hotch's veins. He moved quickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he led the team deeper into the labyrinth of hallways and empty rooms, desperate to find you before it was too late.

           The dread that had been building since Garcia's revelation gnawed at him with every step. The idea that you, his agent, the person he trusted and admired, had been caught in the web of this monster - he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It felt personal in a way that made his throat tighten, made his focus even sharper. This wasn’t just a case anymore; it was about you, about saving you from someone who had fooled them into a false security.

           A soft, muffled whimper reached his ears, freezing him in place. It was faint but unmistakable. His breath hitched as he sprinted toward the sound, every part of him terrified of what he might find. He shoved open a rusted metal door, and the sight that greeted him ripped the air from his lungs.

           There you were, barely recognizable, hanging limply by your wrists, your arms shackled high above your head. The light flickered, casting shadows over your bruised and battered body. You were gagged, your face pale and streaked with tears, your eyes barely open, glazed with pain and fear. Your skin was marred with fresh bruises, and all you were left wearing was your underwear - vulnerable, exposed, and utterly broken.

           Hotch’s world tilted. He had faced horrors in his career, and seen things that haunted his dreams, but nothing compared to the sight of you, the person he had come to care for, reduced to this.

           For a split second, all he could do was stand there, frozen by the crushing wave of guilt and anger crashing over him. How could he have let this happen? How had he not seen it, not realized who the unsub was?

           “Morgan!” Hotch's voice was sharp. “Find him. Now.” He couldn't be far away Hotch thought to himself.

           Without waiting for a reply, Hotch crossed the room to you, his hands trembling as he reached up to unchain your wrists. You collapsed into his arms, your body weak and trembling from the strain. He held you close, his jacket already off and wrapping around your shivering form. His chest tightened painfully as he felt just how cold you were, how fragile you felt in his arms.

           “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re safe now.”

           You stirred, barely able to focus, but the sound of his voice - his voice - cut through the haze of terror that had clouded your mind. Your eyes fluttered open, a tear slipping down your cheek as you realized it was him. You tried to speak, but the gag choked you, the duct tape biting into your skin.

           Hotch's fingers were delicate as he reached up to remove the tape. Every inch he peeled back felt agonizingly slow, each movement careful, as if he were terrified of causing you more pain. His eyes never left yours, the guilt and worry etched deep into his features.

           When the gag finally came loose, you gasped, drawing in shaky breaths as your mouth was freed. Your voice came out in a weak rasp, “Aaron…”

           “Shh,” he murmured, brushing the hair from your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

           But you could see it in his eyes. The guilt. The anger. It radiated off him, a storm barely contained beneath the surface. He blamed himself, you knew that much. And though you wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have known, your voice was too weak, your body too drained.

           Hotch wrapped his arms tighter around you, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there sooner.”

           His words broke something inside you, a sob tearing from your throat despite your exhaustion. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that you didn’t blame him, but all you could do was cling to him, your body shaking against his.

           You had been so close to losing everything - to never seeing him again. And now, in the safety of his arms, the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind the raw emotion and terror that you had been holding back.

           “I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice barely a rasp. He held you tighter as if he could shield you from the world, from the pain, from everything you had just endured.

           He didn’t care about protocol, didn’t care that he was supposed to be in control, to remain objective. All he cared about was you, about getting you out of there and keeping you safe.

           When the paramedics arrived, Hotch didn’t let go. He carried you to the ambulance himself, refusing to leave your side for even a moment. The other agents worked around him, searching for your captor, but Hotch didn’t care about anything else right now. He stayed by your side as you were lifted into the ambulance, sitting beside you, his hand holding yours as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

           The soft, sterile lighting of the hospital room contrasted with the cold, harsh reality of what had just happened. The beeping machines were rhythmic and steady, peaceful, a constant reminder that you were alive, even though the events leading up to this moment had been anything but peaceful.

           Hotch sat beside your bed, his hand wrapped protectively around yours, his thumb brushing back and forth along your knuckles in a soothing motion. He hadn’t left your side since they’d arrived at the hospital. The team had stayed behind to deal with the crime scene and the unsub, but Hotch had only one priority: you. His suit jacket now hung loosely on the back of his chair, as your bruised body had been hidden away by the hospital gown.

           You shifted slightly in the bed, your eyes fluttering open but still hazy from the morphine coursing through your veins. The medication had dulled the pain but also left you in a dreamy, disoriented state. Everything felt far away, like you were underwater, and the world around you was muffled. But there was one constant, something anchoring you to reality - Hotch.

           “Hotch…” your voice was barely above a whisper, the name slipping from your lips without much strength behind it. You tried to sit up, but your body protested, still sore and weak. Hotch’s grip on your hand tightened gently, his other hand pressing softly against your shoulder to keep you from moving too much.

           “Shh, don’t try to move. The doctor said you need to rest,” he said, his voice low and calm, but underneath it was a storm of emotions - relief, fear, anger. He tried to keep it together for you, but seeing you like this - bruised, shaken, and vulnerable - it broke something inside him.

           You blinked up at him, trying to focus. His face came into view, a mixture of exhaustion and concern etched into his features. “You... you came for me,” you mumbled, your words slightly slurred from the medication, but the gratitude in your tone was unmistakable.

           Hotch’s heart clenched at the sound of your voice, so small and fragile. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Of course I did,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always come for you.”

           You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upwards despite the pain and exhaustion. There was something about his presence that made everything feel just a little bit better, a little safer.

           Your eyes flickered around the room before landing back on him, and with a sleepy giggle, you whispered, “You look so serious, Hotch.”

           A soft chuckle escaped him, the sound rare but welcome, especially given the circumstances. “Someone has to be,” he teased, though his voice was still gentle. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light. “You’ve been through a lot.”

           You hummed, your eyelids growing heavy again, but you fought to stay awake, to stay in this moment with him. “Feel so... floaty,” you mumbled, your words trailing off slightly. The medication was pulling you back under again.

           Hotch smiled softly, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “That’s the morphine. It’s okay to rest, you’re safe now.”

           For a moment, you simply stared up at him, your eyes glazed but full of warmth. “You’re always so... good to me,” you slurred, your voice thick with drowsiness. “Don’t know what I’d do without you…”

           His heart ached at your words. He couldn’t imagine what you had gone through, only what he already knew the unsub usually would have done, but the thought of you feeling alone or scared crushed him. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

           You gave him a sleepy nod, your head lolling slightly to the side. “I know,” you mumbled, your voice fading as sleep finally began to pull you under.

           Hotch leaned forward, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. He didn’t care that the hospital staff had insisted he take a break or go home and get some rest. He wasn’t leaving your side, not tonight. Not until he was absolutely sure you were okay.

           As your breathing evened out and your body relaxed into the bed, he sat back, watching you with a mix of compassion and sadness. Seeing you like this, so vulnerable and hurt, made him feel more helpless than he ever had before.