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atlabeth · 8 months ago

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too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus.

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem.

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you.

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now.

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon.

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them.

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention.

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once.

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in.

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did.

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive.

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake.

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher.

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it.

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder.

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking.

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night.

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce.

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time.

“What?”

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips.

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.”

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.”

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—”

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.”

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.”

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.”

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.”

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.”

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you.

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you?

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.”

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.”

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.”

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.”

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.”

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief.

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl.

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?”

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.”

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?”

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.”

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.”

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs.

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination.

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.”

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind.

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.”

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.”

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes.

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world.

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.”

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did.

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.”

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to?

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.”

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk.

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything.

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol.

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say.

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.”

“How do you feel about tequila?”

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.”

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.”

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.”

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.”

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.”

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.”

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles.

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows.

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.”

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be.

#me ignoring all my wips for a hot man?? it's more likely than you think #also ive listened to too sweet on repeat for like 3 hours i dont want to take my whiskey neat anymore #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

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mrs-kmikaelson · 4 months ago

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What's in a Name? (+)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: The one time that you don't walk away. Warnings: mentions of substance abuse, vvs suggestive Words: 1.2K

Masterlist

a/n: if ur js finding this fic, this is the bonus! the fives times r does walk away are here. this happens right after no.5, btw.

6. A lie is the truth

Arlington, Virginia, 2008

You couldn't sleep.

All you could think of was the fact that you were in Aaron's bed and he was right outside the door. The thunder continued to boom but your thoughts were louder than the storm outside; they consumed you.

It was irrational. You'd known him for nearly five years, and in that time, you'd only seen him an equivalent of five times, yet he was still on your mind. He'd been on your mind non-stop since New York—and that was crazy.

You felt crazy.

You felt crazy because he was right. You felt something.

It all started off as a game. You just wanted to get under his skin, play with fire a bit, but you got burned. You couldn't handle the heat; you couldn't handle the way the game stopped being a game. It became something else.

Hotch's role was to get irritated, maybe a bit flustered, but he was never supposed to flirt back. He was never supposed to want to know you— you couldn't even remember the last time anyone wanted to do that.

Lovers came and went over the years, but none had ever felt like this. It was always physical, but you and Aaron hadn't even kissed. Without any of that, he still had you in his grip.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd been with anybody. You don't know if you'd been holding off on purpose, if it was conscious. You'd been holding out for a guy you couldn't even be with, and now that you had the chance, you were the one holding back.

God, if he knew you before. If you'd met before, things would've been so different. Maybe he could've saved you from yourself.

But he didn't. When you were drowning, you pulled yourself out of the water. That old version of you died, and Y/N was born. Y/N was the one who saved you. When you had no one else, Y/N was there. She was your shoulder to cry on until she taught you not to cry anymore, to focus.

But now what did you have? An apartment you barely lived in and nobody that really knew you. But there was a man out there, a good man, who said he wanted to.

You didn't know what you'd show him—you weren't even sure if you really knew you.

But maybe... maybe you could find out together.

You'd never know if you didn't try.

With that thought, you threw the covers back and beelined for the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to find Aaron already behind the threshold, fist raised to knock. In an instant, he dropped it.

"Y/N—"

You cut him off. "Wait, just— just let me get this out." He looked confused. "If I don't get it out, I don't think I ever will."

There was a beat of silence, but then he spoke. "Okay."

His eyes were kind and patient as you tried to gather the words, everything you wanted to say vanishing from your fingertips. So you went with the first thing that popped into your mind. "My name is Lorelai." Surprise shone on his face, but you paid it little mind, racing to say everything before you lost the courage. "But people used to call me Lai. It was a play on words, because I was a liar. I lied about a lot of things. I got involved with the wrong kinds of people, got my hands on the wrong types of things, I was—" you swallowed. "I was an addict. And my life was gonna go down the drain, but things changed. Then I got on the government radar, and suddenly I wasn't Lai anymore, but I was still a liar; the difference was just that I was a better liar. More powerful. Now I'm Y/N. And that name changed everything for me. That is what is in a name. Everything."

By the time you finished, you were breathing heavy. You averted your eyes as a chuckle left you. "So, tell me, Aaron, do you still want to know me?"

You were expecting him to leave, to end it there and tell you he'd drive you home tomorrow, but instead, you felt sudden warmth on your cheeks as his hands wiped away tears you didn't know were there. "Look at me." When you didn't respond, he tried again, "Y/N. Look at me."

You looked up, expecting to see judgement and hatred, anger, but you saw none of that. You saw openness and understanding, and other emotions you couldn't pinpoint. You realized you couldn't decipher it because no one had ever looked at you this way.

His voice was soft and firm all at the same time. "Y/N, I don't care what your name is. I don't care if a lie is the truth— I care about you." He paused as if he wanted his words to soak in, but not once did he look away. "I want to know you, whether that be about Lorelai or Y/N doesn't matter. This woman in front of me right now, she is who I want to know."

Your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage as he leaned in closer. Déjà vu from your moment in the kitchen hit you hard, your eyes going back to his lips, the same lips that just uttered that he didn't care, the same lips that just washed away your fears.

He closed his eyes and then pleaded, "Let me know you, Y/N."

That shattered any last semblance of doubt you had left, and you barely had time to think about it before you were slamming your lips into his.

He reciprocated immediately, kissing you with the fervour of a man who'd been suffocated and you were his air. A sensation you couldn't name erupted all over your body, from your head to your toes, and you wondered how you had lived so long without ever feeling this. Of all the kisses you'd ever had, none could compare to this one.

But this didn't just feel like a kiss. It felt like a promise.

Your lips moved in sync together, just like when you'd been dancing that night in Washington. It was like your body knew all the steps to this dance without ever having learned it.

So now you wondered, if this was supposed to be wrong, why did it feel more right than anything you'd ever done?

Eventually, you had to pull away. His eyes were still closed. You grinned. "How about you get to know me tomorrow night at dinner?"

That caused his eyes to open, a full-fledged smile making its way onto his face, and you knew then and there that you'd do anything to make him smile like that all the time. "8 o'clock?"

You nodded and agreed, "It's a date."

His smile got wider, and then he ducked his head into the crook of your neck where it fit perfectly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, recalling how he tensed the last time you did so. Now he had a different reaction, pressing his lips against your neck and littering kisses everywhere.

Tomorrow, you had a date at 8'oclock. But as Aaron kicked the door closed, you wondered if you'd make it out of bed to get there.

You supposed you could miss one date.

You had a feeling there would be many more to make up for it.