#aaron hotch hotchner

[hoe4hotchner]

Helloooo, how are you?I want to make a request about Aaron. Where he and the reader are almost dating but he doesn't feel ready, so he rejects the reader, and she understands. Time passes and they have to go to a case somewhere else, and the officer in charge is an ex of the reader. But not a bad ex, but a really good one, they interact and he confesses to her how much he misses her. I leave the ending to your consideration, thank you ❤️, I love your writing

Almost | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: Hurt (Is that even a genre?), past relationship, rejection, mild heartache?, miscommunication, it could probably qualify as unrequited love during some parts of the story.

When Aaron rejected you, you understood.

He had stood in front of you, his jaw tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out. The words had come quietly, like he was ashamed to say them.

"I can’t. Not yet."

You had seen the hesitation in his eyes, the conflict flickering beneath the surface. He wanted you, you knew that much. It was the way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way his fingers ghosted over yours when he handed you a file, the way his voice softened when he said your name. But wanting you and being ready for you were two different things. And you understood that. You understood him.

So you had smiled, forcing a lightness into your voice that you didn’t feel. "I understand, Hotch."

His mouth had pressed into a thin line, like he had hated hearing you call him that again. Like it made the distance between you all the more real.

And so you had walked away, ignoring the ache in your chest, pretending it didn’t feel like losing something before you even had the chance to call it yours.

Months had passed since then, months filled with cases and long nights, with stolen glances that neither of you acknowledged, with tension so thick it was suffocating.

And now you were here, miles away from home, standing beside Hotch as you were introduced to the officer in charge of the case you were called onto.

The moment you saw him, you hesitated.

"Y/N," he breathed, his tone was thick with nostalgia.

A slow smile spread across your face before you could stop it. "Matt?"

Matt was the man you had once thought you might spend your life with. A man who had loved you without hesitation, without fear, without walls—even when your job had become more demanding than his, calling you away more than you were home.

Hotch went still beside you.

Matt grinned. "I can’t believe it. You look—" He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You look incredible."

Warmth filled your chest, a feeling of something familiar and bittersweet bubbling within. "You too."

Hotch hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said a word. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his fist clenched at his side, his thumb struggling to do that thing he only did when he was trying to focus.

Matt glanced at him, his brow lifting slightly before turning back to you. "We should catch up after this. Get a drink or something."

There was no ulterior motive in his voice, no expectation—just two people reconnecting after years apart.

Hotch walked away.

Hours later, you found yourself outside, the cold night air settling over your skin. The case was far from over, but for now, there was a brief lull, it gave you a moment to breathe—finally.

The sound of footsteps approached from behind you. The tension in the air shifted subtly, and without needing to glance over your shoulder, you knew exactly who it was—his footsteps alone spoke volumes, a rhythm you had come to recognize in your bones years ago.

"Are you going to see him?"

The question wasn’t casual. It was quiet, clipped, barely contained. You exhaled, tilting your head up to the sky, spotting a few stars peeking out from behind the clouds. "I might."

"Do you still love him?" Hotch finally spoke after a long pause

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Aaron, what does it matter?"

"It matters," he said, and this time, his voice was raw, something fraying at the edges. "It matters to me."

You turned then, searching his face. He looked calm on the surface, as he always did, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his fists curled at his sides for the second time that day, the way his jaw clenched.

"Why?" you asked softly.

His breath hitched, just barely. "Because I—" He stopped, swallowing hard. His gaze dropped, and for the first time, he looked uncertain. "Because I should have never let you walk away."

Your chest tightened, something sharp twisting inside you. "You didn’t let me walk away. You pushed me away."

His eyes shut briefly, as if the words physically hurt him. "I know."

You took a step closer, close enough that you could see the exhaustion in his face, the faint circles beneath his eyes. "Aaron," you murmured. "You told me you weren’t ready."

"I'm still not," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze locked onto yours, something breaking in the depths of his dark eyes as you stared at each other. "But I can’t stand the thought of losing you to someone else."

The words hung between you, heavy, aching, and too late—they were not enough.

You inhaled slowly, shaking your head. "That’s not fair to me."

His jaw tensed, his hands flexing like he wanted to reach for you—just like that day—but knew he had no right to. "I know that too."

Silence stretched between you, filled with all the words neither of you had said before.

Then, finally, you sighed, your lips curving into something sad, something resigned. "You don’t get to keep me in limbo, Aaron. If you want me, you have to choose me. Otherwise, I have to move on. I can't wait for you to be ready, what if that day never comes?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, as if the thought physically pained him. His eyes searched yours, they were desperate and conflicted, understanding your reasons, but not wanting to believe them.

He said nothing.

And you? You didn’t wait for him to.

You turned, walking away before the ache in your chest could consume you. Because this time, it had to be his choice.

And you weren’t going to wait forever.

[ssamorganhotchner]

HALFHSKFJ THE TENSION I AM SCREAMING 😀🦋🦋🦋 id be freaking tf out but oh my god

Filthy Flat-Pack Thoughts

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you had taken the day off to get yourself settled into your new apartment, not expecting hotch to show up at your door and offer a hand. warnings: suggestive, reader basically shoves her tits in hotch's face (you go girl!), hotch also catches reader in a towel, hotch being a gentleman (though not too gentlemanly because there's a filthy part two coming), like one cuss word, alcohol consumption. word count: 3.5k

You were pretty sure you’d maxed out every cuss word under the sun. If you spoke another language, you’d have burned through those swear words too. Guns? No problem. Paperwork? Manageable. Serial killers? Routine. But flat–pack furniture? That was where you met your match.

You had taken Friday off, thanks to your wonderful boss, who’d graciously allowed you the day. It had been a slow week, so you weren’t missing much – except your sanity. Because this damn bookshelf was out to get you.

The screw had slipped off the drill, skidded across the floor, and promptly disappeared into the abyss under your couch. Instead of hunting for it, you sighed, took another sip of your generously poured wine, and made a mental note to buy your new neighbours a bottle as an apology for all the yelling.

Just as you contemplated abandoning the bookshelf entirely and living amongst the scattered wooden panels like some modern art installation, there was a sharp knock at the door. You frowned, glancing at the time. You weren’t expecting anyone. In fact, barely anyone even had your new address.

Pulling open the door, you blinked up at Aaron Hotchner. Dressed in his usual suit, case file in hand, looking every bit the no–nonsense boss he was. Except instead of standing in the BAU bullpen, he was at your doorstep.

“Hotch? How did you –”

“Garcia,” he answered before you could finish.

Of course.

Your gaze dropped to the file in his hand, and you raised a brow. “This your version of a housewarming gift?”

“Consider it a reminder that work doesn’t stop just because you took the day off.” His voice was dry, but there was something in his expression – something amused – as his eyes trailed behind you.

He took in the mess of furniture, the scattered tools, the half–built bookshelf that somehow looked less assembled than when it arrived.

His lips twitched. “Do you need a hand?”

You needed his two hands somewhere where they weren’t supposed to be.

You cleared your throat, leaning against the doorframe like you weren’t having wildly inappropriate thoughts about your boss in the middle of your living room. It had to be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“I don’t know, Hotch. You any good with a drill?”

“I’m good with my hands.”

Your brain promptly short–circuited.

The squeak that slipped out of your mouth was completely involuntary and you just about covered it with a cough. Nope. No more wine. Never again.

He let the words hang there for half a second longer than necessary before stepping inside like he hadn’t just knocked the air from your lungs.

You shut the door behind him, barely registering the click as his gaze swept over the apartment, but you were too busy noticing something else entirely.

Like the fact that you were in nothing but leggings and a camisole. No bra. And the sudden draft from the door being open had done absolutely nothing to help your situation. Which was completely at odds with the heat now swimming under your skin as you watched Hotch – your boss – shrug off his jacket and roll up his sleeves with ease.

You stared. Really stared.

At his arms. At the way his fingers flexed as he pushed his sleeves up, forearms tensing, veins standing out in a way that was doing something entirely inappropriate to your already scattered thoughts.

You swallowed.

This was fine.

Totally fine.

Expect that was a lie. Because watching Aaron Hotchner, sleeves rolled up, tie slightly loosened, looking every bit the effortlessly competent man he was, was decidedly not fine.

“I assume this is supposed to resemble a bookshelf,” he mused, flipping through the instruction manual like it was a case file.

“That was the goal, yeah,” you muttered, trying not to hyper–fixate on the way he picked up a screwdriver.

“You were using the wrong screws,” he said matter–of–factly, turning the page and pointing to a very clear, very obvious diagram.

You crossed your arms. “No, I wasn’t.”

His expression didn’t change as he simply rotated the manual toward you.

You squinted.

Oh.

“Alright, maybe I was.”

He hummed in response, neither confirming nor denying your admission of defeat and got to work.

You sank onto the floor beside him, grabbing a stray screw in a desperate attempt to act normal. “So,” you began, determined to break whatever spell was settling between you, “is this why you really came by? To drop off paperwork and get roped into manual labour?”

He didn’t look up, but you caught the way his mouth quirked. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

His fingers paused before he resumed turning the screwdriver. “Garcia worries,” he admitted.

You scoffed. “Garcia meddles.”

“She was concerned about you being here alone.”

“I am an FBI agent, you know. I can handle a bookshelf.”

His line of sight flicked up to you then, slow and considering. “Can you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said smoothly. “I’m stating that you were using the wrong screws, the wrong drill bit, and judging by the manual placement, attempting to put one of these pieces in backwards.”

Your mouth fell open. “Okay, first of all—”

“You also swore at it,” he added, like that was solid proof of your failure.

You exhaled sharply. “You heard that?”

“I heard a lot of things.”

The way he said it sent heat creeping up the back of your neck. “Well, if you’re such an expert, feel free to take over whilst I fix myself something to drink.”

Before he could respond, you pushed yourself up and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the already open bottle of wine and topping off your glass. Then on impulse, you poured another, just enough to finish the bottle.

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but when you returned back, two glasses in hand, it felt like some sort of silent invitation you weren’t ready to acknowledge. But it was completely harmless, right?

Just a casual gesture. A simple offering to someone who had gone out of his way when he didn’t have to. You were just being a good hostess, thanking Hotch for the extra mile, when realistically, this was probably the last place he wanted to be on a Friday night.

Re–entering the living room, you set your own glass down near your spot before extending the other to him. Hotch lifted his eyes, gaze moving from the glass to your face as he raised a brow.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Its either we share, or I’d have to admit to finishing an entire bottle of wine by myself.”

“That’s very responsible.” He took the glass, his fingers brushing yours, the contact sending something sharp skittering down your spine.

“Guess Garcia was right to send you over.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, his eyes still locked onto yours over the rim.

Your stomach flipped. No – literally flipped. It felt like an entire theme park had set up shop inside you, rollercoasters and all. You swallowed, quickly lowering yourself back onto the floor, hoping that if you focused on something else – anything else – you could push past the fuzziness you felt.

“How can I help?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as Hotch set his glass aside.

He grabbed two of the wooden panels, fingers moving with that same precise efficiency that had definitely been an unfair distraction this evening. “Hold these in place while I put the screws in.”

You nodded, shifting on your knees to get a better angle.

“Here,” he murmured, adjusting one of the panels. “You need to hold this one higher.”

You complied, stretching a little too far in the process.

And that’s when it happened.

The movement tilted your chest forward – right into his space.

You froze.

And so did he.

The shift left you practically pressing against him, your camisole offering absolutely no barrier between the fact that his face was now far too close to your very braless predicament.

You caught the exact moment he realised it.

His grip on the screwdriver faltered for half a second. His breath hitched, just barely. And then – pointedly – he moved his eyes away, jaw tightening as if sheer willpower alone could erase what had just happened.

You should have moved. Should have said something. But you didn’t. Instead, some wild, definitely tipsy, possibly reckless, part of you decided to test just how composed the great Aaron Hotchner really was.

You shifted – just slightly. “Like this?”

His knuckles were going white. “Exactly like that.”

Your stomach flipped again, your mind taking that encouragement and running it into filthy places. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched him. His focus was locked on the bookshelf, or at least, that’s where it was supposed to be. But the stiff set of his shoulders, the sharp exhale through his nose, the way his grip tightened just a little too much around the screwdriver – none of it was subtle.

You really should move.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he made the deliberate choice not to look at you. Your lips parted, the tease on the tip of your tongue ready to push him just a little further, but before you could say a word, he spoke first.

“Hold still,” he muttered, adjusting the panel again.

But it wasn’t just his hands that moved this time. His knuckles brushed your ribs. The touch was light – so light it could’ve been nothing. But it didn’t feel like nothing. A sharp inhale slipped past your lips, barely audible, but enough.  

His reaction was instant, his head tilted up, instinctive and automatic. Expect his gaze didn’t land where it should.

It landed lower.

Again.

Right where the thin fabric of your camisole left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Sorry,” you whispered as he quickly looked back down at his hands.

“You’re fine. Almost done.”

You should have been relieved, but you weren’t. Because now, it wasn’t just the wine that was intoxicating – it was him. The scent of his cologne, the warmth of his skin, the sheer presence of him so close. It wrapped around you, all too much and not enough at the same time, making it impossible to think about anything else.

And suddenly, the thought of him being done with this – stepping back, putting distance between you – wasn’t something you wanted at all.

So you loosened your grip.

It was cruel, really. A calculated move disguised as clumsiness, using the precariously placed bookshelf as an excuse to move closer.

The panel slipped and everything happened fast – too fast.  

You gasped as it wobbled out of place, throwing off your balance. Hotch’s hands shot out at the same time yours did, but the angle, the movement, all of it caused you to lose your balance. Your knees slipped beneath you as you stumbled forward, half into his lap.

His hands caught you instinctively, one gripping your waist, the other splayed against your back. The air left your lungs in a rush—not just from the fall, but from the feel of him beneath you.

Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the rise and fall underneath your fingers. His grip tightened just a fraction, just enough. Not pulling you closer but not pushing you away either.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world had gone utterly still. Your hands stayed planted on his chest, his warmth seeping through the fabric, while his fingers hovered at your waist – undecided, restrained and yet so very present.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Oh no.

Heat curled in your veins, your pulse hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else. “What exactly am I doing, Hotch?”

His breath was steady. Yours was not.

And then – so slow it was torturous – his thumb brushed against your side. This time, it wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate. He traced a barely-there path against your hip at the same moment your fingers curled against his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching up.

He knew this was wrong. Knew he should move away, put space between you, remind himself that this was a line that could not – should not – be crossed.

But he didn’t move because you weren’t moving. Because your fingers curled tighter on his shirt and he could feel your breath ghosting against his skin, because your body – so impossibly close – wasn’t retreating.  

And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

This had started out as nothing more than a simple visit. He’d barely hesitated when you asked for the day off. It had been a quiet week and you’d had enough on your plate between cases and moving. You’d earned the time.

But when Garcia had mentioned, a little too innocently, that you’d been tackling everything alone, something shifted in him. Maybe it was the excuse he needed. Or maybe it was the way he imagined you here on your own, frustrated, stressed and something in his chest tightened too much at the thought of you struggling.

He’d told himself he was just stopping by. Just bringing the files. Just checking in.

He hadn’t expected to find you you like this.

Cheeks flushed from the wine, eyes dark and full of something unreadable, dressed in a way that left his mouth dry.

And now you were in his lap.

Your skin was warm beneath his hands, your breaths shallow, lips parted ever so slightly.

“What is it that I’m doing, Hotch?” Your voice was barely a whisper now, lashes fluttering, the barest tilt of your head closing even more of the distance between you.

He wasn’t sure if you could feel the tension humming beneath his skin. And his restraint – the control he prided himself on, the discipline he’d spent years perfecting – became a fragile, splintering thing.

If you leaned in a fraction more, there would be nothing left to stop this. He wasn’t sure if that terrified him or if it was the most tempting thought he’d ever had.

It took everything in him to fight against the impulse, to loosen his grip, to exhale sharply and force distance where there was none.

“You’ve had a long day.” His voice was rougher than he wanted it to be.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. “What?”

His hands released you.

“And you’ve had too much to drink.”

Your eyes searched his, the teasing, playful edge now gone. Replaced with something else. Frustration? Disappointment? Hurt?

That nearly destroyed him.

But he had to do this because he knew you.

He knew you’d had a long week. Knew stress pushed you toward reckless choices. Knew the wine had stripped away just enough inhibition to let you push – to let you test him, to see what he would allow.

And God help him, he wanted to give in. But not like this. Not when he wasn’t sure if you’d wake up tomorrow and regret it.

“I will finish up here. You can go and get some rest.”

He heard you exhale, saw the tension in your shoulders shift like you wanted to argue. But then you reluctantly pulled back, dragging a hand down your face as if what you had just tried to do finally settled.

“I am so sorry I don’t know what I was thi–”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s alright.”

“No it’s not alright, I–”

He said your name, stopping you before you could spiral any further. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel embarrassed about something you both wanted, but just couldn’t have.

“I should shower,” you muttered, not even sure if you were speaking to him or yourself.

He nodded, already shifting his attention back to the damn bookshelf, pretending to focus on something else.

Something that wasn’t you.

You hesitated in the doorway, watching as he picked up the two panels. “You really don’t have to stay. It’s late and I can finish up tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, dragging your feet toward the bathroom, your body still burning not just from the heat of the moment but from the sheer embarrassment curling in your stomach like a slow, humiliating ache.

What the hell had you been thinking?

You turned the shower on, letting the sound of running water drown out the chaos of your thoughts in your head.

You knew Hotch wasn’t the kind of man to cross that line, not like that. Not with you. And yet, you had still pushed him, only to end up rejected. The memory of it made you cringe, heat rising to your cheeks again.

You stepped under the hot spray, steam curling around you, and wished you could disappear into it – dissolve into nothing and escape the hole you had just dug yourself into. You contemplated what other career paths you could take because there was no way you were walking back into the BAU on Monday morning.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung, it was the fact that he had been right. You had been drinking. You had been stressed, exhausted and overwhelmed.

But none of those things had made you do what you did. You couldn't blame them for the way you had leaned in, for the way you had tested him, for the way you wanted him.

Because the truth was, those feelings had been festering for months.

For him.

Your boss.

And now, you had just made everything so much worse.

By the time you finally shut the shower off – and racked up a hefty water bill in the process – your body felt clean, but your thoughts were still a mess. You wrapped yourself in a towel, sighing as you reached for the door handle.

And then—

A soft click.

The sound of the front door shutting.

Your stomach twisted. Of course he had left. You swallowed hard, pushing away the sudden tightness in your chest. You gripped the edge of your towel a little tighter as you cracked the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway.

The apartment was quiet as you padded toward the living room, heart sinking at the sight before you. The bookshelf was finished, not a single screw out of place. And the coffee table, that was finished too, every piece perfectly assembled.

But the room was empty.

Dragging a hand through your damp hair, you turned in a slow circle, scanning for any other sign of him. But there was nothing.

It wasn’t like you expected him to stay. You had all but thrown yourself at him tonight and he had done the right thing – the gentlemanly thing – by stopping it. And yet, standing there, wrapped in nothing but your towel, your home felt emptier than it had before.

You exhaled sharply, turning back toward the bathroom, ready to put on some clothes and pretend this night never happened. But the sound of the front door swinging open caused you to spin on your heel just in time to see Hotch stepping back inside.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

First, it was him catching you without a bra, and now he had walked in on you fresh out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered anything.

The moment his gaze landed on you, his entire body went rigid. His eyes flickered downward – just for a second – before he sucked a breath in, his nostrils flaring.

He immediately looked away, clearing his throat as he shut the door behind him like this wasn't the second time tonight you'd managed to put him in an impossible situation.

"I–" He hesitated, voice tight. Too tight. "I was just taking out the rubbish."

Of course he had. Because this man was nothing if not thoughtful.

“Thank you,” you managed, fingers gripping the towel tighter, holding onto it for dear life as you shifted awkwardly. “For everything, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”

He didn’t respond right away but his eyes were back on you again. You caught the way they traced the delicate slope of your collarbone, down to where a single droplet of water clung to your skin before disappearing beneath the edge of your towel.

“I – I really am sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be. There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

You nodded, your line of sight drifting to where his jacket hung over the back of a chair.

It was an excuse to move. To do something other than stand there, half–naked and vulnerable under his intense stare. You grabbed it with your free hand, clutching your towel tighter with the other, and made your way over to him.

Even as you stepped closer, you felt the weight of his eyes on you–watching, tracking.

“Don’t want to forget your jacket.” You held it out to him, but when his hand reached for it, his fingers skimming yours, his attention wasn’t on the jacket.

It was on you.

“Thanks. Get some rest.”

You nodded again, lips pressing together, forcing yourself to ignore the way your pulse wouldn’t settle.

And just like that, he turned to leave, the moment passing.

Or at least, that’s what you both told yourselves.

divider creds. cafekitsune

[hotchnersangel]

MISS POSSESSIVE

Aaron Hotchner

a/n: BEEN OBSESSED W TATE’s NEW ALBUM SO HEREEEEEEEEE. ilyilyily.

cw: jealous!reader, established but secret relationship, innuendos of sleeping round (slay x), supportive hotch.

———-

The new ‘member’ of the team, a temporary member filling in for JJ had some nerve on her. Since her arrival she had made her attraction to the Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner very noticeable and despite your relationship being private and well… secret, you realised that she was bringing out a horrible side of yourself.

You were sat in the briefing room, debriefing a case you just got back from when you notice how she is eying Aaron. Her baby blue eyes undressing him with intent and fire as she burns a hole through his clothes from across the room.

You pretended you didn’t notice for a few weeks now but you couldn’t hold it any longer. You took it as a compliment that she wanted YOUR man, but it was getting too far now. She had already pronounced herself as a ‘player’ to the group when she delved into the topic of her love life on a night out with her, which you supported her actions verbally, telling her to ‘live her life to the fullest’ and ‘get that dick, girl!’ but soon you’d have to teach her which to stay away from. Immediately, seeing her obsession with Aaron made you see her as an enemy, not a friend. Yeah, no one exactly knew you were together but god damn was it frustrating for you to watch them interact. The sheer thought of her thinking about taking your man home makes you furious.

It was late, around one am by now, the case being extremely long and exhausting which meant you were feisty and snappy and would put up with no shit from her.

“Aaron you need a break after this, you’ve been working so hard.” She says ‘innocently’, fluttering her eyelashes at him with concern. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you tighten your jaw.

“The team will be given two days rest, I’ll ensure it personally.” He nods and chooses to ignore the flirtatious innuendo by the stupid bimbo trying to take your man.

You need to calm down, you tell yourself, taking a deep breath.

“Maybe we should get dinner or something?” She offers, again… innocently and if she wasn’t closing in on your man, you’d applaud her. This gesture makes you livid. She has just asked him on a date and you are finding it hard to bite your tongue. Aaron looks towards you, giving you a reassuring look that he isn’t bothered by her moves and quickly he shuts it down.

“I’m going to head back home, I suggest you all do the same.” He nods to them as everyone stands up ready to go.

“Just one meal, you need a nutritious meal after that case Aaron- let me take care of you.” You snap at the sight of her hand on his arm. You clear your throat.

“Get off my man,” you say with humour, trying to keep the tone light. This causes a round of laughter also coming from her.

“You’re funny.” She grins at you and laughs but your smile then fades and you zone in on her.

“No, seriously… get your hands off my man.” You say with a sharp face and the room falls silent.

Her hand drops from his arm at the intensity of your tone, her eyebrows pulled together and a frown caressing her lips. You watch as she takes a step away from him and towards you.

The team surrounding you have a shared reaction of shock, confusion and a hint of amusement. They knew you to be loud and bubbly, but never in a way that cuts at people- so, this took them by surprise but overall, there was a round of smirks shared through looks between them. ‘I knew it’ was chucked through sound waves on a length that only they had frequencies to. Emily and Derek whistled lowly, sitting back down in their chairs to watch the interaction unfold.

Aaron was stood still, staring intently at you with a look of warning. Not because he liked what was going on, but because he could see how angry you were. It was a look full of concern, worry and almost a slice of fear. He crossed his arms and thanked anything and everything that he was not in her position right now, because if looks could kill, this ‘bimbo’ would be six feet past death.

“W-what?” She stumbled, looking at you.

“You heard me.” You stand tall, looking at her intently now. “Look at anybody you want, take home anybody you want… but keep those eyes of yours off of him.”

“I- why are you acting like it’s a problem now? I’ve been flirting with him since I got here.” She defends and steps closer to you and you smirk.

“And has it once been reciprocated?” You continue smirking as you now take a step closer to her, staring up at her intently. Though you may be shorter than her, you were a whole lot more intimidating.

“And if it has?”

“It hasn’t and it wouldn’t.” You shoot back, a cold expression kissing your face. “You’re a pretty girl honey, but you need to learn your lesson that men who show you nothing in return don’t deserve your attention.”

“How long have you even been together?” She inquires, testing the waters.

“Long enough to know that there’s some fights you’re never going to win.” You shoot back and she frowns.

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t know-“ she says, looking towards Hotch who shakes his head.

“I’m not the one to apologise to.” He says with a straight face, moving so he is standing beside you now. “My lady is who needs an apology.”

“I’m sorry- I- I didn’t mean to cross boundaries I just thought-“

“Wrong. You thought wrong. Now, I forgive you but i suggest you tone down the flirting with my boyfriend. Okay?” You shoot back, your tone still a bit snippy as she walks away and you’re left with the team gawking at you both.

“Okay- what the fuck.” Emily breaks the silence with a laugh which crashes the tension that had built up.

“Miss Possessive over here, hello.” Derek comes over and teases you, playfully poking you and you roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry but it was getting unbearable.” You laugh softly and shake your head, “I hardly went off on her.”

“Yet you scared the poor girl to death.” Rossi adds and the team nods.

You gasp playfully, “did not.”

“Oh honey, you definitely did.” Aaron grins and places a kiss to your forehead.

“Now can we talk about this-“ Garcia adds, pointing her finger between the two of you.

[olderwomenenthusiast]

Breaking Boundaries ✭ aaron hotchner

PAIRING: dbf!aaron hotchner x younger!fem!reader

SUMMARY: the crush on aaron hotchner, your dad's best friend as come to a head - from secret pining to finally having your way with him when aaron finally admits he needs you has you screaming his name in pleasure

CAUTION: implied age gap, rough sex, degradation, aftercare, overstimulation, swearing, pinching, biting, slapping, choking, hickies - basically 18+

WORD COUNT: 4.1K

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ugh, too obsessed with this man - left it open ended, so let me know if you want this to be a series or not? STORY BELOW THE CUT

MASTERLIST (not updated)

You knew this was wrong. But the second Aaron’s hands gripped your hips and dragged you down onto his cock, stretching you wide, filling you deeper than anyone ever had - you didn’t care.

Your dad’s best friend. The man who had been in your life since you were young. And now, he was beneath you, his broad chest rising and falling as you rode him, his thick, veiny cock splitting you open.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your soft skin as you rocked your hips, taking him deeper, harder. “So fucking tight.”

Aaron’s cock was thick, long, every inch of it dragging against your walls with each slow, deliberate thrust. You swore you could feel him in your stomach, stretching you in ways that had you gasping, clinging to his strong shoulders.

“You love this, don’t you?” he rasped, voice dark, possessive. His fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that had your legs trembling. “Love how I fill you up? How you take my cock like you were made for it?”

You whimpered, nodding, gripping his shoulders as you bounced on him, your slick coating his length, making each thrust easier, filthier.

His hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples. “So fucking perfect,” he muttered, mouth latching onto your throat, sucking, marking you. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to fuck you like this.”

You clenched around him at his words, making him groan, his control slipping. His grip tightened, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper. You could feel yourself getting close, your body tightening, pleasure coiling low in your stomach.

“That’s it,” he murmured, watching your face, drinking in every little reaction. “Cum for me.”

And you did. Your body tensed, back arching as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your cunt squeezing around him, pulling him deeper. You moaned his name, trembling in his hold as your orgasm ripped through you.

Aaron groaned, his grip turning bruising as he snapped his hips up into you, chasing his own release. “Fuck — gonna fill you up,” he growled, his jaw tight as he buried himself to the hilt.

You gasped, feeling the first hot spurts of his cum spill deep inside you, his cock throbbing, his body shuddering beneath you. He didn’t pull out, didn’t even try — just kept you there, kept himself buried inside you, like he belonged there.

“Not letting you go,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass, holding you down on him. “Gonna keep you full of me.”

Your breath hitched, your body still sensitive, overstimulated. You could feel his cum pooling inside you, hot and thick, but he didn’t move, didn’t let you pull away.

Aaron finally pulled out of you, his thick cock slipping free with a lewd, wet sound. You gasped at the sudden emptiness, your walls still fluttering from the aftershocks of your orgasm. But before you could catch your breath, he was already moving, his strong hands gripping your waist and lifting you off him with ease.

“Knees. Now.” His voice was rough, commanding.

You obeyed, your legs trembling as you sank onto the floor between his spread thighs. The sticky warmth of his cum dripped down your thighs, a filthy reminder of just how deep he’d been inside you. You barely had time to register the mess before his hands were guiding yours.

“Press those pretty tits together for me,” Aaron murmured, his thumbs grazing over your sensitive nipples before he leaned back against the couch, his cock still hard and glistening with your slick. “Gonna fuck ‘em. Gonna ruin you some more.”

Your breath hitched, arousal sparking again despite the ache between your legs. You did as he said, squeezing your breasts together, creating a tight, warm channel just for him. He groaned, fisting the base of his cock before sliding it between the plush softness of your tits.

“Fuck, just like that,” he hissed, thrusting slow at first, his cock gliding smoothly between your mounds, the swollen head nudging up toward your chin with each roll of his hips. “Goddamn, sweetheart, you’re a fucking dream.”

You whimpered, tongue flicking out on instinct, just barely grazing his leaking tip. Aaron grunted, his jaw tightening.

“Yeah? You want a taste?” He gripped the back of your head, keeping you still as he fucked your tits harder, his cock dragging between them, slick and hot. “Look at you. Kneeling here, covered in my cum, tits wrapped around my cock like a perfect little whore. What would your daddy say if he saw you like this?”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing through you at his filthy words. You should be ashamed. Should be horrified. But all you could do was moan, your thighs pressing together as another wave of arousal flooded through you.

Aaron chuckled darkly. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Bet you’d let me do this with him in the next room — bet you’d let me fuck your tight little pussy while he sits there, clueless.”

You whimpered, your tongue flicking over his tip again as he thrust faster, rougher. His breathing turned ragged, his abs tightening, and you knew he was close.

“Fuck, gonna make a mess of you,” he growled. “Gonna cover you in my cum — mark you up like the filthy little thing you are.”

At the last second, he pulled back, fisting his cock in one hand, stroking himself fast and hard. His breath hitched, and then he groaned deep in his chest as thick, hot ropes of cum spurted onto your tits, streaking across your skin, dripping down to your stomach.

You gasped, swallowing hard, the warmth of it making you shiver. Aaron groaned, rubbing the last drops over your already messy chest, admiring the sight of you covered in him.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, gripping your chin and tilting your face up. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, pressing down until you parted your lips for him. “Mine now. Every fucking inch of you.”

Aaron's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you — kneeling before him, tits glistening with his cum, your lips parted, your breath shaky. His grip on your chin tightened just enough to make you whimper, his thumb pressing against your tongue before dragging down, smearing some of his release across your bottom lip.

"Up," he ordered, his voice thick with dominance, rough from pleasure. "Not done with you yet."

Your legs trembled as you tried to stand, but Aaron was already there, strong hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you up with ease. Your body felt weak, sensitive, overstimulated — but the way he handled you, like you were weightless, like you were his to use, had you clenching around nothing, desperate for more.

He spun you around, pressing your back to the wall. The cool surface sent a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His hands roamed your skin — squeezing your waist, dragging down to your hips before gripping the backs of your thighs.

"Jump," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending tingles through your body.

You obeyed without thinking, gasping as he hoisted you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. His cock — still hard and still slick, rubbed against your drenched folds, teasing, taunting.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groaned, grinding against you, feeling just how wet, how ready you still were. "Still dripping for me. You're insatiable, aren't you?"

You whimpered, burying your face in the crook of his neck, nails digging into his broad shoulders. "Please," you whispered, voice needy, desperate.

Aaron smirked, one hand adjusting his cock, guiding the thick head to your entrance. "You want it? Want me to fill you up again?"

"Yesfuckyes," you gasped, rocking your hips, trying to take him in.

He didn't make you wait. In one smooth, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you open once more, filling you to the hilt. Your head fell back against the wall, a broken moan slipping from your lips as he bottomed out, his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

"Goddamn," Aaron gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs as he held you up, keeping you pinned against the wall. "This pussy was made for me."

He started moving — slow at first, letting you feel every thick inch dragging against your walls, his cock pulsing inside you. Then his pace shifted, turning rough, relentless. Each thrust sent you higher, the force of it making the wall tremble behind you.

"Look at you," he growled, voice laced with possession, with something dark and filthy. "Fucking yourself on my cock, letting me use you like this."

You moaned, arousal making your head spin.

Aaron smirked, his lips brushing against your ear. "Bet he'd lose his fucking mind if he walked in right now — saw you dripping down my cock, saw the mess I made of you."

You clenched around him, a whimper escaping as pleasure coiled tighter inside you.

"Fuck, you like that, don't you?" he rasped, his thrusts turning brutal, unforgiving. "Getting ruined like a filthy little slut with your daddy's best friend. Say it."

Your breath hitched, your nails digging deeper into his back. "I..."

"Say it," he demanded, snapping his hips forward, his cock slamming into that perfect, devastating spot inside you.

"I'mfuck - I'm your filthy little slut," you gasped, your body arching, pleasure consuming you.

Aaron groaned, his grip tightening, his movements growing erratic. "Damn right you are."

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing quick, ruthless circles. The pressure was overwhelming, pleasure building too fast and way too intense.

"Cum for me," he ordered, his voice pure sin. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart."

And you did. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering in his grip as you came, walls clenching tight around his cock, milking him for everything he had.

Aaron groaned, burying his face in your neck, thrusting a few more times before he stilled, his body tensing. "Fuck..." he snarled, his jaw tight as his cock throbbed, spilling deep inside you, flooding you with his hot release.

He held you there, both of you panting, bodies trembling. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, mixing with your own slick, making a mess between your thighs again.

Aaron finally pulled back, his dark eyes meeting yours. A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips. "You're fucking mine," he murmured, pressing a possessive kiss to your lips. "And I'm never letting you go."

The moment you caught your breath, Aaron was already moving again — no hesitation, no mercy. His grip was firm as he pulled out, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, his cum already leaking from your still-pulsing pussy. But he wasn’t done. Not even close.

“On your back,” he ordered, his voice dark, dripping with authority.

Your legs felt weak, your body spent, but you obeyed, lowering yourself onto the plush rug beneath you. Before you could process what was happening, Aaron was grabbing your legs, pushing them up, folding you nearly in half.

“This is how I want you,” he murmured, positioning himself between your spread thighs. His strong hands gripped the backs of your knees, pushing them even further, making sure your ass was lifted off the ground, leaving you completely vulnerable, exposed. His cock twitched at the sight—your soaked, used pussy gaping for him, his cum already dripping down between your cheeks.

“You ever been fucked like this before?” he asked, rubbing the thick head of his cock through your folds, teasing you, making you whimper.

You shook your head, breathless. “N-no.”

A dangerous smirk tugged at his lips. “Good. Then you’ll never forget who made you take it.”

And then he was inside you.

You gasped as he drove his cock deep, the angle making everything so much tighter, so much more intense. It was deeper than before —so deep it had you seeing stars, your breath catching as he bottomed out, grinding his hips down to make sure you felt every inch of him.

“Fucking hell,” Aaron growled, his fingers tightening around your thighs, keeping you in place as he started to move. The first thrust was slow, teasing — but then he snapped his hips forward, slamming into you so hard that a choked moan tore from your lips.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he grunted, watching your face, soaking in every desperate sound you made. “Taking me so fucking well.”

His thrusts turned brutal, relentless. The position had you completely at his mercy — your legs pinned, your body trembling as he fucked into you with deep, punishing strokes. The wet, obscene sounds of your slick cunt taking him filled the room, mixing with your moans, his grunts along with the slap of skin on skin.

“Look at you,” Aaron groaned, eyes dark with lust. “Folded up like a little fucktoy. Taking my cock like you were fucking made for it.”

You whimpered, overwhelmed, completely consumed by him. Your hands clawed at the rug, desperate for something to ground you, but there was nothing — only the way he filled you, stretched you, ruined you.

Aaron chuckled, leaning down, his body pressing against yours, his lips brushing over your ear. “Bet you’d let me do this to you in your own damn bed, huh? While your daddy’s downstairs, none the fucking wiser.”

A broken moan escaped you, your walls fluttering around him at the filthy thought.

“Yeah, I know you would,” he murmured, his tongue flicking against your earlobe before he bit down, making you whimper. “Such a dirty little thing. Letting me fuck you like this, letting me own you.”

His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough, fast circles. The added stimulation had your body tensing, your orgasm hurtling toward you with devastating force.

“You gonna cum for me?” he rasped, pounding into you faster, harder. “Gonna let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock?”

You couldn’t hold back. The pressure snapped, your orgasm slamming into you like a tidal wave. You cried out, your body shaking, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

“Fuckfuck, that’s it,” Aaron groaned, his thrusts turning sloppy, desperate. His grip on your thighs tightened, bruising, as he buried himself to the hilt. “Gonna fill you up again - fuck, take it, sweetheart— take all of it.”

With a deep, guttural growl, he came, his cock pulsing inside you, flooding you with his hot release. The feeling of his cum spilling into you, mixing with the mess he’d already made, sent aftershocks of pleasure through you.

Aaron didn’t move right away. He stayed there, buried deep, breathing hard, his hands stroking over your thighs as he slowly eased them down. He watched as his cum dripped from your swollen pussy, groaning at the sight. “Fuck,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you — slow and possessive.

Aaron didn’t give you a moment to recover. His cum still leaked from your spent hole, but he wasn’t done — not even close. He wanted more. He wanted to break you.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was moving again, manhandling you like you were nothing but a doll for him to use. His strong arms wrapped around you from behind, hauling you up onto his lap as he sat back.

“Gonna wreck you,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

Your legs were spread wide, thighs resting over his, leaving you completely open, completely vulnerable. His hands moved under your knees, lifting your legs high, folding them back until they were nearly pressed against your shoulders. His grip was ironclad—there was no escape. You were trapped.

His.

“This is the way I want you,” he growled. “Wide open for me. Fucking helpless.”

You whimpered, already trembling from the sheer control he had over your body. The stretch was intense, every part of you exposed to him, at his mercy.

And then he was pushing inside.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he slammed his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Aaron grunted, his arms tightening around your legs, keeping you locked in place as he started moving. “So fucking deep like this. Bet you can feel me in your goddamn stomach.”

You could. The angle had his thick cock hitting something devastating inside you, dragging against your walls in a way that had you gasping for air.

But he didn’t give you time to adjust. He started pounding into you—fast, hard, merciless. The wet, obscene sounds of your pussy taking him filled the room, each thrust making you cry out, your back arching against his chest.

“Fuck, listen to you,” he groaned, his lips brushing against your ear. “Moaning like a little whore while I split you open. You love this, don’t you?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob of pleasure.

Aaron chuckled darkly. “Can’t even talk. Too fucked-out already?” His hips snapped forward, his cock hitting so deep it made you scream. “And I’m not even close to done with you.”

His hand left your leg, moving between your thighs. His fingers found your clit, pinching it hard, making you jolt in his hold.

“Aaron—!” you gasped, your voice breaking.

He grinned against your skin, rubbing ruthless circles over your overstimulated bud. “Too much? Too fucking bad.”

A sharp slap landed against your swollen, stretched pussy, making you cry out.

“Oh, you felt that,” he murmured, doing it again — another sharp, wet slap that had you clenching around him.

Your entire body burned, pleasure and pain intertwining, making your mind foggy. But Aaron wasn’t done torturing you yet.

His hand moved to your throat, wrapping around it, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You’re fucking mine,” he growled, his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck, cutting off just enough air to make your head spin.

You whimpered, eyes rolling back, body going limp in his grip. The lack of control, the feeling of him using you, taking you however he wanted — it was overwhelming.

He loosened his grip just enough for you to gasp for air, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking hard, leaving bruises—marks of ownership, proof of what he was doing to you.

“Imagine your daddy seeing you like this,” Aaron rasped, biting down hard enough to make you gasp. “Imagine him walking in, seeing his little girl stretched out, taking my cock like a desperate little slut.”

Your walls clenched around him, the filthiness of his words sending you spiraling.

“Oh, you love that, don’t you?” He chuckled darkly, thrusting even harder, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. “Bet you’d let me fuck you with him in the next room. Bet you’d let me cum inside you, keep you full of me, let him wonder why you’re walking funny.”

You were close so close it hurt.

Aaron felt it, his grip tightening, his thrusts turning ruthless. “Cum for me,” he ordered, his voice dark, dangerous. “Cum while I ruin you.”

The coil inside you snapped.

You screamed, your entire body locking up as pleasure crashed over you, your walls milking his cock, making it even harder for him to move inside you.

Aaron groaned, his hips stuttering. “Fuckfuck, babybabybaby, that’s it,” he snarled, his arms tightening around you as he buried himself deep.

His cock pulsed, hot spurts of cum flooding your already ruined hole, filling you up to the brim. He kept thrusting, fucking his release even deeper, making sure you took every drop.

When he finally stilled, both of you panting, shaking, he chuckled breathlessly against your ear.

“Now that was a proper fucking.”

Aaron’s deep, breathless chuckle still lingered in the air, his strong arms wrapped around your trembling frame. You were wrecked — your body boneless, sensitive, every nerve alight with the aftermath of what he’d just done to you.

His chest rose and fell against your back, his cock still buried inside you, twitching with the last echoes of his release. His arms flexed, holding you close, grounding you even as your body quivered from overstimulation.

Aaron pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck, where the marks he’d left still burned, his lips feather-light against the bruised skin. “You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice softer now, no longer rough with lust but warm with something deeper, something more tender.

You nodded, but the way your muscles ached, the way your body still trembled in his hold, didn’t escape him.

“Come here,” he murmured.

Without another word, he shifted, withdrawing from you with a slow, wet drag that made you whimper. You felt so empty, so sensitive, but before you could react, Aaron was already moving. His strong arms sliding under your back and legs, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace.

A tiny gasp left your lips as he carried you, his touch so gentle it made your chest tighten. You rested your head against his shoulder, listening to his steady heartbeat as he strode toward the bathroom.

Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice a low murmur against your skin. “You did so good for me,” he praised, his breath warm, soothing. “So fucking perfect.”

His words made something in you melt, your fingers clutching weakly at his broad shoulders as he stepped into the bathroom.

He set you down on the counter with care, keeping a steadying hand on your waist as he reached for the faucet. He twisted the knobs, adjusting the temperature, letting the tub fill with warm water.

The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air as he poured in a generous amount of bubble bath, watching as the water foamed, soft white bubbles rising and swirling.

Aaron turned back to you, his dark eyes scanning your face, his expression unreadable. Then, he reached for a washcloth, wetting it under the stream before bringing it between your thighs, carefully wiping away the sticky mess of cum still dripping down your legs.

You let out a soft whimper, flinching from the sensitivity, but Aaron just shushed you gently.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I got you.”

He took his time, his movements slow, soothing, his fingers grazing your skin with such tenderness it made your throat tighten.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled you into his arms again, stepping into the bath first before carefully lowering both of you into the warm, fragrant water.

You exhaled a deep, shaky breath as the heat enveloped your sore muscles, the weightlessness of the water easing the ache in your limbs.

Aaron settled behind you, his broad chest a firm, steady presence against your back. His legs caged yours, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the faint ripple of water, the distant hum of the house, the slow, steady rhythm of your breaths syncing together.

You sighed, leaning further into him, your head resting against his shoulder. His fingers traced soft, absentminded patterns along your arm, the intimacy of the moment settling deep into your bones.

And then, in a small, hesitant voice, you whispered, “Do you regret it?”

The question lingered in the air, heavier than it should have been, raw and unguarded.

Aaron stilled for a moment. Then, his grip on you tightened.

“No,” he said, firm, without hesitation. “Not for a second.”

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around his forearm. “But… we can’t go back now. Everything’s changed.”

Aaron exhaled slowly, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I know.” He paused, his voice softer now, lower. “But we’ll find a way forward. Together.”

Your chest ached at the certainty in his tone, at the quiet promise in his words.

Aaron’s arms flexed around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’re mine now,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

A shiver ran through you — not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his devotion.

You turned slightly, just enough to glance up at him, to meet those dark, unwavering eyes. “Promise?”

Aaron didn’t hesitate. He cupped your chin, tilting your face toward his, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips — one that tasted like warmth, like possession, and certainly like something you didn’t dare name just yet.

“Promise.”

[shutupandwatchsmosh]

bau as text posts 4/?

[ssamorganhotchner]

My hearrrtttt 😭💓 all I wanna do is take care of him for the rest of my life. Our little family :(

but what is she surprises aaron with flowers and a bath. where she’s looking after him but he’s like you need to be in here with me to be perfect. because this man never lets himself be taken care of 😭

aaaahhhh omg no i will cry this is so cute for v day 🥹🥹🥹🥹 okay let’s do it!

pairing - aaron hotchner x wife!reader

word count - ~1.5k

In your opinion; being married to someone does not mean you stop dating that person.

Your person happened to be the workaholic, grump, that is Aaron Hotchner. Not only is he the Unit Chief of the BAU in the FBI, but he is also more importantly your husband and father to three.

“That’s so pretty, Cassie-baby.” You cooed at your daughter who was drawing her dad a valentine’s day card.

Aaron does so much for his team at work and even more at home for you, so you decided to treat him extra special on this extra special day.

Cassie, your 2 year old, Dylan, your 5 year old and Jack your 10 year old were all sitting at the kitchen table perfecting their valentines day cards for their dad.

You had given yours to Aaron already.

“Mm.”

Aaron sighed as he felt your kisses trail over his exposed back. His face was shoved into his pillow, head turned away from you, as he was softly woken from his sleep.

“Morning.” You kissed him again, leaning further over his body so you could kiss his neck closer to his face.

“I love you, but why are you awake?” His voice was so low and muffled that it did something to your core.

“It’s valentines day.”

Aaron smiled in response. He of course knew what day it was, he just hadn’t expected you to wake up at 5AM just so you could tell him that.

He did appreciate the gesture though.

“I’ve got something for you.” You whispered into his ear, before giving his lobe a soft kiss and small bite. Aaron happily sighed at the feeling.

You handed him his card and told him that you were going to take an indulgent shower.

You watched Aaron flick on the bedside light about to open and read the card you had gifted him. He took pride in caring for things like this. That’s when he saw the clock on the bedside table.

4:45AM.

“Honey, not that I don’t love the fuss but you’ve woken me up 15 minutes early.” Aaron whined, because he did love his sleep regardless of how much he looked like he didn’t.

“Did I?” You asked, slipping off your pyjama top so you were bare, “Or did I just give us an extra 15 minutes to take a shower together?”

You left him to think on that question.

But you knew you made the right choice when less than thirty seconds later Aaron came up behind you in the shower.

Before you could go down that route in your mind, you returned to helping your kids out.

“Jack, that’s amazing bud.” You gasped. He’d drawn a picture of the whole family and labelled everyone too for good measure. “Uhh, who’s this?” You pointed.

“That’s our dog.” He explained.

“We don’t have a dog.” You said, confused.

“We will. I’m working on it.” He nodded and you had to laugh at the boy’s ambition. You no doubt probably would end up with a dog, because Aaron could not say ‘no’ to his kids.

Dylan was writing his name super neatly - for a 5 year old - at the bottom of his card.

“Wow, Dyl-man. You’re so clever.” You kissed his head.

“I know.” He smiled up at you.

“Daddy will be home in an hour, okay? So let’s finish these and then get our pyjamas on before dinner.”

<.><.><.>

When Aaron came home the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was.

Normally there was at least one child screaming, or dinner was coking, or even the TV was on for the kids to watch. This evening there was nothing.

“Honey?” Aaron called out.

He took off his blazer and hung it on the staircase, dropping his briefcase next to it.

He stood there for another moment, looking around the house and undoing his tie so he could place it next to his blazer.

“Y/N?” He called out again - more concerned this time.

He walked into the kitchen and noticed that the oven was on with his dinner being warmed inside.

The thing that caught his eyes though was the trio of cards sat on the table that were all addressed to him. He picked them up one-by-one and admired the drawings and writings inside.

He had really poor artists for children but at the same time Aaron believed they were all MOMA worthy.

Aaron fetched a glass of water after reading the cards, keeping them propped up so everyone could see. Now he wanted to see his family to give them all the kisses they deserved.

He went upstairs to the kids playroom.

It was there that he found everyone.

You were wall inside the massive fort that Aaron had helped Jack make last weekend. It was a wonder it was still standing actually.

The fort was huge and nearly spanning the whole room. It was a combination of random bedsheets and blankets, along with strings of tiny, hanging, fairy lights and fluffy pillows to cover the floor.

Aaron leaned against the door as he watched you read a book to your children. They were all in their pyjamas, tucked under blankets and wearing sleepy faces. Cassie was already asleep against your chest, but Dylan and Jack were trying their best to pay attention to you and the story.

“Room for one more?” Aaron asked as he knelt down in front of the fort entrance.

“Daddy!” Dylan cheered, perking up at the sight of his dad. Jack was the same, but Cassie was too asleep to notice.

“Hey, my buddies.” Aaron laughed as his sons hugged him tight. He hugged them back tighter.

“We missed you.” Jack said.

“I miss you too.” He kissed Jack’s head and then thought it was only fair he did the same to Dylan’s. He would kiss Cassie’s when he put her to bed later.

Aaron looked over his sons to where you were laid looking at them all - a loving smile on your face.

Aaron mouthed ‘I love you’ to you and you mouthed it back, before Aaron clambered into the fort and settled down for the rest of the bedtime story.

<.><.><.>

You sat with Aaron as he had his dinner.

“Was Spencer any better today?” You asked, drying the dishes that you had cleaned before.

“He was okay. He was okay enough to talk about the origins of beans for half an hour, at least:” Aaron chuckled as he drank from his water.

“Origins of beans?” You questioned.

“Don’t ask.” Aaron rolled his eyes, before tucking back into his dinner.

You were both happy to be silent in each other’s company as Aaron ate and you dried and put away dishes. The kids had been put to bed an hour or so ago, so it was just you two for the night now.

“Dinner okay?” You asked.

You came up beside Aaron and brushed a hand through his hair. His arm wrapped around your waist as he kept you close against him as he ate.

“Mhm. Lovely, thank you.”

You smiled as you accepted his politeness.

You bent over to kiss his head - something you as a family did a lot. Even Jack had started doing it to his siblings after seeing you and Aaron do it all the time.

“You need a shower.” You said, pulling back from his head.

Aaron pinched your side gently, “Love you too.” He said sarcastically.

“Oi!” You laughed.

“Supposed to be nice to each other today.”

“What? Just because it’s valentines day?”

“Yes.” Aaron finished his meal and twisted in his chair so you stood between his legs. His other arm came around your waist so you were trapped against him.

You steadily brushed his hair into formation after having ruined it a little when you’d messed with it before.

“I love you every day, not just because it’s valentines day.” You explained. “Do you?”

“Did you just ask me whether I love you every day?” Aaron scoffed.

“Well?”

“Sweetheart, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that I haven’t loved you. I just love you a little extra today.”

“Oh you do, do you?” You teased.

“Mhm.”

“Well if you love me that much…” You said seductively, leaning down as Aaron’s head tilted back in anticipation of kissing you. Just as you were about to kiss him you whispered, “… Then you can clean your own dishes.”

You leant back up and left Aaron hanging.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge over your actions and you knew that you’d pay for your teasing later. For now he could clean his dishes - alone.

You needed him alone in order to prepare the next part of his valentines day.

<.><.><.>

Aaron trudged up the stairs after turning off the lights downstairs and setting the alarm.

He unbuttoned his shirt a little as he reached the top, stopping at three when he focused on checking on his kids instead.

Each of them were sleeping when he checked.

They were all safe and that’s all that Aaron needed reassuring of.

He walked into your bedroom next and noticed you weren’t in bed reading like he had expected you to be.

He shut the bedroom door and called your name.

“In here.” You responded from the bathroom.

Aaron’s shirt was now all the way unbuttoned but he kept it on as he entered the bathroom.

He knocked as he entered to give you time to tell him to get out if needed.

“Yeah?”

Aaron watched as you checked the temperature of the bath water, which was filled with bubbles, before shaking off the water and rolling your sleeve back down.

The bathroom smelt like those calming bath salts Penelope had bought for both of you.

“What’s all this?” Aaron asked, gesturing to the bath and the warm glowing candles on the counter.

“Happy valentines day.” You smiled.

“Honey.” Aaron pouted as he looked from the room to you, standing there with a smile that would bring even the grumpiest of men to their knees. “This is for me?”

“Yeah. Enjoy.” You leant up to kiss his cheek as you tried to walk past him, but he caught your arm before you could.

“Woah, woah. Where are you going?”

“Uh.. To let you enjoy this.” You furrowed your brows.

“How?” He asked seriously.

“What?”

“How am I supposed to enjoy this, without you?”

His question made your brows soften and you couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little bit more.

“You do so much for us Aaron. Thought you might want a moment of peace.”

“Well you thought wrong, because all I want right now is you.” He leant down to kiss you, “And that bath.”

You laughed into the kiss he was giving you, “Okay then. You, me and the bath it is.”

[smiskislutt]

I forget it’s not normal to think about aaron hotchner 24/7. ugh.

[chithereader]

jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder. 

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face. 

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through. 

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought. 

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right? 

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh. 

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day. 

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?” 

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something. 

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing. 

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty. 

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.” 

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch. 

-

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you. 

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely. 

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse. 

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate. 

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file. 

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss. 

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth. 

- 

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short. 

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud. 

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile. 

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground. 

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?” 

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing. 

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand. 

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.” 

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.” 

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob. 

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud. 

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face. 

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!” 

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you. 

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting. 

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience. 

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?” 

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?” 

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.” 

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.” 

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.” 

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really? 

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away. 

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.” 

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?” 

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”  

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?” 

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.” 

-

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous? 

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish. 

-

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–” 

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now. 

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you. 

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt– 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice, 

“You don’t think you’re my girl?” 

[patrickispinky]

Derek: are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Emily: i'm the knife

Jj: *from across the room* she's the little spoon

[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

[zvdvdlvr]

savior complex + Aaron Hotchner

     “Hey, baby! So sorry I’m late, I got caught up at work,” you say with an overly saccharine tone.

     Aaron looks up from his phone as you approach him, eyeing you skeptically. He opens his mouth, but closes it when you shake your head ‘no’ frantically.

     Quietly, you rush out, “I’m so sorry. There’s been a man following me from the last four blocks and I don’t want to go home. Please just act like you know me until he goes away.”

     Without raising an eyebrow, Aaron’s eyes dart up and he sees the person you’re talking about. A man dressed in all black, eyes intently on you. “Don’t apologize, honey, I know how busy you get. Up for dinner?” Aaron wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. He hopes he isn’t overstepping boundaries. “Just follow me,” he says quietly, leading you further down the sidewalk. “When we get to the bookstore up there, go inside. If he’s still following us I can take care of him.”

     “Okay,” you nod. “Thank you. I’m so sorry to ruin your night.”

     Aaron hears the truthfulness in your voice and he looks down at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes. “You didn’t ruin my night. I’m just glad it’s me who helped you instead of some other weird guy,” he says lamely.

     You side-eye him. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

     Aaron pulls his wallet from his pocket with ease. “Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner with the FBI,” he tells you. He watches you scan his ID with wide eyes until he turn to the street with the bookstore. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that the man wasn’t there. “He’s gone,” he informs you.

     However, you stay in Aaron’s grasp. Despite knowing the threat is gone, you choose to stay in this hot FBI man’s arm. You know you’re fooling yourself but you just wanted to imagine- for a couple more moments- that you do have a hot FBI boyfriend that escorts you to mundane places like the bookstore and calls you honey and protects you from all the bad guys.

     “Is there any way I can say thank you without saying it?” You ask with a nervous chuckle when he leads you to front of the building.

     Aaron watches you for a moment before checking his watch and scratching his head. “If you’re offering, I could eat- but don’t feel compelled. It’s really no proble-“

     “Agent Hotchner, it’s really no problem. Where do you want to go?”

     “Call me Aaron,” he smiles. “And… I could go for some burgers.”

[hoe4hotchner]

Can you write a story where the reader, a BAU member, is on maternity leave after she and Aaron just had a baby? One day, she goes to the office to bring their daughter to visit Aaron, only to find him in the bullpen with the agent who replaced her while she’s been on leave. The replacement has a crush on Aaron and doesn’t know that he’s married to the reader. The replacement becomes jealous when she sees how much attention Aaron is giving their daughter and confronts the reader, but Aaron gets angry and ends up firing her."

Family first | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Fluff, mom!reader, they have a daugther, bitch of a replacement coworker who doesn't know her place.

As you stepped into the all too familiar bullpen you were met with the usual sound of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the occasional laughter bubbling up from conversations between team members. You hadn’t stepped foot in the office in months — your maternity leave had been an endless storm of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and indescribable moments of joy. Now, cradling your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you stood at the threshold of the office, taking it all in — realizing how little you'd missed working, as long as you got to spend your time with your daughter.

“Ready to surprise Daddy?” you cooed to your baby, brushing a soft kiss against her fluffy head. She giggled in response, her little hand grasping at your necklace — the one Aaron had gotten you with a charm of your daughter's initial. Her chubby fingers wrapped around the charm, and you couldn’t help but smile at her curiosity.

Heads turned as you had entered, and a wave of warmth spread through you as familiar voices from your friends greeted you.

“Y/N!” Garcia’s exclamation came first as she flew across the bullpen, pulling away from her conversation with Morgan, her colorful dress trailing behind her. “Oh my gosh, let me see that precious little angel!”

You laughed, carefully handing over your daughter as Garcia immediately began cooing at her. Emily, Morgan, and JJ soon gathered around, their faces lighting up at the sight of the baby.

“Look at those cheeks,” Morgan said, his voice soft as he tickled her tiny hand. “Hotch better have her signed up for karate classes already. Gotta keep the boys away.”

“Or girls,” Emily added. “She’s going to be a heartbreaker either way.”

You beamed at their affection, the team’s love for your little family filling your heart. “Where is Aaron?” you asked, glancing toward his office. The blinds were drawn, but you knew he wasn’t inside.

JJ nodded toward the conference room. “He’s in there, showing something to Agent Morrison.”

Your smile faltered slightly at the mention of Morrison, the agent who had been brought in temporarily to cover your leave. You hadn’t met her yet, but you’d heard through the grapevine that she was ambitious, skilled, and confident — maybe a little too confident.

You spotted Aaron through the windows, his back turned as he reviewed what you assumed were some case files with Morrison. He looked relaxed yet tired, his tie slightly loosened, though his usual air of authority remained in place. Morrison stood close to him — a little too close — her laughter ringing out at something he said.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you pushed the feeling aside. Aaron was your husband, your partner, and the father of the baby currently making grabby hands at Morgan’s face. You had no reason to feel insecure.

Morgan handed your daughter back to you as you went to greet your husband.

And still, as you approached, you couldn’t help but notice the way Morrison’s body language leaned toward him, her hand brushing his forearm as she laughed again. Aaron didn’t seem to notice — or if he did, he wasn’t encouraging it.

When you reached the conference room, Aaron glanced up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and surprise. His gaze immediately dropped to the baby in your arms, and he stood quickly, coming around the desk to envelop you both in a hug.

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before gently brushing a finger across your daughter’s cheek. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, and he took her into his arms with ease.

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if I told you,” you replied, grinning as you watched him cradle her. “I figured you could use a break.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he kissed the baby’s forehead before turning back to you. “I always have time for my girls.”

Morrison’s voice cut into the moment, a hint of confusion lacing her words. “Wait, your girls?”

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Aaron’s wife.”

Her eyes widened, darting between you, Aaron, and the baby. “Wife?” she repeated, her tone almost incredulous.

Aaron’s arm settled protectively around your waist as he nodded. “Yes, my wife. Y/N used to work here before going on maternity leave.”

Morrison’s expression shifted, her initial surprise giving way to something more guarded. “Oh. I… I didn’t realize.”

“Well, now you do,” Aaron said firmly, his tone polite but edged with finality, hoping that your visit would make Morrison drop her antics.

The tension in Morrison’s posture was clear as day, but she pasted on a smile. “She’s adorable,” she said, nodding toward the baby. “You’re very lucky.”

Aaron’s grip on you tightened slightly. “I know I am.”

The interaction seemed to conclude there, and Morrison excused herself, claiming she had paperwork to finish. But as the day went on, it became clear that the encounter had unsettled her. You noticed her watching you from across the room, her eyes narrowing whenever Aaron’s attention lingered on you or the baby.

Finally, as you were gathering your things to leave, Morrison approached you near the elevator. Her smile was tight, her tone clipped.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, glancing around to ensure no one else was within earshot.

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Her polite facade dropped almost instantly. “You don’t have to flaunt your relationship in front of everyone,” she said sharply. “It’s unprofessional.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean. Walking in here with your baby like you own the place, acting like Hotch is your personal property… It’s distracting and completely inappropriate.”

You blinked, stunned by the audacity. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Agent Morrison.”

Aaron’s tone was ice-cold, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his expression thunderous. “A word, please. Now.”

Morrison’s face paled as she stammered, “I… I didn’t mean…”

“My office. Now.”

You watched as Aaron led her away, his posture stiff with fury. The bullpen had fallen silent, and you could feel the eyes of your colleagues on you, but you held your head high, refusing to let Morrison’s pettiness rattle you.

Minutes later, Aaron returned, his expression softer but still serious. He placed a hand on your arm, guiding you toward the elevator. “Let’s go home,” he said quietly.

As the elevator doors closed, you glanced up at him. “What happened?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Morrison won’t be returning. Her behavior was unacceptable, and I made it clear that we won’t tolerate that kind of attitude here.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man beside you. “Thank you.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “No one disrespects my family,” he said firmly. “No one.”

[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.”

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[pedroscowgirl]

Filling the void

aaron hotchner x afab!reader

Warnings!: smut minors DNI

summary: After tucking in jack, you realised how badly you wanted a baby with Aaron

Wc: 3.7k

Heavy on the breeding kink!!, p in v (wrap it up tho), creampie, lactation kink kinda (?), dirty talk, age gap (later seasons aaron, reader is in her twenties) lmk if i forgot something!

a/n: i orginally was not planning on posting an aaron fic today but I'm ovulating rn and i just need this man to breed me. That's it. Also I can't find a gif of later seasons aaron smiling so😭

You heard the front door creak open just as you pulled Jack’s bedroom door closed behind you. The soft click of the latch was a quiet reward after successfully getting him to bed. Aaron’s return brought a wave of relief; his presence always grounded the house, making everything feel more complete. You saw him standing at the entrance, pulling off his suit jacket with practiced ease, his hair slightly mussed from a long day of work.

“Is he already asleep?” Aaron asked, glancing toward Jack’s door as he set his bag down by the entryway and hung his jacket over the back of a chair.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Not yet. Go say goodnight before he drifts off,” you suggested, knowing Jack would want that last moment with his dad.

Aaron’s face softened at your words. He closed the distance between you and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours with a familiar, tender kiss that sent warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re the best,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away and heading down the hallway to Jack’s room.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the love and contentment settle around you like a warm blanket. This was home. Jack was tucked in, Aaron was back, and everything felt just as it should. You made your way to the living room, slipping into your comfortable loungewear. The cozy clothes were a contrast to the busy day you’d had, a signal that it was finally time to relax.

As you sank into the plush cushions of the couch, you could hear Aaron’s soft voice coming from Jack’s room. He always had that gentle, soothing tone when he talked to his son, even after the most stressful days. It was one of the many things you loved about him—the way he could switch from FBI Unit Chief to loving father in the span of a breath.

Soon, Aaron returned, the familiar creak of the floorboards under his feet signaling his approach. He had changed into his pajamas—flannel pants and a plain white T-shirt that hugged his strong frame. His hair was still slightly tousled, and there was a tired but peaceful expression on his face as he walked into the living room and sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders without a word. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

The soft glow of the television illuminated the room, but neither of you paid much attention to it. The comfort of being near each other, after another day of navigating the complexities of life, was enough. You absently traced patterns on Aaron’s arm with your fingertips, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his skin. His hand squeezed your shoulder gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

Minutes passed like this, quiet and content, the peace between you a testament to how strong your relationship had become. It was in these small moments, tucked between the chaos of your everyday lives, that you truly felt how much you loved him. And Jack. And the life the three of you were building.

But tonight, your heart was full of more than just love for what you already had. It was full of a new kind of hope, a desire that had been quietly growing in you for some time now. You lifted your head from Aaron’s shoulder and shifted slightly, turning to face him. Then, in one fluid motion, you straddled his lap, your knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips.

Aaron’s eyes widened, surprise flashing across his face as his hands instinctively found your waist. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What are you doing?” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity as his eyes searched yours.

You smiled back, your fingers trailing up his chest before resting on his shoulders. “You know I really love Jack,” you whispered, leaning in close, your noses almost brushing.

Aaron’s expression softened immediately, his gaze warm as he looked up at you. “Yes, I know you do,” he said softly. “And he loves you.” His eyes searched yours, a hint of emotion flickering beneath his words. “And so do I,” he added, his voice low and sincere.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss, his hands sliding up from your waist to your back, pulling you closer against him. The familiar sensation of his touch sent warmth flooding through you, but tonight, your thoughts were on something more, something deeper.

As the kiss broke, you leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered the words that had been on your heart for some time now. “I want a baby Aaron.”

For a moment, everything stilled. His hands froze on your back, his breath catching in his throat. You pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face, to see the way his expression shifted from surprise to something that mirrored the emotions swirling in your own chest.

“A baby?” Aaron repeated softly, as if he needed to make sure he heard you correctly.

You nodded, your fingers brushing through his dark hair. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady, but your heart racing. “I love you, Aaron. I love Jack. And I want to grow our family. I want to have a baby with you. Please make me pregnant.”

His eyes softened, but behind that softness was something else, a shadow of hesitation. He swallowed hard, his hands resting on your hips, keeping you steady in his lap. His brow furrowed slightly, and you could tell he was thinking, his mind racing through all the things he hadn’t said yet.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m scared, to be honest.”

You blinked, pulling back just enough to see his face more clearly. “Scared?” you asked softly, your hands still resting on his chest. “Why?”

Aaron let out a long breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s just… with my job, everything I see, the risks I face every day… I’m not sure I can handle bringing another child into that world. Jack is already a huge part of my life, and he’s growing up. But starting over… it’s a lot. And…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I’m not exactly getting any younger. I already feel old some days.”

Your heart ached a little at the vulnerability in his words. He rarely let down his guard like this, and hearing his worries laid bare reminded you just how deeply he cared about the people in his life. But you also knew that this hesitation came from a place of fear—fear of the unknown, of losing control, of risking more when he already had so much to protect.

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “Aaron,” you whispered, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his ear. “I get that you’re scared. I understand. But I also know you. And I know how much love you have to give. You’re an amazing father to Jack… and you’d be just as amazing with another baby.”

His grip on your hips tightened a little as your words washed over him, but you could still sense the doubt lingering in his mind.

You smiled softly, letting your fingers trace along the back of his neck. “And besides,” you added with a playful glint in your eye, “I’d look so good pregnant with your baby.”

Aaron’s eyes widened slightly as you shifted again in his lap, your body pressing more firmly against him. The playful grin on your face made heat rise in his cheeks, and you could feel the subtle reaction from his body beneath you—the growing bulge between his legs. He inhaled sharply, his hands moving to steady you, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a small smile despite himself.

“Hmm,” he groaned softly, leaning his head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “Your hormones are just talking,” he murmured, trying to play it off, but you could see the way his resolve was beginning to melt under your touch.

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sudden interruption broke the moment for a split second, and you glanced down at the screen, seeing the notification flash. It was a reminder to take your birth control.

Aaron’s chuckle broke the silence. He raised an eyebrow, his hand resting on your thigh now. “Ah, look at that. It’s a sign we shouldn’t do it,” he said, half-serious but with a teasing edge to his voice.

You met his gaze and without a second thought, you tossed your phone across the room, hearing it land with a soft thud on the carpet. “Or maybe,” you whispered, leaning down so that your lips were just inches from his, “it’s a sign that I should stop taking birth control.”

Aaron’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with the weight of your words. His hands froze again on your hips, his mind clearly racing as he tried to process what you were saying. “Stop taking…?” he began, but you cut him off with a seductive smile.

“Wouldn’t it be fun?” you whispered against his lips, your voice sultry. “Just to try for a baby anytime we can. No more holding back. Just us… trying, whenever we feel like it and keeping your cum inside of me for as long as I can.”

You rolled your hips ever so slightly, feeling his reaction underneath you. Aaron groaned, his head falling back against the couch again, eyes closed as he tried to hold onto the last threads of his self-control.

“Please, Aaron,” you continued, your voice a soft plea as your lips grazed his neck. “I want this. I want you. And I know you want it too…”

His hands tightened on your waist, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts as he struggled to maintain his resolve. You could feel the conflict in him, his logical, cautious side battling with the desire you were stirring up with each movement of your body against his.

He opened his eyes, looking up at you with a mixture of hesitation and raw emotion. “This is a huge decision,” he said, his voice thick. “Are you really sure about this? About us… having a baby?”

You smiled softly, cupping his face in your hands as you leaned down to kiss him, your lips gentle but full of promise. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whispered against his lips.

Aaron’s resolve finally broke. With a groan, he pulled you closer, his lips crashing into yours with a sudden intensity that made your heart race. His hands roamed over your back, your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you. The tension that had been building between you both finally released, and in that moment, you knew that he was ready-ready to take this leap with you, ready to start this new chapter of your lives.

As you straddled Aaron’s lap, the heat between you became unbearable, the tension of the moment thick in the air. His eyes, dark with desire, roamed over your body. Slowly, he lifted your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. The cool air hit your exposed chest, and immediately, your nipples hardened, betraying how sensitive you were to his touch. His gaze locked on them with raw hunger.

Without a second’s hesitation, Aaron’s mouth found your breast, his lips closing around your sensitive skin as he began to kiss and suck, his tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made you whimper. His hand came up to cup your other breast, squeezing gently as his mouth worked its magic, driving you wild.

“Fuck, it’d be so sexy if these were full of milk,” he murmured, the sudden filthy talk catching you off guard. His voice, so deep and seductive, sent another wave of arousal straight through you. The idea of being pregnant with his baby, your body changing for him, made your heart race and your body tremble with need.

You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second, your body aching for him. “Fuck, Aaron, please,” you gasped, your voice breathy and desperate. “Just fuck me.”

He pulled back from your chest, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Oh, you’re so impatient,” he whispered, his tone laced with playful arrogance.

Unable to wait any longer, you leaned in, crashing your lips against his in a hungry kiss. As you kissed him, you ground your hips harder against his, feeling the bulge beneath you grow even more. Aaron groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tightly, but he wasn’t giving in just yet. His control, his teasing, only made you want him more.

Without warning, he grabbed your thighs and stood up from the couch, holding you against him as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to make too much noise as he carried you down the hallway toward your shared bedroom, being mindful of Jack sleeping in the next room. You could feel Aaron’s heart pounding against your chest, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours, and every step made your anticipation grow.

As soon as he pushed open the door to your bedroom, he laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes dark with need as he hovered over you. His hands moved quickly, tugging off your pants and underwear in one swift motion. You shivered at the feeling of being exposed to him, your body aching for him to touch you. He wasted no time in pulling off his own pants, revealing his already hard, leaking cock. The sight of it made your mouth water, your eyes glued to the way it pulsed, ready for you.

Aaron caught the way you were staring, and a wicked smile curved his lips. “Be patient,” he teased, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “There’s going to be a lot of this inside you soon.”

And then, without warning, he pushed himself inside you in one smooth motion. The sudden stretch made you cry out, your back arching off the bed as your fingers gripped the bedsheets tightly. He filled you completely, his cock so thick and hard inside you that it made your entire body shudder.

Aaron groaned as he bottomed out, his head falling to your shoulder as he took a moment to savour the feeling of being inside you. “God, you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

He started to move, slow at first, each thrust deep and purposeful, hitting all the right spots inside you. You could feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your body responded to his every movement, your hips rising to meet his as you moaned his name, lost in the feeling of him inside you.

There were kisses, soft and sweet, shared between moans and gasps for air. His lips found yours, then your neck, then your chest again, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His hands roamed your body, fingers exploring every inch of skin he could reach, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Just when you felt yourself on the brink of release, Aaron pulled out, leaving you gasping from the sudden emptiness. You whimpered in protest, your body aching for him to fill you again, but he wasn’t done yet.

He grabbed your legs, lifting them and placing them over his shoulders, angling your hips just right. When he thrust back inside you, the new position made him hit deeper, harder, a spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving red marks as you clung to him, your moans filling the room.

Aaron’s head fell back, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the sensation of being buried so deep inside you. You could feel him twitching, the tension building in his body, and you knew he was close. “Please,” you moaned, your voice shaky with need. “Please make me pregnant, Daddy. Just use me whenever you want.”

Your words sent him over the edge. His hips snapped forward, his thrusts becoming erratic, harder, faster. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “I’m going to get you pregnant. Everyone will know that you begged for my cum and that I gave it to you.”

With one final, deep thrust, you both came together, your body convulsing as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your entire body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Aaron followed right after, groaning deeply as he emptied himself inside you, filling you with his release. You could feel him pulsing, twitching inside you as he rode out his orgasm, his hips still moving as he pushed himself deeper.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies still locked together.

As the waves of pleasure finally began to subside, you collapsed onto the bed beside Aaron, your breathing still heavy, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close to his side, and you nestled into his warmth, feeling the afterglow of everything that had just happened between you.

Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as you both slowly came down from the high. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets as you shifted to get comfortable.

You let out a soft chuckle, still catching your breath. “I guess I’ll have to throw my birth control away,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest.

Aaron’s deep laugh rumbled through him, the sound making you smile. “Yeah, you should do that,” he replied, his voice still husky from everything you’d shared.

You grinned, but as the moment settled around you, the weight of what you were discussing—the enormity of the decision—began to creep into your mind. You lifted your head slightly, looking up at him. The soft light in the room highlighted the contours of his face, the small lines around his eyes that came from years of both stress and joy, and the way his lips curved into that subtle smile he reserved just for you.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice a little more serious now, “are you really sure about this, Aaron? I mean, I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” You paused, your heart racing a little, unsure of what he might say next. The desire for a baby was real, but so was the reality of what it would mean for both of you.

Aaron turned his head slightly, his eyes soft as they met yours. He reached up, gently cupping your cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing across your skin in a tender, reassuring gesture.

“Sweetheart,” he began, his voice steady and filled with that signature calmness that always made you feel safe, “I’m an old man. I’ve been around long enough to know what I want, and I can make my own decisions.” He gave you a teasing smile, but there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “And I want this with you. I’m not going to lie—it’s a big deal, and I’ve thought about it. But seeing you with Jack, seeing how much you love him… I know you’ll be an amazing mom. And I want to share that with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest as you held his gaze. You leaned into his touch, feeling the truth in everything he was saying. He wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear; he truly meant it.

“And,” he added, his voice dropping into that playful, husky tone again, “I really love the process of making the baby.”

You laughed softly, the tension in the air dissolving as his teasing words brought a smile to your lips. “Oh, I can tell,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him softly.

Aaron kissed you back, his lips slow and gentle against yours, the tenderness of the moment wrapping around both of you like a warm blanket. When you pulled away, you could still feel the smile lingering on his lips.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out naturally, effortlessly. They felt like the most honest thing you’d ever said.

“I love you, too,” Aaron whispered back, his voice filled with the weight of all the unspoken promises between you.

You both shifted under the covers, settling into each other’s arms as the exhaustion from the night finally caught up with you. His hand rested on your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin as you drifted closer to sleep. The soft rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a comfortable, peaceful state, and the warmth of his body next to yours made you feel like you were exactly where you belonged.

Just before sleep claimed you, you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll figure this out together,” he whispered, his words barely audible but full of meaning.

You smiled against his chest, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. And as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement for the future. The possibilities felt endless, and with Aaron beside you, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it with love, strength, and the kind of partnership that only deepened with time.

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added): @looking1016 @pear-1206 @doe-eyed-diva @ssa-aaronhotchner @sweetpinkchampagne @totallyjovialblaze @pastelpinkflowerlife @donttrustlove @actualdeemon @jencole214 @fandomawesomeness @devilslittlehelper @mrs-ssa-hotch

[finelinevogue]

victim

summary - you’re the victim of a crime but you refuse to admit that fact

❗️[ mentions of violence + an attack on reader ]

word count - +1k

pairing - aaron hotchner x bau-gf!reader

You had been walking back from work when you’d got jumped.

You never saw him coming out of the dark alley as you’d walked past and you definitely never saw the blade that he had with him.

Apart from a few bruises and scratches you were otherwise okay. In fact, you had been fortunate that it hadn’t been something more severe.

Although, the team didn’t see it that way.

Your boss - and boyfriend - didn’t see it that way either.

“You need to tell us, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at the team as they gathered around your desk whilst you unpacked.

It wasn’t even 9 in the morning and you were already being hounded by your colleagues. It was days like this when you seriously questioned whether a job at a fast food restaurant would’ve been easier.

You didn’t respond to Morgan and instead carried unpacking your bag.

“Y/N, c’mon.” JJ said.

You put your bag on the floor, finished with that.

“Excuse me.” You said with a smile as you parted through the team to get to the kitchenette. You were going to need a coffee if you wanted to get through today.

The rest of the team stayed huddled around your desk, possibly waiting for you to return.

You made your coffee in silence - adding milk and sugar as you thought up the best plan to tell your boyfriend that you’d been mugged last night and had waited over 12 hours to tell him.

Aaron hated having secrets between you two and you knew he’d hate this even more.

Just as you gave your coffee a stir, a hand came out of nowhere and cupped your chin firmly but not enough to hurt and turned your face towards them. Towards him.

“Aaron…” You sighed, hating the look in his eyes when they fell across your face.

He was no doubt taking in the appearance of your black-eye, your grazed and bruised cheek as well as a slight cut to your upper lip.

His eyes held fury as well as concern - similar to the rest of the teams.

“You wanna tell me who did this to you, or do you want me to find out the hard way?” He asked, not even questioning whether you were okay.

At his comment you sighed and turned your head away and out of his grasp. You made your way back to your desk with your coffee, no doubt not alone.

“Y/N…” Aaron started, but you zoned out to block him out.

You did not need pity today and you especially didn’t want it from your boyfriend. You were a federal agent for goodness sake.

A federal agent that couldn’t even defend herself.

“Please go.” You tried to shoo everyone away, but no one was having any of it.

Most of the time you were really lovely, if not all of the time. People often commented that you were the sunshine to Hotch’s grey skies. However today you were not in the mood for being cheery and you could feel the short fuse that you did have expiring.

“If you just gave us a description…” Reid said softly.

“Or the location.” Garcia added.

“We can help —.”

You cut Hotch off and stood up from your desk abruptly.

“I’m not a goddamn victim in one of your unsub profiles. Just leave me alone!” You shouted, which quietened the entire office down. It was so so quiet that all that could be heard was your laboured breathing.

You could feel the tears ever so slowly brewing behind your eyes and so left the office before you could make any more of a scene.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

An FBI agent was not supposed to be so easily surprised and attacked. You felt weak and embarrassed. The humiliation of even thinking about telling the team what had happened was too much - you just couldn’t.

<.>.<.>

Of course Aaron came to find you.

And of course he knew where to find you.

You didn’t make it difficult and you weren’t technically hiding, but only Aaron would’ve known where to find you and that was kind of the point.

You had been kind of a bitch to the team before, when they were only trying to help, but Aaron especially. You were always nagging at him to be honest and open up and yet here you were doing the complete opposite, so you hoped that he would come and find you so that you could apologise.

There had been a bench that was around the back of the building that you liked. It faced away from Quantico and towards trees and bushes and blue skies. It was a little outlook on what the world is without all its’ mess.

Aaron didn’t need to say anything as he approached you. The sound of leaves crunching beneath his shoes was enough of a tell.

He sat down right next to you, knees clicking as he did. One of his arms rested along the back of the bench behind you and the other sat comfortably on his thigh.

He looked out upon the greenery the same way you did.

“You know I’ll pull rank on this conversation if I have to, don’t you?” He started.

“I know.” You sighed - the downsides of dating your boss.

“So talk to me.”

His fingers curled from the back of the bench onto your shoulder, tugging your body infinitely closer to his. Your head made its way closer to resting on his shoulder.

Hotch moved the slightest move into you and your head fell comfortably on his shoulder. You wanted to bury yourself in the comforting scent of his neck, but you knew he wouldn’t let you until you’d talked.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Try telling me where you were. What were you doing?” Hotch prompted.

“I was on my way home when he… attacked me…” You recalled.

“Hey pretty lady.”

Just keep walking, your mind told you. Pay no attention to this man.

You walked another two steps before a hand aggressively grips your upper-arm and tugs you back hard.

You don’t have enough time to pull out your gun from your bag before the mans other hand comes round to punch you in the face, sending your head veering to one direction.

You cry in pain but there’s no one around to see you.

You live in a fairly well-lit neighbourhood, with a mixture of family homes and apartment blocks, but at 11PM there’s barely anyone walking the streets. It’s a quiet enough neighbourhood where the rules of being quiet after dark are obeyed.

Your bad dropped to the floor - your pride with it.

“You answer me when I’m speaking, bitch.” He spat in your face.

You mentally tried to remember as much of his facial appearance as possible in case something went really bad and you had to sit before a sketch artist.

He shook you in his hold and the pain from his punch ricocheted through your head.

When your head tilted back to face him he hit you again, catching your eye this time.

You started crying then, fearing for your life. This was not how you wanted to go and you’d be damned if this man got anything more out of you.

“And then I kicked him in the balls so hard that I think he felt them in his throat.” You finished your recount to Hotch.

His arm was fully around you now, running comforting patterns over your shirt along your upper-arm - exactly where the unsub had grabbed you.

You didn’t know if he was doing it intentionally, but you loved the gesture nevertheless.

“You were so brave.”

You scoffed.

“Not brave enough. Barely held it together. It was like all my FBI training was forgotten and I was as helpless as a damsel in distress. I wasn’t brave. I was an embarrassment.” You sounded out of breath as you finished talking.

Aaron just shook his head.

“Y/N, you were assaulted and you survived.”

Alone. You survived alone. You heard the unspoken words he wasn’t saying. But he was right. You had gone through something so traumatic and you came out the other side pretty unscathed compared to how these situations normally go down.

It sucked that you had become a victim, but you were. A victim of survival.

“I survived.” You said, trying to find the confidence as you spoke those words.

“You did, honey.” Hotch nodded, “What were you doing out so late anyways, sweetheart?”

You tilted your head down a little, away from him.

“I just wanted to get some flowers.”

“Honey, speak up. I can’t hear you.” Hotch said softly.

You sat up. Braving him.

You looked at Aaron in his eyes. They were so warm and soft. You felt like you could melt under his gaze.

“I was about to go to bed but I couldn’t stop thinking about every nice thing you’d done for me last week when I wasn’t feeling too well. I just needed to get you something. I went with the intention of buying you a bunch of flowers as a small thank you, which I know isn’t even a good gift but—.”

“Hang on, no. No, no.” Aaron stopped you, bringing his hand from his thigh up to cup your cheek, “You were going to buy me flowers?”

“Yeah.” You gave a small smile.

“Just… just because?”

“I guess.”

He gave you a small smile. It really was small, but it felt so significant on its own way. You didn’t need to see a full teeth smile from Hotch to know that he was happy. The little ones were telling enough.

His thumb stroked over your cheek, careful against the bruises on your face.

“What?” You asked nervously, because he was taking too long to say something.

“I really didn’t believe you existed, you know?”

“Hmm?” You didn’t follow his thoughts.

Hotch looked into your eyes, down to your lips and across to your damaged skin all at once. It was like he was scanning for something.

“Someone so perfect.”

It was as if he was speaking to himself more than you.

He took his time and care to kiss you on the cheek. Even though it was an emotional moment and one that needed tender care, Aaron still wouldn’t risk too much PDA and especially not outside the FBI headquarters.

His lips were warm against your skin, making up for how cold you’d been here sat without him.

You closed your eyes and inhaled his perfect scent.

He leaned back from your face, double checking to make sure he didn’t hurt you any extra. He would no doubt spend this evening loving on you extra tenderly, giving a silly amount of kisses to your wounds.

He looked you in the eyes once more as you still felt the touch of his lips linger on your cheek, and then the emotion in his eyes turned from one of love to one of determination.

“I’m going to find this son of a bitch. And so help him God when I do.”