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could you write bau!reader x aaron, reader is pregnant and baby is so restless and kicking a lot as reader is at her desk working and aaron is the only one who can calm baby down
ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader, 1k
âWoh,â you mumble, almost clipping your head on your desk as you lean forward. âOh, my gosh.âÂ
âWhatâs wrong, mama?âÂ
You wave your free hand weakly at Derek, the other to your bump. âNothingâs wrong, handsome.âÂ
Derek laughs warmly and stands from his chair. âI donât believe you. Come on, tell me whatâs wrong. Or Iâll go get the big man and he can force it out of you himself.âÂ
Hotchâs never forced anything out of you, but he has kissed a confession from you before. He could do it again easily.Â
You right yourself as the babyâs rampant kicking makes you feel as though youâll pee your pants. âDerek, thereâs some crazy stuff happening inside of me right now.âÂ
He smiles at you fondly. âI bet there is.âÂ
âSheâs kicking the shit out of me.â Sitting up, your back twinges and relaxes, the weight of your baby bump spreading out. Youâre very pregnant and the baby is extremely active. She kicks pretty much 24/7 these last few days, and itâs driving you crazy. âDo you wanna feel?âÂ
Derek presents his hand for feeling. You stand up, and Derek lays a hand across your bump. You donât have to move it anywhere: the second he touches you, he can no doubt feel the babyâs aggressiveness. Sheâs aiming her little feet almost like she knows where your most fragile organs are.Â
One rough kick has Derek taking back his hand. âSheâs beating you up, mama.âÂ
âShe hates me.âÂ
âShe doesnât hate you,â Spencer says, twirling in his chair to give one of his innocuous tidbits of information, âbabies kick for all sorts of reasons. They kick when theyâre hungry, or after youâve just eaten because of the extra glucose shared via the placenta. Sometimes they kick because they can feel sensation through your skin.âÂ
Spencer stands up. You raise your brows. âYou wanna feel?â you ask.Â
He grins and offers his hand. You take it and place it against the babyâs restless feet, smiling at Spencerâs smile, a little enchanted by how fascinated he seems. At Spencerâs touch, she starts to kick quickly like she had been with Derek, and eventually you have to move his hand in the hopes sheâll stop. She slows, but the occasional stretch pokes at your stomach. You can see the distension of her limb even through your shirt.Â
âSheâs really going for it today,â you say. âMaybe I had too much brown sugar in my oatmeal.âÂ
âYou know babies can tell the difference between hands?â Spencer asks.Â
âI sort of guessed,â you say distractedly, rubbing at the babyâs kicking with the crest of your palm. âShe doesnât act like this with Hotch.âÂ
âGood to know he has that effect on everyone,â Derek says with a laugh.Â
âI might go and ask him to make her stop. Iâm gonna need a change of clothes if she doesnât.âÂ
Derek laughs again, full-bellied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in a pitying hug. âAw, sweetheart, youâll be okay. Just two more months and this will all be over.âÂ
âWell, you never know. The longest overdue pregnancy in human history was almost a hundred days, thatâs more than an extra three months.âÂ
âSpencer!â you say, not truly shouting, but your volume escaping you as the horror of a year long pregnancy sinks in. âDonât jinx me.âÂ
Your loud voice, or perhaps Derekâs roaring laughter, draws the attention of JJ and Hotch, who appear from the depths of his office with matching curious expressions. JJ begins down the steps to the bullpen, while Hotch stays at the balcony waiting for an explanation.Â
âBaby Hotchnerâs giving it large,â Derek says, rubbing your upper arm.Â
âShe wonât stop,â you complain, relieved to see your stern husband. âCan you come and set her straight?âÂ
You arenât always so quick to complain to him, but this is too much. It feels as though sheâs about to start doing spin kinks against your spine âitâs honestly the most sheâs ever moved. When you were just a few weeks pregnant youâd longed for her to wriggle and show you a sign that she could feel you, but now youâd appreciate a few minutes of calm.Â
Hotch follows JJ down obligingly, and he, surrounded by your curious coworkers and colleagues, without any hesitation (but certainly some care), slips his hand under your blouse to feel at his babyâs sharp kicking. He presses against what might be a foot for a few moments, his smile barely hidden, his palm warm.Â
âShe really is giving it large,â he says, the deep softness of his voice like a signal.Â
The babyâs kicks soften, until, barely ten seconds later, they stop. Your spine ceases vibrating, and you can finally stand there without having to press your thighs together.Â
âThank you,â you say, holding Hotchâs elbow. Heâs well and truly saved you.Â
He rubs your stomach with his thumb. His dark eyes stay set on your bump. âYouâre welcome.âÂ
âI guess baby just missed her dad,â JJ says.Â
You look at Spencer. He doesnât say anything. âNo correction?â you ask.Â
âNo,â he says, pouting that youâd ask. âEither she missed the sound of his voice, or your reaction to seeing him has calmed her down. Thatâs not a big difference.âÂ
âItâs both, I think,â you say, paused by a big yawn.Â
âAre you tired?â Hotch asks.Â
âUrgently.â You let yourself sag forward toward him, gesturing for Spencer, Derek and JJ to look away. âThanks for your help, boys, but I need something no one else can give me.â You collapse into Hotchâs chest for a hug.Â
The bump is very much in the way, but he reacts accordingly, ushering your chest to his, cheek pressed gently to your forehead. âSheâs exhausted you,â he teases under his breath.Â
âShe really has.âÂ
âI love how she settles with me,â he says, rubbing your back for a long, slow handful of seconds, before he pulls away enough to grin at you. âBut I suppose she gets that from her mother.âÂ
âYouâre very calming.âÂ
âSo Iâve been told.âÂ
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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.Â
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. Itâs 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 isnât to say that he has one.Â
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. Itâs something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk.Â
Itâs fun. He doesnât have a lot of space for fun. Heâd collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. Heâd crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadnât even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as sheâs hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. Itâs not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.
Thatâs how it started, anyway. She doesnât run, so each break is punctuated by her company. Heâs actually not sure if theyâre flirting. Heâs 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.Â
Now, heâs a bit older and a lot more scarred. Sheâs 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 womanâs company beside you.Â
He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought heâd do again, really. Thatâs 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.Â
âSo, how was the paperwork? I know youâve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. Itâs so kind of you to do it.â She asks him on a beautiful August morning.Â
He fights off a blush that she remembers what heâs done for JJ. Heâs 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. Itâs hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him thatâs hard to love, sheâd still paint him with such a light and warm glance. Sheâs bright enough, heâs tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks.Â
âIt wasâŠalright. My team is excellent. Iâm lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldnât ask for more.â
She giggles a little at this, and thereâs that roar of affection.Â
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. Sheâs 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.Â
He likes to watch her- itâs a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. Itâs 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 donât seem to be in her line of sight at all. Itâs an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation.Â
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 thereâs something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if itâs possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, heâs a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically.Â
It feels odd to even think of this happening. Sheâs just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what itâs like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. Itâs 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.Â
âI like your new shirt, by the way.â She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- sheâs wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting.Â
âI like the lip color,â he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesnât stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. Heâs hyper aware of the fact that sheâs right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride.Â
âThank you,â she says, voice softer and flattered, and isnât that a pretty sound? Heâd love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like sheâs as beautiful as she is, âI thought you might like it.â
Itâs her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. Thatâs 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.Â
Heâs a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips.Â
âWould you want to get dinner with me?â He hears himself say it before heâs processed it, and then itâs out into the world. His heart is hammering and heâs blaming on the run, when god, itâs 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.Â
Itâs then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.Â
âI thought youâd never ask.â
(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?)Â
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something more
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
àŒ
Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, youâd been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, heâs got a reputation thatâs hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadnât expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, youâd call him your closest friend, someone whoâs number youâd call if you were in trouble. Heâs your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, itâs eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, youâd managed to get him to take a break.
âWhatcha doing?â Youâd asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. âYou know, Unit Chief business. Reports.â
âSounds like you have time for lunch, then.â You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers heâd just been working on.
âI should really get this done-â
âHotch,â you stopped him, âyou and I both know that youâre always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch wonât set you back.â
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
Thatâs how youâve ended up in the chair thatâs usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now itâs tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
âSorry itâs nothing fancy,â you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
âDonât apologize. Itâs great.â Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
âOkay, good!â Thereâs a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. âCan I help with anything?â
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. âYou donât have to do that.â
âI want to,â you reassure him. âI think sometimes you forget that you arenât the only one who can do this stuff.â
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent âthank you.â
âLike you said, Iâm ahead anyways. Iâve got it.â
âCome on, Hotch. Iâm already done with my report from our last case. Iâve got time. Let me help.â
Heâs always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when youâre asking so sweetly, when itâll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, itâs hard for Aaron to say no.
âAlright. You help for an hour, thatâs it.â
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift heâd given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like heâs fighting not to reach out to you.
âOkay, put me to work, boss.â
âWe just started lunch,â he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
âHave you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?â
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack heâd made and hands it to you. Heâd call everyone at the BAU a friend, but thereâs something different, something more about how heâd describe you.
Heâs grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like youâre the only one with the right tools to break through walls heâs put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you arenât working), and still, he feels like itâs never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, youâre now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smileâa small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the sameâbefore turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. âOh, shit.â
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
âGood thing you wore black,â he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
âGood thing youâre here to clean up after me, more like.â
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, itâs a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotchâs office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
âTheyâve gotta be together,â Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. âI mean, come on.â
âI donât know,â JJ shrugs, âthey both seem kinda clueless.â
âWe probably shouldnât speculate about them,â Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. âBut, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.â
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaronâs office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if youâre not early, youâre late. Youâve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesnât really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garciaâs.
Itâs rare that youâre all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, itâs tough to make your schedules line up when you arenât working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
Youâre on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, youâre getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of âyes.â Heâd been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because youâre usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. Youâd accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. âHello?â
âHey, everything okay?â Itâs Aaronâs voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
âShit, Hotch, I mustâve fallen asleep. Iâm so sorry.â
âItâs alright, I can wait for you.â Heâd wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
âHave you been waiting long?â You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
âNo, donât worry. Barely five minutes.â
And he still wanted to check on you.
âWhy donât you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?â
âYou sure?â He checks, like he hasnât been to your place before, like youâd ever not want him there.
âGet in here, Hotchner.â
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what youâd told him.
So, now, youâre rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though heâs in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but itâs too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
âOkay, sorry again for the delay. Iâm ready to go.â
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, âdonât be sorry. Weâll be what they call âfashionably late.ââ
You laugh, because who wouldâve thought that the words âfashionably lateâ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchnerâs mouth.
âWho taught you that one, huh?â
âI like to keep my sources anonymous.â
âWell okay, then. Letâs go be fashionably late, Hotch.â
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelopeâs, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
âLetâs hear it, Agent Hotchner.â You hold your fist out like thereâs a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
âI can't sing.â Aaronâs fighting off a smile, because youâre sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
âSure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.â You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, âloosen up a little.â
And, because you have some way of convincing him of thingsâfirst lunch, now thisâhe humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he canât bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time youâre at Garciaâs door youâre a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
âIâm getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.â
âThat was a one time special,â he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, âmust be the lovebirdsâ when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron donât hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. âThere you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, âcause youâre late.â
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garciaâs a little intimidated by him still. You also know sheâs only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isnât far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
Youâre met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isnât long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, theyâre also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, âusually it takes at least two drinks for Hotchâs tie to look like that.â
âI told you, theyâre together,â Derek shrugs.
âI donât think they know that,â Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he canât help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when youâre around isnât nothing, isnât just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, youâre packing every hour with information about whatâs going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. Youâre all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all youâre thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, youâd spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. Itâs an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and thatâs just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. Youâve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
âSick of me already?â Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way youâre sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that youâre always able to catch.
âSick of you, Hotch? Never.â You nod at the file he has open on the small table, âjust didnât want to distract you.â
âI thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.â
ââCause itâs true,â you say. âThat doesnât mean you listen.â
âI listen to you more than I listen to most people.â Aaronâs voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you donât think it does.
âListen to this, then,â you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. âBut you canât make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?â
âOkay,â he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. âI promise.â
Youâre aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you canât bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. Itâs delicate, and youâll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and youâre bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
Heâs not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that heâs planning on keeping you there as long as youâll let him.
Itâs quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional âthis is a good one,â and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, youâre relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep youâve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs youâre fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotchâs shoulder, you jerk your head up, âsorry, Aaron.â
His chest does something funny. A jump. Itâs not often you call him Aaron, and heâd listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he canât help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, âitâs alright, honey.â
Youâre too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaronâs hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When heâs sure youâre asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks youâre the prettiest girl heâs ever seen.
Aaron doesnât even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. Heâs completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadnât heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotchâs movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesnât come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron canât help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
Itâs not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
âShould we wake them up?â JJ asks.
âHotch doesnât get enough sleep as it is,â Spencer chimes in. âNeither does she, actually.â
Of course, Derek finishes with, âletâs leave the lovebirds to it,â before the team gets off the plane.
Itâs only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, heâs met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. âShit,â he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that youâd probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAUâs jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
âHey, honey,â Aaronâs nearly whispering, like heâs afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, heâs convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if heâd been dreaming. âWake up, weâre home.â
âHm?â You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
âWe fell asleep, but we landed.â
âOh, god.â You sit up properly, lifting your head. âIâm sorry, Aaron. Hotch.â
âAaron is good,â he eases you. âCome on, Iâll drive you.â
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
Youâve been spending more time at Aaronâs ever since that flight. In the car, heâd convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
Itâs another slice of his life that heâs let you see, and you canât help but feel like it means something, like youâre stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaronâs couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though youâve yet to spend the night again, youâre sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesnât. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
âDo you enjoy living in a refrigerator?â You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. âJust wondering.â
Aaron laughs, a small huff, âI think you just run cold, honey.â
Heâs been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
âNo way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe youâre cold-blooded.â
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when heâs thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
âShhh, donât tell anyone my secret,â he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. âWhere are you cold?â
âCanât feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.â
âWell we canât lose our best girl, can we?â Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like itâs simple. âIâve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.â
Just like that, heâs cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if youâve been in there a thousand times.
âReally?â
âUnless youâd rather not feel your toes-â
âOkay, okay,â you stop him, unable to fight your smile. âThanks, Aaron.â
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron canât stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes youâd never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
Youâve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaronâs bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but thereâs something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, thereâs more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaperâs crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks heâd been talking about. As much as youâd love to snoop, you donât want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaronâs phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though heâs got nothing to be sorry aboutâyou work with him, you know how important a call can beâhe picks it up.
âHotchner,â he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
Heâd wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garciaâs name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
âSorry to call late, sir,â Penelope says. âWeâve got a case. Missing kid; itâs urgent.â
âDonât be sorry, Garcia. Weâre on our way.â
âWait, we?â She asks, curious as always.
âWhatâs going on?â You ask Aaron.
âGot a case. Iâll drive, honey.â He lets the pet name slip, like itâs a habit.
On the other line, Garciaâs grinning to herself in her office. Sheâd had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word âhoneyâ all sticky sweet, she knows sheâs onto something.
âOh, thatâs âwe,ââ Penelopeâs voice teases. âTell her Iâll see you guys soon!â
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. âBye, Garcia.â
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like youâd heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, âhey, babygirl.â
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that theyâve got a case, then, âyouâre never going to believe this.â
Penelope loves to talk, and Derekâs happy to listen, so she tells him about how youâd been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
âI give them another week, max, before theyâre holding hands when they come in.â Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotchâs feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
âHow mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?â Penelopeâs mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
âIf the boss didnât want us talking about it, he shouldnât be so obvious, sweetheart.â
Once you arrive at the office, you donât catch Penelope and Derekâs shared looks behind yours and Aaronâsâwho happens to be carrying both his and your go bagâbacks.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they donât say anything about it.
-
Youâre not supposed to go off on your own unless itâs absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. Heâd heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldnât convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
âI have to do this, Aaron,â youâd said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isnât his name, theyâd known not to interrupt this time. âYou know I do.â
âYou donât have to.â His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. âWeâll be there soon, alright? Just-â
âIâm sorry.â And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and youâd slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts werenât so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he wouldâve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team wouldâve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
Itâs not that he doubts your abilitiesâheâs always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before nowâonly that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
Heâd take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure youâd be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, youâre walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god sheâs alive, then, itâs fuck, sheâs hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
âHoney.â It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like heâs checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and itâs written all over him.
âAaron. Iâm okay.â You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. âPromise.â
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When theyâre finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, âitâs gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but youâre all patched up.â
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, âlet me see.â
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. Itâs a little swollen, discolored where you mustâve been hit. Thereâs a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
âHey,â you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. âIâm fine.â
Aaronâs always worried, heâs always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
âYou should have waited,â he says. âI could have been there.â
âHotchner,â your deadpan tone is intact, which heâll take as a win, even if itâs directed towards him. âYou and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.â
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, heâd be much more composed while working, but he canât bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
âI know you did,â he tells you, because he does. âI just wish that you didnât. I donât like seeing you hurt.â
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
âIâm hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.â
âRight. One that required medical attention. Thatâs more than just a scratch, honey.â
âIf you say so, Hotchner.â
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
âGood job, by the way.â Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. âYou did the right thing.â
âLearned from the best,â you say.
Youâre both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick itâs ridiculous that you havenât spilled your feelings yet. Youâre both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, âI havenât seen Hotch like this since⊠ever.â
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like itâs obvious, âyeah, theyâre in love.â
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. âThe odds of you guys being right are very, very high.â
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so heâd always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, youâre on a mission to change that.
While it isnât the first of Aaronâs birthdays youâve spent with him, itâs the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since youâve felt the way you do. Youâre just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
Youâve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads âHappy Birthday Hotchâ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, youâve all already said happy birthday to him, and youâve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but youâve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and thereâs no way of knowing whether heâll like it or not. Youâll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like theyâd all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, theyâve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
âAaron,â you say, knocking on his office door. âI think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?â
Because youâre the one asking, Aaron says, ââcourse, honey. Where do you think it is?â
You smile, because heâs fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if youâd actually lost one.
âI remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.â
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, heâs met with the teamâs grinning faces and a chorus of, âsurprise!â
For a moment, heâs speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaronâs never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe thatâs because nobodyâs ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now youâre throwing him a surprise party? Heâs never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and heâs happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesnât like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything heâs being spoken to by the team, getting a âhappy birthday, boss,â from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how youâd organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
âYou did all of this for me?â He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although youâd caught the signature Hotchner smileâclosed-mouthed and quickâwhen he saw the surprise, youâre nervous about what he might say. You worry that youâve done too much, that heâd been pretending to like it for your sake.
âIâm sorry if itâs a bit much,â you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. âI wasnât sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?â
Aaron canât help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesnât think you could ever do anything that he wouldnât like.
âIâll clean it all up, too, I prom-â
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. Heâs kissing you.
Itâs soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like youâd practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like heâs making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
Itâs a kiss worth a thousand words that you havenât said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. Itâs you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
âItâs perfect,â he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, âI knew it!â
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
âFinally,â from Emily.
âAbout time,â from JJ.
âThis isnât surprising,â from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, âyay,â from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, youâd sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaronâs chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when itâs time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
àŒ
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
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job interview with aaron and as soon as you shake hands your apple watches shows the high heart rate alert (more in a cute crush way than a serious life threating way pleaseđ)
You're not nervous, per se, but there's certainly something that's heating your face and twisting your stomach. You're in the FBI headquarters. You're about to interview for the most prestigious position you've ever laid eyes on, and if you get the job, you'll be set for life. All you're waiting on is your interviewer, and you feel the buzz of your watch on your wrist alerting you to the meeting in your calendar at the precise second that the door beside you opens.
"Y/N Y/L/N?" Your interviewer asks, and you're already halfway out of your seat before he can get your last name out of his mouth. You're impressed with and grateful for his punctuality, but when you turn to face him you discover you've got a whole other reason to be hot in the face.
He's hot in the face.
His eyes and hair are matching dark hues that makes his soft pink smile all the more delicate and tender. His shoulders are broad and tightly hugged by his neatly pressed suit, and the hand that he holds out to you is strong when you shake it.
"I'm Aaron Hotchner," He introduces himself, and you'd known that, but you're infinitely grateful to hear the words out of his own mouth. Anything to prolong the time you get to spend listening to his voice.
Another vibration comes from your watch, this time accompanied by an invasive chime. You rush to shut it off, positive that you'd put the device on silent, but you realize why it's bypassed your settings: it's a medical alert.
Your heart rate has spiked, and while it's not exactly heart-attack material, it's not resting either. Something about this encounter is sending you into a frenzy, and you're quite certain it's not the job interview.
"Sorry," You try playing the situation off with a good-natured laugh, but there's a similar watch resting on his wrist, and you're sure he's heard the alert-specific chime before, "I thought I set it to silent."
"Medical alerts always make a sound," His heavy brows furrow into compassionate concern, and he moves forward to set a hand on your shoulder to guide you forwards into his office, "Come, sit down. We'll prolong the interview for a few minutes until you're feeling better."
Another chime sounds barely seconds after his hand begins resting on your shoulder, and you know right then and there that if he's going to wait until your heart rate is back to normal, the interview won't ever start.
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Ignorance by infatuation
synopsis A detective behaves lewdly with you. Aaron Hotchner gets uncharacteristically jealous.
wc 1.7k
a/n omg my first Hotch fic ever hehe đ€ feedback and love always appreciated, still trying to find my Crim Minds voice!
Itâs 8 oâclock in the morning, the air sultry and verdant, rain soaked leaves underfoot. ïżŒ
Aaron Hotchner frowns. Petrichor and dew mean evidence awash. He pauses to squint up at the sky, muddy grey with isolated streaks of yellow dawn.
Youâre acutely aware of Spencerâs eyes on you as you walk past Hotch, and give yourself a mild headache by focussing too hard on the commotion ahead. The rest of the team donât seem to notice the tension between you and SSA Hotchner. Or perhaps they do, and the pair of you are just too stubborn to admit it.
Itâs been lurking under the surface for a while now, this perplexing pull between you. Lingering glances, raised eyebrows, irises spooled with tendrils of static. A hand pressed against your back every time he scoots behind you, like an excuse. He doesnât do that with Emily. None of the other agents. A frown that tends to yield when your gaze catches his.
Or hardens when someone acts a little lewder than is appropriate.
Like the other day, for example, when heâd overheard you on the phone with some deadbeat cop in the Dallas area. (Heâs probably being unfair. He probably isnât even a deadbeat. Itâs just that anyone that flirts with the idea of your favour is going to be unworthy in comparison, even Agent Hotchner.)
The phone had rung in the middle of your exchange, and youâd answered it immediately, mouthing apologies in its place. Aaron Hotchner remembers the shine of gloss on your lips, the ways your fingers clasped the phone to your ear, gentle but firm. Remnants of peach coloured polish on your nails.
âYes, this is she,â youâd answered, mouthing another apology to him. âHow can I help you?â
Youâd come into his office a few minutes prior to discuss something media strategy; Hotch didnât have a mind for it, he much preferred giving you all the reins. He recognised how strange this was for a control freak as prolific as him. You were different though, heâd attest. It was a sentiment as dangerous, as non-platonic, as the feelings making home in his ribcage.
âRight,â youâd said, pulling your spiral-bound notebook out of your pocket. Youâd wedged your phone between your ear and shoulder, slipping your pen out of your breast pocket and clicking it against it. Hotch felt unseasonably hot at such attention to your chest. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, trying to catch your gaze.
âAh, I see, yes that does sound like our area of expertise,â youâd continued, and then a pause, an awkward, unwieldy laugh. Still beautiful. âNo, yes, our is correct â I am in fact part of the team.â Another pause; this time, youâd rolled your eyes when your laugh spooled out of your pretty mouth. He didnât recognise it. âI donât know about that. Should we get back to the case at hand? Great.â
Hotchnerâs eyebrows had lowered then, furrowing into an expression of concern, flailing interest. Not jealousy. He was pretty certain he knew all your laughs, the cadence of them, the syrupy timbre. This one was new. You sounded uncomfortable, as though something said over the phone had abraded you somehow. As his eyebrows had, his heart had sunk into his stomach. He remembers the strain of his forearm muscles against his clenched knuckles.
âSure. Yes. As soon as I have all the details Iâll be able to distribute them. Great, yes, weâll see you soon, Iâm sure. Thank you. Goodbye.â
And that had been that. Hotch hadnât had the stomach to ask after the details, especially not when youâd seemed so eager to put it behind you.
After ending the call, youâd shaken your head and proclaimed, âDonât ask,â launching back into your spiel about media strategy like it hadnât happened. Hotch wasnât in the business of disagreeing with you; pressing things. Saying no. It wasnât lost on him that he used the word liberally with everyone else he knew.
Back at the scene, Hotch stays a few steps behind the team. He knows that Spencerâs assessing eyes will see right through his faux contemplation; Hotchner knows, from the many frowns Spencerâs eidetic memory has learned, that the expression on his face will be recognised as distraction.
He needs to focus. He needs you near. He needs to keep his eye on the ball. He needs deadbeat detective far away from here.
As you and the BAU team near the crime scene, a rugged looking cop pulls away from his colleagues. He has eyes like treacle tart and a grin that borders on a smirk. A toothpick hangs from his mouth like something out of a Western.
âDetective Landon?â You say, extending a hand in acknowledgement. âHello, we spoke on the phone yesterday morning.â
Detective Landon spits the toothpick out of his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he does so. But it isnât the depth of his gaze that drops yours. You can feel someone elseâs eyes searing holes through your skull.
âWell Iâll be,â he drawls, taking your hand and pressing it to his mouth. âYour voice doesnât do you justice, darling.â
You resist the urge to make a face. Itâs awful, unfortunate, but youâre far too used to this. Behind you, Derek raises his eyebrows, sharing an amused look with Emily beside him. Rossi looks exasperated. Spencerâs expression remains unchanged, though he does steal a glance at Hotchner. You smile, the way you always do, refusing to be thrown off by his candour.
âThatâs a shame,â you reply breezily, turning to introduce your team. âDetective, this is SSA Morgan, SSA Prentiss, Dr Spencer Reid, and ââ
âIâm the unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner,â Hotch interrupts, a menacing gravel to his timbre. He doesnât shake the hand Detective Landon extends to him. The detective draws it back with a gauche bark of laughter, turning his attention to the rest of the BAU.
âMy my,â he says, his drawl returning as his eyes meet Emilyâs. âWhat do I gotta do to get in on this team of yours?â
âA formal education would be helpful,â Spencer supplies, squinting at him through his glasses.
Detective Landon turns to him then, raising his eyebrows. âDoctor Reid, was it?â
âIt is, but no need to aim that high, buddy,â Morgan says then, stepping forward and patting him on the shoulder. Landon winces. âNow. You going to talk us through what you guys got so far or what?â
âDamn, yâall are a feisty bunch, huh?â He replies, pulling another toothpick out of his breast-pocket. He sends you a wink that makes Hotchâs insides turn, adding, âDonât mind it on you, sweetheart, but maybe the rest of the BAU âoughta play nice.â
Aaron Hotchner would normally agree with his sentiment. Heâs been a long time advocate of working alongside the local police in investigations; he recognises that collaboration is far more productive than condescension.
Unfortunately for him, this isnât quite a normal situation.
Things to do with you and other men rarely are. An ugly green emotion eases his heart right into his throat.
âOr maybe,â Hotchner says crisply, his steely gaze pinning Landon to the spot, âI should have a chat with your Captain and take you off this case.â
Landon balks. âSir ââ
âYouâre dismissed,â Hotchner interrupts, not wanting to hear it. Heâs unaware of the amused look Emily and Morgan share behind him.
âYouâŠâ Landon trails off exasperatedly, shaking his head, ââŠyou canât dismiss me. This is my case.â
âActually, itâs the BAUâs case now.â He turns to you expectantly. You think you catch his gaze soften as it falls over your face in paces. Trick of the light, you suppose. âRight?â
âSure,â you say weakly.
âRight then. Rossi?â Hotch says then, turning to David Rossi autocratically. âWhy donât you and the team go ahead and assess the scene while I head to base and sort out a reassignment.â
âNot you, Reid,â he adds, keeping Spencer in place. âYou can come to the station with me, get our replacement up to speed. Sound good?â
Morganâs trying hard to hide his knowing grin, one side of his mouth upturned with mirth. Emily isnât bothering to pretend she doesnât know whatâs going on, her pretty features lit up with amusement. Detective Landon looks mortified. Your cheeks feel on fire.
âAlright,â Rossi says after pause, glancing between you and Hotchner. Heâs been in the FBI for long enough now that heâs learnt to pick his battles.
He turns around and begins walking toward the crime scene, the three of you trailing behind him with less purposeful strides.
âHuh,â Derek says, faux-thoughtful. Youâre wedged between him and Emily, much to your chagrin. âWonder what that was about. Any ideas, SSA Prentiss?â
âWell, SSA Morgan,â Emily replies, her smile audible. âIâm afraid that our dear old unit chief has a bit of a soft spot.â
âA soft spot?â Derek echoes, letting out a dramatic gasp. âThatâs dangerous in our line of work, wouldnât you say?â
âI would say,â Emily responds sagely.
âOh shut up, you two,â you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. âThat wasnât just about me. He made a pass on Emily too.â
Emily snorts, shaking her head exasperatedly. âHey Rossi, you got a name for this phenomenon?â
âOh yeah,â Rossi replies without hesitation, his gaze trained ahead of him. âIgnorance by infatuation.â
Out of earshot, Spencer and Hotchner are having a similarly painful conversation.
âStrange,â Spencer decides, breaking the silence with his candour.
Aaron knows what heâs insinuating. He resists the urge to turn around and steal another glance at your pretty silhouette. âHe was behaving inappropriately. Thereâs nothing strange about it, Spencer. I was protecting my team.â
âThe whole team?â
âYes.â
âIncluding me?â
âYes.â
âBut I liked him.â
Hotchner sends him an incredulous look. âAnd what exactly was there to like?â
âHe was entertaining, I think,â Spencer replies casually, shrugging. âIn a cop way, you know? Plus, I love listening to Y/N reject men. Itâs fascinating.â
Hotchner swallows. âFascinating?â
âShe always does it in this way where they donât even realise what exactlyâs happening,â Spencer explains matter-of-factly. He turns to Aaron Hotchner then. âDonât worry, though, sheâd never do that to you.â
Hotchnerâs traitorous heart leaps, his mouth pulling into a paradoxical frown. âSpencer,â he warns.
âJust saying,â Spencer replies, raising his arms in surrender.
âWell,â Hotch says grumpily, âdonât.â
âAlright. Noted.â
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotchner x reader#Hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#criminal minds#aaron hotchner fluff
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domestic hotch request for sitting in his lap bonus points if reader falls asleep !!
Sitting in Aaron's lap happens as much as you'd like it to, which is to say a lot. It's mostly because what you want you get, and Aaron loves to have you curled up in his lap.
You're in your pyjamas, a pretty silky nightdress, and Aaron in some plaid pants and a grey t-shirt. You're watching a sitcom on the tv while he finishes looking over a report from the last case.
Tiredly, you rub your eyes and make a big show of stretching and yawning. You know your husband sees you when his cheek jumps in effort to suppress his smile.
"Aaron," you're tired and achy and crawl over to him, your head in his lap like a kitten begging for attention.
"Yes, honey?" your heart picks up at how soft he sounds and the way one of his hands drop away from his file to hold the chub of your cheek. "Tired?" there's amusement in his tone and you scoot even further into his lap, knocking the file from his hand.
"Are you exceptionally busy?" he knows what you really mean to ask, 'Are you going to be busy for much longer or can we go to bed now?' He wishes he could say he's almost finished but he has three more reports to review and then he's all caught up.
"Come here honey," his hands reach for your hips, pulling you into his lap with a sigh and pressing his nose into your hairline. Aaron strokes your back as you tuck your head under his chin, closing your eyes as you listen to his heartbeat. "You can sleep if you want, I'll only be another hour."
You whine your distaste with that, but remain in his lap. Your fingers trace patterns on his forearms, eyes closed as you feel him pick up the file again.
It's not long before your hand's movement slows, your breath evening out and hitting Aaron's collarbones making goosebumps spread there.
You're both in silence, your deep breathing helping Aaron focus as he finishes the file. He tries, tries very had to make it all the way to the last section on the last file, but you shift in his lap and mumble his name in your sleep and his heart clenches.
Aaron loves that moment when you're fully asleep but you can't help but need him. It's a bit of an addiction he has, always wanting to be awake to hear you call for him.
You can't hear him, but he murmurs all the same. "We're going to bed, baby." he kisses at your hairline, slipping one hand under your knees and one behind your back as he carries you both to the bedroom, a plan to sleep in a little on his mind.
#aaronhotchner#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x yn#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x black reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic
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AARON HOTCHNER
â°â†18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all aaron hotchner stories iâve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
MASTERLIST âïž CRIMINAL MINDS âïž 09/01/24
@luveline â sick of maybe You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didnât). â a solitary mistake You're not sure you're ready to come back. Hotch has total faith in you. Or, your transition back into the team after your abduction doesn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped. â spontaneous phenomena Hotch touches your face much more than a boss should. Or, 5 times you have a nosebleed +1 time Hotch does. â love, an abstract concept You learn how to be someoneâs girlfriend. Or, 5 times Hotch raises your expectations (+1 time you raise his). â if things go bad when an unknown intruder breaks into your apartment, you call hotch. he races to make it to you in time.
â bau!reader â bau!reader â bau!reader â doctor!reader â pregnant!reader â bau!reader â readers!daughter calls hotch dad
@dudeitiskarev â my one and only Itâs Derek and Savannahâs wedding, and to Hotch, youâre the prettiest person in the room. â i want to hold your hand Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you. â jealously
@kimstills â some reassurance in which you try to provide aaron with some reassurance after he asks for his worst qualities.
@ssahotchnerr â something good â rom coms â according to plan â makeshift â something exhilarating â like dad does â public displays of affection â stay with me â on hiatus â knowing you â nightmares
â not so friendly competition â itâs a date â brads back
@greg-montgomery â request
@headkiss â something more you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it. â steady hand hotch catches you at the worst times, but youâre not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotchâs help +1 time he needs yours.
@honeypiehotchner â gold star Youâre Jackâs teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until heâs not.
@chvoswxtch â baby
@hotchfiles â half asleep takinâ chances there was no way around it, he needed an actual babysitter. so he finds you. and then he gets home to you adorably sleeping with jack on the couch to spider-man. â no rainfall, no sunshine if there was a god, he wasnât merciful, he was bloodthirsty, and he had a vendetta against aaron. heâs cursed, he knows it.
@hotchscvm â three cents you butt dial your boss during a girls night ⊠the girls night where you told them youâd fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.
@erwinsvow â coffee, black, two sugars aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.
@atlabeth â too sweet a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.
@ptersparkers â reckless After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isnât your biggest fan. Thatâs too bad, because you really like him.
@spacecowboyhotch â in the east and west hotch and reader realize some things.
@velvetcloxds â bias
@irndad â wonât you be my sunshine
@ddejavvu â secretly married â bereal your BeReal for the day is, perhaps, a little too real â nervous!reader
@lavenderspence â a bunch of cuties in love Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner request
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hello đ©·recently found and loved your account so iâm here to ask from you!!
criminal minds SSA aaron hotchner x reader
iâd love any explicit smut đ
ideal trope(s) would be jealousy, established but secret relationship due to workplace like the whole thing stems from AH being jealous af that youâre getting hit on or smth and he canât do shy about it in public but oh when ur home.. đđđ
hahaha sorry the brain rot is real
thank you if you do this!!
and i hope u never stop writing iâve been reading ur other posts too i love them sm
àŒâ§âË. đ đ§đđ° đŹđąđđ đšđ đ„đąđđ || đđđ«đšđ§ đĄđšđđđĄđ§đïżœïżœ
â pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader
â summary: your new relationship brings out a side of aaron that he had never seen before.
â warnings: established relationship, jealousy (obvi), unprotected sex, rough sex, teasing, couch sex, aaron lowkey bends you like a pretzel, heavy praise, he taps you on the cheek (lovingly ofc), implied creampie, consent king aaron!!, slightly insecure aaron, implied age gap but not specified, body massages and an implied size kink!
â wc: 2018
â a/n: WOW a long smut fic, who would have thought? anywho, i'm trying to break free from posting headcanons because i just know they'll overtake this account. thank you for this request!
masterlist | AO3
Aaron felt his eye twitch.Â
His eye never twitches.
The culprit? The maintenance man that wonât stop talking to you.Â
He had so much paperwork he needed to complete, the stack of it had begun to tower, but Aaron couldnât manage to get himself to focus on anything else but you.Â
Your relationship was fairly new, so you both had just agreed to keep it low-key for now. It wasnât like you guys were lying, how could you when you were constantly surrounded by nosy profilers?Â
With new relationships came new feelings, and one of them he hadnât felt since he was a young man somehow managed to resurface right under his nose: jealousy.
Yes, he had his moments of jealousy when he had first gotten with Hailey, but this? This was different. The age gap between the two of you wasnât that large, but it was considerable enough that when he saw men closer to your age creeping around you, it always put him in a foul mood.
Like right now he just wants to storm down there and kiss you right in front of that stupid kid. The urge was primal and unfamiliar, and quite frankly it drove him insane.
Aaron was sure you hadnât meant to come off as flirtatious, and who were your colleagues to step in if you looked genuinely interested in the guy? For all they knew you were single.
Oh, yeah, this was going to drive him over the edge, and it was all your fault.
It was safe to say you were excited when Aaron had decided to call it an early night, you just hadnât expected him to jump on you as soon as you breached the threshold of your home.
He didnât give you time to think or even put your things down, his briefcase followed along by your purse collapsed to the floor with a surprisingly loud thud!
Your lungs burned and your face was hot, heated between the two furnaces that were Aaronâs large and work-worn hands. You desperately clung onto the sleeves of his suit jacket, the material twisting between your fingers to keep yourself sturdy as he walked backwards.
âA- Aaron wha - whatâs going on?â You pleaded breathlessly. You had to slightly shove the man away even though you were met with his uncharacteristic resistance. He just stood there and stared at you like a wild man, pupils dilated and chest rising and falling with every hastened breath he took.
He shook his head and blinked, like his thoughts were escaping him. Aaron couldnât think when you looked at him like that; your lips kiss swollen with a light sheen of spit, your blouse covered breasts grazing his firm chest.
âYouâre going to be the death of me.â Was all he could say before reconnecting your lips.Â
He continues to walk backwards before the back of his calves meet the couch. He allows himself to drop down with a slight oomf, his needy hands tugging on yours encouragingly until you clambered onto his lap.
He didnât give you time to show him any hesitancy, his palms gripping your hips firmly and all but holding you down against him. You gasped at the feeling, your fingers scratching at the shaved hairs on the back of his neck.Â
âAaron! What has gotten into you?â The question was a flustered giggle. Aaronâs eyes casted to the side in a rare show of nervousness.Â
âItâs ridiculous.â He mutters. âI can bet you a million dollars that whatever youâre going to say isnât as silly as you think it is.â
âIt was that guy. The one that wouldnât stop talking to you.â It took you a moment to think back on it before you finally understood what he meant. âThe maintenance man? What about him?â
âHe was flirting with you, and - I donât know, it made me feel things I havenât in a long time.â
Saying the actual word jealousy seemed so juvenile to Aaron; he was a grown ass man with a grown ass man job, so what right did he have to be acting like this?
âOh.â It was long and drawn out. You felt a smirk begin to form on your face and you gently coaxed his eyes to meet yours. Aaronâs gaze was unsure.Â
âYou know Iâm yours, right? I donât want anyone else that isnât you, no matter how young, rich or tall.â Your hips begin to grind down on his and Aaron chokes back a groan. His grip on your flesh gets stronger and it draws a whimper out of you.
âYeah?â He asks sensually, his voice a low purr. He aids in your grinding and your head grows fuzzy. âYeah.â
Heâs quick to reposition the both of you, your back now resting on the couch cushions. He kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at the skin there. It sends a shiver down your spine and your lower half canting up, desperately searching for friction.Â
Your hot cunt meets his knee. âAh! Aaron.â You whined, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your boyfriend has one foot on the ground and the other wedged between your legs.
Aaron rises from your chest for a moment, shoving off his suit jacket and working the buttons on his shirt. You take it upon yourself to take your blouse off, arms reaching behind you to unclasp your bra with learned precision.Â
His eyes fall on your breasts and you could have sworn his movements gained a bit of franticness.
âLike what you see?â You couldnât help but tease, your hands now working to shimmy your pencil skirt down your thighs. âVery much.â Aaron agrees with a lazy half smile. âHere, let me help.â You lift your hips up and he takes both your panties and skirt off at the same time.
The casual show of strength made your stomach clench, and you all but snatched Aaron by the back of his neck back down to your level. A noise of surprise escapes him and you take it as a chance to slip your tongue in his mouth.
Your body begins to heat up, his taking grabs and grips driving you insane.
âFuck me.â You heave. Aaron pulls away from you, âAre you sure? You arenât prepared well yet, and I donât want to hurt you.â You smile softly. âAs much as I appreciate your concern about me, Iâll let you know if thereâs any discomfort, okay?â
Aaron thinks on your words for a moment, mulling them about in his brain before relenting at the feeling of your sweet, tempting hands stroking his bare chest.
âYou always have to keep me on my toes, donât you?âÂ
âThat was in the agreement.â You bite playfully. He snorts and rolls his eyes, but sits up once more to unbutton his pants.Â
With what feels like forever, heâs finally bare for your hungry eyes and clambering on top of you.
Resuming his old position, he wraps your legs around his waist, the tip of his cock poking at your slit. The two of you shiver at the feeling.
âAre you sure about this, sweetheart? You know I donât mind eating you out; Iâm in no rush.â Your cheeks turn warm at his crudeness. âIâm sure, baby. I need you. Now.â With one final search of your face, he begins to push forward.
Your breath catches in your throat and you hold on to his muscular biceps. Your eyes flutter shut at the full feeling of him, your legs trembling and stomach tightening.Â
The first initial stretch hurts of course, but with a minute of laying there adjusting to Aaronâs size as he delivers very stimulating circles on your clit to distract you from the discomfort, you find yourself loosening up.
âMove.â You grunted quietly.Â
Aaronâs jaw is set tight, the vein in his forehead slightly bulging when he proceeds to thrust experimentally. Your lips roll in between your teeth to hold back the whorish moan that threatens to practically barrel out of you.Â
He does it again, and again, and again, until all of his self control is thrown out the window and the only thing he can think of is you; of how tight you are around him.
âIt feels so good, baby. So, so goodâŠâ You babble, your hands reaching up to grip the armrest of the couch for more leverage. âI know honey, I know. âM gonna get deeper, okay?â Aaron groans. You nod wildly, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face.
He steadies himself on the knee placed on the couch, lifting your legs up so either one sits on his big, broad shoulders.Â
The change in position caused your back to arch, your mouth dropping open into an âoâ shape as you struggled to keep your head on straight.âMphm! Youâre so - youâre so deep.â You cried out, tears brimming on your eyelashes. âI know I am, baby. But you can take it right?â
âMhm! I can! I know I can!âÂ
âYou can take it because youâre mine right? Because youâre my good girl?âÂ
His praise pushes you dangerously close to the edge, and youâre honestly convinced that the crescent shape of your nails will leave an imprint on the material forever. The couch cushions stick to your skin like glue, the so of skin hitting skin resounded throughout the room lewdly.
A hand lightly slapped your face, your cheeks squeezed between his fingers, puckering slightly.
âI asked you a question, didn't I sweetheart?â
âYou did, you did! âM sorry. âM your good girl, please.â
What you were begging for, you didnât know; was it mercy? Was it a desperate call for your sanity? Whatever it was could wait, because you were going to cum.
âGah! God, Aaron, âm gonna cum! Help me cum, please.â You begged again. âI got you honey.â
Aaronâs hand slithered down your body before landing on your clit, a calloused thumb drawing it around in firm circles. Your body moved and convulsed violently, your moans growing in volume â youâre sure youâre going to receive a noise complaint in the mail later.
That coil in your stomach threatened to snap, and all you could think to say was, âCum with me?âÂ
To be frank, Aaron was ready to cum a few thrusts before, but he was always one to prolong his pleasure if that meant satisfying you.
âOf - of course.â He stuttered, his dominance slowly slipping away from him.
Aaron bent forward just a little more to test how far he could push you, and though you were sure your muscles were going to ache when everything died down, but God, this was so, so worth it.
âF- fuck!â You swore as you came.
Everything disappeared for a moment besides the sound of Aaronâs guttural groan that sounded more like a loud, long-drawn-out whimper than anything when he came too.
You were slowly brought back to reality by Aaron massaging your sore muscles, gently twisting them and rubbing out any potential knots that threatened to form. You knew he'd disappear in a minute to grab something to wipe you down with, but you couldnât seem to find it within your post orgasmic bliss to care.
âMm, thatâs nice.â You rasped, your eyelids fluttering open to face your disheveled boyfriend. His hair was all out of place in the best way possible, his bare body shining in a clear sheen of sweat. If you werenât so tired, you think youâd jump straight to a round two.
âIâm sure,â Aaronâs voice was just as hoarse as yours. âI think I pushed your body a bit too far.â
âDonât get started, Aaron.â You chided lightly. âIt was perfect, okay? You were perfect. Now get up here.âÂ
You dragged him from where he was and laid his body on top of yours.
âDown.â You demanded playfully. âIâm heavy, honey.â
âDonât care.â You exaggerated the âdonâtâ and pulled the rest of him down.
âI want to lay like this for a minute.â
âAlright,â Aaron nodded to himself. âI can do a minute.â
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And another!!
hotch playing tea time with his daughter and heâs forced to wear tiaras, sit in a small chair, and drink his imaginary tea with his pinky up and mom!reader is just laughing and sneaks a picture to send to the team
- đ
đ anon, you shall get a hundred kisses <3
Tea time
Cw: fem!mom!reader, fluff, girl dad Aaron, no use of yn, Aaron being a complete pushover
Word count: 1.2k
----
His knees ache.
Come to think of it, so does his back. Sitting cramped in a plastic pink chair, folded nearly in half will do that to him, Aaron thinks.Â
His stuffed companions donât seem to suffer from the same fate. Theyâre happily drinking their tea and enjoying their biscuits, much like Aaron is supposed to be doing. He almost envies the way their furry legs rest comfortably on their matching pink chairs.
âPurple or pink?â Olivia asks him, holding out two tiaras.Â
Aaron eyes the sharp combs at the end of them with mild terror. He opens his mouth to declineâhe almost does, reallyâbut Oliviaâs eyes are wide and impatient, exactly like yours.Â
The protest gets trapped in his throat.Â
âUhh, donât you have a blue one?â He asks, mentally kicking himself. âI seem to remember buying you a blue tiara.â
âNope! Purple or pink?â Olivia asks again. Her own tiara rests lopsidedly on her head, its purple jewels catching the sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. The color matches with her Princess Rapunzel dress heâd gotten her at Disney World.
Well, at least nobody else is gonna see him in it.
âPurple,â Aaron decides. âSo I can match with you, wonât that be nice?â
âBut you wonât be the princess, too,â his daughter says. A small frown pulls her brows together, exactly the same as hisâand way too stern for a four-year-old. Aaron gently touches the scrunch until it fades. âIâm the only princess.â
âOf course,â Aaron agrees softly. He adjusts her lopsided crown. âIâll be the prince, is that okay?â
âNo.â Olivia giggles, two of his dimples appearing in her cheeks. âSilly Daddy. Youâll be the king!â She says as she grabs the purple tiara and rises on her tiptoes, trying to reach the top of his head.
Aaron bends his neck down, a hand going to her waist to steady her until her heels touch the ground again. âHow could I have forgotten,â he murmurs, his small smile turning into a wince when the combs of the tiara dig against his scalp. He bites down on his tongue to trap the hiss in his throat, forcibly stretching his lips into another smile as he looks up at Olivia with mildly watering eyes.
âHow do I look?â
âKingly.â His daughter giggles. Aaron blinks back the blurriness in his vision, smiling as Olivia picks up her purple fairy wand and waves it around theatrically before she clears her throat, âAnd now I decâdelâŠdelcareââ
âDeclare.â
ââdeclare itâs time for teatime!â
She sets down her wand and pours the very strong concoction of tap water into Aaronâs teacup, her tongue peeking out as she holds the lid of the teapot to keep it steady. Some of the faux tea spills over the rim and splashes onto his sweatpants, turning the fabric into a darker gray as Olivia hands him a plate of plastic cake when sheâs done.
Aaron accepts it graciously. âThank you, sweetheart.â He places the plate next to his tea and fumbles for the teacup, struggling to hook his finger through the handle.
âYâwelcome,â Olivia mumbles, too busy with pouring the rest of her guestsâ tea.
Did they poke the hole with a needle? Aaron resigns himself to picking up the teacup from its sides. It gets swallowed up by his hands, his fingers overlapping around its circumference.Â
âBeing a hostess is hard work, isnât it?â He asks as he watches her hand out cake slices to their stuffed companions.
âMommy does it anâ sheâs good at it.â
âShe is,â Aaron chuckles, âguess you got that from her, huh?â
âMhm.â Olivia finally plops down onto her chair, tilting her crown again as she reaches for her own teacup with a deep sigh.
âSo how have you been ruling over your subjects?â Aaron asks seriously. He turns to the stuffed animals lining the table; her teddy and Jackâs orca and a battered unicorn from Penelope, âAre you all satisfied with the way Princess Livvy is treating you?â
âPrincess Olivia, Daddy.â She corrects, frowning a little and continuing again before Aaron can remedy his mistake. âThey say we go tâbed too early,â Olivia pouts.
âDo they? Well,â he brings the teacup to his lips again, pretending to take a sip, âI sayââ
âDaddy, yâhave to do this,â Olivia interrupts, picking up her own teacup and sticking out her pinky. She looks at Aaron expectantly.
âOh, forgive me.â Aaron says and sticks his out, too. âIs that better?â
A muffled laugh catches his attention. That in itself makes him smile, but when he hears the not so subtle click of a camera, his eyes flick to you.
Caught.
You bite your lip and throw him a wink, disappearing behind the door frame with your phone held in your hand.
Aaron turns back to Olivia as he sets down his teacup. âIâm so sorry, your highness, may I be excused for a moment?â
âYouâll come back?â She frowns, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Aaron stifles a laugh; his daughter through and through.
âYes, baby.â He promises.
Her frown clears. âOkay.â
Aaron eagerly gets up from the cramped chair, his knees cracking when he straightens. He stifles a wince and leaves Oliviaâs bedroom, immediately finding you in the hallway just outside. Thereâs a grin on your face as you look down at your phone, thumbs flying over the screen.
You hear him and look up, your smile turning sheepish as you click your phone shut and slide it into your back pocket.
He crosses over to you, his arms wrapping around your body, hands dipping into your pockets to search for your phone.
âDelete that.â Aaron murmurs.
You slap his hands away. âDelete what?â
âThe picture.â He lifts his brow. Your mouth drops open, no doubt to deny it, and he cuts across you, âI know you took one, honey, donât play dumb.â
The corner of your lip pinches as you try to hold back a wider smile. âThatâs a cute crown. But sorry, your majesty,â you bow, âitâs already been sent to the group chat.â
âJesus Christ.â Aaron groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
A grin splits your face in half. You pull his hands away from his eyes, gently holding them in your own. âSo does that make me queen now?âÂ
âIt makes you a traitor. Iâll call Garcia about this.â
You blow a raspberry in his face. âPlease. Sheâs the first one to back it up on all her devices. Youâre too late, bossman,â you straighten his tiara.
Aaron winces as the combs dig in deeper. He gently holds your wrist, his scalp just shy of weeping blood.
Your eyes shine as you press your lips together, the corners of them turning up as you try in vain to hold back a smile. âYou look very kingly, your majesty.â The edges of your voice quiver with a laugh.
Aaron sighs. âYour daughter said the same.â He drones flatly.
You can no longer hold back your laughter.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotch x y/n#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch imagine#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#<3
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Hi, V
Could you write a little blurb about Aaron Hotchner and reader in a secret ( not so secret ) relationship comforting each other on the jet ride back home after a rough case, please?
warnings: canon case details (mentions), hurt/comfort, secret relationships, reader is shorter than aaron
This case was hard, especially for you and Aaron. When you had joined the BAU three years ago, you had expected to see unimaginble horrors, but nothing like this past case.
The unsub had been targeting families of three, a parent, a step parent, and a child. The brutality the families faced was something your brain could never even begin to comprehend.
You and Aaron had begun dating just about a year prior, becoming a staple in his and Jackâs lives, so when you saw what the unsub had done to the step-parents, especially, it made you fear for you own life.
The plane ride back to Quantico was a silent one. You sat alone, staring out the window, thinking about the previous couple of days.
Most of the team was entangled in their own things, books, music, sleep to notice you.
Spencer called out your name a couple of times before you heard him, âYeah?â
âYou okay?â
âYeahâŠIâm just tired. Iâm going to get some coffee,â you gave him a tight lipped smile and stood up, moving to the small kitchen.
Aaron watched as you left the couch, quickly following after you, shutting the curtain behind him.
âHey, talk to me.â
You looked up at him, tears welling in your eyes, âIâm fine, I just needed a minute.â
âDonât lie to me, please,â
âAre you saying that as my boss?â You snapped at him.
âNo, Iâm saying it because Iâm worried about you.â
You sighed as he held your elbow, âHotchâ Aaron, I just.. what if that had been us? What if that had been me?â Your voice cracked as you spoke.
âIt wasnât-â
âThose kids, those familiesâŠâ
âAre not us. Youâre safe, Iâm safe, Jack is safe. We got the unsub, itâs over. .â
He pulled you in for a hug, kissing your forehead gently. You wrapped your arms around him, pushing your face into his chest, taking in his scent.
The team on the other side of the curtain listened intently. Emily smiled at Derek across from her, âYou owe me $20.â
#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotch imagine#ssa aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotch x reader
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I wanted to know how Aaron Hotchner would react to discovering the existence of a daughter (something from college perhaps), she would be his copy both in appearance and personality
âHotch has a surprise visitor and the world spins on a new axis. daughter!reader, 2.2k
readers physical traits like hair and skin colour are not mentioned, but she is described as looking like her mother (also not described) and as sharing some characteristics with Hotch!<3 I also altered canon so that Hotch and Haley take a break at collegeÂ
âThere is a kid in your office.âÂ
âMorgan?âÂ
Hotch pulls his phone away to check. D. Morgan blinks on his phone screen. Itâs a slightly absurd sentence.Â
âThereâs a child in my office?â he asks, returning the phone to his ear.Â
âIâm standing with her right now. She wonât tell me who she is. Anderson let her in.âÂ
âHow old?â Hotch asks, scratching his cheek. God forbid he steal two minutes of peace in the bathroom.Â
âHow old are you, sweetheart?â
âIâm twenty two,â a feminine voice says.Â
âYou said kid,â Hotch says, frowning.Â
âAnyone under twenty five is a kid to me. Are you on your way?âÂ
He sighs. âYeah,â he says, and hangs up, dropping the small body of his phone into his pocket. Twenty two isnât a kid, itâs a year younger than Spencer was when he started at the BAU; Hotch doesnât underestimate the intelligence of young adults. Why youâre in his office is another thing. He canât have one day without inconvenience.Â
Hotch makes his way into the BAU office and up the stairs to the half level where his own office resides. Morgan leans against the door with his arms crossed, standing to attention when Hotch passes.Â
âThanks, Morgan,â Hotch says.Â
Morgan nods, sending a curious gaze at you before he leaves.Â
Youâre dressed very formally for someone your age, but itâs not as though this is different from the norm of the building. You have on a dark shirt with a starched collar and a fitted blazer, a crisp skirt, and leather Mary Jane heels, one pressed flat to the back of the other.Â
You stand when he comes in.Â
âMr. Hotchner?â you ask.Â
âYes?â he asks.Â
You have a small file in your hand. Paper with worn edges pokes out of one side as though youâd been looking through it and put it hastily away, and the Manila file itself is fresh.
âDo we know one another?â he asks.Â
You look familiar. Itâs possible he wouldâve known your parents âit could make sense. A colleague or acquaintance assumed he could help you with something, and you in your naivety you made your way in.Â
âI think you know my mother.âÂ
âAnd she was?â he prompts. Not impolite, but needing to move forward. Heâs very busy.Â
You take a small step back. âMr. Hotchner,â you say again, something nervous in your eyes as you lift your chin, âI donât want to waste your time. Iâm aware I might sound foolish, or that this⊠might not be something you want to hear, but. My mother told me you met in college, and thatâŠâÂ
You bite your lip.Â
Heâs incredibly confused now. Not one to let a stranger suffer whether in real pain or awkwardness, he opens his hand. âCan I?âÂ
âYes, sir,â you say.
You donât want to pass it over, but you do as heâs asked.Â
The photograph is a shock, held with a paperclip to a magnolia sheet of paper. Itâs of Hotch, undoubtedly, a much younger Hotch sitting on a bench with a woman he recognises immediately. He only looks at her, and he knows why youâre here, and he knows exactly what youâre thinking.Â
âDo you remember her?â you ask quietly.
He doesnât answer.
âShe says youâre the only man that could⊠possibly be my father.â You hold your hands behind your back.Â
He lifts the photograph. Thereâs not much else to look at, only your photo ID, your birth certificate where he is glaringly not listed, as well as your motherâs birth certificate, and proof of her enrollment at George Washington University.Â
You look a little teary. Trying very hard to be sober, as you have been since he laid eyes on you, but clearly getting more and more upset as time goes on. Heâs feeling a similar ache, a searing pain in his chest, staring at you from over the Manila folder to really, really look at you. He swears he can see something of himself in your face, though heâs not sure what. Perhaps itâs wishful thinking.Â
Thereâs certainly some of him in your frown.Â
âI think you should sit down,â he says softly.Â
You sit down immediately in the chair youâd inhabited a few minutes ago.Â
Heâs not sure what to say. Are you sure it could only be him? Is your mother? But youâre looking at him with an expression he practically trademarked, whether he wanted to or not, and the proof is in his hands: youâre your motherâs daughter, and Hotch would have slept with her almost twenty three years ago. He doesnât need much time to do the math.Â
âI realise my word alone isnât a lot to go on, sir, soâ so if youâd want to, Iâll of course submit for a paternity test. Or if you want nothing to do with me, thatâs okay too.âÂ
âItâs not okay,â he says, closing your folder.Â
Your eyes widen just a touch.Â
âCan I sit with you?â he asks.Â
You push your chair back to make lots of room. He sits in the chair besides yours, cautious that being across a desk from you is insensitive, or cold, at least.Â
He looks at you and heâs sure that youâre his. The longer you sit there, the more sure he becomes.
âI do want a paternity test,â he says, watching your tight nod.Â
He believes you. And truly, if he was unsure of what youâre saying heâd still give you grace now, because the first time you meet your father should be full of love. He shouldâve been there to hold you in one arm twenty two years ago, he shouldâve been there for you through everything heâs already missed.Â
âBut I believe you,â he says.
âYou do?âÂ
âIâm a very good judge of character. I know that you believe what youâre telling me completely,â he says.
âHow?â
âWhen youâre nervous your hand drifts to your chest, but you didnât move when you suggested Iâm your father. You havenât once checked the door or looked toward the camera in the corner of the room.â And the full truth. âI want to believe you.âÂ
âWhy?â you ask.
âYou look like your mother, butâŠâ He lets himself smile. âYou sound like me.âÂ
You laugh under your breath. âHopefully not so deep.âÂ
âIâve had it described to me as mellifluous.âÂ
âIâve wanted to hear your voice since I can remember. My mom didnât talk about you much, but Iâve always wondered. She told me she didnât know who you were, andâŠâ
âAnd you believed her. Any child would do the same.âÂ
âSheâs made mistakes.â You look to him with eyebrows gently pinched, asking him to understand. âBut I looked you up. When she told me your name, I looked for you online, and⊠I always thought I never needed you, even if I wanted to know you. I thought you might want to know me. I thought that a man like you would want to know.â
Thereâs something youâre not saying. Hotch doesnât mind. âOf course I want to know you.âÂ
You chance a smile at him. âYou really believe me?âÂ
âYou were expecting me to turn you away.âÂ
âNo, justâ Iâm not a kid, even if your colleague said so. And Iâm not an image of you, I donât have your eyes. All I have is that photograph. There's not much evidence to go on.âÂ
He sees no reason why a young girl like you would walk into his office and tell him who you are. Self preservation insists on a paternity test, and soon âUnSubs havenât ever done something so conniving as imitating a family member yet, but thereâs no prediction for evilâ but Hotch has an inherent sense of the truth. Â
âWhat do you do?â he asks.Â
You frown. âSorry?âÂ
âWhat do you do?â he asks again, âYouâre dressed like a lawyer.âÂ
You nod with a smile youâre pushing into a flat line unsuccessfully. âIâm at GWU. For law, like you and my mom.âÂ
âShe only just told you who I am?â He speaks each word carefully.Â
âThe photo fell out of an old album, and I had a funny feeling. I asked her about it and she said Iâm too much like you. She admitted it like the secret had been eating her alive.â You look at your hand on the armrest. âWe arenât getting along right now.âÂ
âI donât know why she wouldnât tell you. Or me,â he says honestly.Â
âI donât know either.âÂ
Hotch is expecting a lot more awkwardness than he feels as he puts his hand over yours. You stay very still.Â
âThank you for coming here today.â He gives your hand the barest squeeze and stands. âHave you eaten? I could take you out for dinner,â he suggests.Â
You stand with him. âAre you serious?â you ask, gentle and pleased at once.Â
âI think you have a lot to tell me, and Iâd love to listen.âÂ
âYouâre not working?âÂ
Sometimes, sometimes, there are things that can be worked around or held on the back burner. You and Hotch go for lunch.Â
â
Aaron Hotchner knows many important people. Your paternity test takes a day, less than twenty four hours from the time you both submit samples, but you have a class you canât miss and heâs sure youâre nervous, so you donât meet again for two days regardless. By then, you both know the results. (And Aaronâs had to have a very strange conversation with his wife, in which she doesnât believe him, and then has to sit down.)Â
He can admit to being far more protective of you once he knows the truth for sure, though he knows it before the results come back. Youâre his daughter, and heâs left you without a father for two decades of your life, your formative years, time he can never get back.Â
He doesnât even know what to do. How can he make up for it? Twenty two years of birthday cards? He feels like buying you a diamond necklace with a stone for each year, and then he wants to buy you a house, but mostly he wants to give you a hug. He thinks about it for so long the morning before heâs scheduled to meet you again that it makes him as upset as heâs ever been in his life, desperate to say sorry to you and your mother and furious with her for keeping you a secret.Â
He thinks of all those years without an inkling of your existence, and now youâre the only thing he can think about. His remorse makes him sick.Â
Youâre smiling when you see him. For a millisecond, you look like Jack.Â
âHi, Mr. Hotchner!â you say, standing from the table, your formal dress and cardigan pressed neatly, your hands held behind your back.
âMr. Hotchnerâ will need to be fixed quickly, though he wonât force you to call him anything else. He canât help himself, however.
âHi, sweetheart,â he says softly.Â
You pause, and you laugh. âThis is weird.âÂ
He doesnât mean to make it weirder, but he opens his arms, and he waits for an indication that you might not want a hug before he leans in to hold you. Youâre still so young. Thereâs still time for him to be a good father to you.Â
He canât say everything he needs to in his hug, and at the end of the day heâs a stranger to you; you probably donât want him to hug you for too long. But he rubs your back, and he promises himself that he wonât let you down twice.
Your arm curls tentatively behind his back. For a second, you press your face to his shoulder and breathe.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks, pulling away.Â
Your lip twitches to one side like his would when presented with such heavy sincerity. âIâm okay. How did, um, Haley take the news?âÂ
âShe just wants to meet you, okay? Youâre part of my family now.âÂ
You give no indication youâve heard what it is heâs saying to you, or whether you like it as you sit down at the dinner table. He quite likes that some way, somehow, youâve become like him, but he wonders if he might not love it so much when he asks how your mom is taking this new development and you just smile.Â
âWeâre going to tell Jack about everything this weekend,â he adds. âHeâll be excited, if no one else.âÂ
âAnd Haley doesnât mind?âÂ
âSheâs not going to ask you to babysit anytime soon, honey, but no, of course she doesnât. He should meet his sister before sheâs too old for legos.âÂ
You actually laugh.Â
Dad humour transcends age, and for that, Hotch is grateful.Â
â
only after I finished did I wonder if I misinterpreted the request and this was supposed to be x reader with a shared daughter so if thatâs the case Iâm sorry original requester!! and I can totally write that if thatâs what you meant đ«¶â€ïž
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds#aaron hotchner and daughter!reader#aaron hotchner fluff
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hii dollface, would u write smtg abt hotch being jealous?
like he's trying to hide it from making the team notices when he saw some officer flirting with r?
no pressure in writing, lovey. change it however u want or ignore it if u dont feel like writing it (i completely understands u đ€)
my love this has lived in my brain so relentlessly <3 i hope you love it!!!! thank you for requesting!! wc: 1.7k
It is incredibly easy to like her.
Sheâs charismatic in a way thatâs almost universally appealing, and heâs memorized the shape of her wide grin. She smiles with her whole face, and Aaron hasnât really spent too much time trying to make people smile. Heâs had success in some ways, but when she smiles at him thereâs something in his chest that burns in achingly lovely way.Â
At first, he had assumed her kindness was a way to win him over. In her first week, she had noticed there was a rip in his tie (which heâs not sure how could even happen) and sheâd whipped out a pocket sewing kit, repairing it.Â
He tries not to think about the fact that sheâs beautiful. She is, though, in spirit and in appearance. Heâs an expert in controlled presentation, but to some extent she must know thatâs heâs fond of her.Â
When theyâd first met (which he can still picture in his mindsâ eye- her oversized sweater tucked into her tailored pants, the purple lipstick adorning her beautiful smile) heâd tried to keep his distance. Itâs easy to romanticize her, and being her friend felt a little impossible when seeing her as more felt so inevitable.
This plan did not go well, and Aaron had officially tossed it when one day, the babysitter for Jack fell through when he was halfway around the world. Sheâd picked him up from school and tended to him, and Aaron had come home to a blanket fort on his kitchen floor, and a happy little boy who wanted her to come over every day.Â
So it's a little hard to ignore how much he adores her.Â
She doesnât normally want to come out to the scene and they usually donât require it, but theyâre going out to a place she spent most of her twenties, and she knew people in the local PD, so Aaron had asked her to come.Â
Sheâd done so without complaint, although he knows she doesnât sleep well on the jet. No one knows where the nicer pillows and blankets came from, and Aaron would prefer it that way.Â
Anyway.Â
The bullpen of this department is chaotic and a certain caretaking is living at the edge of Aaronâs consciousness, a protective desire to keep her from the loudness and violence that sheâs typically protected from.Â
Heâs still thinking this, when he hears her voice over the chaotic hum of the department.Â
âOh my god, Logan!â
Her voice is joyful, and when Aaron turns to see who sheâs looking at, itâs an agent. He can tell that heâs not a police officer for many reasons- the fact that heâs got a long, shaggy haircut and a 5 o clock shadow and a leather jacket on his shoulders. The local police would be too strict, and he must be some kind of different authority to be allowed to be here.
He hears the stranger call her name back, and they hug.Â
Itâs a quick thing, but imbued with deep fondness. Aaronâs not sure heâs ever hugged her for more than a second- just a congratulations when his commendation came in. Sheâd smelled like roses.Â
Now, sheâs hugging Logan.Â
âHotch,â she says, a smile still in her voice, âThis is Logan! We went to graduate school together. Heâs brilliant, I canât believe heâs down here.â
Her voice is seeped in admiration, and Aaron feels an ugly amount of what can only be described as jealousy.Â
âGreat to meet you. Youâre the unit chief, yeah?â
âSSA Aaron Hotchner,â he offers the man a curt nod, âHave you met the team?â
He goes through the motions of introducing him to the team- he greets Reid with a warm smile and tells him that heâs read his papers. Logan compliments Emilyâs shirt, and Morganâs watch.Â
Heâs incredibly charismatic.
Is Aaron charismatic? He doesnât think so. His team, who probably adore him as much as anyone could, still note that he can be harsh, prickly. He never smiles, he knows. He lacks expressiveness. Logan is all fluid movement and easy conversation, and when he takes the jacket off, Aaron sees a great deal of tattoos on his forearm, his sweater sleeves slid up.Â
Heâd smile for her.Â
What should be a good thing, but hurts- Logan is an excellent consultant profiler. Heâs thoughtful and helpful and she has an easy rapport with him. Aaron- heâs so bad at talking to women.Â
She makes Aaron feel like heâs good at it though. When they drive together, the conversation is easy and feels nice. Itâs like sunbathing, basking in the light of her attention and intention.Â
With the help of the man that Aaron has decided he hates, the case is finished up quickly.Â
He canât shake the thought theyâve probably dated. Itâs not his business- this crush, although this word feels inadequate for the intensity of the way she makes him feel. Itâs a private thing heâs never going to act on- heâs older and her superior, and besides- 9 stab wounds and a lifetime worth of issues is a million times less appealing than someone like Logan. Young, exuberant probably not too afraid to ask for what he wants.
âDrink tonight?â Logan asks the team, and a chorus of yesâs and pleaseâs echo through the emptying bullpen.Â
âRaincheck,â she says to Logan, âIâll see you next time Iâm in town, yeah?â She beams at him, hugging him in a quick-but-too-long-for-Aaronâs-taste motion, and the string in Aaronâs chest that feels like itâs been pulled all week threatens to pull him under.
After everyone files out, she offers to help him fill out paperwork in his office. Itâs just like her, so kind and sweet. Spending her free time filling out reports to make his workload go easier.
About a half hour of amenable silence passes, before Aaron chooses to speak.
âSo, you and Logan.â
âHeâs great, right?â
Regrettably, Aaron agrees.
âHe seems very kind.â
âYeah, he and his fiancee are really fun. They travel all over, kite-board and do tons of adventure stuff, heâs pretty awesome.â
A moment passes.
Itâs like a balloon losing air, the feeling of relief taking the place of panic.
âI thought you two were romantically involved.â He doesnât know how to verbalize things casually. If he lets it up, he might do something dangerous like tell her that he wants to be someone who romances her, wants to be the person who kisses her after dates and holds an umbrella over her head when sheâs caught in the rain. He wants to be what she comes homes to, and itâs a confession living in the back of his throat, threatening to escape at every moment.Â
She sucks in a harsh breath, and he wonders if itâs a misstep to have told her- itâs not a confession, really. It sounds like one though- why would he care? What makes it his business?
âNot that thatâs relevant to me,â he stammers, âYouâre free to engage with whoever youâd like-â
âI know, Hotch.â She doesnât grace him with his first name, but her voice is fond and warm, her doe eyes meeting his. He likes it, he decides.Â
âIâm not seeing him,â she continues, her body shifting to face him, âI think heâs a littleâŠcasual for me.â
He thinks of Loganâs leather jacket and unshaven face, rugged appearance and compares it to how he presents himself- clean cut and sharp lines, his suits tailed to fit him like a glove.Â
âYou prefer something a little moreâŠdignified?â He hears himself say with more confidence then he feels- her implication is clear, but he wonders if heâs mishearing it.Â
She tips her head back and he hears her lovely laugh ring through the air like something sacred, and he waits to hear her response.Â
âI donât know, I just know that Iâve been liking this guy for a while,â she muses, looking down at her fingernails, âBut he hasnât seemed to pick up on any of my hints.â
On one of his braver days, heâd told her that he liked that purple lipstick. He hasnât seen her without it since. Sheâd always been so kind to everyone that it was hard to notice when her treatment towards him was special, but he thinks it might be. How quick she offers to help with Jack- gives away a Saturday evening to spend with him, even though she sees too much of his face at work.
Her friend from grad school offered to get drinks, and sheâs here, telling him what she looks for in a guy.
He tries to be logical about the whole thing, but itâs a bit hard- sheâs funny and warm and Aaron loves being around her- loves her company enough to maybe ask for more of it.Â
âIf this âguyâ did like you,â he murmurs, intentionally not meeting her gaze, the precision of which is boring a hole into the side of his head, âHow would he go about that?â
Heâs not sure what the point of being coy is now, but he canât seem to stop. He does look down to her and meet her eyes.Â
âI think Iâd probably corner him,â she says breathlessly. Theyâre quite close together, now. He wonders if she likes his aftershave. She tugs a hundred through her hair, a nervous but incredibly attractive gesture, âYâknow, if everyone we worked with went to get drinks, and it was just us. If he was amenable to that.â
âIf he was amenable to that.â
A rush of emotion licks up his spine- itâs fun, flirting with her. The creep of warmth on her cheek, how her fingers are brushing hers.Â
âI think he might be.â
Purple lipstick, rose perfume mixing with the scent of expensive aftershave- he thinks he might be able to kiss her, now. Heâs never been good at knowing when to take the jump, but this is something he can do. He can let her know that he wants it.Â
She reads him well enough, it turns out, and she kisses him. Itâs a surprise and he is so rusty at this and yet- his hand stand on the small of her back, pulling her in and he can feel her lovely smile against him. Sheâs warm and joyful and sheâd kissed him, and all he could do was lean in-
âI think he might be too.â She says, significantly less color on her lips, and more on his, he imagines.
She doesnât have to wonder, though. When Aaron kisses her again, he decides- he will make her incredibly certain of his affections.Â
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I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent whoâs literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of thatâmaybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?
i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!
Youâd been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didnât have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you donât believe in your skills, but itâs a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.
And then, thereâs Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though youâre sure he doesnât mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.
That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.
Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldnât help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.
The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.
Heâs always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.
Itâs even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelopeâs after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.
The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garciaâs conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, âI got it! Youâre already hosting, just relax a little.â
âThank you,â she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.
The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.
You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.
âShit!â You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, âIâm okay!â
They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldnât let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.
He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he wouldâve gone either way.
âYou okay?â He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.
âOh!â You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. âI forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.â
Heâs on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.
Itâs the kiss of sunlight on skin.
Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperatureâs okay before guiding your hand under the stream.
âYou still took out the nachos first?â He asks, even when he knows thatâs what youâd do, because of course youâre worrying about everyone else before yourself.
âI didnât want them to burn.â
Youâre trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. Youâre bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.
âHow bad does it hurt?â Hotch checks.
Aaronâs felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light thatâs come bursting into his life. Youâre always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he canât help but want to shield you to keep it that way.
Thereâs this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when youâre around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.
âItâs okay,â you say, though your voice cracks a little. âIâm sure youâve seen much worse, Hotch.â
âAaron,â he reminds you gently, âand you donât have to pretend. Itâs alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.â
The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.
âYou could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.â
âOkay, I'll bring them out.â
âDonât forget oven mitts!â
He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand thatâs surely stinging.
Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, âyou have a first aid kit?â
âOh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.â
âItâs alright, Garcia. Iâll get it.â
âIs everything okay?â
âDonât worry. Nothing major, Iâm taking care of it.â
He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where youâre still holding your hand under the stream of water.
âOkay,â Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. âLet me see, honey.â
The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.
He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.
You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and heâs quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. âSorry. Iâm sorry. Almost done.â
âItâs okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.â
âYouâre cute.â
A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.
By the time heâs done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, youâve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaronâs happy to bask in your sunshine.
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hotch loosening his tie and undoing a few buttons to eat you out on his desk at the office, having to take his tie completely off and push it into your mouth to keep you quiet đ”âđ«đ”âđ«đ”âđ«
this post is 18+, minors dni.
"Jesus Christ." Is your lover's careful assessment of the mess between your thighs, glistening as it clings to your skin and covers an expanse that reaches far beyond the lacy hem of your now-ruined panties.
He inspects you for a moment, runs a thick thumb through the slick steadily streaming from your weepy cunt, and smears it lower over your thigh instead of licking his finger clean.
"I need to take off my tie," He muses, fingers flying to the windsor knot to loosen it, "You're already such a mess that it would be stained the second I started."
"Can I have it?" You whine, craning your neck to stare down at him where he's kneeling between your legs. The chilled oak of his desk bites against your bare skin, but you're slowly warming it with the fever of desire you find yourself in. You reach for the tie, pleading, and Aaron sets it in your trembling fingers.
"Oh god, it- it smells like your cologne," You realize, breath shaky as you smother the silken fabric against your face, breathing in the scent of Aaron where it clings so potently to the fabric, "Hurry, Aaron, please-?"
Your hips writhe slightly as you squirm atop his desk, but his hand never comes to hold your waist in place.
"I have to unbutton my shirt, too." He murmurs, and you hear the rustling of fabric that lets you know he's already two buttons in, "Are you trying to stain all of my clothes, honey?"
You whimper softly against the fabric of his tie, and finally- finally one of his rough hands glides up your leg, starting at the ankle and ending near your throbbing core.
"You are? You want me to walk back out there with a dirty tie? That's bold." He assesses, "Our coworkers are profilers. It would take them, oh-" He smears his thumb close- this close to your slickened mess of a cunt, and your thighs shudder like a sob, "Ten seconds to figure out I'd just been on my knees between your legs. Is that what you're going for? You want everyone to know you're spread-eagle over my desk?"
"Aaron," You plead, desperate and pathetic, "Please?" You crane your neck down to watch him once more, and he's the picture of sin, thighs strained against his slacks, cock pressing even tighter against their fabric. There's three buttons undone on his shirt which reveal a mass of dark, wiry hair and which prevent the collar from being soaked in your pre-release. There's contentment and something dark, something sadistic and sinister in his eyes as he kneels before you, unquestionably dominant despite the position he's in.
"You're good at begging." He observes, his voice calm and collected, "And at making a mess. I'd tease you more, but if you get any wetter, I'd have to strip completely to avoid getting dirty. And we don't have much time before the team realizes that there's two agents missing and only one locked door. So lift up your hips, honey- there we go," He pats at your thigh and slips his hands beneath your hips when you lift them, elevating your core before he buries his face in it, "And try not to make too much noise- bite down on that tie whenever you have to scream."
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âcream cheeseâ - mid meeting, Hotch crosses a line you didnât think he would
Hotchner x gn!reader, 500 words
Iâm trying blurbs! Drabbles, whatever youâd like to call them. Lmk if you like it ok love you bye
ââââââââââ
Youâre sitting beside Hotch at the round table. The conference room is usually where you start the day, and today is no different - except for the fact that Penelope, bless her heart, brought everyone bagels.
It doesnât even matter that thereâs a grisly photo of a murder victim on the TV in front of you.
Compartmentalization is key when working for the BAU, so you just avoid looking at it and instead chomp down - an Asiago bagel with chive cream cheese? You eat it like a sandwich, the massive amount of cream cheese you put on it spilling out the sides.
âYouâre gonna need to brush your teeth after that,â Derek said when you assembled your bagel. You just playfully flipped him off and carried on, earning a chuckle from Hotch - Aaron, he insists you call him.
Being your bossâs significant other does not have the perks that the movies say it would. He does not show you special treatment on a daily basis, nor does he pull you off to the side for spontaneous interludes in the middle of the day. Hotch is very black and white. He likes rules. He likes sticking to those rules.
And you love him for it.
âWhatâs the geographical distance between the first two victims?â You ask as you glance down at your paperwork.
Spencer spouts off the answer like he memorized it on a flash card the night before, and you quietly thank him. You open your mouth to ask another question, but the feeling of a thumb swiping across your upper lip stops you from speaking.
You freeze, looking up slowly and turning your head to the culprit. Aaronâs thumb catches a chunk of cream cheese, and he wipes it off onto a nearby napkin. Youâre completely flabbergasted by this, for the very straightforward reason that Aaron does not touch you at work. He doesnât even let you rest your head on his shoulder on the jet.
Your eyes meet Aaronâs and your cheeks turn immediately red. âYou were about to lose it,â Aaron explains softly. He seems to be shocked by his own actions. You can tell by the way his eyes soften. He doesnât blush, though, and you kind of hate him for it.
Your gaze darts to the rest of the team.
Spencer is totally oblivious to what has happened, but Derek leans back in his chair with a smirk in his face, Emily and JJ are grinning at each other, and Penelope is very clearly stifling a giggle.
Rossi is the one who breaks the awkward silence. âTwenty miles between victims one and two, thatâs fascinating,â he proposes.
Aaron clears his throat and looks at you briefly. Itâs a fleeting expression, but you will forever have it ingrained in your brain - his lips curled in the smallest smirk, a twinkle in those dark brown eyes. As he turns in his chair to scoot closer to the table, you feel the tips of his fingers just barely graze your thigh.
âRight, letâs debrief more on the jet,â he suggests, stacking his folders efficiently and rising from his desk chair. âWheelâs up in 30.â
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aaron seeing reader in one of his old law school shirts and heâs like yeah this is heaven
all the air releases from his lungs as he comes home to find you lounging on the couch in his harvard hoodie.
âyouâre back early,â you say, eyes shining with love as he makes his way to you immediately.
âmhm, as bad as it may sound, we had an easy case to solve today.â
aaron smushes his lips to your forehead before laying in your lap- trying for covertness but his hands tugging on the soft cotton gives him away.
âcan i help you?â a giggle takes over your voice as your boyfriendâs hands climb up your torso.
âyouâre wearing my shirt,â he says, a dreamy tone to his voice as he blinks up at you. âor rather, my hoodie.â
you nod, âi ran out of shirts,â you were on day number ten at his house and youâd only packed for a week. âstole the comfiest looking one.â
he places a kiss to your stomach, âyou look good in it,â a second passes. âbetter than good actually.â
your belly heats up from his affection and you risk a small flick of his nose as you say rather bashfully, âstop.â
her only laughs, kissing your palm before pressing it to his cheek. âcome to bed, honey. we can finally have an early night.â
#aaronhotchner#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner x black!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x yn
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