#aaron hotchner visuals

[hotch-girl]

THOMAS GIBSON as AARON HOTCHNER 

CRIMINAL MINDS — 4.14 “COLD COMFORT”

[nathanbatemanfucker]

aaron hotchner x zira williams (black!fem!oc!) in the moon river collection🌙

tagging: @laurensprentiss, @sadgirlml, @angelfxllcm, @honeybrowne, @jaspxr, @hotchs-bitch, @chelseyjoyce, @rousethemouse, @lostinthefandoms11, @fightingdragonswithwho, @ashhotchner, @hotch-girl (just cuz i know you loved them)

[ssahotchnerr]

As a former cheer/dance kid, I love the idea of having a little girl doing the same programs (★ ω ★) Also Reader is definitely Team Mom and in extention so is Aaron (if not more(he steals the position from her)) BAU! Aaron who starts leaving work early (which basically means leaving when everyone else does) so he can make it to practices and support his little girl. Compition days that start at 6-7 AM and he has coffee ready for Reader and a smoothie for the kiddos who aren't thrilled to be up so early but comply to getting ready because he put the good strawberries in their smoothies. (also can I be 🍄 anon please (^///^) )

YES wait stop i'm gonna CRY :((( <3333

comp days are usually saturday's, aaron's one day to sleep in if he's able, but he's the very first one up 🥺 as he's making smoothies, he feels slightly guilty about the noise it's making for everyone who's still asleep 😭 and when he goes room to room to get jack and baby girl up, he's met with small whines and lil drowsy sighs of protest 🥺 he's carefully lifting each kiddo out of bed, bringing them to the kitchen - with blankets still wrapped around them and one of his hands is clutching onto a beloved stuffed animal - he's seating them at their spot of the table in front of a smoothie, which lifts their mood instantly 😭 it's still dark out and jack's nearly falling asleep at the table LOL. hehe aaron's attempting to wake them up with small talk as he makes your coffee - asking baby girl if she's ready for the day, if jack's excited to see his sister compete, etc.. when you enter the kitchen, all ready yourself because aaron got everyone up, he just gives you a sweet kiss along with your to-go mug and asks if you need him to do anything else 🥺🥹 - which is usually a no because you have everything sorted/ready waiting at the door the night prior - so there's a little more time to sleep in and you aren't rushing out the door forgetting things. you just bury yourself cozily into him 🥰 pressing your face into his chest while his arms wrap around you tightly <333333 simply enjoying each other before a hectic day starts where you won't see him too much. the only thing that pulls the two of you away - except for the clock - ellie tries to steal the rest of jack's smoothie LOL

[ssaemilyhotchner]

our eyes behold the vesper light

Read on AO3 here!

It hits her so suddenly—the knowledge that it was all worth it. Every moment of abject fear, every sear of pain, every staged funeral. Every lullaby sung to a child she was determined to save, every piece of herself she gave over to a man who loved a mirage of her creation, every gimmel ring hanging around her neck like a noose.

Or, five times Emily experiences something holy.

For @eyesontheskyline, who loves the holy spaces in Emily's story, too.

[stimboard-radio]

Hotchreid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid) stimboard

✭ with related stims

✫ Self indulgent!

+ | + | +

- | + | -

+ | + | +

[hotchfiles]

DOOMED ー coming soon

[seejayess]

early (ish) criminal minds characters as:

gen III pokemon!

(this was also a tiktok special hence it being limited to gen 3 only)

[masterwords]

[virtual-boy]

{🔪}{🔪}{🔪} {🩸}{🩸}{🩸} {🔫}{🔫}{🔫}

"Nice shot."

["Nice shot."]

aaron hotchner from criminal minds stimboard with bisexual themes, guns and gray and black slime!

[requested by @eye-ofhorus! ty bestie :03]

[atropxs]

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓮

character tags: under tags of a characters name you'll find all the posts i've made or reblogged about a character. could be shitposts; could be fic recs.

celebrity tags: under tags of a celebrity's name you'll find all the posts i made or reblogged about a celebrity.

#favorites: my personal favorite posts and reblogs.

#bookmark: this is a personal tag for fics or other posts i want to save for later.

#visual!: visuals. mostly swf but somewhat suggestive.

#.kimber: anything i post or reblog that has little or nothing to do with a character or fandom. mostly shitposts and sappy writer stuff.

#hornyposting: horny posting

[ssa-dado]

18 - I'm Always Running To You

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: slow burn, fluff, whump (?) Summary: Back at the BAU, nostalgia and familiar faces reignited memories and emotions you thought you’d left behind. As you navigated the team’s playful camaraderie and handled a skeptical detective, you couldn't ignore the weight of Hotch's absence and the unique bond you shared. Though you left for Peter and a life of stability, two weeks back may reveal whether you truly want the life you’ve chosen - or the one you left. Warnings: CM case, P***r gets mentioned... also... I did a thing. Word Count: 11.6k Dado's Corner: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

masterlist

“... I could tell you about my very first day, the momentous occasion of ‘Teach’s debut’.”

“Oh, please do,” he replied, clearly amused. “And tell me, is my office still intact? Or have you scattered it with sticky notes and red string?”

“Don’t tempt me, but no, I’ve preserved your precious workspace.” you replied with a chuckle, picturing his face as he visualized the mess you could create. “It all started when…”

---

It felt strange, almost surreal, to be sitting in Hotch’s office - your office, at least temporarily. The air was still thick with his presence, his signature cologne lingering like an old friend. Most of his things were still exactly where he’d left them; you had no doubt he’d done it intentionally, a silent stand against Strauss. It was his way of asserting that this space was his, and it always would be.

The most noticeable difference was the absence of his personal photos. The frames that had once held Haley’s warm smile and Jack’s bright eyes were missing, and that small detail made the room feel emptier. Still, he had gone out of his way to replace the pens on the desk with the ones you preferred.

-

“Although, for the record, I’ve switched to the 0.7mm tip now. Same brand, just… a thicker line. So, you know, if we’re going for accuracy here,” you teased, stretching out on the hotel bed with a grin.

There was a pause on the other end before Aaron replied, his tone more serious than you’d expected. “I noticed, actually. In the files you handed me last time - you used the 0.7mm. I wasn’t sure if it was a permanent change or just a one-off. But, in case you didn’t see them, they’re in the top right drawer.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by how closely he’d paid attention. “Wait, are you serious? You noticed that?”

“Of course,” he replied, as though keeping track of something so small was the most natural thing in the world. You could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “Figured you’d want them there.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Aaron, I swear, sometimes this nerdy side of you is a little unnerving. Also - you could’ve told me about the drawer thing before I dug around like an idiot.”

“I��m the nerd?” he chuckled, and you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “You’re the one who’s willing to switch back to the 0.5mm just to keep the ‘continuity’ in your files consistent.”

“Of course I am,” you retorted, grinning at the sheer ridiculousness of it. “I can’t just start with one pen and finish with another. You know as well as I do that consistency is key. I mean, you’re the one who keeps a back-up tie in his desk in case your tie gets stained. And besides,” you added, leaning into the playful banter, “this is all your fault for messing with my routine in the first place.”

“You could say thank you, you know,” he said, his tone warm and teasing. “Here I am, making sure you have exactly what you need, and all I get is passive-aggressive commentary, not quite the gratitude I was hoping for...”

“Oh, of course!” you replied with over-the-top sweetness. “Thank you, my most esteemed noble prosecutor against the crimes of chaos,” you cooed, letting each word drip with playful charm. You could practically feel his discomfort rising on the other end of the line - perfect, just as planned. “And thank you ever so much for keeping such an impeccable archive of my pen preferences.”

He let out a dry sigh. “…Always happy to help,” he replied, his tone barely masking his exasperation. You grinned, knowing you’d hit the mark.

-

And then there was the nameplate, covered with sticky notes. He’d written your name over his in his distinct, bold handwriting. It made you smile, remembering the early days when you’d shared a desk, continuously passing notes scribbled on Post-its.

But that little personal touch from Hotch had been balanced out by the formidable stack of case files placed dead center on the desk - a welcome gift from Strauss, no doubt. The pile seemed impossibly tall, a silent reminder of the bureaucratic weight she could wield when it suited her. You’d kept your composure on the phone with her, but it felt like she was testing you, making sure you knew this wouldn’t be easy.

Time slipped away as you sifted through the stacks of case files, the silence in the office thick and unnerving. It wasn’t just the absence of sound or movement, it was as if something essential had been stripped from the room, a heartbeat that once pulsed quietly in the background now stilled.

You’d always been one to come in early, even back when you first started at the BAU. But back then, you’d never been the first to arrive. You’d grown used to Hotch’s subtle routines: the way he’d already have a fresh pot of coffee going by the time you arrived, the sight of him hunched over files, deep in thought, yet somehow always aware of your presence, a reassuring constant.

That morning felt like a quiet reminder of all the things that had changed, and all the things you wished, just for a moment, could stay the same.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see JJ standing there, smiling softly. “You’ve probably been here for hours already, haven’t you?”

You stretched your arms, letting out a small laugh. “Me? Never. But what are you doing here so early? You’re not due for another half-hour.

JJ stepped further into the office, a knowing look on her face as she held up a file. “Actually, I came in a little early to show you the ropes, but from the looks of all these files you’ve already gone through, it seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

You glanced at the neat pile of case files in front of you, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Guess I couldn’t resist the urge to keep up with Hotch’s reputation. I’ve got to maintain the early bird standard around here, right?”

JJ chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re definitely living up to it. At this rate, you’ll have his entire routine down before the end of the week.”

You leaned back with a grin. “Just promise me that if I start communicating in cryptic stares and monosyllabic responses, you’ll stage an intervention.”

-

“Excuse me?!” he said, feigning offense on the other end of the line.

You couldn’t help but laugh, recognizing that his mock outrage was, in fact, a perfect example of the very thing you had just finished saying. “Right, because that wasn’t a textbook example of a monosyllabic response - alright, maybe three syllables, but I’d still count it.”

-

JJ laughed, giving you a playful nudge. “Noted.” She took a breath, the humor fading slightly as her tone softened. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know - Gideon called in sick, didn’t give much detail. This is today’s case.”

A frown tugged at your lips as JJ passed you the file. Hotch had warned you to keep an eye on Gideon, especially after what happened in Arizona. The weight of Sarah’s death still seemed to carve deeper lines into his face with every case, his once-steady demeanor unraveling.

Gideon had been a cornerstone of your time at the BAU, a bridge to those early days. Now, without him, the weight of responsibility pressed harder on your shoulders, the pressure to hold everything together more overwhelming than ever.

“Thanks for letting me know,” you said, taking the file from her hands, feeling the weight of it. “I guess it’s going to be one of those days.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile, her eyes warm with understanding. “Hey, we’re in good hands. I know stepping in isn’t easy, but you’ve got this.” Then she added, “Oh, and I went ahead and set everything up on the screen in the conference room. No need for pinning photos or scribbling on the board like back in the day.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair with a look of disappointment. “So, just one sentence, and I’m already labeled a dinosaur? For the record, JJ, I’m only three years older than you, and just a few months ago, I was still in my twenties. I think I’ve got a ways to go before ‘ancient relic’ status.”

JJ chuckled, shaking her head. “Relic or not, don’t worry. You’ll settle in just fine.”

You laughed, standing up and gathering the files. “If you say so...” As you followed her to the door, you asked, “I’m heading to the coffee machine. Need me to grab you anything?”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful spark in her eyes. “I thought that’s supposed to go the other way around, Chief?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Oh, come on, no need for all that formality. I’m still getting used to it myself. Just stick to my name… at least until Morgan decides on something else for everyone, I know his reputation precedes him.”

JJ laughed as the two of you headed down the hallway, your footsteps echoing softly. “Well, you know him. Whatever it is, I have a feeling it’ll stick.”

You shook your head with a smile, following her towards the coffee machine. "I’m sure I’ll survive - though if his nickname is too creative, I might have to pull rank on him." You teased, knowing full well that wasn’t your style.

---

By the time you finally stepped into the conference room, the familiar rhythm of the BAU began to settle around you, but that’s when the weight of your nerves - the ones you had tried so hard to push down -suddenly hit you like a punch to the chest. You hadn’t even realized it had been building until it was too late.

Coming in early had given you the luxury of solitude, a quiet space where you could pretend this wasn’t real yet, where you could almost convince yourself that everything would be just like the old days. But now, with the hum of conversation filling the room, the reality crashed down on you all at once.

The team was here.

The case was here.

And you were standing in Hotch’s place.

The familiar energy buzzed around the room, the usual anticipation that always lingered before a new case, but none of it felt normal to you. There was a sense of expectation that weighed down every breath you took.

Each step toward the center of the room felt heavier, and with every pair of eyes that turned in your direction, the weight became unbearable. You knew that even if they didn’t realize they weren’t just looking at you - they were looking for answers.

They were waiting for the guidance and steady leadership they had come to trust in Hotch.

But you weren’t Hotch.

Morgan was the first to spot you, and as usual, he was impossible to ignore. His eyes lit up as he crossed the room with his signature swagger, that confident, wide grin already plastered on his face. His easy demeanor was infectious, a kind of effortless confidence that seemed unshakable, and as he made his way toward you, you wished you could channel even a fraction of it.

“Teacher!” he called out, wrapping you in a strong hug before you had a chance to say anything.

You laughed, returning the hug and rolling your eyes at the nickname, but the moment you released him, you felt the tremor of anxiety creeping back. “Good to see you too, Morgan. For a moment there, I was almost surprised you didn’t have the nickname ready and waiting the second I walked in the door.”

He chuckled, his smile widening as he winked. “Oh, trust me, I’ve got a whole list lined up. I’m just pacing myself, you will fear me.”

You tried to match his lighthearted tone, but your mind kept wandering back to the task ahead.

Your first briefing as Unit Chief. Don’t mess this up.

Just then, Prentiss strolled in, catching the tail end of your conversation. She crossed her arms, a playful smirk already forming on her lips. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said with a gleam in her eyes, looking between you and Morgan. “I think Morgan is the one who’s secretly terrified of you.”

Morgan scoffed, his usual bravado showing, but there was a spark of amusement - and maybe a bit of truth - in his eyes. “Terrified? Of the teacher? Come on, Prentiss, you’ve gotta do better than that.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow, clearly relishing the banter. “Oh really? Because, if I remember correctly, you couldn’t stop talking about that guest lecture she gave at Quantico. You’ve been on edge about it ever since.”

You chuckled, leaning slightly into Emily’s side, grateful for the camaraderie. “Is that so? I knew there was something you weren’t telling me, Morgan.”

Emily’s arm draped around your shoulders, and she gave you a reassuring squeeze. The warmth of her support should’ve been comforting, but instead, it only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

What if I disappoint them?

“You know I’m all about team morale” Prentiss said ironically ”especially if it involves messing with Morgan. It’s nice to have you back, and I’m excited to watch you put him in his place for the next two weeks.” You grinned, but the weight of her words added to your anxiety.

Two weeks. Don’t screw it up.

“Oh, I’ll keep it low-key,” you said with mock innocence, glancing at Morgan. “Wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers on my first day.”

Prentiss shook her head, laughing. “No way. Go all out! Quiz him, put him on the spot he deserves it. Trust me, it’s been a long time coming.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, amused but clearly unfazed. “Careful, Prentiss. You’re tempting fate.”

Before you could respond, Reid approached quietly, lingering on the edge of the conversation as he often did, waiting for the right time to join in. Finally, he stepped forward, offering a small wave and a hint of a smile – his familiar shyness was a welcome distraction from your mounting nerves.

“So, Morgan settled on ‘Teacher,’” he said with his usual calm precision. “For the record, there were 11 other options on the list, but ‘Teacher’ seemed the most fitting in my opinion.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” You hadn’t spent much time with the team before that day - just a couple of occasions, really - but from the few moments you’d shared with Reid, you knew how much he valued the chance to break down his thought processes. You gave him the space to elaborate, genuinely curious to hear his reasoning.

A spark of excitement danced in Spencer’s eyes, and he straightened a little, clearly appreciating the chance to share his insight. “Well, it’s actually pretty poetic,” he began, his voice tinged with enthusiasm. “Your first academic publication was on Plato, right? And Plato wasn’t just a philosopher - he was a teacher at his own school, the Academy. And now, here you are, teaching at the Academy. Even though you’re taking a break from it for the next couple of weeks, the nickname ‘Teacher’ seems… poetically appropriate.”

You smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness of his connection, but a shadow of doubt still lingered.

They all see you as capable. But what if you’re not?

“That’s a beautiful interpretation, Spencer. Plato’s one of my favorites, so I really appreciate that you found those links.” You tried to sound confident, but the tension in your chest remained.

Spencer’s face brightened, clearly pleased by your response. “Thanks! I try,” he replied, a bit shyly. You could tell he was happy to have made the connection for you, and that warmed your heart.

You leaned in slightly, knowing he’d appreciate a chance to continue the intellectual thread. “By the way, since we’re on the topic, do you know why it’s called the Academy?”

Spencer looked momentarily taken aback, shaking his head. “No, actually, I don’t.”

“It’s because of the land it was built on,” you explained, enjoying his anticipation. “Plato’s Academy was set up in a grove just outside Athens, named after a local hero, Akademos… or Hecademus, depending on the source. The fact that the land was sacred wasn’t incidental; it created a space that felt set apart, a place where learning and reflection became almost a spiritual process for Plato and his students.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, captivated by the backstory. “That’s… incredible. I had no idea,” he admitted, visibly impressed. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Though, I have to say, it’s a good thing the local hero had a dignified name. The School of Bob might not have carried the same historical weight.”

Before either of you could dive deeper into Philosophy 101, Garcia swooped in with her usual whirlwind of energy, wrapping her arms around you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe. “Welcome, naughty Teacher!” she exclaimed, her grin stretching from ear to ear.

You laughed, trying to shake off the creeping anxiety. “Nice to see you too, Penelope. But I’m afraid we’ll have to drop the ‘Naughty’ part unless you want HR knocking on both our doors. Anything more PG, I’ll gladly accept.”

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her chest with exaggerated flair. “Alright, alright, just ‘Teacher’ then,” she conceded, but her eyes twinkled with mischief. “But know that I’ll still think ‘naughty’ in spirit.”

You shook your head, chuckling as you nudged her playfully. “Noted. And I’ll make sure to blush and feel flattered by it - purely in spirit, of course.”

She pouted playfully, then cocked her head, adding in a teasing, faux-flirty tone, “Teach, just checking… you still taken? Engaged and all that?”

You grinned, crossing your arms as you replied, “Affirmative, Penelope. The position is still filled.”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Ah, tragic! Well, it’s truly the world’s loss then,” she said, winking. “But you know, if the situation ever changes…”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “I’ll be sure to update you on any status changes in a timely manner.”

She winked, giving you a playful shove. “See, now that’s why I always keep my options opened.”

Despite the playful banter, the clock was ticking, and the weight of what was about to happen settled in more heavily than ever.

It’s time. Don’t mess this up.

A few moments later, you clapped your hands, bringing the room to order. The friendly chatter died down, and all eyes turned to you. This was the moment you had been dreading - the first time you’d lead a case briefing as Unit Chief. Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to project confidence as you stepped forward with the remote in hand.

With a click, the screen flickered to life, displaying the crime scene photos in stark, unsettling detail. You could feel the weight of their gazes, their expectations.

They trust you. Don’t let them down.

“Alright, team,” you began, forcing your voice to steady even as the nerves rattled within you. “I’d love nothing more than to catch up, but we’ve got a triple homicide on our hands, and time isn’t on our side.”

You took a breath, signaling for JJ to start, and she took over, filling the team in on the case basics. “We’re looking at three victims in Newport,” she explained. “Different ages, different backgrounds. The first two were killed a week apart, but the last one was just three days ago. The timeline’s escalating.”

You nodded, moving closer to the screen as you clicked through the crime scene photos. Gesturing at the images, you continued, “There’s a pattern here. The unsub leaves a white mask over each victim’s face, with holes cut around the nose and mouth. There’s no sign of a struggle, no defensive wounds - this is clean, methodical work.”

You paused, letting the silence settle as they took it in, but the stillness only made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. Am I explaining this right? What if they’re questioning my judgment?

“Whoever this unsub is,” you went on, pushing down the doubts, “they’re confident, careful, and they’re taking their time. We need to figure out why.”

Are you really enough for this team?

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, feeling a sudden jolt of surprise and relief as you saw the name: Lawyer – it was Aaron.

Lawyer: 

Don’t second guess yourself. You’ve got this. I trust you, I hope you know that. 

Lawyer:

P.S. If you could avoid winning everyone over in the next two weeks, that’d be great. Try to be a little unlikable, so they’re actually glad when I come back. ;)

And just like that, the voices of doubt went silent.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, feeling steadier now. You turned back to the team, ready to continue.

Don’t second guess yourself.

You’ve got this.

I trust you.

---

Once at the Newport precinct, you could feel eyes on you as soon as you stepped inside. The local detectives seemed disoriented by your presence, their confusion was evident as they exchanged glances. You’d prepared for this reaction, but it still stung.

You introduced the team with a smile, doing your best to mask the flicker of irritation that flared up when one of the older detectives barely glanced your way. He muttered something to his colleague, just low enough that you couldn’t catch it, but you could feel the dismissiveness in his tone.

The insinuation was clear: Too young, too inexperienced, too… female.

Shaking it off, you divided the team into two groups. “Morgan, Prentiss, you two head to the medical center to review the autopsies. Look for anything that might indicate how the unsub maintains such precise control over the victims. Drugs, maybe something else.” They nodded, Morgan already heading toward the door with his usual confidence, Prentiss following closely behind.

You turned to JJ and Reid. “We’ll stay here. JJ, let’s start with victimology. You and I will talk to the families. Reid, you’ll work on a geographical profile. See if you can figure out a pattern in the locations.”

You and JJ arrived at the small, quiet home of the third victim’s parents, Filipino immigrants whose grief seemed to fill every corner of the room. Stepping inside, you felt as if the air itself mourned with them. Family photos lined the walls, capturing a life now painfully incomplete. The parents sat close together, their hands intertwined, clutching at each other as though any moment they might shatter.

“Kamusta po. Ako po si Y/N, kasama ko si JJ. Galing po kami sa Behavioral Analysis Unit ng FBI. Alam kong napakahirap ng pinagdadaanan ninyo, at hindi ko po madadala ang sakit, pero nandito kami para makinig, para tulungan kayong mahanap ang hustisya para sa inyong anak na babae. Kapag handa na po kayo, gusto sana naming magtanong ng ilang bagay.” 

“Hello. I’m Y/N, and this is JJ. We’re from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I know the pain you’re going through is unimaginable, and while I can’t take that pain away, we’re here to listen, to help bring justice for your daughter. When you’re ready, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

The mother’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, her posture softening as she realized you spoke her language, a small but meaningful gesture that bridged the gap between their grief and your willingness to understand. Her grief was still raw, but she opened up, telling you about her daughter, sharing the little details that made her life beautiful.

As you finished with the first family, you and JJ stepped outside, the weight of the interview hanging heavy in the air. You turned to her, noticing the sadness etched in her eyes, the pain she tried to conceal. You could see how she always felt deeply, letting herself absorb the grief around her, and it showed.

“You good here?” you asked softly, searching her face. She hesitated, eyes distant for a moment before she nodded.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “I’ll handle it. You head back and see what Reid’s found.”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey, listen to me. You’ll get through this. I know these cases hit hard, but even when you’re at your worst, JJ, it’s still better than anyone else’s best. You’re compassionate, and that makes you the best person to speak with these families. But if it’s too much, let me know, and we’ll switch.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, and she took a steadying breath, nodding slightly as she met your gaze. “Thanks,” she said, a glimmer of strength returning to her eyes. “I needed that. But I’ll be fine. Go on, you can head back to Reid. I’ve got this.”

You gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning back toward the station. Inside, Reid was hunched over a map, his fingers tracing the outline of the city as he studied the locations of the murders. He barely looked up when you approached, his mind clearly absorbed in the puzzle before him.

“So, Doc, what do you have for me?” you asked, leaning over the desk.

Reid straightened pointing to the map. “I’ve been analyzing the locations of the murders, but I think the most significant detail isn’t where they happened, it’s the masks the unsub uses.”

Your brow furrowed. “The masks?”

Reid nodded, his voice gaining momentum as he explained. “The masks only have holes for the nose and mouth, not the eyes. That suggests a couple of things. First, they’re not something you can just buy - these masks are probably handmade, which means the unsub has a certain level of craftsmanship or access to materials. And second…” He paused, waiting for you to catch on.

“They’re covering the eyes deliberately,” you said, the realization sinking in. “They don’t want their victims to see - or be seen. By obscuring them, the unsub is denying the victims any self-recognition.”

“Exactly,” Reid confirmed. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, right? It’s a symbolic way of stripping them of their identity”

You felt a rush of clarity, your mind connecting the dots. “That’s a really good observation, Reid. It fits with the unsub’s need for control. They’re not just killing, they’re staging a performance.”

Before you could delve further into the theory, the air in the room shifted. One of the local detectives, the same one who had dismissed you earlier, sauntered over, his expression smug as he cast a glance at Reid. “You guys find anything useful? Kid here looks like he’s barely out of high school.”

Reid blinked, momentarily taken aback, but before he could respond, the detective turned to you, his tone dripping with condescension. “And you’re telling me the FBI put someone like you in charge? Not even thirty yet, and you’re calling the shots? Must be some kind of joke.”

Your muscles tensed, breath hitching as you caught a glimpse of Reid, his face paling slightly, visibly shaken as he struggled to find the courage to respond. Before he could get a word out, though, the doors swung open, and Morgan and Prentiss strode into the station.

They caught the tail end of the exchange, their gazes snapping to you, their expressions quickly shifting to a mix of concern and simmering irritation.

Morgan, always quick to defend, took a step toward the detective, his jaw set and eyes flashing. But before he could say a word, you lifted a hand, a subtle gesture that stopped him in his tracks. You forced a smile, one that was warm on the surface but laced with an unmistakable edge of disappointment.

“Detective,” you began, your tone even, almost gentle, but carrying a weight that silenced the room, “I understand how frustrating cases like this can be. But if we spend our time underestimating each other, we’re only helping the unsub stay one step ahead. None of us can afford that.”

The detective’s expression shifted, slightly thrown off by your calmness. He gave a gruff chuckle, shaking his head. “I just hope the FBI’s got the expertise to handle this one. It’s not your usual serial killer, that’s for sure, a fancy degree won’t do the job.”

“We appreciate your concern, Detective.” you said, your voice steady and calm as you stepped closer, fixing him with a focused gaze, your eyes narrowed slightly. “If you have specific doubts about our methods, I’m more than happy to walk you through them. The problem I’ve noticed, however, is that you’ve been approaching this case from a narrow perspective.”

You continued, gaze unwavering as you explained “This unsub isn’t one-dimensional, and neither is their motive. Without considering the complexity - the layers of behavior and psychology involved - we risk making shallow assessments, which lead to mistakes. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve overlooked critical elements of the unsub’s psychology.”

As you spoke, Morgan leaned in toward Prentiss, shaking his head. “She’s got that Hotch stare down, doesn’t she?” he murmured, his voice low with awe.

Prentiss smirked, nodding. “Oh, absolutely. But there’s something different about it… his stare is all intimidation, but hers? It’s almost worse - like you’ve disappointed her on some fundamental level. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that.”

The detective blinked, visibly disoriented. “What do you mean, missing?” he sputtered.

You could hear their whispered comments, but you stayed focused on the detective, who was just starting to fidget under your stare. “The unsub we’re dealing with isn’t a sadist, despite what you’ve assumed. They’re not motivated by the need to inflict pain for pleasure. What we’re looking at is something much more complex - control, power, recognition. The masks, the staging? They’re not random. If we keep treating this like a sadist’s work, we’ll continue wasting valuable resources on a dead-end.”

You stepped forward slightly, your tone sharpening, though you remained composed. “And it’s not just this case. You’ve been missing the bigger picture all along, dismissing the insights we’ve been trying to offer. It shows not only in your handling of this investigation but also in your approach. You jump to conclusions, failing to consider the complexities.”

“See, when we try to prove a point, the evidence has to be accurate, or everything crumbles.” You paused, letting the silence hang for a moment. “Earlier, you mentioned I’m ‘not even thirty yet’ as part of your argument that I’m unqualified to lead an FBI team. If you had done your research, you’d know I’m actually thirty - I have been for months. Using incorrect facts, you made your entire demonstration falter.”

You leaned in, your eyes never leaving his. “This behavior of yours also affects your overall approach to this case. You rushed to label this unsub as a sadist, forcing everything into a narrative that fits your narrow perspective. And who benefits from that? The unsub.”

Morgan leaned toward Prentiss, nodding with a mix of admiration and amusement. “Man, she’s Hotch’s protégé. It’s like watching him all over again - tearing him apart on the technicalities, using the guy’s own words to back him into a corner.” He grinned, voice dropping slightly. “You can tell they spent years together.”

Prentiss smiled, her expression softening. “Yeah, but she’s got her own way of doing it. She’s not just channeling him, she’s making it her own.” She glanced at you, a note of pride in her voice. “That’s what makes her… her.”

Your voice remained steady, the edge of disappointment clear. “To be precise, that wasn’t the only demonstration of your failure to grasp the complexity here. Earlier you said I have ‘a fancy degree’ - once again - you didn’t bother to check your facts. The reality is that it’s not one degree - singular. I have multiple degrees - plural. And my colleague here?”

You gestured to Reid, who was observing silently, his sharp eyes taking everything in. “He’s the one you’ve underestimated the most. Not only does he have advanced degrees, he holds multiple PhDs – once again, plural . So, Detective, you haven’t just made the mistake of questioning my expertise, but you’ve managed to make an even bigger error by dismissing the experience of my entire team. More than just one individual. Understanding and managing the concept of plurality is essential, and it’s something you’ve consistently overlooked since the beginning.”

The room fell silent, your tone never rising but carrying the weight of undeniable authority. The detective’s face shifted, his bravado visibly crumbling, as he struggled to respond. His earlier confidence now replaced by a stunned, flustered silence.

Morgan leaned toward Prentiss again, barely able to hide the grin. “She just tore him apart. Without even raising her voice.”

Prentiss chuckled softly. “God, it’s like watching an artist at work.”

JJ crossed her arms, smiling faintly as she whispered, “Hotch is probably proud.”

The detective blinked, clearly struggling to keep pace with your explanation. You held your ground, your gaze steady, tone firm but calm. “We’re here to collaborate, not waste time. But if we’re not open to different perspectives, we won’t get anywhere. The unsub isn’t just killing; they’re constructing a narrative that reflects a need for dominance and recognition. Hegel’s master-slave dialectic is relevant here - recognition is essential to self-awareness, and the unsub is asserting themselves as the ‘master,’ with their victims as ‘slaves.’”

Reid nodded along, understanding where you were going. “The use of custom masks that only leave holes on the mouth and nose, are particularly telling. Hegel explains that the relationship between the master and the slave is based on mutual acknowledgment - each needs the other to confirm their own identity. Although the Unsub twists this dynamic at its core. By covering the eyes – the primary sense we use to recognize someone - the unsub symbolically denies the victims to engage in this shared recognition. So the unsub strips the victims of individuality, reducing them to faceless, passive entities. Objects.”

You continued, unfazed by the detective’s discomfort, speaking with the calm assurance born from your mastery in uncovering the intricate links between human behavior and philosophy. "The unsub doesn’t want recognition from the singular victims but demands it from society, a plurality. Which means that the unsub seeks godlike power over life and death, forcing us to acknowledge their existence through fear. It’s not about chaos; it’s a twisted form of self-affirmation. If we ignore these psychological details, we’re missing the core of their intent.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows at Prentiss, a smile spreading across his face. “Man, I love it when she goes philosophical. She’s got that deep dive style down to an art.”

The detective opened his mouth as if to argue, but your steady gaze cut him off before he could form a coherent sentence. Finally, he managed a weak, “Right… well, I suppose that makes sense… what do you need from us?”

“Full cooperation from your team,” you said simply, “and no more jumping to conclusions.”

As the detective shuffled away, visibly shaken, you turned back to the team, feeling a sense of relief settle in. Reid met your gaze, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, a silent thank you for handling the situation on his behalf. JJ gave you a warm, knowing smile, a touch of admiration in her expression, as though she’d seen a new side of you.

On the other side, Morgan and Prentiss exchanged glances, smirks tugging at their lips as they struggled to contain their laughter. Their eyes sparkled with barely concealed amusement, relishing the scene that had just played out.

They weren’t fooling anyone - especially not you. You knew that look all too well, it was the unmistakable glint of an inside joke, the kind of unspoken conspiracy that you could sense from a mile away.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. You’d been in their shoes before, that playful bond where just one look could spark an entire unspoken conversation. It was the same look you and Hotch used to share whenever Gideon and Rossi did anything remotely friendly toward each other.

Just the slightest hint of camaraderie between those two was enough for you and Hotch to start your own silent plotting, exchanging glances and letting your imaginations run wild about their “secret romance.”

And if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that Morgan and Prentiss were definitely up to something. “You okay?” you asked raising your eyebrows, catching the spark running through the group.

That was all it took, Morgan and Prentiss chuckled, their expressions carrying a mix of respect and pure enjoyment. You could tell they saw something of Hotch in you, but with your own twist, and that silent bond between you all deepened, shared in the moment.

“Oh, we’re good,” Morgan said, barely containing a chuckle. “Just… processing the show you just put on. Not bad, Teacher.”

Prentiss nodded, her eyes gleaming. “You definitely have that stare down.”

“What stare?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I didn’t realize I had a ‘stare.’”

JJ stifled a laugh. “Oh, you do... remember about the intervention? It’s a bit different than Hotch’s, though. His can be terrifying, but yours? Yours just screams disappointment. It’s brutal. I almost felt sorry for the guy.”

The team burst into quiet laughter as you gave them an unintentional demonstration of the stare, feeling the same subtle disappointment creep into your expression as you processed their remarks. “What’s going on?” you asked, the exact same tone Hotch used to use when he was catching on to their inside jokes, only fueling the laughter.

They laughed even harder, exchanging looks as if sharing an inside joke they hadn’t expected you to be in on. A bit intimidated but still chuckling, JJ finally spoke up. “It’s just… the way you said that, it was just like Hotch. Even the tone, the phrasing, it was all there.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “So, you all really think I’m like Hotch?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Prentiss replied, smirking. “You two have been partners since, what, the dawn of time? I’d bet good money you’ve picked up more than a few of his quirks over the years.”

You shook your head in mock offense, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, please! Have you ever considered that maybe he picked up my mannerisms? But even if that were true, I have no idea why you’re all so obsessed with comparing us. I’m my own person. And Hotch and I? We’re not similar. At all.”

Prentiss let out a laugh, eyes gleaming. “Uh-huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that. But from where I’m standing, you two are basically the FBI version of an old mar-”

“Watch it, Prentiss,” you cut her off, the warning playful but sharp. The moment the words left your mouth, you froze for a beat. Even you could hear it - Hotch’s voice, not yours. You’d definitely heard him say it just like that before.

They laughed again, their amusement only growing at your reaction. Morgan wiped his eyes, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s there. You two are practically the same person when you’re in the field.”

JJ added with a smirk, “You spent so many years together, it’s bound to rub off… you two were like the dynamic duo. I just wish we could see more of it now. The stories I’ve heard about how well you worked together are legendary.”  It was funny how you could practically visualise what Morgan and Reid were picturing in their minds at that exact moment. The best part was that no matter how many times the two of them tried to imagine you and Hotch dancing, it would never even come close to what it was like in reality. “You two were close, weren’t you?”

You two were close, weren’t you?

And just like that, your heart dropped, a pang of melancholy seeping in at her words.

They were right – no, actually – Aaron was right.

You’d missed working in the field, and coming back here reminded you how much you missed working alongside him, as a team, the way you once did every day.

But things were different now.

There was Peter who’d made it clear that he expected you to stay with the Academy.

A life at the BAU wasn’t compatible with settling down, and you knew if you came back, the job would consume you again, and any hope of a family life with him would fade

Seeing your expression shift, Morgan stepped a little closer, his tone softer but with that familiar edge. “You know, when I came across your file over a year ago, there was this old photo in there - had to be from Rossi’s first book party, back in ’99. The whole OG team was there - Rossi, Gideon, you, Hotch. But what really hit me? The way you and Hotch looked in that picture. He was actually smiling, like genuinely smiling. You were both laughing, heads tilted towards each other, practically leaning in. It’s the kind of picture that says, ‘yeah, those two have seen it all, side by side’.”

A soft ache tugged at your chest as the memory surfaced, sharper and more vivid than you expected. You hadn’t thought about that night in years, yet now it rushed back with startling clarity, as if it had happened only yesterday. No - more than that - it was as though it was unfolding right in front of you, playing out in real time, every detail suddenly alive again. You knew the reason Hotch was smiling in that picture.

---

The evening had only just begun at Rossi’s book release party, but the warmth of the room, the glow of dim lights, and the gentle hum of laughter and clinking glasses gave it a sense of timelessness. Rossi was in his element, charm radiating as he moved through the crowd with an easy confidence, his smile as wide as you’d ever seen it. He reveled in the attention, basking in the congratulations and admiration, the proud look of a man who’d earned every word of praise.

But you and Hotch had slipped away from the main throng, as you often did, drifting to a quieter corner where you could watch the scene unfold, cocooned in a world of your own making. The two of you had perfected this dance over the years, a private escape in plain sight. A shared glance, a quick smile, a whispered comment, and suddenly, the rest of the room faded into the background.

You watched Rossi work the room, the flicker of candlelight catching the satisfaction in his eyes, and you could feel Hotch’s presence beside you, steady and familiar. It was comforting, the warmth he brought just by standing close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed. His quiet presence was an anchor, grounding you as the world around you spun with laughter and champagne.

“Look at him,” you murmured softly, leaning in just a little, letting your voice carry between the two of you. “It’s like he was born for this moment.”

Hotch’s gaze followed yours, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s the Rossi special,” he replied, his voice just a whisper. “A room full of people, and somehow, they’re all drawn to him.”

You chuckled, your smile widening. “He’s practically glowing.” Your eyes drifted over the scene, and then you spotted Gideon, standing just a few feet away from Rossi, sharing an easy laugh. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand gently resting on Hotch’s upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. The touch surprised him, and he turned toward you, his expression momentarily caught off guard. You tilted your head in the direction of your two “lovebirds,” and as soon as he followed your gaze, a smirk appeared on his face, as if he already knew exactly where your thoughts had gone.

Leaning in just enough for him to catch the soft, lingering notes of your rose perfume, he struggled not to lose himself in the scent he had quietly come to cherish. Your voice, low and teasing, slipped out in a warm, intimate whisper. “Tell me this doesn’t feel like the renewal of vows for our happy couple,” you murmured, your lips barely inches from his ear. You felt his breath hitch, a brief falter in his composure, as though the closeness had woven a delicate tension between you, one that hummed softly in the quiet space you shared.

“All that’s missing is a cake and matching rings,” you continued, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “They’re practically glowing over there, and I’m just waiting for someone to stand up and toast their ‘eternal bond.’”

Hotch’s gaze followed yours to where Rossi and Gideon stood, posing together in matching dark suits, looking more like a coordinated pair than the veteran profilers you knew. He leaned in even closer than you did moments before, so close that you felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Oh, it’s definitely an anniversary,” he murmured, his tone playful. “Think about it - what are the odds Rossi’s book launch just happens to fall on the exact same date? Feels a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”

You felt a shiver run through you as he tilted his head, his lips almost brushing your ear. “I’d bet anything he planned this whole thing just to make sure Gideon couldn’t pull another stunt like last year. No way Rossi was letting him show up empty-handed this time.”

You laughed, quickly covering your mouth to stifle the sound. He slid his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to keep your laughter contained, as if he wanted this moment to stay just between the two of you, hidden from the rest of the room. “Oh, I remember that,” you whispered, still smiling. “What do you think he got Rossi this time? It’s bound to be something… serious, but just impersonal enough.”

Up close, you could see his eyes light up with a glint of mischief as he slipped effortlessly into profiling mode, his voice dipping lower in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Gideon’s practical to a fault. My money’s on something generic yet expensive, probably a leather-bound notebook set. Engraved, maybe. ‘For Loyalty Beyond Words’. Subtle but just close enough to the mark, a reminder that unlike Rossi, Gideon has probably never cheated on him.”

You stifled a snicker, nudging him playfully. “Oh, you’re definitely right. But seriously, look at them - matching suits? They practically look like they just walked out of a wedding chapel." You rolled your eyes dramatically, biting back another laugh as Rossi and Gideon posed together, their shoulders squared, yet there was something almost too intimate about the way they stood, like a pair of grooms posing after years of knowing each other’s every move.

“They’re definitely setting up for a solo photoshoot,” Hotch murmured, his smirk deepening, the soft light catching his dimples in a way that made them seem even more striking, like something out of a Caravaggio painting. “Look at the way Rossi’s arm is resting, just barely behind Gideon’s back, like he can’t help but pull him closer. And those cufflinks? They’re identical. There’s no way that’s an accident.”

Before you could reply, Rossi and Gideon turned in unison, spotting you both. Rossi waved you over with a grin, calling out, “Early birds!” while Gideon, at the same time, called, “Night owls!” The unplanned dissonance was so perfectly them that you barely suppressed a laugh, and Hotch was already looking away, shaking his head in amusement.

As you set your drinks down, you leaned in toward Hotch, your voice low and teasing. “Well, they’ll be arguing about that later.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch leaned in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he started to whisper, but before he could finish, the words spilled out from both of you, perfectly in sync. “Rossi’s already canceled the hotel suite for tonight.”

The unison caught you both by surprise, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter. It bubbled up, blending together, as you both tried - and miserably failed - to stifle it, the shared moment drawing you closer. You instinctively reached for Hotch’s shoulder, your fingers curling around the fabric of his suit as your body shook with laughter. He mirrored you, his other hand covering his mouth as he tried - and failed - to contain himself, his shoulders shaking against yours.

Hotch straightened, casting you a sidelong glance with that infamous, piercing stare of his, his voice mock-serious as he said, “Okay, composure. We’re professionals, remember?”

“Professionals, yes, and incredibly mature,” you replied, grinning. “But admit it, Hotch - if anyone’s going to storm out tonight, it’ll be Rossi, and he’ll be dramatic about it as usual just to keep up with their tradition. Gideon will be left speechless, staring at the door in disbelief.”

Hotch’s grin spread wider, the mischievous spark in his eyes almost gleaming now. “Oh, definitely. You know Rossi won’t go quietly,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. He leaned in slightly as he mimicked Rossi’s cadence and dramatic flair, “‘I simply cannot believe I’ve tolerated this for so long!’”

Hotch paused for effect, just like Rossi would, his expression mock-serious before continuing. “And then, he’ll make sure everyone’s watching - dramatic pause, hand on his heart - and just when the tension’s thick enough, he’ll storm out, tie flying dramatically in the breeze, leaving everyone in awe of his theatrics.”

Your laughter spilled out again as you nudged him in the shoulder, trying desperately to maintain your composure while he kept up his increasingly exaggerated impressions, practically daring you to crack. You could barely catch your breath, finally managing to say through fits of laughter, “Aaron!”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a rush of warmth rise to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and surprise fluttering through you. You’d never called him by his first name before. It had always been “Hotch,” or, more often, “partner”, a term that had taken on its own intimate meaning between the two of you, a word that only belonged to you both.

He stilled, and a small, surprised smile softened his features. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, steady and warm. “Hey, it’s fine,” he murmured, a spark of amusement in his eyes. And then, with a rare, mischievous glint, he added, “You’re more than welcome to call me by my name. After all, we’ve already shared some… pretty intimate terms, haven’t we?”

Your eyes widened, feeling a fresh wave of heat flood your cheeks as you realized exactly what he was referring to. Of course, he was talking about that night you’d both sworn to never mention again. You nudged him again, this time a bit harder, your voice dropping as you whispered, “Oh, my God, Aaron”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “I think you said exactly that that night,” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “Followed by -”

“Oh, so we’re doing this?” you shot back, trying to ignore the blush creeping up your neck. “Want me to start listing off a few of the things you said that night? I’m pretty sure we’re close enough to Rossi and Gideon for them to hear us.”

His chuckle was warm, but you didn’t miss the faint flush rising on his own cheeks. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Backing down already? That doesn’t sound like you.”

You grinned, narrowing your eyes playfully. “If I remember correctly, we both agreed to act like it never happened. But if you’re pushing, I can bring it up anytime, anywhere. Just say the word.”

He held your gaze, his smile lingering as he tilted his head. “I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a thrill through you that you tried to hide. “I seem to recall you saying something similar… right before you practically dragged me to my bedroom.”

You bit your lip, fighting a smirk. “Well, you didn’t exactly resist, Aaron.”

He raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and challenge flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t exactly hear any complaints from you either.”

With a smirk of your own, you took a step back, looking at him with a mixture of playful defiance and barely concealed warmth. “Keep pushing, and I might just bring up the part you said you’d never admit.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he tried to recover. “Alright, truce - for now. I think we both know we’d have plenty to say about that night if we really wanted to.”

You gave him a sly smile, lowering your voice. “Fair enough. But remember, I’m keeping this card to play at just the right moment. Watch yourself, Hotchner.”

He chuckled, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze as he replied, “Guess that makes two of us.”

You both stepped toward Rossi and Gideon, who greeted you with smiles… little did they know.

Rossi leaned in first, his arm outstretched to give you the customary two kisses on each cheek. Then he moved to Hotch, who did his best to hide his discomfort, his jaw tightening slightly as Rossi followed suit. The sight was too much, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Oh, don’t look so horrified, Aaron,” Rossi teased, stepping back with a smirk. “This is a celebration, after all.  And as much as the crowd loves me, I needed to be sure the two of you made it into some of these shots. You know, you clean up nicely for a couple of crime fighters.”

Gideon chimed in with a smile. “Especially you,” he said, looking over at Hotch, whose face remained perfectly composed despite the teasing. “You look more relaxed tonight than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

Hotch nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just trying to keep up with my partner here,” he replied, his gaze flicking back to you with a playful glint, subtly teasing at the so-called truce he’d declared between you moments ago. “It’s not every day we get a chance to unwind like this.”

Without missing a beat, you crossed your arms, refusing to let him see you crack. He was expecting it, so you turned toward Rossi instead, playing it cool. “What’s the deal, Rossi? Miss us already? Need a little inspiration for that next bestseller?” Your voice carried just enough teasing to shift the attention, and you caught the faintest smirk from Hotch out of the corner of your eye, knowing you’d managed to keep the upper hand - at least for now.

Rossi shot you a sly look. “Not at all, especially not Aaron. I still remember the night he woke me up in the middle of the night, convinced he’d cracked the case.”

Hotch shrugged, his lips curving into a small smile. “Someone had to keep you on your toes, Dave.”

You shook your head, laughing. “You say that now, Rossi, but I know you’d be secretly disappointed if we weren’t here. Why else would you be pulling us in for pictures?”

Gideon, smiling, looked over at you and Hotch, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I have to say, you two look sharp tonight. It’s nice to see you out of your usual work clothes. Especially you, Y/N—it’s good to see you in an actual color for once. That dark blue really suits you... both of you.”

You glanced down, suddenly noticing that the deep, rich blue of your dress matched Hotch’s shirt perfectly, right down to the exact shade. Hotch caught your eye, a faint smile playing on his lips as he feigned innocence, clearly enjoying your surprise. “Pure coincidence,” he murmured, his tone dripping with quiet amusement. “Great minds think alike, I suppose.”

Rossi rolled his eyes, giving you both a look of mock exasperation. “Sure, keep up the act. We all know you two are practically telepathic by now. Matching outfits, finishing each other’s sentences - what’s next, a joint desk at Quantico?”

You laughed, playing along, the banter slipping effortlessly between you. “Oh, that’s never happening. You don’t know how particular he is about his desk. But we might just take over your old office for ourselves, it’s starting to collect dust.”

Gideon chuckled, nudging Rossi with a grin. “Watch out, Dave. Give it a few more years, and they’ll be running this whole place.”

Hotch chuckled beside you, his laugh low and warm, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the gentle weight of his hand on your lower back. It was subtle, but not meaningless - not for him, that was certain. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep through the fabric of your dress, almost as if his hand were resting on your bare skin.

Your eyes met his for a brief second, a quick, almost tentative smile passing between you, and in that heartbeat, his hand was already gone, faster than the speed of light, leaving you bare of that ephemeral touch.

As you gathered for the photo, the opening notes of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” began to play softly in the background, filling the room with its familiar, haunting melody. Gideon chuckled, shooting you a knowing look. “Perfect timing. They’re even playing your song.”

You shot him a playful glare, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you, and as the photographer raised his camera, Hotch’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. His hand was warm and steady, grounding you even as your heart raced but not as fast as his. You felt his fingers press lightly against your waist, sending a shiver up your spine.

The moment felt suspended in time, the music swelling softly around you as you reached up, slipping your arm around his neck, your elbow resting lightly on his shoulder. Your other hand - on his chest, fingers gently splayed. You leaned in, your bodies naturally angling toward each other, close enough that you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and catch the faintest hint of his cologne. The warmth of his presence, the closeness - it felt far too natural, a quiet intimacy that left you almost breathless.

As you looked up at him, you caught a flicker in his eyes, something that wasn’t wrapped in the usual teasing or the shared jokes that had become your comfort zone. Instead, it was something raw, something unguarded and completely sincere, a depth that made your heart stumble.

As Rossi and Gideon drifted away, already pulled into conversation by a colleague, Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding you. You turned to look up at him, and he met your gaze with a quiet smile, his expression carrying a hint of something more.

“So,” he started, his voice teasing. “Seems like Rossi and Gideon’s anniversary isn’t the only remarkable event happening today.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to what he meant. “Oh?” you replied, eyebrows raised. “What else could possibly compete with the vow renewals of our favorite BAU lovebirds?”

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “Today also marks your first anniversary with the BAU,” he said, his tone softening. “It’s been exactly one year since you walked into the bullpen and, by some twist of fate, ended up as my deskmate.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a flutter of warmth and something deeper spreading through you. Between the long hours, the grueling cases, and the late nights, you hadn’t even realized what day it was. But Hotch had remembered, and that simple fact made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could say anything, he picked up the glasses of whiskey you’d left on a nearby table, raising one in a silent toast. “Here’s to you, and to one hell of a year,” he said, clinking his glass against yours.

You laughed, lifting your glass, still a bit dazed. “I didn’t even realize it. I guess I owe you a toast then, for putting up with me for an entire year.”

He smirked, setting his glass down and meeting your eyes with an intensity that softened as he spoke. “Actually, I have a gift for you,” he began, a playful glint in his eyes. “It’s a little different from my usual attempts - no pens this time. I noticed you haven’t even used the last one I gave you.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of his words, and his gaze remained steady, almost vulnerable as he continued. “This gift is… well, something I think you’ll appreciate more. You’re always the one diving into these philosophical speeches, so I figured it’s about time I gave it a try. Lawyers aren’t usually the introspective types,” he added with a smirk, “but I’ve learned a few things from you.”

He took a steadying breath, as if collecting his thoughts, before he began. “You once gave me “Hegel for Dummies”, and in all my time bearing you rant about philosophy, there’s this one concept that’s stuck with me – please correct me if I’m wrong: In order to fully understand itself, a self-conscious being needs to be seen and acknowledged by another. This process of seeking recognition is central to how we grow. We aren’t just… self-contained. We become who we are through the recognition of others.”

You blinked, surprised and deeply touched as he paused, his voice softening. “That recognition - of seeing and being seen - I felt it from the first day we worked together. I knew, right then, that you were meant to be my partner.” He smiled, the words flowing with a quiet sincerity that left you breathless. “In just one year, you’ve managed to become one of the most important people in my life, even with our ongoing rivalry - who’s at the office first, who’s cracked the case, and who’s snooped into the other’s files,” he added, his grin widening. “I’ll remind you, by the way, that I’m still unbeaten in arriving first.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling your heart swell as he continued. “But you’re more than just a colleague. You’re my partner, my best friend, and tonight, I wanted you to know that you have all the recognition you’ll ever need from me.”

He held your gaze, a softness in his eyes that he rarely allowed to show. “I don’t usually talk about these things out loud, but I know how much words matter to you. So, I’ll say it once, just to make sure you don’t let it go to your head.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you, philosopher.”

The words, though lighthearted, hit you deeply, his sentiment so sincere that it brought a sudden welling of tears to your eyes. You blinked quickly, smiling as you took a shaky breath, overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude. “I love you too, lawyer,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his hand finding your shoulder again, giving it a gentle squeeze. For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply holding each other’s gaze, the weight of the moment settling between you like a promise.

You smiled at him, but a twinge of guilt twisted in your chest. “I feel terrible, you know,” you admitted softly, lowering your gaze before looking back up into his eyes. “You remembered our anniversary, and I didn’t even think to get you anything. I mean, this day is just as much about you as it is about me. It’s our anniversary as partners, after all. I’m no better than Gideon, forgetting about Rossi a year ago,” you added, with a small, self-deprecating smile.

You paused, letting the weight of the moment settle between you. “Even if we weren’t officially partners at first, I’ve always felt this day mattered for both of us.”

Hotch’s expression softened, his gaze steady and reassuring as he took a small step closer, his hand resting on your arm. "You don’t need to give me anything," he said quietly, his voice low but filled with sincerity. "You being here, by my side, is more than enough. I couldn’t imagine what any of this would be like without you, what a day without you sitting across from me would even look like."

His words sank into you, the depth of his sentiment catching you off guard. For a man who rarely spoke about his emotions, this was as honest and open as you’d ever heard him, and it struck you deeply.

"Maybe there is one thing," he added, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth, breaking the seriousness just enough to ease the moment. "It’s a stupid deal, really."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity tugging at your smile. "A stupid deal?"

He nodded, his voice warm and playful, yet beneath it, you could feel the gravity of his words. "Promise me that you’ll only leave me if you get tired of me. Otherwise," he paused, eyes locking with yours in that way that made you feel like the rest of the world had faded away, "I’ll always fight to have you back - and you have to let me. Deal?"

Your heart clenched at the sincerity behind the teasing tone. It was such a simple promise, but in that moment, it felt like everything. You blinked quickly, trying to push back the emotion threatening to spill over, and you smiled, a little shakily.

"You don’t need to worry about that," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you get tired of me first."

Hotch shook his head, a small, affectionate smile pulling at his lips as he looked down for a moment before meeting your gaze again, his eyes filled with a rare, raw emotion. "I could never get tired of you," he said, his voice so quiet it felt like it was meant just for you, a secret he was letting you in on.

"Deal," you whispered, a small smile curving your lips. "But just so you know, I’m going to hold you to that."

---

JJ looked at you carefully, reading the emotion that flickered across your face. “Why did you leave the BAU? I mean, we know you left to teach, but... you and Hotch? You had something here. Don’t you miss it?”

Your heart clenched again. You missed it more than you could ever admit, even to yourself.

You don’t need to worry about that.

I’m not going anywhere.

Not unless you get tired of me first.

The fieldwork, the adrenaline, the puzzles you’d solved together.

And Hotch.

God, you missed him.

But life now felt more complicated than it did in ’99.  there was also Peter waiting for you back home. He wanted stability, a life where you could start a family and youl couldn’t just deny him that. You knew that staying at the BAU, returning to those long, chaotic hours, would mean giving that up. And Peter? He wouldn’t forgive you for it.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I do miss it. I miss the field, the cases, all of it. But... Peter and I, we want different things. He wants to settle down. I thought teaching would give me that balance.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. “But does it? Give you balance?”

You paused, the answer hanging in the air between you.

No, it didn’t.

Not really.

Not at all.

Teaching filled part of that void, but the truth was, your heart had never really left the BAU.

Morgan sighed, stepping closer. “I know we’ve only heard the stories, but it’s obvious you and Hotch were more than just partners in the field. You two had something special. And from what I can tell, he’s not the same without you. He doesn’t laugh like that anymore. Hell, he barely smiles.”

You being here, by my side, is more than enough.

I couldn’t imagine what any of this would be like without you,

what a day without you sitting across from me would even look like.

JJ smiled softly, “You could tell he really trusted you. And seeing the way you worked in just one day? Yeah... you’re definitely missed here.”

You glanced away, the melancholy creeping in.

You did miss the BAU.

You missed the work.

You missed him.

But could you really walk away from the life Peter wanted for you?

Could you sacrifice the chance to start a family for the pull of the field?

The silence in the room felt heavier now. The team could sense the conflict in you, the tug-of-war between your head and your heart. And as much as you tried to focus on the case, you knew that the real question was whether or not you could truly walk away from the one person who had always understood you completely.

Morgan broke the silence. “You’ve got two weeks with us, Teach. Maybe that’s enough time to figure out what you really want.” His tone was light, but the underlying message was clear.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe,” you whispered.

But deep down, a part of you had already made the decision.

All that was left was for you to recognize it.

But you couldn’t do this alone.

---

Phi's Corner: I hope the binomial unsub/victim captures how the unsub denies the victim participation in the intimate act of recognition, yet demands society’s acknowledgment instead. In contrast, the philosopher/lawyer dynamic allows both to engage fully in the process of mutual recognition. This reflects her realization: to understand she belongs back at the BAU, she needs Aaron too. Recognition falters when it’s one-sided; together, it’s complete. I hope that conveys the theme with a touch of badly written philosophy.

Repeat after me AS A FRIEND, AS A FRIEND, AS A FRIEND. It's honestly hilarious the English language doesn't have a term that differentiates platonic love with actual love. All the betterrrrrrr

P.S. Yes, a part of me wants to believe the smile Aaron had in the pic was similar to the one I've chosen for the thumbnail. Yes, I edited the color of the shirt myself. Yes, it looks horrible.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @todorokishoe24

[ipseitydelrey]

hi!!! i love your writing!!!! idk if you’ve done this yet but maybe…. a nsfw alphabet with hotch 🤭🤭

I BEG

omg yesss

nsfw alphabet ☆ aaron hotchner

ship aaron hotchner x afab!reader

warnings smut (duh), mention of sex toys, implied unprotected sex (practice safe sex please!), size difference kink, thigh fucking, mention of degradation and spanking, masturbation, office sex, oral (mostly f receiving), rough sex, quickies, shower sex, phone sex, teasing, mentions of haley (rip queen)

a/n i need him; also sorry this took so long !!

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

it’s like a half-half thing; sometimes he’ll run the shower for you, get you some water, etcetera — or he’ll just lay in bed with you and hold you. either way, you’re not complaining.

B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)

aaron hasn’t really thought about a particular body part of his that he likes more than others, but he does sometimes favour his hands. a size difference kink might come into play with this preference, but he just likes stroking your cheek or thigh, or maybe just holding your hand.

as for you, it’s no contest that he loves your thighs the most. it’s obvious to you, but he honestly also hasn’t thought about his preference for your body parts too. but during sex, you notice how his hands tend to trail down to your thighs, or he would pay extra attention to them when he’s eating you out.

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

buried in you; that’s how he likes to finish. he loves cumming in you and filling you up to the brim, it’s a mouth-watering visual for him.

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

with other partners (mostly haley), he’s definitely vanilla; like definitely, no degradation/dirty talk either. however, with you, he’s been thinking about discussing trying more spicy things in the bedroom — namely things like degradation and spanking.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

ahem, haley. most of his experience with sex is with her, so after she died and he had time to heal and go back into the dating scene, he experimented a little more with different types of partners; he’s probably more experienced than you, at this point.

F = favourite position (this goes without saying)

prefers missionary for more control and intimacy but if you wanted, he would be more than willing to let you ride him.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

serious both outside and inside the bedroom; he’d definitely take sex much more seriously at the beginning of your relationship. as you both grow much more comfortable with each other, he’ll make small quips of humour during the act.

H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

just look at his hands — you can tell that he has a lot of body hair without even seeing him naked. definitely has a mouth-watering happy trail.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

he absolutely does not do one night stands or hookups, so romance is a necessity for him to even think about having sex with someone. expect a lot of “i love you”s during the act and expect to return them.

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he does it, but not as often as other people might. probably would do it on a case in the hotel/motel if he really misses you :(

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

before you, aaron didn’t really explore the kinky side of sex, so he always remained pretty vanilla in that department. one kink that you noticed he has but he himself would never admit to is a size difference kink.

L = location (favourite places to have sex)

as much as he would love to fuck on the desk in his office…yeah, he prefers to keep it in the bedroom. he has yet to tell you about his office sex idea but knowing you, you’d be onboard for it.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

doesn’t have any specific things that turn him on — except whenever you wear his work shirts. they look loose and a tad too big to be form fitting, but he absolutely loves it and can’t wait to rip it off you.

N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

as much as he would like to experiment with kinky sex, he really objects to being too dominating; he wants you to still have some level of control so if you want, you can take the helm anytime you so wished. of course, he’d also never want to hurt you, and he might not want to experiment with possible bondage until a while later into your relationship. also, he absolutely does not want to be called any dominating title in bed, like “sir,” “master” and especially “daddy.”

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

aaron’s a giver, through and through. there are times where he does like getting a blowjob, he likes eating you out way more. probably because you tend to bury your hands in his hair and tug a little bit to signal something you like him doing.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it does depend on mood and the reason you’re having sex, but typically the pace is slow and deep. this can change since — considering how stressed out he usually is because of his job and workload — some cases would just get to him, or his job gets to be too much. so he would take it out on you by going fast and rough.

Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

doesn’t particularly favour them, but what can he do when he’s on-call 24/7? the only time he likes quickies are when you’re showering together and he just can’t handle how good you look soaking wet. first round in the shower, then the second, third, or even fourth round(s) in the bedroom.

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

later in your relationship, he does want to experiment with kinkier sex, but risks are a hard no.

S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)

aaron wouldn’t be into sexts and nudes so much as he would be into phone sex. considering how often you’re away from each other, and you both have the opportunity to be alone with your phones, he would 100% take it.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he knows the different types of sex toys, but he doesn’t own any and has never used them. but sex toys are definitely on his list of things he would like to test on you during sex. only if you’re up for it (who are you kidding, of course you are).

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

again, depends on the mood, but sometimes he does like to tease you. only sometimes though; usually he just wants to get right to the fucking just in case he gets called in.

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

unfortunately, aaron’s the type of guy to mostly be quiet and not outright loud. he also doesn’t moan; he sticks to grunts and groans (they’re still hot to listen to).

W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he really wants to try thigh fucking. seeing his cock push and drag through your closed thighs, getting lubed by a combination of your wetness and his precum is a visual that turns him on so much. he has yet to tell you though, but he’s been hinting at it…

X = x-ray (dick size)

girthy, above average, and not one, but THREE prominent veins (good lord…).

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

not that high, unfortunately; you definitely have a higher sex drive than him, that’s for sure. rarely, he’s one and done, he does tend to aim for two or three rounds if possible. if he’s worked up or stressed out, however, he could probably go all night.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he tries to keep himself awake until you fall asleep. he wants to make sure you’re comfortable and content with the outcome of the night’s activities before he can relax; you’re a top priority to him.

[pkg4mumtown]

Special Weapons and Tactics (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Rating: Teen (for now)

Summary: You’re an FBI SWAT agent sent to a scene that the BAU is in charge of. There, you meet the team, specifically SSA Aaron Hotchner.

Content Warnings: Male!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, non-descriptive mentions of PTSD, canon-typical violence

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this fic for a while and I’m happy to share it with you! I’m about half way done with it and will be finishing it as I post the chapters. I will post about every couple weeks just so I have time to keep up with writing. I also have two Spotify playlists on my page for Criminal Minds if you want to check them out!!

Also available on AO3

July 2010

“Listen up. Target’s name is Lucas Bryant. This guy’s got a military background and possibly suffers from PTSD. He’s using various military paraphernalia to subdue his victims, believes his killings were righteous, and believes he’s at war with us, so approach with extreme caution. There’s a high chance that he won’t let himself be captured. The BAU believes he’s holed up in an attic, upstairs, or basement of some sort. Meet the BAU Unit Chief when we arrive.”

Various, “yes, sir’s,” echoed in the tactical van. Metal sliding against metal followed as last-minute weapons checks commenced.

“ETA is two minutes.”

I had been in the middle of poring over a case file when I got the SWAT mobilization order to a house in northern Virginia and was happy to step away. Words had been swimming on the pages of the file for the last couple of hours, so I’d been restless and itching to clear my head. I let myself imagine breathing out any thought of my own cases so I could be fully focused on this one.

Before the van could fully come to a stop, we were all standing and waiting for the back doors to unlock. A sea of olive green and black emerged from the van and we followed the lead SWAT agent toward the group of agents discussing and gesturing toward the house. The house was strangely well-kept, with a maintained lawn, but “No Soliciting” signs were hung on any possible surface. The curtains were all drawn closed, putting the agents even more on edge since we had a visual disadvantage.

“They’ve been briefed, Agent Hotchner,” our lead SWAT agent notified the Unit Chief as we approached.

“Great, thank you,” the tall, dark-haired agent nodded, making eye contact with each of us to make sure we were paying attention. “We’re splitting into three groups. The first group will go with Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid to breach the front door and head upstairs, the second with Agents Prentiss and Jareau to breach the back door, and everyone else with myself and Agent Rossi to the basement. Let’s go,” he dismissed the group, and everyone split up, having seen who they’re going with since the Unit Chief pointed them out as he spoke.

I looked at each of the other's faces as he gestured to them. The only member I was familiar with was Morgan since we were both in the FBI academy at the same time. The younger one—Reid—seemed vaguely familiar but I couldn’t recall as my attention drifted back to their boss.

My group followed Hotchner and Rossi to the side of the house where two doors indicated the basement access for the house. After we secured the entrance of the basement, we formed up along the side of the house and prepared for entry. I was the last in line of SWAT agents and felt Hotchner’s hand come to my shoulder. The two metal basement doors were firmly closed, prompting our breacher to check for locks. The breacher signaled that basement door was locked and unclipped a saw from his gear. He readied himself to cut the lock, giving us a signal and making eye contact with Hotchner, behind me.

“Is everyone in position?” came Hotchner’s steady, low voice.

There was a resounding confirmation over the radio.

“Breach.”

All of the teams moved immediately. Our breacher made quick work of the lock with the saw while the next agent in line pulled a flash-bang from his vest. With the doors forced open, the breacher jumped away from the entrance while the other agent lobbed a flash-bang down the stairs. As soon as it went off, everyone was following the agent down the stairs and swarming the basement. Rossi stayed outside to watch any windows while Hotchner was the last one in behind me. By the time we arrived, the room was clear and strangely empty besides the typical basement findings. Tall, metal shelving lined the walls with nothing of much interest on them and the floor was littered with boxes and grime. A lingering musty smell permeated the air but nothing else of concern.

“Anything upstairs?” Hotchner asked into the radio.

“Nothing, Hotch.”

He was understandably irritated by that answer and ordered, “Tear this place apart.”

We all got to work as he radioed with his team back and forth, looking around the room for any clues or ideas. Agents ripped into boxes and overturned miscellaneous furniture scattered throughout the basement. Hotchner grew more frustrated by the second judging by his tone over the radio, but his face didn’t show it.

“There’s electrical running down to the ground on the south side of the house,” the older agent—Rossi—sounded over the radio.

The stoic agent’s eyes snapped to the far wall to my left and moved briskly, just short of shoving agents out of his way. His tall frame squeezed between two shelving racks, stepping on a pile of trash in between as he feels the wall.

“Do you see any seams in the bricks?” He directed the question to me, making realize I was the closest to him but far enough to examine the wall from a distance.

“N—oh—yea! A little higher!” I pointed higher up the wall and try to follow the seam down.

I noticed a faint line—no, a wire—lower on the wall ending somewhere under Hotchner’s foot. My nerves lit on fire as I realized what was happening, but I couldn’t move toward him fast enough, “Sir, wait!”

Hotchner lifted weight off one foot to stretch more, turning to look at me as I surged toward him. He started to speak, unaware of what was happening or what I’d seen, “There’s airfl—”

Hotchner was cut off when an ear-rupturing, forceful shockwave echoed throughout the basement, bouncing off the walls and causing the unprepared to stumble. He lost his footing, disoriented and thrown off balance by the concussive blast. I even stumbled back as the blast pushed past my efforts to move forward. At the same time, he and his head were thrown forward into the industrial metal racking with what should have been a sickening thud. Everyone’s ears were ringing too much to hear it. Thankfully, the SWAT agents all had on ear protection and recovered much more quickly than Hotchner.

 I rushed over as the SWAT team’s medic and caught him under his armpits before he could collapse. His body was almost completely lax in my arms, so I dragged him away and propped him against a different rack.

“Sir, are you hurt anywhere else?”

There was no response, and his eyes were barely open and fluttering. I patted him down roughly but found nothing glaringly wrong besides the gushing cut to his forehead.

“Sir, can you stand?”

Nothing. Fuck.

The other SWAT agents were scrambling to open the false wall while being mindful of any more wires. I decided to radio the teams outside before I moved the agent.

“Basement team is working on a false wall. I have an agent down, in and out of consciousness from a concussion grenade. Possible head trauma. Extricating him now.”

“Copy.”

“I’m going to get you out of here, sir,” I assured him as his eyes finally fluttered shut, and his body became completely limp.

I secured my weapon and squatted low until his body could drape over my shoulders. I hooked an arm through his legs and held his dangling arm with the same hand so that I had a free hand for balance on the stairs. When he was as secure as I could get him, I quickly exited the basement, wanting to be out of there by the time they opened the false door so neither of us got shot.

I could only manage a brief nod to Rossi as I carried Hotchner’s extra weight from the stairs to the front lawn. I was keenly aware that the EMTs hadn’t been allowed in the staging area yet since Bryant wasn’t yet apprehended. I got to the edge of the front lawn before depositing him as gingerly as I could on the grass.

“Sir, can you hear me?” I raised my voice and took my helmet off, tossing it in the grass haphazardly.

Fetching a small penlight from one of my pouches, I removed my gloves and opened his eyes to check his pupils. Finding a somewhat normal reaction, I put the light away and got to work on treating his forehead, hoping the stinging would jostle him awake.

“This might sting,” I murmured to myself, basically.

I flushed the wound and press gauze firmly against it, feeling the agent below me tense with pain. His strong hand engulfed my wrist to roughly pry my hands away, but I persisted. I shoved my knee over his bicep and stapled his arm to the ground with my shin.

“Sir, relax. You’re safe,” I reassured him, maneuvering my arm so he could see my face and uniform. He was looking wildly around, probably looking for his team. “Look at me sir,” I requested and offered my rank as an SSA and my last name to him. “You have a laceration on your forehead, okay? I’m stopping the bleeding.”

His breathing began to slow, and he nodded slightly in confirmation. I took my shin off of his arm now that I knew he wouldn’t try to fight me.

“Can you tell me your name?” I began asking him some basic questions to assess for any brain damage.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, louder than he should have been responding but understandably so.

“Good. Do you remember the name of the target?”

“Lucas, mhm, Bryant,” he cringed as my hands worked on his head.

“Can you tell me how many fingers I have up?” I requested, pulling one of my hands away to show him three fingers.

“Three,” he squinted.

“Who’s your Section Chief?”

“Strauss.”

“Goo—,” I started but he cuts me off.

“You want my phone number, too?” he deadpanned, making me huff and smirk at the sarcasm.

“Well, do you remember it?” I challenged him, using butterfly style bandages to hold the wound closed before taping gauze over it.

He effortlessly relayed the numbers to me, giving me a pointed look as if to tell me he was fine now. “If you remember the number I’ll let you buy me coffee,” he rolled his eyes but briefly held my gaze with striking hazel eyes. He attempted to sit up, but I prevented him with a firm hand on his chest.

My brain screeched to a halt as I mentally rewound what he just said to me. Did he just flirt with me? Crap, what numbers did he just say? 5-5-5-0-4-7…6? No—8-6. I repeated them over and over in my head.

I was broken out of my stupor when I could finally hear chatter on the radio again as my ears became more attuned to our surroundings instead of just Hotchner, “Your team is fine. The target’s down.”

He relaxed a little more and I was all too aware of the hand I still had on his chest. He was, too, I saw as he quickly glanced down and then at me but didn’t mention it. I dug my hand into another pouch and brought out an ice pack, activating it with a pop, and pressing it to his head. He took over for my hand and kept the pack pressed to his head.

“Noted, by the way,” I answered his earlier challenge with an upturn at the corner of my mouth.

He gave a hum in acknowledgement. Hotchner was silent for a while, his free hand absentmindedly playing with the grass while trying to crane his head to look at the action behind him to no avail.

“It’s weird being on the other end of this,” he murmured, seemingly to no one in particular.

“What do you mean, sir?” I adjusted myself to sit on the grass more comfortably.

“Hotch,” he corrected, focusing back on me. “And, usually, I’m the one calming victims down. Yet here I am getting flustered over an operator.”

“You could have fooled me,” I laughed, my hand twitching against his chest. Whatever flustered feeling he was talking about, it wasn’t noticeable—to me at least. His features were still void of any emotion beyond the lingering worry for the mission.

“Despite having been in SWAT, the situation was…eye-opening,” his even voice invited a brief moment of mirth.

“You were straight before you went in the basement?” I joked with pursed lips.

“Pretty much,” Hotch nearly cracked a smile. The hint of it soon faded away and he made direct eye contact with me, hoping I would understand, “That’s a joke.”

I was…unsure of how to take that. It was a joke in that he actually is straight or a joke meaning that he’s not straight? Was he or was he not flirting? I mentally sighed and gave him a neutral answer just in case.

“I’m aware of how sexual orientation works, sir,” I forced a chuckle. “Maybe that hit jostled your head a little more than we thought.”

He deflated a little, his smirk dropping, “Yea, maybe.”

In an effort to save the conversation, I latched on to what he previously said, “You did SWAT detail?”

“Mmm, yea, when I was at the Seattle Field Office…tch,” he let out a long breath. “…a long time ago. It was fun,” he raised an eyebrow at me. “Surprised?”

“Only a little,” I shrugged. “You seem capable,” I gave him a once over, imagining him in the uniform I was wearing.

In the distance, I finally saw the rest of Hotch's team leaving the house. They rushed toward me where I had their boss lounging in the grass.

“Your team is incoming,” I notified him and began standing.

I extended my hand to Hotch, and he took it reluctantly as I helped him to his feet. He wobbled for a second, prompting me to still him with a hand firmly planted on his back while his hand clutched my shoulder. If anything, my hand on his back had the opposite effect as he put pressure into my hand instead of balancing himself.

Interesting.

I would have been crazy to pull my hand back.

Rossi approached with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Close encounter with a deadly shelf down there, eh?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter at the murderous look Hotch shot at Rossi. It was only made funnier by the image of the stern agent with a child-sized icepack on his forehead.

I quickly cleared my throat as I noticed the other agents looking expectantly at me, “Just a laceration and probably bruising later. He hit his head pretty good, possible mild concussion so he shouldn’t be alone for 24 hours. Might need stitches and probably worth getting his head checked out but I’m sure he won’t.”

Hotch winced as he accidentally put more pressure on it with the icepack, “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

I fixed him with a pointed look, then glanced at his hovering team, “Yeah, well, they seem to disagree.”

Prentiss stepped forward, concern softening her features. She reached for his forearm, his hand quickly sliding from my shoulder to her hands and leading him away from my hand on his back, “Come on, tough guy. You’re crashing with me.”

No significant other at home? Or is she…? Hm.

It was almost possessive, but what did I know? With the nature of our work, I’m sure they were all pretty close and protective of one another. I might not be a profiler, but I got the idea nonetheless as her eyes flicked toward me like I was a stranger. Well, because I was.

Clearing my throat, I swiped my helmet from the grass and tucked it under my arm. I extended my hand to Hotch, “Great to meet you, sir.”

Despite not knowing them besides Morgan, word did tend to get around the field offices about the BAU, so it was nice to put faces to the team.

“Thank you for your help,” my last name escaped his mouth with a low and soft hum, giving me a grateful quirk of his mouth.

Before I could lose myself in his features, I shifted my attention to Rossi and shook his and everyone else’s hand. As I got to Morgan, recognition flashed across his face.

My last name questioningly fell out of his mouth in disbelief. A bright smile lit up his face as he realized why we knew each other, “How’ve you been, brother?”

“Good, man. I—,” I heard my name called across the street, beckoning me to the tactical van. I acknowledged my teammate and continued my sentence by drawing out the letter, “I…gotta go, I guess.”

“No worries, we’ll catch up soon. Let’s go out some time,” Morgan reached for my hand and pulled me into a brief hug.

“Sounds good,” I smiled at the team and jogged back to the van.

I approached the van, slowing down as I got to the open door where Ramirez was waiting for me expectantly.

“Have fun with the shrinks?” He grinned and held the back door open for me.

“Yea, they’re alright. I went through the academy with one of them,” I climbed in and helped him shut the doors before sitting down.

“Bunch of characters, though,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean?” I frowned.

“Nah, it’s just…I’ve worked with them before. No offense or anything, they’re just…weird, I guess,” he stammered over his words, not quite expecting to be called out.

“And, yet we rely on them for profiles that help us get guys like that,” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the house we had just left.

“Fair enough.”

On the ride back to DC, I pulled out my phone and typed in the number I had been repeating since my interaction with Hotch. 5-5-5-0-4-8-6. I quickly saved it under something practical and not at all indicative of how giddy I felt saving it.

Spoilers, it was just “Hotch BAU”.

 I resisted typing out a text message to him at that moment, not wanting to seem…desperate? Yea, “desperate” sounded right. I decided to send it later that night, which sounded even more desperate considering he would be at that attractive agent’s house. Prentiss? Prentiss. I grumbled to myself for being stupid and shoved my phone back in my pocket.

-

Chapter 2

[ssahotchnerr]

An idea for Nanny!reader

R hurting themself (something small) and Jack telling on them to Hotch and after knowing r is fine some playfulness - you know the stuff you’re amazing at

wounds

hehe thank you <3 cw; fem nanny!reader, blood/small injury mentions, small talk of food, mutual pining 🥰🥰

The apartment was warm and inviting as Aaron returned home. The furnace humming, the living room brightly lit, the faint aroma from dinner still lingering. He instantly regretted his choice of staying a bit later at the BAU.

He also wasn't surprised; this is how the apartment always felt whenever you were here. Warm and inviting was who you were as a person. He couldn't remember the last time, prior to your addition in the Hotchners' lives, he had come home to such a calm and cozy atmosphere.

He found the two of you in the dining room; Jack and yourself were huddled over the table, conversing softly as Jack practiced the utter joys of fractions.

"Hey," Aaron greeted you both, shrugging his suit jacket off his shoulders, loosening his tie.

"Hi Dad," Jack kept his head low, continuing on his current problem while your gaze lifted, offering him a welcoming smile.

Aaron rustled his Jack's gently. "Whatcha up to?"

"Homework."

Aaron nodded slowly. And as he did so, his eyes began to study the spread across the surface: a math book, multiple worksheets, a few new-to-Jack books - the two of you must've visited the library this afternoon.

However, something stuck out; his attention fell to your hand, which you were attempting to subtly conceal. You were keeping it close to your body, leaning over the tabletop a little more than usual.

Just as he noticed it, and the initial alarm began going off in his head, it was as if Jack read his mind. He dutifully spoke up, telling his father how you unfortunately managed to cut your finger.

You shot Jack a playful glare, a humorous, 'really?' As a laugh escaped Jack, your eyes connected with Aaron's, your mouth dropping momentarily as you came up with a response. They were full of concern, his eyebrows drawn over his eyes.

By the look on his face, you were convinced he was ready to whisk you away to the closest urgent care.

"It's fine, really." You insisted, waving it off and hoping he would do the same. You weren't one for attention, especially when it came to your highly attractive boss.

But naturally, he didn't. "Let me see."

It was a question; a strained expression pulled onto your face, a do I have to? before Aaron reached out, holding his hand out in the air until you offered your own in defeat.

The second your hand connected with his, a jolt of electricity shot up your arm. You bit down onto your lip, your heart beginning to race and hoping you hadn't visually reacted the way you internally did.

As you expected, (and guilty of thinking many times) his hands were rough, similar to the demeanor an FBI agent would uphold (and to your mild understanding, he was on the authoritative side).

But they also had a softness to them, which made perfect sense as he has displayed nothing but respect and kindness to you. Aaron Hotchner was hard on the exterior, but gentle underneath.

Not only that, your hand fit perfectly into his.

He cradled your hand, carefully observing the bandage you had hastily wrapped around your left index finger. A deep blush developed quickly in your cheeks.

"How did this happen?" His brown eyes lifted to yours. The glint in them so sweet and genuine it caused you to flush more.

Pull it together. "Cutting up some veggies." You managed, taking a small, but very flustered, gulp.

"We had pizza." Jack chimed in, his pencil pausing amidst his worksheet. "To help me with my math."

"Oh," Aaron pointed a soft smile in your direction. Could he quit it before you turned into a puddle? "That's a smart idea."

At the compliment, as small as it was, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks even more. "The perfect way to visually learn."

He was still clutching onto your hand, holding it firmly enough to not cause you any more potential harm, and giving no signs of releasing. You may have been imagining it - your brain fuzzy beyond belief - but you could've sworn the pad of his thumb was brushing back and forth lightly on your palm.

"How long ago was this?"

"Hm, maybe an hour and a half, two hours ago?" You thought back, shrugging lightly.

He seemed pleased with your answer; the bleeding wasn't lasting, nor was it seeping into your bandage. A good sign. "And did you clean it?"

"Who do you think I am?" You teased, but nodded in confirmation. "Thoroughly, yes."

"Well, before you leave tonight, I want to take a better look at it. Change your bandage, apply more Neosporin, all that."

You weren't one to argue, so you nodded as he finally released your hand, mourning the loss of his contact right away.

But at least, a guaranteed moment alone with Aaron was in your near future.

You flashed him a small yet grateful smile, which he returned before his attention switched over to Jack. "Back to work bud. Those fractions aren't going to solve themselves."

"Can we practice with ice cream next?"

[pkochetkov]

el's return to tumblr celly!!

told u i’d be back :)

rules for my blog are on my pinned post! read those before requesting anything!!

who:

— NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE

* indicate my personal favorites

seth jarvis *

andrei svechnikov *

pyotr kochetkov *

sebastian aho

mat barzal

matt rempe *

luke hughes

jack hughes

quinn hughes

sidney crosby

joseph woll

auston matthews

jamie drysdale

trevor zegras

arber xhekaj *

cole caufield

jeremy swayman

juraj slafkovsky *

nico hischier

alex holtz

dawson mercer

conor garland

trent frederic

matt knies

luke evangelista

— FORMULA ONE

* indicate my personal favorites

lando norris

logan sargeant *

max verstappen *

sebastian vettel *

oscar piastri

lance stroll

fernando alonso

franco colapinto *

oliver bearman *

liam lawson

— NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE

* indicates my personal favorites

joe burrow *

andrei iosivas *

josh allen *

joe andreeson

tua tagovailoa

trey hendrickson *

cj stroud

justin herbert *

ladd mcconkey

foster moreau

taysom hill

— TV SHOWS

* indicates my personal favorites

spencer reid *

aaron hotchner

! others can be requested from any category, but that doesn’t mean i’ll write for them !

prompts!

(smuts red, fluffs blue, could be both purple)

1. “make it fit”

2. “i’m too old for you”

3. “look out your window”

4. “too much”

5. “move your hand”

6. “be quiet or they’ll hear you”

7. “m’sorry, i just needed you”

8. “are you gonna touch me or do i need to get him to do it”

9. “give me a few more”

10. “you look so pretty with my name on you”

11. “only good boys/girls get to cum”

12. “i don’t bite… unless you want me to”

13. “wore them just for you” ”you aren’t wearing anything…” “yeah that’s the point”

14. “let’s make a movie”

15. “let them know who you belong to”

16. “your brothers gonna kill me”

17. “help me forget… please”

18. “you’re a virgin?!”

19. “celebrate with me mama”

20. “three's never a crowd when it's you”

21. “just need you”

22. “need to fill you up”

23. “gonna look so pretty with my babies”

24. “i’m more of a visual learner”

25. best friends brother trope, can’t think of a quote

26. “you taste so sweet”

27. “just like that”

28. “doing so good for me”

29. “you make me feel good”

30. “i only want you”

31. “you were made for me”

32. ”i love you”

33. “marry me”

34. “i’m pregnant”

35. “will you be mine?”

36. “you’re what’s best for me”

37. “i never stopped loving you”

38. “i’ll go anywhere, as long as i’m with you”

39. “kiss me”

40. “i’ve wanted you since the first day”

41. “dance with me”

[wildflowerluver]

clementine

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

the hotchner family adopts a new pet

cw: established relationship, jack calls reader ‘mom’, aaron is a cat person, bau reader

wc: 1.8k

༺♡༻

jack first posed the question about getting a pet at family dinner.

you and aaron could both tell something was on his mind. he was picking at his mac and cheese, typically his favorite meal, and had a certain look on his face that usually meant he had something on his mind. 

the last time jack acted like this was when he wanted to ask if he could start to call you ‘mom.’

aaron was the first to take the bait. “not hungry, buddy?”

jack shrugged. his silence was more than telling.

you glanced towards aaron to see where he was going to go with this though before he could say anything, jack was finally speaking up.

“can we get a pet?” he asked. 

clearly the immediate silence wasn’t the answer jack was looking for.

“please, please!” jack begged.

you stayed quiet. as much as you would love to get a pet to fulfill jack’s wants, you know the ultimate decision is up to aaron.

“jack,” aaron started. “your mom and i are away too much for a pet. we wouldn’t be able to care for it. plus animals are a lot of work and they’re messy.”

“but i could help!” jack protested.

“i’m sorry buddy but it wouldn’t work out. maybe when you’re a little older.”

jack frowned at the rejection and sunk back into his seat. you reached across the table to squeeze his hand. 

the rest of the dinner went by with little disturbance. although jack was still upset, he eventually started to eat and talk about his day.

while aaron cleared the plates and began on the dishes once you were finished eating, you leaned towards the young boy.

“cat or dog?” you whispered to jack.

he thought about it for only a moment, his face mimicking the way he concentrates when doing a math problem.

“cat,” jack decided. 

you beamed. “i think that can be arranged.”

____

you and jack devised a plan to convince aaron behind his back. 

you gathered a few sheets of large paper and some art supplies and let him get started. the entire thing was jack’s work. you simply helped with the spelling when asked. there were a few things he wouldn’t let you see and you turned a blind eye. 

the next time a family pet gets brought up is a few weeks later.

you and aaron had a long case out west. 

a week without sufficient rest or seeing jack were all factors that made aaron easily convinced to give the team a long weekend. 

jack was ecstatic to have both of his parents home for a few days. you spent the first few hours simply resting and sleeping off the jet lag before jack had dragged you both into the living room.

“i need to show you guys something,” jack giggles. “i have to go get it. stay here!”

you curl into aaron’s side before jack is rushing back into the room. his arms are filled with an array of multi-colored paper and sporting the same grin that aaron had on some occasions. 

“i really really want a cat,” jack starts. “so i worked really hard on a few reasons why.”

jack sorts through the paper to find his first point while aaron turns to you.

“did you know about this?” aaron murmurs.

you meet his gaze, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“no idea,” you answer. he doesn’t push it after you kiss his cheek.

jack presents each reason with growing emotion. he’s drawn visuals too. your heart melts when you see the stick figure version of the three of you. even on paper you and aaron are holding hands.

he ends it by handing his dad a letter.

“what’s this?” aaron raises an eyebrow.

“aunty penny said she would watch the cat whenever you are working,” jack explained. “she even signed it!”

aaron skims the note and you resist the urge to laugh at jack’s creativity. no wonder he had a few things you couldn’t be a part of. 

“what do you think?”

the question was turned to you. “i think that an animal would keep jack company while we work. plus cats aren’t as much work as dogs. and if penelope said she would watch it then i’m in.”

aaron’s face shifts into the serious one you only see during work hours. for a moment, you think he’s gonna shoot the whole idea down. he instead squeezes your leg.

“we can go to the shelter tomorrow.”

____

jack was bouncing in his seat the entire drive to the shelter.

you had to admit, you were pretty excited too. moving in with aaron was a massive milestone in your relationship, but adopting an animal together feels like a whole new realm. 

on the way over, the three of you discussed what kind of cat you would want. there wasn’t much bias besides age; the idea of jack growing up with a kitten seemed like the obvious choice. 

you called ahead to the shelter to let them know about your interest in adopting. a vet took you around to the various cages/rooms to show you what animals were available for adoption. 

you stopped in front of one of the rooms that had a few different cats in it. aaron hoisted jack up to rest on his hip so he could see. 

a little orange tabby kitten who was sleeping in one of the beds caught your eye.

she was only a few months old and was just dropped off at the shelter that morning. she hadn’t even been listed on the ‘new animals’ section of the website. 

one look from jack to you and aaron confirmed that you would be leaving the shelter with her. 

“this the one you want, buddy?” aaron asked. you squeezed his hand.

jack nodded his head quickly. he shot forward, doing his best to wrap both of his short arms around you and aaron. “thank you! thank you! thank you!” he repeated.

you and aaron had a long series of papers you needed to fill out though in comparison to work files, it didn’t feel like much. it was standard things: who lived in the house, any other pets, and a few other general things about the adoption itself.

it’s not long before a vet guides you, aaron, and jack to a private room where the kitten is.

aaron keeps a firm hand on jack’s shoulder as you walk in. “remember buddy, she’s a lot smaller than you are. she might be nervous too. be gentle, okay?”

the kitten takes her time to investigate the three of you in the room. to help aid her comfort, you sit down on the floor and pat the spot next to you for jack to sit. she sniffs you and jack first before she hops into your lap.

you pet the kitten in your arms. “look aaron, we’re parents of two now.”

aaron leaned down to kiss the crown of your head.

the tabby, still nameless, pushed herself out of your arms and trotted over to where aaron stood behind you. she sniffed him for only a moment before rubbing against his pant leg.

“i think someone likes you,” you grinned as you peered up to him.

“i’m just glad she likes me on the day i wear jeans.”

his grumble is ignored as the kitten looks up towards his stoic face and lets out one of the quietest meows you’ve ever heard. she raised one paw as if to ask for attention. 

jack shifted to sit in your lap as aaron knelt down.

his hand is enormous in comparison to the small animal. it doesn’t take a profiler to see the smile tugging at aaron’s lips. he pets her gently. the tabby’s purring starts almost immediately.

“i think she needs a name,” aaron suggests.

you turn to jack. it was his idea after all.

“she’s orange,” jack points out. “how about clem-cleme-”

the full word is still a bit of a challenge for him to say.

“clementine,” aaron finishes for his son.

“yeah!” 

aaron finally scoops her up to hold her.

“welcome to the family clementine.”

____

though aaron was initially hesitant to adopt an animal, clementine fits right into the family.

true to his word, jack helps out with caring for her. penelope takes care of clem too when you and aaron are away. she and sergio have become good friends. 

it’s not all easy, there’s definitely struggles. clementine sheds a lot. aaron has had to purchase more lint rollers than ever before, especially after clementine has developed a habit of sleeping on his suit jackets. 

the joy of companionship outweighs the minimal time it takes aaron to lint roll his suit.

clementine is great for jack with you and aaron working. even when you’re home and aaron is stuck at the office, she provides a source of comfort when you’re missing him. like tonight, when aaron was swarmed with extra files from the previous case. you offered to help, of course, but he refused. it was already late and he knew you needed sleep.

aaron unlocks the door and steps in quietly. he knows jack is asleep upstairs and doesn’t want to wake him. he cracks open his son’s door to check on him before entering your shared bedroom.

the lights are off and aaron can infer that you’re asleep. however, you aren’t alone in bed. 

“hi clem,” aaron greets the kitten who was curled up beside you. “taking my spot?”

clementine chirps and rolls her head against his hand. 

“aaron?” your voice is gravely as you peel your eyes open.

even in the dark you can still make out his silhouette. 

“hi honey,” aaron whispers. he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, just ghosting your lips. when you whine, he finally kisses you properly. “sorry for waking you up though i see clementine has been keeping you company?”

the kitten chirps from her spot on the blanket.

“oh,” you start, a bit more awake now. “she’s been here all night. i think she’s happy to see you.”

“i don’t doubt that.”

aaron gets ready for bed as quiet as possible. after slipping into pajamas and brushing his teeth, he’s crawling into bed beside you. just as you move to curl into his chest, clementine is padding up the blanket before promptly sitting on aaron’s chest.

your giggle is quiet. aaron huffs, clearly expecting to be cuddling with you and not a kitten.

you kiss him gently and maneuver yourself to still be close to him.

“goodnight aaron.”

“goodnight honey.”

when you wake up the next morning, aaron and clementine are still snuggled together.