#aaron reader insert | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

5K notes · View notes

reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

Text

masterlist ♡

my requests are open! i'm comfortable writing for any sexuality, gender, and/or specified reader preference! my basic model is a fem!reader x male!character because that is how i myself identify and who i am attracted to -- so if you want something else just lmk!! <33

click here for my taglist :)

꩜ -- angst ♡ -- fluff ꕥ -- smut

Spencer Reid

Series

★ Bridges to Belonging ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six (18+) Part Seven (18+)

★ Finding Home Again ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two (18+)

-- -- -- Extras -- Jeans ♡ ꕥ Migraines ꩜ ♡ Bar ♡ Stood Up ꩜

★ i love you ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two

★ Short Shorts & Long Hair ꩜ ♡— Part One Part Two

★ Too Sweet ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two Part Three

★ Make You Feel My Love ꩜ — Part One Part Two Part Three

★ Something Better ꩜ — Part One Part Two

★ Breaking Point ꩜ ♡ — Part One Part Two

★ Too Damn Young ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two

★ Red ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two

★ Lost in Translation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Prologue Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

One Shots

Whispers in the Dark ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down ꩜ ꕥ

Needy ♡ ꕥ

Capturing the Queen ♡ ꕥ

Sweet & Sour Motivation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Moving Forward ꩜ ♡

Love in the Club ♡ ꕥ

Lost & Found ꩜ ♡

Strawberry Lemonade ♡

Not Her ꩜ ♡

Ghost of You ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Textual Tension ♡ ꕥ

Hookups & Holdouts ꩜ ♡

Better Late Than Never ♡

Illicit Affairs ꩜ ♡

No More Misunderstandings ♡

Forever & Always ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Depollute Me ♡

Say Don't Go ꩜ ♡

Blurbs

Silent Echos ꩜

Second Chances and Serendipity ♡

Ink Impressions ♡

Love in the Details ♡

The Hardest Goodbye ꩜

Ride 'Em Cowgirl ♡

Home in Jeans ♡ ꕥ

Car Wash ♡

They Were Never You ꩜ ♡

Rewritten Plans ꩜ ♡

Dare Ya ♡

Cream Cardigan ♡

Picture You ♡

Tummy ꩜ ♡

Home with Migraines ꩜ ♡

Matchmaker ♡

Always You ꩜ ♡

Home From The Bar ♡

Bedroom Eyes ♡

Federal Beach Investigation ♡

Stood Up & Home ꩜

Good Boy ꕥ

The Profile of Attraction ♡

A Reid Christmas ♡

Asks

A Gentle Embrace ♡

Southern Charm ♡

Cinephile ♡

Where We Were Meant To Be ꩜ ♡

Love Doctor ♡

Not Strong Enough ꩜ ♡

Birthday Surprise ♡ ꕥ

Technicalities ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Lucky ꩜ ♡

I Love You, I'm Sorry ꩜ ♡

Languages of Love ♡

Wounds: Physical & Emotional ꩜

Chip Taylor

Something's Gotta Give ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Juno(OH) ♡

Hometown Glory ꩜ ♡

1K notes · View notes

d0llfaac3 · 6 months ago

Text

Dating Spencer Reid Hcs

Pairing: Spencer Reid x FBI!F!Reader

Warnings: these are NSFW and SWF head canons so minors do NOT interact, mentions of neurodiversity which is probably badly written because I’m autistic myself and I can’t write for it very well!!

SFW

When Spencer is overstimulated, he attaches himself to your hip..like he gets clingy. (I’m projecting)

Having a weekly routine, Tuesday night was Star Trek night and Friday night was pizza and movie night.

Spencer’s REALLY good with kids if you ever babysit.

Going on cute little bookstore dates.

He’s memorised your food orders and coffee orders in case you get too scared to order.

On lunch breaks you two sit on the FBI offices’ stairs, just talking.

Spencer really appreciates that you listen to him rambling and he’s able to unmask around you.

When Spencer gets anxious, he plays with your hair tie that’s on his wrist.

NSFW

Hickeys..Spencer REALLY likes hickeys.

Certified bottom™️

He loves you being on top because he can grab your boobs.

Spencer is a tits guy, obviously he loves all of you but your boobs really got him going..

(Post prison) Spencer is usually on top, he gets angry more often but not at you and he needs a release..

When you and Spencer start going out, the first time you two had sex was almost mind blowing for Spencer, he had only had sex once or twice but you made it so much better.

Spencer’s sex drive is crazily high when it comes to you.

In the middle of a case one time you where in the filing room of the BAU and Spencer starting kissing your neck, he even put his boner against your ass.

You really see Spencer out of his shell with you.

Hope you enjoyed!! Request anything else :)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader

1K notes · View notes

softestqueeen · 4 months ago

Text

✧*̥˚aaron hotchner fic recs *̥˚✧

here are some of my favourite fics with my favourite unit chief aaron hotchner! yes, they are almost all x reader. *very ashamed sigh (not)*

✧*̥˚ smut *̥˚✧

spoiled by @mariasont

pathetic hotch by @ddejavvu

bereal with hotch by @ddejavvu

i can see you by @kimstills

so it goes by @cimmanonrowl

savor by @kimstills

west coast by @minswriting

casual by @dashofghost

✧*̥˚ fluff*̥˚✧

taking care of him drabble by @luveline

serendipity by @hannibals-favourite-meal

sleepy reader blurb by @luveline

jealous aaron drabble by @luveline

hungover by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi

spontaneous phenomenon by @luveline

drunk confessions by @miley1442111

down we go by @hotchner-edu

eyes don't lie by @hotchner-edu

public displays of affection by @ssahotchnerr

something more by @headkiss

definitely not old by @ladycaramelswirl

pillow talk by @louvaine

pandora's box by @hotchner-edu

beanstalk by @solardrop

protective aaron blurb by @mrs-weasley-reid

✧*̥˚ angst & hurt/comfort*̥˚✧

the analyst's arrival by @thewulf

pining hotch by @luveline

clingy by @miley1442111

blame by @kimstills

go ahead and cry, little girl by @undiscl0sed-desir3s

insecurity by @miley1442111

✧*̥˚ honorable mentions*̥˚✧

authors i've read a lot and their masterlists!

@mrs-weasley-reid her masterlist I her fic recs

@luvelinetheir masterlist

my criminal minds masterlist

if you want your work removed, dm me!

more recs

837 notes · View notes

kiwriteswords · 10 days ago

Note

Hey, may I request a Hotch x Reader age gap story, where she's in her late 20s and not a BAU member. I think it would be a nice little twist into their dynamic, also he's such a daddy. Much appreciated and thanks in advance.

The Girl Next Door

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I had a dream about Hotch being my neighbor the other day that sort-of inspired this one! Thanks for the request!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: Age Gap, Romantic Tension, Alcohol Consumption, Alcohol Mention, Insecurities, Mentions of Canon-Typical Plot Themes

Sypnosis: When you move into your new apartment, the last thing Aaron Hotchner expects is for his quiet, orderly life to be disrupted by his intriguing new neighbor. At first glance, you seem like a contradiction—poised, accomplished, and wise beyond your years, yet far younger than anyone else in the building. As a profiler, Aaron prides himself on his ability to read people, but you defy easy categorization, stirring something in him he hasn’t felt in years.

The day you moved into your new apartment, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t expecting much beyond the usual polite introduction. A quick hello in the hallway, a nod of acknowledgment over packages left at the concierge desk. But when the door across from his opened, and you stood there with a warm smile and an extended hand, it was as if something jolted awake in him.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor,” you said, your voice confident yet gentle, the kind that demanded attention without trying. “I hope I’m not intruding. Just wanted to introduce myself.”

He shook your hand, taking note of the firm grip. His profiler’s instincts, so finely tuned, began to buzz. Your demeanor was composed, polished. You carried yourself as someone well-accustomed to holding their own in rooms filled with people twice your age. Yet, as he looked at you, he couldn’t reconcile your apparent youth with the sophisticated way you spoke or the fact that you could afford an apartment in a building like this one.

“Nice to meet you,” he replied, keeping his tone neutral. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

Your smile widened. “Aaron. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

He would have guessed you were in your early to late twenties if not for the depth in your gaze and the way you seemed to study him, as though cataloging details in the same way he was. But still, you couldn’t be older than thirty, could you? How could someone that young afford this building? Hotch, ever practical, knew he overpaid, even with his federal paycheck. And he wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was because he couldn’t peg you, and as a profiler, that was frustrating.

Weeks passed, and though your paths crossed occasionally—quick hellos in the elevator or casual small talk in the lobby—Hotch found himself thinking about you more than he cared to admit. You were intriguing, beautiful in a way that made his chest tighten when you smiled, and far too mature for him to simply brush off as someone fresh into the adult world. But he told himself it was nothing. Jack, now a teenager, occupied most of his thoughts, and the idea of pursuing a neighbor felt inappropriate. Unprofessional, even.

Still, after a grueling case that left a bitter taste in his mouth and the weight of mortality pressing heavy on his shoulders, Hotch let Rossi convince him to grab a drink at the bar near the BAU.

It was a dimly lit, intimate place that felt quieter than most bars in the city. Rossi nursed a scotch while Hotch stared at his whiskey, his mind elsewhere. He thought of the case, the current emptiness that filled his personal life with Jack beginning to pull away into his own world, and then that’s when he saw you.

You were sitting at the far end of the bar, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. The soft overhead light highlighted your features, and for a moment, Hotch forgot how to breathe. You seemed so at ease, lost in your book, unaware of the buzz of conversations around you.

“You’re staring,” Rossi said, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Hotch blinked, dragging his gaze back to his drink. “I wasn’t staring.” He almost mumbled it under his breath, feeling like a kid caught red-handed.

Rossi scoffed. “Sure you weren’t. Who is she?”

“She’s my neighbor,” Hotch admitted reluctantly. “She just moved in a few weeks ago.”

“Well, your neighbor has good taste in wine and literature,” Rossi remarked, glancing in your direction. “Go talk to her.”

Hotch shook his head, grimacing at the idea of making a move like that.. “She’s too young.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “How young are we talking?”

Hotch hesitated. “Late twenties, maybe. She looks young, but she doesn’t act it. It’s hard to tell. Either way, it would be inappropriate.”

“Why? Because she’s younger? Aaron, come on. She’s not a child.”

“I could be her father,” Hotch countered, his tone sharper than he intended; the words felt like poison on his lips. “What would she want with someone like me?”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, his expression amused. “You know, the younger ones have a way of keeping you young.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “Not helping, Dave.”

Before Rossi could retort, you looked up from your book, your eyes landing on Hotch. Recognition lit up your face, and you smiled, raising a hand in a small wave. Hotch froze. The way you looked at him like you were genuinely happy to see him, made something in his chest ache.

“She’s smiling at you,” Rossi pointed out with a grin. “Now’s your chance.”

Hotch hesitated, his heart thundering in his chest. What would he even say? But then you beckoned him over with a tilt of your head, and for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to take a leap.

Hotch lingered for a moment too long, his feet rooted to the floor as he debated whether to stay put or heed Rossi’s unsolicited advice. He wasn’t sure if it was fear, pride, or something else entirely keeping him from standing up. The thought of your smile, though—warm and inviting as it was—made the decision harder.

Rossi, ever perceptive, patted him on the back with a grin. “Go on, Aaron. I’m heading out anyway. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at his friend. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

Rossi chuckled. “Fair enough. Let me put it this way—don’t think about it too much. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, you know.”

And with that, Rossi tossed back the rest of his scotch, clapped Hotch on the shoulder one more time, and left Hotch standing alone with his swirling thoughts.

He exhaled, trying to quiet the insecurities gnawing at him. What could he possibly offer someone like you? Yet the way you had smiled at him just moments ago—so genuine, so effortless—spoke to something deeper. Maybe you didn’t see him the way he saw himself: older, wearier, with too many ghosts lingering in the corners of his mind. Maybe you just saw…him.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Hotch pushed back from the barstool, his steps steady but deliberate as he approached you. You glanced up as he neared, your smile widening. That warmth in your eyes—it was enough to melt some of the tension in his chest.

“Hey, Aaron,” you said, your voice carrying the kind of excitement that made it seem like you’d been hoping he’d show up. You patted the empty seat next to you. “Join me?”

He hesitated briefly before sitting down, your proximity somehow calming and unnerving at once. The soft scent of your perfume wrapped around him, and he caught himself lingering too long on the way your lips curved upward when you smiled.

“Nice choice,” you said, gesturing to the glass he’d brought with him. “I’d guess it’s a single malt whiskey. Neat.”

Hotch tilted his head, impressed. “That’s right.”

You chuckled, holding your own glass of wine. “You don’t strike me as anything less.”

His lips quirked in a subtle smile. “And what does that mean?”

“You’re precise,” you said easily, leaning slightly toward him. “Thoughtful, composed. Someone like you wouldn’t order anything overly sweet or complicated. You keep things simple, but you expect quality.”

He blinked, caught off guard by how accurately you had read him. It wasn’t often someone did that, not even outside his work at the BAU. Yet here you were, confidently pulling back the layers he thought he kept well hidden.

It also caught him off guard because here he was, someone who was taught to keep himself a mystery while reading others, but it was now the other way around. You read him like a book while he could not put his finger on what it was about you.

“You’re observant,” he remarked, lifting his glass. “Not many people would pick up on that.”

You shrugged, your smile modest but pleased. “I like to notice things. It’s useful.”

“You could’ve been a profiler,” he said without thinking, then quickly added, “Not that I’m suggesting a career change.”

You laughed softly, and the sound settled in his chest like warmth on a cold night. “I think I’ll stick to what I do for now.”

“And what is it you do?” he asked, genuinely curious. Despite your shared moments in the hallway and now this unexpected meeting, he realized he knew so little about you beyond the fact that you were maddeningly intriguing.

“I’m in finance,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “Nothing too exciting, but it’s steady, and I’m good at it.”

That explained some things—your confidence, poise, and ability to afford an apartment in his building. Still, he found himself wondering how someone your age could have such a solid footing in life.

“You’re impressive,” he said honestly, surprising himself with the admission.

Your eyes sparkled, a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give out compliments lightly.”

He laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, covering everything from favorite books to why this particular bar was a hidden gem. You were strikingly beautiful, yes, but it was your confidence and the way you carried yourself that held his attention. Yet, as much as he enjoyed your company, that familiar self-doubt crept in whenever the age gap came to mind.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” you said, interrupting his spiral.

“Just wondering,” he began carefully, “how someone so young ended up being so…accomplished.”

Your brow lifted slightly, and then you smiled, a touch of mischief in your expression. “Is that your way of asking how old I am?”

Hotch cleared his throat, a rare flicker of nervousness crossing his face. “I wouldn’t ask directly.”

“Well, for the record,” you said, leaning in just enough to make his pulse quicken, “I’m twenty-seven. And yes, I know I look younger. But I’ve worked hard to get here, and I don’t take it for granted.”

He nodded, letting your words sink in. Twenty-seven. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the brilliance of those younger than him, he’d worked side-by-side with Reid, more years than he could count, but the gap still gave him pause. There was no denying the respect he felt for you, nor the pull that kept him rooted to your side.

You tilted your head, studying him with a playful smile. “Did I pass whatever test you were giving me?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You weren’t being tested.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you teased before lifting your glass. “To new neighbors, then?”

Hotch clinked his glass against yours, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “To new neighbors.”

As you both sipped your drinks, Hotch couldn’t help but feel that maybe Rossi was right. Maybe it was okay to let himself enjoy something—or someone—good for a change.

As the bartender passed by, you reached for your wallet, signaling for the check. Hotch, noticing, set his own glass down and spoke before you could finish.

“I’ve got it,” he said firmly.

You looked up, slightly surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist,” he replied, already sliding his card across the counter to the bartender. “Consider it a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gesture.”

There was a flicker of hesitation in your expression, but eventually, you smiled. “Well, thank you, Aaron. That’s very kind of you.”

He nodded, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction as the bartender returned his card. It wasn’t just about paying—it was the subtle act of taking care of you. Even though he’d only known you for a short while, the protective instinct that came naturally to him was already stirring. His line of work had shown him too much about the world, and the idea of you walking alone at night didn’t sit well.

As you both stood to leave, Hotch glanced at you. “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, I don’t have one,” you said, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. “I take public transportation to work. I was just going to grab a cab home.”

Hotch frowned slightly. The thought of you waiting for a cab at this hour didn’t sit right with him. “That’s not necessary. We’re going to the same place anyway—I’ll drive you.”

“Aaron, you really don’t have to do that,” you said, but there was a softness in your tone like you were touched by the offer.

“I insist,” he repeated, his voice steady but gentle. “It’s no trouble.”

For a moment, you studied him, then gave a small, amused shake of your head. “All right, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

The two of you walked out of the bar, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Hotch instinctively slowed his pace to match yours, his hand twitching briefly at his side as though tempted to offer it. When you reached his car, he unlocked it and opened the passenger door for you.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” you teased lightly as you slid into the seat.

Hotch smirked faintly as he closed the door and rounded to the driver’s side. “Not entirely.”

The ride started quietly, the hum of the engine filling the space. You glanced out the window, watching the city lights blur past, but after a moment, you turned to him.

“So,” you began, “do you always offer rides to your neighbors, or am I just special?”

Hotch’s lips curved in a faint smile as he kept his eyes on the road. “Let’s just say I don’t make a habit of it.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” you said, leaning back in the seat. “But you didn’t have to. I would’ve been fine.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But...I’ve seen too much in my work to feel comfortable letting you take a cab alone.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “What is it you do, exactly?”

“I work for the FBI,” he said simply, glancing at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

You blinked, clearly intrigued. “So you’re a profiler?”

“Something like that,” he admitted. “We study behavior to catch criminals. Serial offenders, mostly.”

“That explains why you’re so observant,” you said with a small smile. “And why you seem so serious all the time.”

He chuckled under his breath, a rare sound that surprised even him. “It comes with the territory.”

“Well,” you said, your tone thoughtful, “I think it’s a good thing. That you care enough to notice things, I mean.”

He glanced at you, caught off guard by the sincerity in your voice. “Thank you.”

The rest of the drive passed in a comfortable silence, the kind that felt natural rather than awkward. When Hotch pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, he turned off the engine and looked at you.

“Thank you again,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “For the ride. And the drink.”

“It was no trouble,” he replied, his voice softer now.

You lingered for a moment, your hand on the door handle, before turning to him with a small smile. “You’re a good neighbor, Aaron.”

Hotch sat for a moment longer, his fingers gripping the steering wheel as he watched you head toward the elevator. Something in the way you said his name lingered in his mind, a warmth spreading through him that he couldn’t quite explain.

He shook his head slightly, snapping himself out of it, and grabbed his keys before stepping out of the car. By the time he caught up to you at the elevator, you were already pressing the button for your floor.

“Thought you were going to stay in the car all night,” you teased lightly, glancing over at him as the elevator doors slid open.

“Just taking my time,” he replied, his voice steady but faintly amused as he stepped in beside you.

The elevator ride was quiet at first, the kind of comfortable silence that seemed to follow your conversations. Hotch leaned against the wall, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, while you stood with your arms crossed lightly over your chest. He caught himself glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, taking in the relaxed way you carried yourself despite the late hour.

When the elevator doors opened onto your floor, you both stepped out and walked down the hall side by side. The muffled hum of the building at night—the soft whir of air vents and the occasional creak of floorboards—felt strangely intimate.

“I still can’t believe we live right across the hall from each other,” you said, breaking the silence as you reached your doors. You turned to face him, your expression playful. “Guess I’ll have to start baking cookies or something neighborly like that.”

He smirked faintly, a rare softness crossing his features. “I’m not sure I’d have time to return the favor.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll let it slide,” you said with a mock sigh, your grin widening.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand resting on the doorknob to your apartment. “Thank you again, Aaron. For everything tonight.”

He nodded, his dark eyes meeting yours. “It really wasn’t any trouble.”

As you unlocked your door and stepped inside, you glanced back at him one last time. “Goodnight, neighbor.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as the door closed softly behind you.

For a moment, he stood there in the hallway, staring at your door. That same warmth from earlier crept through him, something he couldn’t quite name but wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Finally, with a small shake of his head, he turned and entered his own apartment, already wondering when he’d see you again.

The night you shared a ride home lingered in Aaron Hotchner’s mind longer than he cared to admit. He told himself it was nothing—just neighborly kindness—but the warmth in your voice when you said his name and the way you looked at him as if he weren’t just another face in the crowd were impossible to forget. There was something about you, something that stirred feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to entertain in years.

But life moved on. Cases came and went, the BAU’s relentless pace leaving little room for personal indulgences. Still, when he’d return home to the quiet comfort of his apartment, he often found himself glancing at your door across the hall, wondering what you might be doing, who you might be with. He chided himself for the thoughts—he was too old, too busy, and too set in his ways to be thinking of you like this.

It was a rare Saturday afternoon off when he found himself in the building’s mailroom with Jack. The teenager was practically vibrating with anticipation, tearing through envelopes in search of one in particular.

“Anything?” Hotch asked, glancing up from his own stack of bills and promotional flyers.

“Not yet,” Jack muttered, his brow furrowed as he sorted through the last few pieces of mail. “Do you think maybe it got lost?”

Hotch shook his head with a small smile. “It’ll come. Just be patient.”

The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention, and when he looked up, there you were, a cheerful smile lighting up your face as you entered the mailroom.

“Hey, neighbor,” you greeted, your eyes flicking between him and Jack. “And who’s this?”

“This is my son, Jack,” Hotch said, stepping aside slightly so you could get a better look. “Jack, this is our neighbor, [Your Name].”

Jack looked up from his stack of envelopes, offering a polite smile. “Hi.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” you said warmly. “You’re the spitting image of your dad, you know.”

Jack wrinkled his nose playfully, glancing at Hotch. “I hope not too much.”

You laughed, the sound drawing a small chuckle from Hotch as well. “What’s got you so focused on the mail today?” you asked Jack, noting his eager expression.

“I’m waiting to hear back about a summer art program I applied to,” Jack said, his tone hopeful but tinged with nervousness.

“Art? That’s fantastic!” you said, genuinely impressed. “What kind of art are you into?”

“Mostly sketching,” Jack replied, his shyness melting under your encouragement. “But I’ve been getting into painting too.”

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” you said sincerely. “I’m sure they’d be lucky to have you.”

Jack smiled, visibly more relaxed in your presence. Hotch observed the interaction quietly, noting how effortlessly you connected with his son. It tugged at something deep in his chest, that mix of admiration and longing he was becoming all too familiar with around you.

“Oh, before I forget,” you said, turning to Hotch. “I’m throwing a little cocktail party at my place next Friday night to celebrate settling into the apartment. Nothing fancy, just a few friends and some good drinks. You and Jack should come.”

Hotch hesitated, his mind racing. A cocktail party? With your friends? He imagined himself standing awkwardly in a room full of people your age, wondering if he belonged there at all. But before he could respond, you added with a playful smile, “I really hope you’ll come. It won’t be the same without my favorite neighbor.”

The glimmer of hope in your tone, the sincerity in your smile—it made his chest tighten. Still, the self-conscious voice in his head whispered doubts. Would your friends think he was too old? Would you regret inviting him once he showed up?

“I’m not sure,” he said carefully, his voice steady but uncertain. “With my schedule, it can be hard to plan ahead.”

“Well,” you said, your tone light but insistent, “I’m holding out hope. And Jack, you’re more than welcome too. I’ll make sure we have something non-alcoholic that’s party-worthy.”

Jack grinned. “Thanks. I’ll see if I can convince him.”

Your laughter was warm, and it stayed with Hotch long after you left the mailroom, waving goodbye with a cheerful promise to see him soon. As you disappeared down the hallway, he felt that familiar tug again—part curiosity, part hope, and part fear.

Did he imagine the glimmer in your eyes the other night? The way your words seemed to linger just for him? Or was it possible—just possible—that there was something real here? Something worth risking the carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself to explore.

As Jack tugged his sleeve, reminding him they still had to sort the rest of the mail, Hotch shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. Whatever the answer, he couldn’t deny the pull you had on him. Maybe he’d find out next weekend.

Friday night found Aaron Hotchner in his office, the quiet hum of the BAU’s bullpen far below offering no distraction from the thoughts circling his mind. The stack of case files on his desk was unusually light for a change, and the rare lull in their schedule had granted him a night off. Yet, instead of heading home or unwinding with a book, he sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on the invitation you’d extended days earlier.

Jack was spending the night at a teammate’s house for a soccer sleepover, leaving Hotch without the comfortable excuse of parenting duties. But the thought of showing up at your party, surrounded by people your age, feeling out of place—it made him hesitate.

He was still mulling it over when a knock sounded at his office door. Looking up, he found Emily Prentiss leaning against the frame, a file folder in hand.

“Final report from the Clarke case,” she said, stepping inside and placing the folder on his desk. “You’re officially done for the night.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his tone clipped but polite.

Emily tilted her head, studying him with the kind of perceptiveness he usually reserved for himself. “You look…pensive. Something on your mind?”

For a moment, Hotch considered brushing her off, offering some vague comment about work or letting the conversation drop entirely. But then he remembered how much he valued openness among his team, a quality he wished they were better about embracing. Perhaps it was time to practice what he preached.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been invited to a cocktail party tonight. My neighbor’s hosting it.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a slow smile forming on her lips. “A cocktail party? Sounds fancy. What’s the dilemma?”

“It’s not about the party itself,” he admitted. “It’s…her.”

Her curiosity sharpened, and she took a seat across from him. “Okay, now you have my attention. Tell me more about ‘her.’”

“She’s my neighbor,” he began, his voice even but hesitant. “She’s in her late twenties, successful, confident. We’ve talked a few times, and she’s…invited me tonight.”

Emily’s smile widened, though she kept her expression neutral enough not to tease. “And you’re debating whether or not to go because…?”

“Because I’m twice her age,” Hotch said bluntly. “Because I don’t want to feel like I don’t belong. And because I’m not sure if the interest I think I’m seeing from her is even real or if I’ve imagined it.”

Emily let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Hotch, you’re overthinking this. And so what? Age is just a number. What matters is the connection.”

Hotch’s brow furrowed. “It’s not that simple. She’s…young, full of life. I’m a widower with a teenage son and a career that doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”

“All the more reason to go,” Emily countered. “Look, you’ve spent years putting everyone else first—your son, your team, your cases. When was the last time you did something for yourself? Took a chance?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the file in front of him. Emily leaned forward slightly, her tone softening.

“Hotch, you’re allowed to let yourself be happy. And from the way you’re talking about her, it sounds like she could be someone worth getting to know better.”

He glanced up at her, a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. “What if it’s inappropriate?”

“Now, you’re definitely over thinking this,” Emily snorted, “You’ll handle it like you handle everything else—with class and integrity,” she said with a shrug. “But you won’t know unless you try. And who knows? Maybe tonight’s just a party, or maybe it’s the start of something more. Either way, you owe it to yourself to find out.”

Hotch let her words sink in, the weight of his own self-doubt pressing against the hope he’d buried deep. Finally, he nodded, a small, almost reluctant smile forming on his lips.

“You’re relentless,” he said, his tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

“It’s part of my charm,” Emily replied, standing and smoothing out her blazer. “Now go home, get dressed, and show up. And Hotch?”

He looked up at her, his brows lifting slightly.

“Make a move,” she added with a grin. “You’ve got this.”

As she left his office, Hotch sat for a moment longer, her words echoing in his mind. Maybe Emily was right. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

With a deep breath, he grabbed his coat and headed out, the decision finally made. Tonight, he would go to your party. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find out if the glimmer of hope he thought he saw in your eyes was real.

Hotch stood outside your apartment door, adjusting his tie as he willed himself to ignore the nervous energy thrumming through him. It wasn’t nerves, not exactly, but something close—a self-consciousness he hadn’t felt in years. The faint sound of laughter and soft music spilled out from your apartment, and for a moment, he considered turning around.

But then he thought of the way you’d looked at him, the hope in your voice when you’d said you really wanted him to come. That was enough to steel his resolve. He took a breath and knocked.

When you opened the door, Hotch’s breath hitched. You stood there, radiant, wearing an outfit that was the perfect balance of elegance and allure. It hugged your figure just enough to make his pulse quicken, yet the overall effect was sophisticated and tasteful. The soft light from your apartment cast a warm glow over you, highlighting every curve and detail.

“Aaron,” you said, your face lighting up with a smile that felt like it was just for him. Before he could say anything, you stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug, catching him completely off guard.

“Hi,” he managed, his voice steady despite the way your touch had sent a jolt of something warm through him.

“I’m so glad you made it,” you said, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting briefly on his arms. “I’ve been wondering all night if you’d show.”

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, his lips curving into a faint smile. “But I’m glad I did.”

You beamed at that, stepping aside to let him in. As Hotch entered, he took in the space, his eyes immediately drawn to the careful details of your apartment. It was stunning—every corner thoughtfully arranged, every piece of furniture and decor intentional. The warm, inviting tones of the room mirrored his own taste, but where his home was functional, yours was artfully executed.

Bookshelves lined one wall, filled to the brim with titles that made him want to linger and browse. His eyes caught on a few photographs interspersed among the shelves—travel shots, candid moments, and one of you laughing with someone who looked like an older family member. The charm of it all struck him immediately, and he couldn’t help but feel impressed.

“You’ve done an amazing job with this place,” he said, his tone genuine.

“Thank you,” you said, closing the door behind him. “I’m glad you like it. I put a lot of thought into it—wanted it to feel like home.”

“It does,” he said, glancing around again. “It suits you.”

You smiled at that, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then your expression shifted to one of curiosity. “Where’s Jack?”

“He had teenage obligations,” Hotch replied, a hint of humor in his tone. “A soccer sleepover.”

You laughed softly. “Of course. Well, I’m glad you could come. I know your schedule’s crazy, so it means a lot.”

He was about to respond when you gently touched his arm, guiding him further inside. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”

He wasn’t sure what to expect as you led him toward the small group gathered in your living room. But as you began introducing him, your words caught him off guard.

“This is Aaron, my favorite neighbor and new friend,” you said warmly, gesturing to him with a smile.

Favorite neighbor. New friend. The way you said it was so easy, so unselfconscious, that it disarmed him entirely.

The group—five or six people, all older than he’d expected, not just a group of twenty-something-year-olds partying like he imagined—greeted him with nods and polite smiles. It was immediately clear that you surrounded yourself with maturity and wisdom, which made sense. You were wise beyond your years, someone who fit seamlessly into this crowd despite being the youngest by far.

Hotch felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders as you moved gracefully between your guests, checking on everyone while still managing to include him in the conversation. It wasn’t just your decorating style that impressed him—it was the way you carried yourself, the natural elegance and charm that seemed to radiate from you.

As the evening settled into a warm rhythm, Hotch found himself standing near one of your bookshelves, thumbing through the spine of a title that caught his eye. The sound of your laughter drifted from across the room, and he couldn’t help but glance in your direction. You were chatting animatedly with one of your coworkers, your smile radiant, your presence magnetic. He marveled at how effortlessly you moved through the room, making every guest feel like they were the most important person there.

A moment later, you appeared at his side, a delicate martini glass in your hand, the liquid inside a rich, dark brown.

“For you,” you said, holding it out with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, taking the glass cautiously. “And what exactly is this?”

“An espresso martini,” you replied, the corners of your mouth curling into a grin. “My specialty. I make a mean one, and I’m certain you’ll like it.”

He regarded the drink with a playfully suspicious look, tilting the glass slightly to inspect it.

“I know,” you said easily, gesturing toward the glass. “But I see you leaving in the mornings with your coffee cup. Think of it as adult coffee in a martini glass.”

He chuckled softly at that, his fingers brushing yours as he accepted the drink. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“Of course,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “Though, if this doesn’t suit your taste, I did pick up a whiskey I think you’ll like. It’s over by the bar.”

Hotch blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged, your smile warm. “I wanted to. Besides, I hope this isn’t the last time we spend time together, so I’m sure we’ll enjoy that whiskey at some point—even if it’s not tonight.”

Something about the way you said it—the quiet confidence, the way you looked at him like he mattered—made his chest tighten.

“Well,” he said, lifting the glass slightly, “I suppose I can’t turn down a signature drink.”

“That’s the spirit,” you teased, nudging his arm lightly. “Try it. I promise it’s good.”

He brought the glass to his lips, taking a tentative sip. The rich, velvety flavor hit him immediately—the perfect balance of espresso, a hint of sweetness, and the warmth of vodka mingling with the coffee liqueur. He lowered the glass, nodding slightly as a small, almost reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

“It’s…better than I expected,” he admitted.

“Better than expected?” you repeated, laughing softly. “I’ll take that as a win.”

He shook his head, amused. “It’s good. Really.”

“I knew you’d like it,” you said confidently, your eyes sparkling. “It’s got just enough sophistication to suit you.”

He chuckled again, a rare sound that felt more natural in your presence than it had in a long time. As you stood beside him, the rest of the room seemed to fade into the background.

For the first time in years, Aaron Hotchner felt like more than just a profiler, more than just a father or a leader. He felt seen. And, for once, he didn’t mind indulging in the moment.

As the evening wound down, the energy in the room shifted. Guests slowly trickled out, offering you hugs and handshakes on their way to the door. Each one left with a warm smile, a testament to your natural charm as a host. Hotch lingered, sipping the espresso martini you’d made him, more out of a desire to stay close than a need to finish the drink.

You returned from the door after bidding goodbye to the last pair of guests, finding him still standing near the bookshelf where the two of you had shared most of your conversation that night. His shoulders looked more relaxed now, the edges of his stoic demeanor softened in the warm glow of your apartment.

“Well,” you said with a soft laugh, glancing around at the aftermath of the party—empty glasses, plates, and the faint echo of laughter still hanging in the air. “That’s it. A successful cocktail party in the books.”

“You made it look effortless,” Hotch said, his voice warm. “But I know it’s anything but.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge as you started gathering a few glasses from the table.

He stepped forward, setting his now-empty glass down and reaching for a plate. “Let me help.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” you said, waving him off. “You’re a guest. Go relax.”

“Consider it repayment for the drink,” he countered, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, shaking your head but relenting as he began stacking dishes with practiced ease. The two of you moved through the space in comfortable silence, cleaning up the remnants of the night. Occasionally, your hands would brush as you both reached for something and each time, he felt a quiet thrill that he was certain he shouldn’t.

When the room was mostly back to its pristine state, you turned to him, holding a dish towel and looking a little sheepish. “You didn’t have to do all that, you know. But thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, his tone soft but sincere. “I’m not much of a sit-back-and-relax type anyway.”

“I’ve noticed,” you said with a small smile, stepping closer to him.

The quiet that settled between you felt heavy in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable—just charged. Your gaze met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. He wasn’t sure what it was about you—the way you seemed to see right through him, the way you made him feel like he could finally let his guard down—but it made him want to say something, to do something, even if it was just a small step forward.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I wasn’t sure if I’d fit in, but…it was nice.”

“I’m glad you came,” you replied softly. “I was hoping you would.”

The sincerity in your voice struck him, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. It wasn’t much, just a fleeting touch, but it was enough to make his heart race.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your gaze searching his face. “Aaron?”

“I…enjoy spending time with you,” he said, his tone careful but honest. “More than I expected to.”

Your lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, and you stepped just a fraction closer. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said, his voice steady now.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the soft light of your apartment casting gentle shadows across the room. He didn’t know what he expected to happen next, but when you placed a hand lightly on his arm, your touch warm and grounding, he felt the last of his reservations slip away.

“It’s late,” he said finally, his voice low. “I should probably head back.”

You nodded, your hand lingering on his arm for a moment longer. “Thank you for coming. And for everything tonight.”

He gave a small nod, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

As he walked back across the hall to his apartment, he felt a quiet sense of contentment settle over him. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a dramatic moment, but it was something—a step forward. And for now, that was enough.

In the day that followed, Hotch pulled his go-bag over his shoulder when he noticed something out of place under his apartment door. A small, cream-colored card peeked out from beneath the frame. He bent down, retrieving it with a curious furrow in his brow.

It was a card, handwritten in neat, elegant script.

Aaron,

Thank you for coming last night. It was wonderful having you there—it made the evening that much more special.

If you ever feel like sharing that whiskey, or even just enjoying each other’s company (with or without alcohol involved, haha), give me a call. I’d like that.

Hotch stood there for a moment, the weight of his bag forgotten. He read the note twice, his eyes lingering on the small smiley face you’d drawn next to your name. It was a simple gesture, but it left him feeling both surprised and oddly warm.

He slipped the card into the inside pocket of his jacket, shaking his head with the faintest smile. The timing couldn’t have been worse—he had a flight to catch and a case that demanded his full attention—but for the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing he didn’t have to leave.

Duty called, and as the jet soared through the sky, Hotch pulled the card from his pocket and ran his thumb over the textured surface. He wasn’t a man who took chances lightly, and his initial instinct was to keep the card tucked away to avoid what could become a complication in his carefully constructed life.

But then he thought of you—the way your smile had lit up the room last night, the effortless warmth in your voice, and the quiet confidence in the note you’d left. You weren’t pushing; you were simply opening a door, one he realized he wanted to step through.

He stared at the number on the card, debating. Finally, he reached for his phone, texting you something simple but deliberate.

Aaron: Thank you for the note. I’m currently out of state on a case, but when I’m back, I’d like to meet for coffee.

He stared at the message for a moment, wondering if it felt too casual or too formal. But then he thought of you—your easy smile, your genuine warmth—and decided that simplicity was best. He pressed send before he could overthink it.

For the rest of the flight, his mind kept circling back to the text. He wasn’t sure if you’d respond right away, or at all, but the act of reaching out was enough to stir something unfamiliar in him. A quiet kind of hope.

You: Coffee sounds perfect. Just let me know when you're back, and I’ll make sure my schedule is clear. Be safe out there, Aaron.

When he read your reply, a small smile tugged at his lips. He slid the phone back into his pocket, leaning back in his seat. The case ahead loomed large in his mind, but for the first time in a while, there was something waiting for him on the other side of it. And for now, that was enough.

The case continued far too long, but Hotch finally stepped off the BAU jet just as the first rays of morning light broke over the tarmac. The case had been grueling—long nights, dead ends, and the weight of too many lives disrupted. But they’d managed to close it, and now all he could think about was the coffee date waiting for him.

The team moved silently, exhaustion etched into their faces as they grabbed their bags and headed for the SUVs waiting nearby. Emily caught his eye as they walked toward the cars.

“Plans for the morning, Hotch?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Just coffee,” he replied simply, his tone giving nothing away.

Emily’s brow quirked, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. She knew it wasn’t like Hotch to not go settle back into the constraints of his desk, post-case. She had hoped he’d taken her advice when it came to you.

“Coffee, huh? Well, enjoy.”

Hotch gave her a faint smirk in response but said nothing more. He loaded his bag into the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat of his SUV, his mind already shifting to you.

He hadn’t told you the details of the case, of course, but he’d sent you a text two nights ago letting you know he’d be back this morning and suggesting the café.

He arrived at the café with minutes to spare, parking his SUV and grabbing a quick look in the rearview mirror. He looked tired—there was no denying that—but he decided against going home to change first. Something about coming straight here felt more honest, like he wasn’t trying to put on a front. Besides, he doubted you’d mind.

When he stepped inside the café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around him, chasing away some of the lingering fatigue. He chose a table near the back, where the noise of the bustling morning crowd was muted. As he sat down, he checked his phone, confirming the time.

You’d be here any minute.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself anticipating something outside of work. And as he waited, he allowed himself the smallest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something he hadn’t dared to imagine for years.

The sun cast a warm glow over the café, soft light filtering through the wide windows. Hotch had chosen a quiet table near the back, away from the bustling chatter of patrons. He arrived a little early, a habit born of years of precision and punctuality, and ordered a simple black coffee while he waited.

His gaze drifted toward the door as he wondered what to say to you. He’d thought about this meeting—about you—more than he cared to admit during the case. And now, with the moment so close, he wasn’t sure how to navigate the emotions that came with it.

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, and there you were, stepping inside with an easy smile. You spotted him quickly and made your way over, looking effortlessly put together in a way that still felt warm and approachable.

“Hi,” you said, your smile widening as you reached the table.

“Hi,” Hotch replied, standing instinctively to greet you.

You set your bag down, glancing at his coffee. “Already ahead of me, I see. What’s your drink of choice?”

“Just black,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Classic,” you said approvingly. “Let me grab something, and I’ll be right back.”

As you stepped away to order, Hotch took a steadying breath. It was strange how easily you disarmed him with just your presence. When you returned with a latte, he stood again, waiting until you were seated before sitting himself.

“So,” you began, wrapping your hands around your cup. “How was the case?”

“Challenging,” he admitted. “But we managed to resolve it.”

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. “I imagine they’re all challenging in their own ways. I don’t know how you do it.”

He gave a small shrug. “It’s what I’m trained for. Though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t take its toll.”

“I can imagine,” you said softly. “It’s why I was surprised you even had the energy to come to my party last week.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “It was a good distraction. I’m glad I went.”

Your smile softened. “I’m glad you did too.”

For a moment, the two of you sipped your drinks in companionable silence. The warm atmosphere of the café seemed to cocoon you from the outside world, giving Hotch a rare sense of ease. But the weight of unspoken words pressed against him, and he knew he couldn’t leave without saying something.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

You looked up, your brows lifting slightly in surprise. “Oh?”

“More than I probably should,” he admitted, his dark eyes meeting yours. “I try not to let my personal life interfere with my work—or vice versa—but…you’ve been on my mind.”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you seemed at a loss for words. “Aaron…”

“I’m not saying this lightly,” he continued, his tone careful but sincere. “I don’t know where this is going or what it means, but I do know that I enjoy spending time with you. More than I expected to.”

A smile slowly spread across your face, warm and genuine. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

That admission caught him off guard, though he didn’t let it show. He felt a quiet relief, a sense of validation for the risk he’d taken in being honest.

“Well,” you said, leaning slightly forward, your tone playful yet soft. “I guess that makes two of us who aren’t sure where this is going. But I think I’d like to find out.”

Hotch’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “So would I.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the conversation flowing easily as it always seemed to. For the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to consider the possibility of something more—and for once, he wasn’t afraid of what that might mean.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #reader insert #aaron hotch hotchner #hotchner #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #kiwriteswords #criminal minds imagine

558 notes · View notes

thatboisus · 2 months ago

Text

reading a good ass fanfic up until it said something that just makes you want to stop reading

14K notes · View notes

thewulf · 8 months ago

Text

Bulletproof Bonds || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Maybe a husband!Aaron x Long Time BAU!wife and how there’s a new member to the BAU and she keeps trying to flirt with Aaron but he keeps turning her down🥲 but the new member doesn’t know that Aaron and reader are married, and new member just thinks of reader as competition to get with Aaron, eventually leading to reader getting really mad cause new member does something really stupid on a case that leads to reader almost getting seriously injured??... Read Rest Here

A/N: Really loved writing this one. Hope you all enjoy! Thank you for the request @viscade !

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: Yelling, gunshot (non wounded)

In the bustling chaos of the BAU bullpen, Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sifted through the multitude of case files scattered before him. A usual sight for the unit chief. The harsh fluorescent lights cast stark shadows across his features, accentuating the lines of exhaustion etched into his face by years of chasing monsters in the dark.

You sat by his side, a silent sentinel amidst the whirlwind of activity. Your own workspace dedicated beside him cluttered with documents and crime scene photos. The faint aroma of stale coffee hung in the air as you both delved into the intricate web of clues left behind by the latest serial killer to plague the streets. It was always so easy with him, your husband. The way the two of you were able to bounce ideas off each other was like none seen before.

The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on everyone present as they grappled with the enormity of the task at hand. Each unsolved case seemed to loom over them like a specter, a constant reminder of the lives lost and the justice yet to be served. Amidst all the usual chaos, Agent Sarah Miller made her presence known. Her arrival heralded by the soft click of her heels against the linoleum floor. She moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, her youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the world-weary countenances of her colleagues. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Sarah's eyes lingered on Aaron as she sauntered past his open aired desk, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She was young, ambitious, and hungry for success. Her gaze fixed on the formidable figure of the BAU's leader like a moth drawn to a flame.

Despite Aaron's cold indifference, she persisted in her attempts at flirtation, undeterred by his lack of response. Her tactics were shamelessly transparent, her words dripping with false sweetness as she sought to capture his attention. Agent Sarah Miller yet again walked past Aaron's desk, her gaze lingering on him for a moment too long before she turned her attention to you. There was a subtle flicker of annoyance in her eyes as she took in your presence, her lips curling into a barely concealed sneer.

"Hey, Hotch," she purred, leaning against the edge of his desk with practiced ease. "You must be tired of staring at all those files. Why don't you take a break and grab a coffee with me?" Her eyes kept looking back to you in brief flashes to gauge your reaction. You decided early on after her brazen attempts that you would give her none. A layer of disgust masked on top of the doe eyes she was attempting to give your husband was meant for you. She was very forward, you had to give her that one.

Aaron's response was polite but firm, his tone devoid of any warmth. "I'm sorry, Agent Miller, but I have work to do," he replied, his eyes never leaving the papers in front of him.

Undeterred, Sarah flashed him a flirtatious smile, her gaze lingering on him expectantly. "Maybe some other time, then," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness before she finally strolled away.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her blatant display of interest, the subtle scoff escaping your lips as you returned your focus to the files sprawled across your desk. "Some profiler she is," you muttered under your breath, the sarcasm dripping from your words like venom. It was a small act of defiance, a way to vent the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as you watched Sarah's failed attempts at seduction.

Your comment earned a small smirk from Aaron, his lips quirking up in amusement as he glanced up from his work. His eyes met yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you, a shared understanding of the absurdity of the situation. In that fleeting moment, you found solace in the unspoken reassurance that he was not blind to Sarah's antics, nor was he unaffected by them.

As the tension in the room continued to get heavier, you exchanged a knowing glance with Aaron, the unspoken bond between you speaking volumes. It was a silent reminder of the unbreakable connection that bound you together, a tether grounding you amidst the disarray swirling around you. In that moment, you drew strength from the knowledge that no amount of flirtation from the new agent could ever hope to rival the deep-seated love and loyalty that defined your marriage.

But beneath the surface, resentment simmered, fueled by the blatant disrespect for the boundaries of your marriage. Each lingering glance, each flirtatious comment served as a reminder of the fragile line Sarah was treading, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the calm facade. Yet, as frustrating as her antics were, you knew that the true test of your marriage lay not in her misguided advances but in the unwavering trust and devotion you shared with Aaron. A bond that would withstand any challenge thrown your way.

You had to give the girl credit. She certainly didn’t stop. It was not even an hour later that the girl came crawling right back to him. In the dimly lit bullpen of the BAU, the seasoned agents huddled together, their eyes darting furtively around the room as they exchanged knowing glances. Reid, Garcia, Morgan, and Prentiss stood in a tight circle. Their voices hushed as they leaned in conspiratorially.

"So, who's going to crack first?" Garcia whispered, her eyes sparkling mischievously behind her glasses.

Prentiss smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "My money's on Y/N. She's got that poker face down pat."

Reid nodded in agreement, adjusting his glasses. "And she's got a wicked sense of humor. I don't think she's sweating it."

Just then, Morgan, ever the observant one, interjected with a grin. "You know what, I'm with both of you on this one. Y/N's handling this like a pro. She's probably just waiting for the perfect moment to drop a witty comeback."

The others turned to look at you, noticing your bemused expression as you observed the scene unfolding with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. The new agent, eager to impress, leaned in a little too close to Hotch, her voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. "So, Hotch, any plans for dinner tonight?"

Hotch glanced up from his paperwork, his expression remaining impassive. "Just finishing up some reports, Agent. Nothing planned."

Undeterred, the new agent persisted, fluttering her eyelashes coyly. "Well, if you change your mind, I know this great Italian place down the street."

Hotch merely nodded, returning his attention to the file in front of him. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Agent."

Behind his back, the BAU members couldn't contain their laughter, stifling their giggles as they watched the new agent's attempts fall flat. It was clear that Hotch was immune to her charms, his focus unwavering even in the face of relentless flirting.

As Sarah retreated, finally somewhat defeated, the BAU members exchanged triumphant looks, their silent bet settled. Hotch may have been unflappable in the field, but when it came to dodging unwanted advances, he was truly a master of his craft. And you, well, you were just enjoying the show, your amused smile barely masking your annoyance as you watched the scene unfold.

The breaking point came during a particularly intense case, where the unsub's erratic behavior had everyone on edge. You felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors of an abandoned warehouse, every nerve on high alert.

In the heat of the pursuit, Sarah's impulsive decision shattered the fragile equilibrium you had struggled to maintain with your team. Ignoring protocol and disregarding the safety of the team, she charged ahead recklessly, her actions sending shockwaves rippling through your ranks. Bullets flew past you like angry hornets, the deafening roar of gunfire echoing off the walls as chaos descended upon you.

It happened in the blink of an eye, a split-second decision with far-reaching consequences. A bullet sliced through the air like a deadly whisper, its trajectory aimed straight for your chest. But thanks to the protective barrier of your bulletproof vest, the impact was nothing more than a forceful shove, the fabric absorbing the blow with a sickening thud. The impact knocked the wind out of you, pain searing through your body as you stumbled backward, clutching your chest.

As the adrenaline faded and the reality of what could have been sunk in, fury ignited like a wildfire within you. You rounded on Sarah, your voice a crescendo of anger as you unleashed the pent-up frustration that had been building for weeks. Each word was a dagger aimed straight at her heart. Your tone laced with a venomous ferocity that mirrored the intensity of the emotions raging within you.

Coughing up blood, your vision blurred as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Anger surged through you like a tidal wave, drowning out the pain as you staggered to your feet. With a primal roar, you lunged at Sarah, grabbing her by the collar with a strength born of desperation.

"What the fuck was that?" you yelled, louder than you ever had before. And certainly not in front of the team. Your voice raw with fury. Each word was a thunderclap, reverberating through the warehouse like a warning shot. "You could have killed me! Or them! Do you even realize what you've done?"

But Sarah's response was a defiant sneer, her gaze unwavering in the face of your righteous indignation. "I did what needed to be done," she spat, her voice laced with arrogance. "I'm not afraid to take risks to get the job done."

The words were like a slap to the face, a cruel reminder of the recklessness that had nearly cost you everything. With all your rage, you shoved her away, your hands trembling with anger as you struggled to contain the tempest raging within you.

"You're a liability," you growled, your voice a low, dangerous whisper. "And if you ever put my life, their lives,” You pointed to Spencer and Emily behind you, “in danger again, I won't hesitate to take you down myself."

As you stood there, trembling with fury and pain, the rest of the team made their way over. You still hasn’t seen Aaron yet but the rest of them looked on in shock and disbelief. Derek surged forward, his strong arms wrapping around you as he pulled you back from the confrontation. "Easy there Y/N," he said, his voice low and soothing as he tried to calm the storm raging within you. "Cool off."

Emily and JJ exchanged worried glances. Finally, Aaron found you after too many moments of losing it in front of everyone. His eyes widened in alarm as he took in the sight of blood staining your lips, his heart clenching with fear at the sight. "What happened?" he demanded. His usually calm voice was laced with urgency as he reached out to gently touch your arm. His fingers trembled against your skin, his touch a comforting anchor in the swirling chaos of the moment.

Still reeling from the confrontation and the shock of narrowly escaping serious injury, Spencer stepped forward, his voice calm but tinged with urgency. "Aaron, Sarah made a nearly fatal mistake," he said, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "Her impulsive actions endangered everyone on the team, especially Y/N." You were thankful he was willing to step in because you weren’t quite sure if you had the right words.

Aaron's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury as he turned his gaze on Sarah. The air around him crackled with palpable anger, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Is this true?" he demanded, his voice cold and steely as he pinned her with a hard stare.

Sarah shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny, her bravado faltering in the face of his unwavering gaze. "I...I was just trying to apprehend the unsub," she stammered, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

But Aaron's patience had worn thin, his temper flaring like a raging inferno. "You made a reckless decision that put the entire team at risk," he snapped, his voice echoing off the walls of the warehouse. "Until you can prove that you're capable of following protocol and putting the safety of your teammates above all else, you will not be back in the field."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of her actions. Sarah's expression fell, her defiance crumbling under the weight of his judgment. It was a harsh lesson, but one that she would need to learn if she ever hoped to earn back the trust of her colleagues and prove herself worthy of wearing the badge.

As Aaron turned away, his attention returning to you with a renewed sense of protectiveness, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the unwavering support of your team leader and husband. But as you tried to catch your breath, a sudden coughing fit wracked your body, drawing Aaron's attention back to you. Concern flashed across his features, his eyes narrowing with worry as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to steady you.

"Hey sweetheart," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear as he brushed a strand of hair away from your forehead. "Let's get you checked out, alright?"

You attempted to speak, but the coughing fit continued, leaving you gasping for air. So, you shook your head in protest. You were fine and you knew it, but the damn bullet hit you right in the lung leaving you gasping for air. Aaron's worry deepened, his brow furrowing with concern as he knelt down beside you, his hands hovering anxiously over your shoulders.

"Honey, just breathe," he urged, his voice filled with tenderness as he placed a comforting hand on your back. "We'll get you to the hospital, and they'll take care of you. I promise." It wasn’t usual that he dropped those sweet terms of endearment to you in front of the team, but he couldn’t really care. Not when he could’ve lost you.

Despite your protests, Aaron's determination remained steadfast. With gentle insistence, he scooped you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest with a strength born of love and concern. "You're going to the hospital," he declared, his voice unwavering as he carried you towards his SUV. “I’m not taking no for an answer sweetheart."

As Aaron settled into the driver's seat beside you, his eyes flickered with concern as he stole glances, his hand reaching out to brush against yours in a silent gesture of reassurance. But despite his unwavering determination to get you to the hospital, you couldn't help but feel a stubborn sense of resistance bubbling within you.

"I'm fine, Aaron," you insisted, your tone tinged with frustration as you crossed your arms over your chest. "This is incredibly dramatic. You’ve been hit in your gear too."

Aaron's expression softened at your words, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Maybe I am," he admitted with a chuckle. "I also know what it feels like honey. I’d rather be safe than sorry."

You shot him a playful glare, unable to suppress the teasing smile that danced on your lips. He cared for you, truly. Every inch of himself loved you more deeply than even you could have fathomed. You also knew that love bore stubbornness and there was no talking him out of what he knew he had to do. You were just along for the ride now. "You just can't resist playing the hero, can you?" You spoke up after a moment of silence between the two of you.

Aaron chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he glanced over at you. "Guilty as charged," he replied. "Always remind me never to get on your bad side," Aaron quipped, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips as he attempted to alleviate the tension that hung heavy in the air.

You managed a weak laugh trying your hardest to hide the pain radiating from your chest. However, so grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were about to take matters into your own hands back there," he teased gently, his voice laced with affection.

The image of you, ready to throw down with the new agent, brought a genuine laugh bubbling up from deep within you this time. "Well, she did have it coming," you admitted with a mischievous grin. "But I guess I'll let you handle the heroics this time."

As the laughter subsided, Aaron's expression turned more serious, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry things got so heated," he said softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I should have stepped in sooner. I thought she was harmless. Dealt with her type so many times before." He sighed, running a hand through his hair before finding your hand and lacing his fingers within yours.

You squeezed his hand, a warm smile spreading across your face. "It’s not your fault you’re such a silver fox," Tossing him a wink you couldn’t help but to tease him right on back. It’s how you knew everything was going to be just fine. The two of you had dealt with so much worse and come out even stronger, this would be nothing but a minor blip on your journey together.

Aaron laughed at your playful comment, a warmth spreading in his chest at your familiar banter. "Ah, so you're saying my charm is both a blessing and a curse," he retorted with a grin, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You nodded, a fond smile playing on your lips. "Something like that," you agreed, feeling a surge of gratitude for the ease with which you could navigate even the toughest moments with Aaron by your side.

As the car glided through the streets towards the hospital, a comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the engine. Despite the events that had unfolded, you found solace in the quiet intimacy of the moment, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. With each passing mile, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of reassurance that only Aaron could provide. His unwavering love and support was everything you needed. He guided you through the darkness, illuminating the path forward with hope and determination.

As you arrived at the hospital and Aaron helped you out of the car, you knew that this was just another chapter in your life together. You couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the man beside you, your literal partner in crime, your rock, your everything. Together, you were truly unstoppable.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

Request Taglist: @michasia24 @alicexvrose @samsgoddess @octoavia @agustdpeach @nescavaneck @casualpruneranchfire @sebastiansstanswhore @kaysolai @samron15 @lillianacristina @ryswritingrecord @bitterest-taste

2K notes · View notes

mydear-corinthian · 2 months ago

Text

30,000ft. above sea level

summary - you and your boss does something not that common for you guys to do 30,000 feet above sea level

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: SMUT +18, oral sex (m!receiving), semi-public sex, dirty talk, mentions of p in v sex, humping, mentions of cases, typical criminal minds talk

notes: DAY 1 of KINKTOBER, divider by i08cymm

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

The team gathered together on the jet. Hotch was passing out the files while Spencer turned on the small laptop in front of him to contact Penelope.

The case wasn't that rough on their stomach. There were two missing girls— both of them were best friends. Both was abducted 3 days, after their dance practice. As soon as team received the file, they quickly scanned and then shared their thoughts with the group.

It was only a short discussion since their technical analyst already has the name of the unsub and the suspected area where the girls were held. All of the team decided to do their own business. Reid read a book that he brought, Prentiss and Morgan were chatting about women, while Rossi and J.J chatted about J.J's son—Henry.

The team sees you and Hotch as the parents of the team. Hotch was strict, straightforward and silent like a father; you were sweet, kind, and cares for the team like a mother. What the team doesn't know is that you and Aaron are dating for a couple months now. There were times where you enter his office and have a little make-out session in there. The team doesn't suspect anything since you know, you both are parental figures— and thank God for that. They probably think that the both of you were discussing case files or help Hotch about his paperwork during those times.

And now, you felt that mood in you again.

The two of you haven't done it on the jet yet so it might sound like new to you and him. You gently stood up to your seat and excused yourself, leaving the team and went to the other side of the jet where Hotch was. You closed the curtains that was dividing the plane.

"Mama and Papa bear are talking about paperworks again. Can't they have a life?" Morgan commented, seeing you going to Hotch and slid the curtains.

"Well, work is always on their minds." Prentiss replied.

As you entered the area where Hotch was, he was sitting down, his back facing you, paper works were all over the table. It wasn't just any paperwork nor file, it's paperwork regarding the team's behavior. You find it funny when he does that since you know how silly the team member gets.

"Hey, what's up?" you walked towards him, getting his attention as he looked at you and smiled.

"Just the behavior paperwork." Hotch answered before his eyes went back to the file and answered.

"The team can get reckless sometimes." You laughed at his statement. You sat on the chair in front of him, crossing your legs. You observed him deeply. He wasn't that stressed nor tensed but you can see how his long sleeved white shirt was getting tighter and his muscles are getting visible which is making you feel something.

That feeling increased when you looked at his face. He was focused, his eyes fall in every word he writes. Jesus— he looked so fucking hot.

"Are you doing my behavioral report?" you asked as he grabbed a new file and opened it. You saw your 2 by 2 I.D card that was clipped on the pages of the file.

"Yes. I've done the others."

"Tell me about them— their report."

He scoffed at your request. Hotch grabbed the previous files and read each report to you. "Garcia hacked 3 private servers. Morgan kicked another door during our cases even though the door was unlocked. Reid academically insulted the local P.D during our previous case. And Rossi insulted another police.." Every word he said, it wasn't coherent to you but that didn't matter.

All your attention was to him. His eyes. His face. His arms. His fingers. And his... you know where. You felt that feeling rise up again. You felt like you need his touch— which you really do. You feel like the seat was stained with how wet you were right now.

"Are you okay? Are you listening to me?" Aaron asked.

The vulgar thoughts suddenly disappeared in your mind. "Y-Yes, I'm okay. And I'm listening to you."

"You're sweating. Your breath is rigid. Something is up." he didn't buy your answer. You stood up from your seat, you pushed the table away to the aisle and sat on Aaron's lap. He was surprised but he saw it coming. Your wet lips finally met his. He returned the kiss deeply, allowing the both of you to taste each other.

It's been awhile since the both of you had sex. Cases were always here and there. You even never had the time to sleep due to how busy the team was with these harsh cases.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "We've never done it on a plane.. or miles above sea level.."

"Please, Aaron— I just really badly need you." you begged as you began to rock your heated core with his thighs, riding him.

The both of you were still fully clothed but Aaron can definitely feel how wet you were. You humped on his thigh, finding a friction on his pants; and when you did, you gripped his shoulders for support and moaned softly, your head resting on his neck.

"What if we get caught?" Aaron asked, holding your hips for support.

"They won't. Fuck— you feel so good." you moaned.

His fingers found your clothed breast. It was hard and can be seen through your thin grey shirt and he was drooling about it. Aaron began to toy with your hardened nipple, making you moan out loud. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling out your moans.

As your pace went faster, your orgasm did too. You felt a coil in your stomach and clenched on his pants.

"Come for me, honey. That's it— you're doing such a great job." he praised in your ear.

After a few more rocks, you finally came in your underwear. It didn't stain his pants but it was crumpled.

"Since you're gonna do my report... then I'll show you what a bad behavior is."

You jumped out from his thigh and kneeled. Your fingers started to unzip his pants and pulled it down. Hotch was definitely hard. Then, you removed his black boxers, allowing his hardened cock to sprung out. There was a small leak of precum on his tip. Your fingers started to toy with his tip, brushing it in a teasingly way. Aaron closed his eyes at the pleasure, his back arched slightly. Your palms begin to pump on his whole length slowly.

Aaron was desperate.

Desperate for your touch.

Desperate for your mouth.

Desperate for you to take him whole.

"(Y/n).." he moaned softly.

A smiled carved your lips as you heard him moan your name. It was your favorite music. Your favorite note. Your favorite melody. Your palms pumped his dick faster and faster. He whined and whimpered. His head moved back with his eyes completely shut. In a surprise, your mouth fully took his cock, the tip hitting at the back of your throat. You gagged at first but you got comfortable after a few seconds; you started to bob your head, your tongue licking on his dick inside. Aaron's cock hit your cheeks, the soft and warm feeling made him even more harder.

"God—so warm.. Just like that, yes.." Aaron took a fistful of your hair and guided your speed. He was big, thick, and veiny. You looked at him with innocent eyes but a lustful mouth. You gripped his thighs for support as you continued bobbing your head.Your pace quickened and you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth.

He's close.

"Are you going to swallow it all, honey?" You nodded in response as he thrusted his hips, fucking your mouth over and over again.

"Swallow it all, honey. You're doing such a great job."

After a few more thrust and bobbing, he finally came. White, warm, and creamy liquid spurted out on his dick inside your mouth. You licked his dick from top to bottom clean, making sure you get to taste and swallow every single cum he has.

You stood up and Aaron put his boxers back on and buckled his pants. The both of you were out of breath.

"I'll list that. Not on the file but on my journal." Aaron commented.

"You know, Aaron, we still have 30 minutes 'till landing. Maybe you can pay me back, huh?" you said, grabbing his tie seductively and whispered on his ear.

Little did the both of you know, all the team members were now awake.

And they heard every single noise that came out from the both of you.

#x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #thomas gibson #kinktober

541 notes · View notes

venusbyline · 17 days ago

Text

Birthday ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 19, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x sex worker!reader x Derek Morgan x Aaron Hotchner

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: foursome FMMM

— summary: Morgan hires a prostitute to her finally take his best friend's virginity.

— word count: 1.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 19th day, female!reader, virgin!Reid, shy!Reid, foursome (female/male/male/male), oral (male receiving), loss of virginity, praise kink, cowgirl position, handjob (male giving), Moreid, age gap (older men/older woman/younger man), birthday present, prostitution, drunk sex, rough kissing, orgy, corruption kink, implied/referenced cheating, infidelity, light overstimulation, breast worship, butt worship, nipple play, minor Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner, bisexual(?)!Reid, bisexual!Morgan, married!Hotch, Lila Archer Mentioned, minor Spencer Reid x Lila Archer, ambiguous/open ending, curse words, sub!Reid, dom!Morgan, dom!Hotch, switch!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"You're gonna love your birthday present, Pretty Boy."

That's what Morgan said to Spencer after his birthday party. He was finally becoming more of an adult, gaining more respect from the team. Everything was going perfectly. Now, Spencer Reid was no longer just a shy and genius little boy, he was also proving to be a man worthy of working in the BAU, not just because of his extremely intelligent brain.

Reid was not as shy as before, he was slowly loosening up. His germophobia was also getting better and better. Everything was going well. He was maturing.

However, he still had his virginity intact.

The entire BAU was surprised when Spencer accidentally confessed about his lack of sexual experience during his birthday party. It was a shock to everyone, even though it was so obvious. The team thought he would have at least one experience or another for the roster, but the fact that he entered college as a teenager had ruined everything. Even though he was handsome as hell now, Spencer was a complex person whose brain worked too fast for anyone to even try to fully understand, no girl never had much patience to flirt with him for more than a few days, and his excessive shyness did not do much for his situation. The few kisses he had already exchanged with some girls had never gone further. The only time he felt tempted to continue had been with Lila Archer, which did not happen.

Spencer did not plan on telling anyone about his virginity. It was a shameful matter that he would rather keep secret forever. If it were not for the alcohol consumed during the night, he might never have confessed. None of his friends would know about this part of his life. If it were not for the whiskey, he would probably remain a virgin forever.

"F-Fuck. I can't..." Reid whimpered like a pathetic little boy as he squirmed in his seat, clenching his hands into fists and arching his head back, eyes closed and lips pink and already swollen from biting them. "Her mouth is so good..."

Morgan laughed at the sight of his best friend becoming a noisy mess every time you on your knees in front of him masterfully sucked on the tip of his cock. The boy's moans echoed in the room and went straight to Morgan's cock.

"How do you feel?" Morgan asked Reid, stroking his friend's brown hair as he finally opened his eyes, biting his lip again and trying to give a concentrated answer, but it went from tearful moans, which caused a chuckle from both Morgan and Hotch, who was just watching the scene. "You should try to have fun with us."

"Men aren't my thing, much less the kid one there." Hotch grumbled and Spencer pouted his lips sadly, giving his boss his puppy eyes.

It was Morgan's turn to roll his eyes, pulling Spencer's hair back a little to lick his neck, his teeth nibbling on the soft, vulnerable skin, causing Spencer to start to lift his hips desperately with his cock inside your mouth, in a desperate attempt to reach orgasm faster. "See, sweetheart? You're doing amazing."

Morgan used his free hand to stroke your hair, your eyes shining at him in confirmation, before you turned to Spencer, letting go of his cock when you noticed he was going to cum any moment ago. The big sad eyes on Reid's face caused laughter between you and the other two agents.

"Relax, kid. If you cum inside her mouth now, you won't be able to fuck her tight pussy anytime soon." It was Hotch who muttered a little grumpily, trying to hide the slightly sadistic smirk when he saw the tears of despair running down the genius' face.

Morgan gestured for you to stand up, your body covered by only a white lace panties that seemed to be tucked into your ass, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Hotch and Morgan bit their lips, while Spencer whimpered, trying to squirm in the seat so he could touch you. He had never touched a woman's breasts or ass before.

Hotch scoffed when he saw the pleading in Spencer's face. "Looks like someone is very eager."

Morgan followed Hotch's gaze, diverting his attention from your ass for a while so he could watch the younger boy's despair, enjoying it. "I guess you should stop his suffering for a bit. His brain is gonna break if you don't let him fuck you soon."

Morgan's suggestion made you laugh. "Virgins..." You rolled your eyes playfully, but it caused a sad pout from Reid, too confused and desperate to understand that it was nothing more than a teasing. As soon as you took off the lace fabric and threw it to Hotch, you heard him growl. He did not like prostitutes and had been completely against hiring one for Spencer to lose his virginity. But Morgan had convinced him. At first, he had said he would just watch, but the moment you wrapped the condom around Spencer's cock and gently fitted it in, his mind went into a frenzy.

That was one of the hottest scenes Hotch had ever seen. The youngest of the team crying with so much pleasure after having his cock stuck in a wet pussy for the first time. Your ass shaking every time you bounced on him, your own hands cupping your breasts and staring into Spencer's submissive gaze, those beautiful eyes filled with tears. The way Morgan grabbed Spencer by the neck, distracting him from watching your pretty breasts for a while, while now he felt his thin lips being crushed by Morgan's mouth with an aggressive kiss, his hand going down the older agent's pants by instinct.

Hotch had not liked that plan at all. He thought it was absurd. He did not like prostitutes. He did not like it when two BAU members got involved, even casually. This should all be disgusting and repulsive.

However, when Morgan and Spencer were still kissing, Morgan's bit heavy hand crushing your breast while Spencer's slender fingers played with your other nipple, it all became too much. Every moan that left your lips with the overstimulation caused by your breasts being used or by your wet pussy riding non-stop on Spencer's virgin cock. The whimpers that came out of Spencer at the new and incredible sensation, in addition to Morgan's intense kisses. The growls that Morgan let out while Spencer hangjob him with an inexperienced and almost stupid way, which made everything even more perfect.

Hotch should hate this and go away, go back to his wife and pretend he did not see any of it. The problem was, he knew that would be impossible. He wanted to continue, he wanted to feel everything too. Feeling his sex life a little more interesting in all the chaos that was his career and his marriage.

"I'm serious. I really don't like guys." Hotch warned again with an uncomfortable face, almost as uncomfortable as the tightness in his pants. You, Morgan, and even Spencer shared a few soft chuckles when Hotch snorted and took off his tie, unbuttoning his white dress shirt and throwing it to the floor before grabbing you by the neck, kissing your skin while you continued to ride Spencer.

"So that won't be a problem, Sir. I'm not a guy, I'm just a whore. All of you three can use me however you want." You scoffed and Hotch huffed, nodding then and licking your earlobe, his hands moving your hips to encourage you to go faster on top of Reid.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

414 notes · View notes

hoe4hotchner · 1 month ago

Text

You left me behind, and now I see you everywhere | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!Reader | WC: 11.6k | CW: MDNI, 18+, emotional distress, heartbreak, angst, unresolved feelings, grief, heated argument, anger, smut, piv, wrap it before you tap it, it's office sex, heated kiss, dirty talk, kind of rough sex, general case talk, mention of mr. Scratch (if that's even a warning, maybe some of y'all have trauma ;))

Summary: After years apart, following Hotch’s departure into witness protection and his decision to run for Congress, you're forced to confront unresolved feelings when you meet again. Tension builds as you navigate your emotional fallout, leading to a passionate confrontation and a second chance at love.

A/N: Worldwide by Big time rush started playing from my playlist as I reached the last scene to edit…. I had to stop myself from crying cause that song fits so well for some reason.

Peter Lewis was dead. Mr. Scratch was finally gone. With him out of the picture, Aaron could come back. That had been your one glimmer of hope through all the sleepless nights and endless waiting — knowing that once Lewis was no longer a threat, the man you loved would return. No more running, no more hiding. Hotch and Jack would finally be safe.

You clung to that thought like a lifeline, repeating it to yourself over and over again: He can come back now. He’ll come back to me. He'll come home.

The rumors had reached your ears days before Rossi called the meeting. Hotch was out of witness protection. Finally free to do what he wanted, to reach out again. Your heart soared at the news, desperate for it to be true. You had tried to keep your emotions in check, to remind yourself that things weren’t that simple, that there were procedures he had to go through before he could come home. But still, the idea of him walking through those doors — or knocking on your door — returning to his place at the BAU, and — most importantly — returning to you, was the only thing that kept you from breaking completely during his absence. It was the only reason why you had been able to keep your composure.

Now, as you stood in the conference room, your arms wrapped tightly around your torso, you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The relief of knowing Peter Lewis was gone should have been enough. It should have been enough.

They'll be safe.

Rossi took his place at the front, his demeanor was serious, a subtle weight to his usually warm expression that you'd come to love over the years. You could see the effort it took for him to meet your eyes, his gaze softening as though he knew the words that would follow would shatter you. Rossi had become a rock to you over the past year, always there to have a heartfelt chat about your feelings, how you were doing, and the progress you'd made trying to move on. But in reality, you hadn't.

“I’ve spoken to Aaron,” Rossi said, his voice calm but laced with gravity. “He and Jack are safe. They’ve left witness protection.”

You exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and joy rushing through you. He’s safe. After everything, he was safe. That meant he would come back. He had to.

But then Rossi continued, his eyes flicking over the team, hesitant in a way that made your stomach twist. “Hotch won't be returning to the BAU.”

The world around you froze. His words echoed in your ears, but your mind rejected them, refusing to accept the truth they carried. He’s not coming back? It didn’t make sense. You couldn’t make sense of it.

"What do you mean he’s not coming back?"

The tears welled up before you could stop them. Your throat tightened, and you felt your heart shatter inside your chest. He wasn’t coming back. The man you loved — the man you had held onto, even when he left you behind — was choosing not to return, was choosing to stay away. The hope you had so carefully nurtured and held onto was ripped away in an instant, replaced by a cold, gnawing sense of abandonment. You felt the pit in your stomach, and you couldn't tell if you were going to throw up at the revelation.

It felt like someone had stabbed you with a knife.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared blankly ahead, your body betraying you as the sobs threatened to spill out. You blinked rapidly, trying to push them back, trying to ground yourself, but it was no use. How could he?

You had waited. You had been patient. You had loved him through all of it — through the secrecy in the beginning, through the ups and the downs, and now through the distance. You had held onto the belief that once the threat was over, he would come back to you. That you two could be whole again. That your soul finally would be reunited with its missing piece. But now, it seemed like everything you had hoped for, everything you had believed in, was gone.

Your hands shook as you tried to wipe the tears from your face, but they just kept coming. He’s not coming back. The realization pierced through your chest, sharp and unforgiving. It was like reliving the moment he left, only this time, there was no promise of a future. No promise of us.

You felt like a fool. You had been his, entirely, even when he hadn’t been yours. You had given him everything — your love, your trust, your loyalty. And now? Now he had left you with nothing but the weight of that betrayal.

Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The room around you faded into the background as your world crumbled at Rossi’s words.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t coming back. Not to the team. Not to you.

The silence in the room after Rossi’s announcement was deafening. You stood there, tears streaming down your face, completely oblivious to the concerned glances being exchanged around you. The tension in your chest was unbearable, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Emily was the first to notice, her brow furrowing as she took a step toward you. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice full of concern as she tilted her head with compassion. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words were stuck in your throat, buried under the crushing weight of your emotions. You shook your head, your lips trembling as you tried — and failed — to stop the tears. Truth be told, they weren't surprised by your reaction.

“Hey, come here,” JJ said gently, moving closer, her hand hovering just above your shoulder, wanting to pull you in for a hug. Her touch was warm and comforting, but it felt like too much. The kindness, the sympathy — it overwhelmed you, only reminded you of how deeply you’d been hurt.

You pulled away, a sudden, jerky movement that made JJ’s hand drop back to her side. The rejection was unintentional, but you couldn’t help it. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and all you wanted was to be left alone, to scream and cry.

“I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, though the crack in your voice betrayed you. You turned away from them, wiping furiously at your face, even though the tears wouldn’t stop.

I can’t break down here. Not in front of them.

Morgan stepped forward, his expression softening as he watched you struggle. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. We know how much he meant to you. We’re here for you,” he said, his voice low, it was sincere, but you weren't ready for that, weren't ready to admit that this was your new reality.

But that was the problem. They were all there, and you were unraveling in front of them, exposed and vulnerable. You didn’t want their comfort. You didn’t want their pity. What you wanted was Aaron. You wanted answers. You wanted an explanation for why he had chosen to leave you behind, why he wasn’t coming back. For why he never called.

Your heart twisted painfully at the thought. You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the weight of their eyes on you, all of them waiting, ready to offer support. But it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.

They weren't him.

You shook your head again, more forcefully this time. “I just—” Your voice cracked, the rest of the sentence dying on your tongue. “I need to go.”

Rossi, who had been quietly watching the exchange from across the room, stepped forward. His eyes were filled with understanding, but there was nothing he could say that would make this easier, there was nothing he could do that wouldn't make you hate him. “Take the day if you need to,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that usually offered comfort, though it barely registered through the numbness settling into your bones.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You nodded stiffly, walking into the bullpen to grab your things. Your hands shook, desperate to escape before you completely fell apart in front of everyone.

“Hey,” Emily called out, stepping out of the conference room, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t face them — not now, maybe not ever. You pushed through the door, your footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway as you fled the room, the concerned voices of your teammates fading behind you.

Your heart raced as you moved down the familiar corridors, each step feeling heavier than the last. The walls closed in, the pressure mounting in your chest until it became unbearable. By the time you reached the front doors, you could barely see through the tears, your vision blurred, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

Outside, the cool air hit your face, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. Grey clouds loomed over your head, threatening to spill the same tears that you so desperately tried to hold back.

You stopped as you reached the end of the parking lot, finally letting the sobs you had been holding back tear through you, the grief, the betrayal, all of it crashing over you in waves.

He’s not coming back.

The words repeated in your mind, over and over again, each time cutting deeper than the last.

You had never felt so abandoned, so completely lost. And the worst part was, you had no idea what to do next, no idea who to turn to. Because the only person you truly wanted to turn to was gone from your life.

The walk back to your apartment felt like a blur, the city passing by in a haze of noise and light. You barely registered the world around you — your mind was somewhere else entirely, trapped in the ache of Rossi’s words and the sharp sting of Hotch’s decision. He wasn’t coming back. The words haunted you.

That thought pulsed through your veins, making each step feel heavier than the last. By the time you reached your door, your hands were still trembling as you fumbled with the lock, desperate to get inside and just breathe.

But the second you stepped into your apartment, something felt off.

You paused just inside the doorway, your body instinctively tensing as a strange feeling washed over you. The air felt… different. Still. You took a cautious step forward, your eyes scanning the familiar space, searching for something — anything — that looked out of the ordinary, that might explain the knot forming in your stomach.

Then you saw it.

Sitting neatly on the dining table, in plain view, were your spare keys. Next to them was an envelope with your name on it, scrawled in a handwriting only a left-handed person could've written. You recognized it immediately.

Aaron’s.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stood there, frozen in time. Fear and confusion mixed with a sick sense of dread as you stared at the letter, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. How did he get in?

And how had he gotten out? The door had after all been locked.

Your heart pounded from your heart to your ears as you walked toward the table, the floor feeling unsteady beneath your feet. You hesitated for a long moment before picking up the envelope, the paper felt cold and rough between your fingers. The sight of his handwriting was almost too much to bear.

He had been here.

With shaking hands, you slid your finger through the envelope, carefully opening it and removing the letter as if it was the most delicate thing you had ever seen. Your eyes scanned the words, every stroke of the pen, every curve and twist was a painful reminder of the man who had once been yours.

The letter read:

𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢.

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔.

𝙸 𝚘𝚠𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝. 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕��𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝙰𝚄. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 — 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 — 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚢. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕.

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑. 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜, 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔’𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚖.

𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢. 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 — 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎.

𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗.

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

— 𝙰𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗

The letter slipped from your hands, fluttering to the floor as your legs gave out beneath you. The sobs came violently, tearing through you as you collapsed onto the floor of your living room.

This was it. This was the moment where everything you had been holding inside — every ounce of grief, every bit of hope that had clung to your heart over the past year — finally broke free. The pain you had shoved down for so long, the hurt you had tried so hard to hide, came rushing out all at once, too powerful to contain.

You pressed your hands to your face, the tears spilling uncontrollably as your chest heaved with sobs. He had been here. He had come back to your space, to your life, only to leave you with words that felt like daggers in your heart.

He could've waited for you to come home.

He had made his choice. He was leaving you behind. And he had done it with the same precision he used for everything — careful, calculated and always thinking ahead. You couldn’t fault him for wanting to protect Jack. You would've done the same if you had been in his shoes. But you could hate the way he had left you, hate him for making you feel discarded, like something in his life that could be put away, neatly, and forgotten about without a second thought.

You curled into yourself on the floor, hugging your legs, your body trembling as wave after wave of sorrow washed over you. This wasn’t just about him leaving the BAU. This was about him leaving you. About him cutting you out of his life completely, like you had never mattered at all.

The sobs racked through you, they were raw and unrelenting, as you lay there on the cold floor of your apartment, clutching at the emptiness inside you. You had been holding onto him for so long, for too long, and now he was gone — really gone. And you were left with nothing more than the bitter taste in your mouth and the sound of your own shattered heart echoing in the silence.

Six years had passed since Hotch had walked out of your life.

In that time, you had grown, changed — hardened, perhaps. You’d thrown yourself into your work, climbing the ranks within the BAU. The weight of your experience now rested comfortably on your shoulders. You were no longer the agent who had cried in Rossi’s office all those late nights, the agent who had stood frozen in the conference room all those years ago, devastated by the news of Hotch’s permanent departure.

Now, you were Emily's right hand, trusted to run the team when needed, especially when bureaucracy. Rossi had decided to stop back a bit, taking on fewer cases and focusing more on his writing as he attempted weaning himself away from the team, hoping that this time he truly would be able to retire.

Leading the team had come naturally to you, though some days, when the office was quiet and your mind wandered, you still felt the ache of his absence.

You sighed softly, rubbing the back of your neck as you closed your office door behind you. It was time for the next briefing, and you’d promised Emily you’d call everyone in. The case was urgent — a missing child, time was not on your side — but as you walked toward the conference room, your attention was pulled to the large TV mounted on the wall in the bullpen.

A voice you hadn’t heard in years rang out through the room, smooth and familiar, the same low timbre that had once soothed your heart. The voice that still echoed in your dreams on nights when sleep was particularly elusive.

Aaron.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes snapping to the television screen, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as his face filled the screen. You couldn't tell if it was anxiety or love perhaps, that raced through your veins, the only thing you knew was that you were feeling something. Something you hadn't felt in years.

There he was, standing at a podium, flanked by the American flag, a calm and authoritative presence as he spoke to a crowd. The caption running along the bottom read: Former FBI unit chief Aaron Hotchner Announces Candidacy for a spot in Congress.

Your breath hitched. He looked older. The lines on his face were more defined, his hair tinged with a little more gray, his face was shaven, somethings never change you thought — though you could sense the salt and pepper streaks that had started appearing within it. The years had marked him, but there was still an undeniable strength in his presence. A steady, unshakable resolve that had always been a part of who he was.

And yet, even now, after all this time, he still looked as good as the day you last saw him. Perhaps even more so, with that air of confidence that seemed to come so naturally to him. The sharpness in his gaze, the way he commanded a room — it was all still there, just as you remembered — even through a TV screen.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“…It is with great honor that I announce my candidacy for Congress,” Hotch’s voice continued, steady and firm. “My years of service in the FBI have prepared me to take on the challenges we face as a nation, and I believe it’s time to bring the values of justice and integrity to the forefront of our government. I believe it's time for a change.”

The camera zoomed in on his face, his expression was stoic yet passionate, every word calculated and purposeful. The sight of him brought back a rush of memories — late nights in the office, quiet moments where you’d lean on each other after a case, the warmth of his smile when it was just the two of you, away from the chaos, the comfort of his hugs, the soft and tender feeling of his lips — everything came back.

But those memories were ghosts now. Echoes of a time you had buried deep, right along with the pain of losing him.

A lump formed in your throat as you stood there, rooted in place, watching a man who had once been everything to you stand on that stage, now completely out of reach — yet so close by. He wasn’t the same man you knew all those years ago, you were sure of that. He wasn’t your Hotch anymore. He was something else entirely — a public figure, a leader stepping into the political arena, ready to take on a whole new world — perhaps he never really was yours to begin with.

Your fingers tightened around the folder in your hands, your knuckles turning white with sheer force, the weight of it grounding you as you forced yourself to breathe. You didn’t know what to feel. Shock, maybe. Sadness. Perhaps even a bit of pride, seeing him like this, doing something for the greater good. But mostly, there was a gnawing ache deep in your chest, a familiar one, reminding you of what could have been.

You blinked rapidly, tearing your gaze away from the screen as the room started to blur around you. Your heart was racing, but you couldn’t let yourself fall apart. Not here. Not now.

“Everything okay?” Luke asked, walking past you, his eyes flicking to the TV screen before landing back on you, concern etched on his face. He didn't know much about your relationship with Hotch, only the rumors that had flown between the desks in the bullpen as you'd drowned yourself in work trying to suffocate the pain.

You nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah,” you lied, your voice tight. “I’ll be right there. Just… finishing something up.”

Luke gave you a nod, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he headed toward the conference room, leaving you standing there, feeling like the air had been sucked out of the space around you.

You turned back to the screen, just in time to catch the last shot of Hotch stepping down from the podium, the applause from the crowd ringing out as the camera panned away.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he had ever thought about you during these last six years. If he had thought of calling you. If, somewhere in that busy mind of his, you had crossed his thoughts as he prepared to step into this new chapter of his life.

But it didn’t matter now. He had made his choice, and so had you.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and turned away from the screen, pushing down the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. There was a case to solve. There always was. And that was the only thing that mattered now.

“Alright, team,” you called out, walking towards the conference room, your voice steady once again. “Let’s get to work.”

You walked into the conference room, trying to shake off the lingering effects of seeing Hotch on the TV. The rest of the team was already seated as you made it inside, files in hand, waiting for you to start the briefing. Emily glanced at you, her eyes narrowing slightly, sensing something was off, but she didn’t press. She trusted you to compartmentalize when it mattered.

You inhaled deeply and projected the case details on the large screen at the front of the room. The image of a young boy's smiling face filled the space, the innocence in his eyes starkly contrasted by the grim reality of his disappearance and the details listed in the case files of similar incidents in the area.

“Alright, everyone,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Our missing person is Ethan Marshall, age 7. He was last seen outside of his school two days ago in a quiet suburb of Portland, Oregon. His parents reported him missing when he didn’t come home after his play date that same day with his best friend from class. There’s been no contact from a potential abductor. No ransom demands. The local authorities are stuck, and they’ve requested our help.”

JJ immediately sat forward, flipping through the case file. “Two days with no leads and no communication? We’re looking at someone who doesn’t need the attention. This could be personal, or we’re dealing with someone who’s done this before and knows what they're doing.”

Tara nodded thoughtfully, her gaze still fixed on Ethan’s photo. “The fact that there’s been no contact suggests they’re not after money. This might be about control, power, or even something darker, like revenge or even fantasy or sexually-driven motives.” You closed your eyes for a brief moment at the thought of what the unsub might put the young boy through. You had to find him, quickly.

You clicked through to the next slide — images of Ethan’s parents, Tim and Julia Marshall. “Ethan’s parents are a stable middle-class family with no criminal records. His mother works as a nurse, and his father is a local contractor. No major incidents or enemies we or they know of. However, Tim Marshall's company was sued about a year ago over a construction job that went south. It’s possible there could be a grudge tied to that.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “But to target a child? It’s a big escalation. If this is about the father’s job, we’d need to look into that lawsuit, but we also need to consider the possibility that the kid was the primary target from the start.”

Emily chimed in, her eyes sharp with focus. “Agreed. We should explore all angles — someone with a grudge against the family, a potential predator, or maybe even someone close to the family. It’s often someone they know.”

Spencer, who had been quietly flipping through his notes, spoke up. “The average age for a child abductor is in their mid-thirties to mid-forties, typically male, though that’s not always the case. Most of them have a history of deviant behavior or crimes against minors. If this is someone who’s taken Ethan to satisfy a fantasy, we might be looking at someone who has done this several times before and is getting better at hiding their tracks.”

Your gaze swept over the team, the weight of the case settling in the room. “We’ve got a few potential leads we need to investigate. JJ, I want you to work on the media angle — see if you can coordinate with local news to get a controlled message out, prepare the Marshalls for a conference. Luke, you and Tara will dig deeper into Tim Marshall’s lawsuit. See if there’s anything there we can work with. Spencer, I want you to start profiling any possible suspects within a fifty-mile radius who fit the age and behavioral profile of past offenders.”

The team nodded, already mentally gearing up for the work ahead. You could see the gears turning in their minds as they absorbed the information and pieced together possible profiles of the unsub.

Finally, you cleared your throat, pushing away the personal turmoil still brewing inside you. “Alright, everyone, we’ve got a missing boy out there, and time is against us. We’ll get more information as we land.”

You snapped the case file shut and looked up at your team, your voice firm. “Wheels up in 30.”

The team dispersed quickly, heading off to gather their gear and finalize last-minute preparations. You lingered behind for a moment, watching the case photos flicker on the screen. Your heart was still heavy from earlier, but you had a job to do. No distractions. No room for the past.

Focus, keep moving, you told yourself, even though the image of Hotch’s face still lingered in the back of your mind, you couldn't afford to spare him another thought.

The case had been wrapped up with surprising speed, and the flight back to Quantico was a welcome relief. You settled into your seat, the hum of the plane a calming reminder of the good you and the team had done today. You felt the exhaustion seep into your bones as the plane roared into the sky. The hum of the engines and the rhythmic sound of the wings provided a backdrop, but you couldn't shake the tumult of emotions swirling within you.

As you glanced around the cabin, you noticed that everyone else was fast asleep, the exhaustion from the long days evident on their faces. Emily’s head rested against JJ’s shoulder, and Spencer was curled up in his seat with a book laid open in his lap, the pages fluttering slightly with the plane’s movement. Luke, too, was snoring softly on the couch, a slight smile on his lips as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. They all looked so peaceful.

But your mind was far from peaceful.

You leaned back in your seat, your thoughts racing back to Hotch’s announcement. You had tried to compartmentalize your feelings during the case, focusing solely on finding Ethan. But now, with the rush of adrenaline faded and the quiet of the plane surrounding you, the weight of it all crashed back in.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice, pulling you from your thoughts. Rossi had moved to sit across from you, concern etched into his features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

Before you could filter your thoughts, the words slipped out. “Did you know?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he knew exactly what you were referring to. “Yes, he called me last week to let me know.”

Your heart raced at the revelation. “He called you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Your words came out as a hushed hiss. Rossi knew you hadn't meant it like that, but your frustration of how everything had panned out had never really gone away. He understood why you were feeling like you did.

Rossi leaned back in his seat, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he took in your features. “I didn’t want to upset you more than you already were. I thought you’d hear about it when he officially announced it. I thought maybe he'd even reach out himself” Rossi knew Hotch wouldn't reach out to you, even if his life depended on it. He was a proud man, and even if he had been willing to admit his wrongs, he was too scared to face you and realize just how big of a mistake this truly had been.

You ran a hand through your hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But why, Rossi? Why would he do this? He had a life with us — his life in the BAU, with Jack, with me. And now he’s just… gone.”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” he replied softly. “But running for Congress might be a way for him to contribute on a larger scale. He wants to help people, to make a difference, just like he did with us. This was a chance for him to step into a role where he could have an even bigger impact than what he had in the bureau. Who knows, maybe we'll see him around someday.”

You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill again. “But he didn’t even talk to me about it. It’s like he just vanished. I thought we had something, and then he just left. I felt so abandoned.”

Rossi’s expression turned serious. “You know how Hotch is. He’s always been someone who puts others before himself, even at the cost of his own happiness. I think he truly believes this is what’s best for Jack and for himself. It doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you. In fact, I know he cared deeply about you. It just means he’s trying to figure things out in his own way.”

“But what about me?” You whispered, your voice trembling. “I was left behind, and now I’m still here, trying to navigate everything without him.”

Rossi said your name, leaning forward, his eyes softening. It wasn't as much a reprimand, as it was him trying to stop your spiraling thoughts. You both knew it did you no good. Especially not if the rumors were true and Emily was in line for the open position of Section Chief. Both of you knew what that would mean for you. “He made a choice, yes, but it doesn’t erase what you two had. If anything, it highlights how much he valued that relationship. He wouldn’t have just walked away without thinking it through, even if it seems that way.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find your footing amidst the emotional turmoil. “I just don’t know how to deal with all of this. It feels so final, so absolute. I thought I was ready to move on, but seeing him on TV...”

Rossi reached across the table, his hand resting gently on yours. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be confused. But remember, you’re still part of this team, and we’re here for you, no matter what. You’re not alone in this. You never will be.”

You nodded slowly, his words providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos in your heart. “Thanks, Rossi. I appreciate it. I just wish things were different.”

He gave you an understanding smile. “So do I. But whatever happens next, we’ll face it together. And if you need to talk about Hotch, I’m here to listen. Just know that he still cares, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.” You knew he was right.

As you both fell into a comfortable silence, you felt a little weight lift from your chest. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers yet, but you had the support of your team. And that was a start.

Weeks drifted by like the clouds hanging in the sky, each day seemingly blending into the next. Hotch’s face became a fixture on the television, the cadence of his voice echoing in your mind like a haunting refrain. News reports came almost daily, showcasing him speaking passionately about his vision for change, the values he held dear, and the policies he aimed to implement if elected. The topics ranged from community safety to education reform, and while many praised his ideals, you found yourself seething each time his image flickered across the screen.

He still hadn't contacted you yet.

At first, you tried to engage with the reports, focusing on the substance of his speeches, realizing that despite everything he's policies aligned with your values too, but as each new broadcast emerged, anger simmered beneath the surface. It was infuriating to watch the man you loved stand there, poised and confident — visiting schools, nursery homes, community centers, and everything in between — while you were left with nothing but fragments of the life you had once envisioned together. He seemed so distant, a stranger now, embodying everything you once admired but now felt betrayed by.

Each time you heard his voice, the way he articulated his beliefs with the conviction that had once made your heart race, you locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day, drowning out the world with your frustration and sorrow. Your colleagues exchanged worried glances as you retreated, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. They didn’t know the depth of your pain, the feeling of abandonment that clawed at your insides. And you weren't ready for them to know.

On one particularly long evening, the office was silent, the usual buzz of activity having died down as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across your workspace. You sat alone at your desk, the glow of your computer screen the only light illuminating the room. Your heart felt heavy, the emotional burden weighing on you like a thick blanket.

As the clock ticked away, you absentmindedly pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photos. You found it — the last picture you had taken with Hotch and Jack. You hadn't meant to look for it, but something within you had drawn your mind to that particular folder with pictures you never quite had the strength to transfer out of your phone. In the picture, the three of you stood in the park, sunlight filtering through the trees, laughter frozen in time. Hotch’s arm was around you, a protective and loving gesture, while Jack beamed in front of you, holding his soccer ball in his hands, all youthful energy and innocence.

You stared at the image, the way Hotch’s eyes crinkled at the edges with genuine joy, contrasting sharply with the turmoil roiling in your chest. A single tear slid down your cheek, carving a path through the haze of anger and hurt.

“Jack,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the office. He must be close to 18 now. The thought struck you like a lightning bolt. Time had slipped by so swiftly, and you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of young man he had become. Had Hotch been there for him? Had he taken the time to show his son what love was? Did they share the same laughter you once did, or had the weight of their decisions overshadowed those moments?

You closed your eyes, allowing your mind to drift back to memories of Jack — the way his laughter filled the room, his playful spirit that lit up the darkest days. The action figures scattered all over your apartment. You remembered the way he would come running into your arms when you stayed over for the weekend, his small frame clinging to you like you were the safest place in the world. You had cherished those moments, and now they felt like distant echoes, fading into the background of your life.

The thought of him growing up without you, of Hotch and Jack creating a new life that you weren’t a part of, twisted in your gut. The anger that had bubbled beneath the surface surged forth again, but this time, it mingled with an overwhelming sense of grief and longing. You felt like a ghost haunting the edges of their lives, watching from afar as they moved on, while you were trapped in a limbo of unresolved feelings.

Taking a deep breath, you swiped the tear from your cheek and opened your eyes. You couldn’t stay like this. You couldn’t let him keep affecting you from a distance, even if it meant facing the truth of your feelings. You needed to regain control, to reclaim your narrative, whatever that might look like.

As you set the phone down, determination coursed through you. You would find a way to confront the anger and pain, to redefine your path without him. But the journey would be a challenge — one you weren’t entirely ready to take, yet knew you had to face.

With a heavy sigh, you stood, ready to leave the remnants of that day behind. You took one last look at the photo on your phone, whispering softly, “I hope you’re happy, Hotch. I really do.”

And with that, you stepped out of the office, leaving for the night, leaving the memories behind, but carrying them with you as you prepared for whatever came next.

A couple of days passed since that late night in your office, the echo of memories lingering like a haunting refrain. You had spent the time focusing on work, throwing yourself into cases, and helping your team. It was a temporary distraction, but every time you caught sight of a news segment featuring Hotch, you felt that familiar ache in your chest. Each broadcast, showcasing his polished demeanor and political aspirations, only stoked the embers of frustration and longing buried deep within you.

Then, one afternoon, as you sat at your desk, your phone buzzed with an incoming message from an unknown number. Your heart raced with curiosity and a hint of apprehension as you opened the text:

“Hey! It’s Jack..... I don't know if you remember me. I know this is a bit out of the blue, but I’d love to see you. We're back in Virginia again. I miss you and wanted to ask if you’d meet with me. Sorry if this is weird, but I hope you’re okay.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was Jack. After all these years, he was reaching out. The memories of his laughter and bright smile flooded back, bringing with them a rush of warmth and bittersweet nostalgia. Without a second thought, you quickly typed out your response.

“Hi, Jack! It’s great to hear from you. I’d love to meet. How about we catch up at the café near the Academy?”

You hit send and felt a wave of nervous excitement wash over you, followed closely by a rush of trepidation. What would he look like? Would he be the same boy you remembered, or had he transformed into someone else entirely different? The thought churned in your stomach as you anxiously awaited his reply.

The day of the meeting arrived, and as you approached the café, your heart raced with anticipation. The small establishment was bustling with life, the aroma of fresh coffee wafting through the air, mingling with the sweet scent of pastries. You stepped inside, scanning the room until your eyes landed on him.

Jack sat at a table in the corner, his back to you, and you felt a jolt of recognition. He had grown into a young man, tall and confident, with his hair still matching Haley's, his eyes brighter than ever. But it was the way he carried himself that struck you most — he exuded a maturity that seemed to echo Hotch’s stoic demeanor, yet there was a warmth about him that was uniquely his own. Jack was much more like his mother than he would ever realize.

As he turned to look at you, a broad smile broke across his face, and your heart swelled at the sight. He stood, and for a moment, it felt like time had collapsed, erasing the years that had separated you. You rushed forward, wrapping your arms around him, and he embraced you tightly, a mix of nostalgia and warmth flooding over you both.

“Jack,” you whispered, stepping back to get a better look at him. “You’ve grown up so much.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s what happens when you turn eighteen,” he replied, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable. You were surprised by how deep his voice had gotten, still recalling the sweet sounds of the 11-year-old boy who had gone into witness protection.

You both settled into your seats, and the initial rush of excitement settled into a comfortable rhythm as you sipped your coffees. “How have you been?” you asked, genuine curiosity etched in your voice.

Jack hesitated, his expression growing serious. “It’s been tough since… since everything that happened. After we left witness protection, it was just Dad and me. We moved a lot at first but eventually settled down in Chicago. Dad tried his best, but it wasn’t easy.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I can only imagine. How is he doing?”

Jack shrugged, glancing down at his cup. “He’s okay, I guess." He mumbled. "He doesn’t talk about you much, I don't think he can bring himself to let the memories resurface. But I can tell he misses you a lot. He still has all the pictures of us together. Sometimes, I catch him looking at them when he thinks I’m not paying attention.” His voice was thick with emotion, and you felt your heartache further.

Had Hotch been as miserable as you?

“I missed you both too,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But I don't know if I can bring myself to keep holding on to the past. Not as long as Hotch hasn’t reached out to me, I’m probably not going to contact him. At least not for my own well-being.” You sighed, knowing it was the right decision, but still beating yourself up for listening to your sensibility.

Jack’s gaze met yours, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I get it. I just wanted to see you after all this time. You were like a mother to me after Mom…” His voice trailed off, and the pain in his eyes mirrored your own. You wondered if Hotch had ever talked about Haley, talked about what had happened to his mother, if Jack had ever gotten any answers?

You reached out, placing your hand over his. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I wish I could have been there for you both. I loved you both so much.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing your hand. “And that’s why I wanted to meet. I just—” he paused, searching for the right words. “I needed to know if you were okay. It’s been a long time, and you were always there for me.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, a mixture of sorrow and relief washing over you. “I’ve missed you more than I can say. You were such a bright light in my life, Jack. It’s been hard without you both.”

The conversation flowed naturally, filled with shared memories and the weight of unspoken emotions. You listened as Jack talked about his life since Hotch had stepped into the world of politics — his own struggles, school, feeling like his friends didn't know the real him, the challenges of growing up without a mother, and the bond he still cherished with his father. It felt like they never left.

“I think Dad thought he was protecting me by not talking about you. But I needed to know about you, how you were doing. I needed to know you were okay.” He confessed, his eyes earnest. “He was always so focused on keeping me safe that he didn’t realize how much I missed you. How much he missed you.”

The warmth of Jack’s words wrapped around you, reassuring you that your bond hadn’t faded, even in the years apart. You shared stories, laughing softly at the memories of days long gone. The sun filtered through the café windows, casting a golden glow over the two of you, illuminating the path of healing you both needed.

As the café buzzed around you, it felt like a sanctuary, a safe space where the past and present intertwined, reminding you of the love that had once filled your life. This was a step forward, a chance to heal the wounds that had lingered for too long.

In that moment, sitting across from Jack, you realized that while the scars of the past might never fully fade, the possibility of rebuilding a future was within reach. Maybe not with Hotch, but potentially regain contact and a relationship with Jack.

“Let’s not let this much time pass before we see each other again,” you suggested, your heart lifting at the idea of keeping this connection alive.

“Definitely. You can count on it,” Jack promised, and as you both exchanged a smile, the weight of your shared history felt a little lighter, the hope for what was to come a little brighter.

The sun streamed through the windows of your office, casting a gentle glow on the stacks of case files and the photographs of the BAU team adorning your walls. You leaned back in your chair, still buzzing from your meeting with Jack, your heart lighter after the emotional reunion. The warmth of yesterday's trip to the café lingered in your mind, a comfort amidst the chaotic world of profiling and criminal behavior.

Just as you began to focus on the case at hand, there was a soft knock on your door. You looked up to see Emily stepping in, a slight frown creasing her forehead. She crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs in front of your desk.

“Hey,” she said, her tone catching your attention. “I just got off the phone with the Director. He wants the BAU to assist with a case involving a politician in Congress.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Congress, knowing potentially what that could mean, and you held your breath, bracing for the inevitable connection. “Do they have any details yet?”

Emily nodded, her eyes searching yours. “Not much. It seems there’s been some suspicious activity surrounding him, but the Director wanted us to prioritize this. I thought I should let you know, especially given the possibility of running into Hotch.”

You felt a pang in your chest at the mention of his name, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. “So, we’re not profiling Hotch, then?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady with a joke, masking the swirl of emotions rising within you.

“No, he’s not involved at all with this case actually,” Emily clarified, crossing her arms. “But with him being in the spotlight, there’s a chance we might see him around, especially if the investigation takes us to other parts of D.C. or if he’s involved in any press events while we're at Congress.”

You nodded, absorbing the information. “Right. I guess I should prepare myself for that possibility.” Your heart raced at the thought, the image of him on the television still fresh in your mind. The last few weeks of seeing him on the news had stirred up a mix of longing and unresolved feelings, and now the idea of encountering him face-to-face was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Are you okay with this?” Emily asked, her gaze softening with concern. “I know seeing him might bring up some stuff.”

You took a deep breath, weighing your emotions. “I’ll be fine. I have to be. We have a job to do, and I can’t let my feelings get in the way of that.” You tried to sound confident, but uncertainty crept in.

Emily smiled, a mix of support and understanding shining in her eyes. “I know you’re strong. Just remember, we’re in this together. And if it gets overwhelming, I’m right here.”

“Thanks, Em. I appreciate that.” You felt a swell of gratitude for her unwavering support. “Let’s get the team together and see what we can dig up on this case.”

Emily nodded, pushing herself up from the chair. “I’ll gather everyone for a briefing. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

As she left your office, you couldn’t shake the feeling of impending change in the air. The thought of the case intertwined with the possibility of seeing Hotch again sent your mind racing. There was a part of you that yearned to see him, to hear his voice again, but another part was afraid of what it might mean for the rehabilitation of your heart shattered.

After a few moments, you collected yourself and headed to the conference room, determined to focus on the task ahead. You were a profiler, after all, and you wouldn’t let personal feelings cloud your judgment. But as you stepped into the room and looked at your team, the looming presence of Hotch hung over you like a shadow.

The bustling atmosphere of Congress was overwhelming, the echo of voices mingling with the rustle of papers and the faint sounds of distant conversations, as crowds of people moved past you every single second. Somehow you hadn't thought the building would be this busy.

You moved through the maze of hallways, the weight of the case hanging over you like a heavy cloud. After an intense briefing with the team and several hours of sifting through documents, you decided a quick coffee break was necessary. It was a small reprieve, a moment to gather your thoughts before diving back into the investigation.

As you stepped into the crowded café, the rich aroma of coffee filled your senses, providing a brief comfort. As you waited for your order you glanced around, noting the throngs of aides and politicians, some deep in conversation, others lost in their phones. After what felt like an eternity, you finally received your drink, you ordered a cappuccino, absently stirring the foam as you made your way back toward the senator’s office.

Navigating the marble corridors was not easy, you focused, trying to remember the way you had come from. The noise of the café faded behind you as you moved further away, and the hum of energy around you began to fade as you thought about the case details you had just discussed with your team. But as you rounded a corner, lost in thought, everything changed in an instant.

There, just a few feet away, stood Aaron Hotchner. Your Aaron.

Time seemed to freeze. The world around you faded into a blur, and all you could see was him. He looked older nothing like he had looked on the TV, more refined, better even, yet he still carried that familiar intensity in his dark eyes. It was as if the years had melted away, and you were right back to those last moments before he disappeared from your life. Your heart raced, the mix of emotions overwhelming as you locked eyes with him.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved, caught in an electric silence that stretched between you. The familiar ache of longing hit you hard in the chest, twisting your stomach into knots. Memories rushed back — laughter, warmth, the comfort of his presence — but so did the pain of his absence and the betrayal you felt when he left.

In your shock, you didn’t realize your hand had loosened its grip on the coffee cup until it slipped from your fingers. The porcelain collided with the polished floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces, the sound echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The hot liquid spilled out, soaking into the pristine marble and staining the floor with brown patches.

“Oh God,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You stepped back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him.

Hotch said your name, his voice low and steady, yet laced with an emotion that mirrored your own shock. He took a cautious step toward you, as if afraid you might disappear again. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither did I,” you managed, your voice trembling as you fought to regain your composure. But the words felt inadequate, too mundane for the weight of the moment. A wave of emotion crashed over you, and the dam holding back your feelings began to crumble. “Do you even realize what you put me through, Aaron? Do you know how many nights I spent wondering if you were dead or alive? How many times I replayed those last moments in my mind, wishing I could have changed things?”

Hotch’s expression shifted, pain flashing across his face. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was best for Jack!”

“Best for Jack?” you repeated incredulously, your voice rising with each word. “What about me? What about my feelings? You just left! You abandoned me without so much as a goodbye! I had to rebuild my life without you, and all you can say is you were trying to protect him. It doesn’t make any sense!”

He took a step forward, frustration mingling with sadness in his eyes. “I had no choice! I had to keep you both safe! Do you really think I wanted to leave you behind? You think it was easy for me? It wasn’t! I’ve thought about you every single day!”

The sincerity in his voice pierced through your anger, but you couldn’t let it go. “It’s too little, too late, Aaron! You can’t just show up out of nowhere after six years and expect everything to be okay. You made your choice!”

“I never stopped loving you!” he shouted, his voice filled with raw emotion. The admission hung between you, heavy and charged, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

You stepped closer, eyes locked onto his, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief. “How can you say that? You left me! You made a choice, and you chose to protect your son over me. I had to learn to live with that — learn to live without you!”

“And it killed me! I had to protect my family, and in doing so, I destroyed my own happiness. But you have to know, you were always in my heart. I never wanted to hurt you!” His voice softened slightly, the intensity shifting to desperation. “I thought you’d move on, that you’d find someone better who could give you what you deserve.”

“Better?” you scoffed, your anger giving way to an ache in your chest. “You think I wanted anyone else? No one could ever compare to you, Aaron. I spent years waiting for you, hoping you’d come back, that we could fix this.”

He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Then why didn’t you reach out? Why didn’t you try to find me?”

“Because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me!” You shot back, tears of frustration burning your eyes. “I had to respect your choice, but I thought you’d at least have the decency to contact me after everything we went through together!”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger! I thought it was for the best!” His voice rose again, echoing through the hallway, but there was a desperate plea beneath his anger.

“Best for who, Aaron?” you demanded, your emotions spilling over. “You think running for Congress is going to fix everything? You think I want to see you on TV every day, talking about policies and values when all I want is to talk to you about us?”

Before you could finish your thought, he closed the gap between you in an instant, grasping your arms gently but firmly. The intensity in his eyes held you captive, and then he kissed you. It was a collision of pent-up emotions, a heated, desperate kiss that spoke of everything unsaid. Your lips pressed against his, teeth grazing against teeth, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

You lost yourself in the kiss, a whirlwind of anger, longing, and the familiar warmth that had always existed between you. It felt like no time had passed at all, yet every moment you had spent apart surged back, filling the space with an urgency you hadn’t felt in years.

Without breaking the kiss, you found yourselves moving, bodies instinctively drawn toward his office down the hall, Hotch leading the way. The door stood ajar, but you barely registered it as you stumbled inside, Hotch pulling you in after him. He nudged the door shut with his foot, the soft click of the latch echoing in the silence as he pressed you against it.

You barely noticed the cluttered desk or the framed photographs lining the walls. All that mattered was the heat radiating from him, the way his hands cupped your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. He kissed you again, deeper this time, a fierce claim that made your heart race.

With each touch, the tension from earlier seemed to dissolve, leaving only the intoxicating rush of being so close again. You could feel the weight of his desperation, the years of longing that had built up between you, igniting a fire within you that had never truly gone out.

Finally, as you both breathed heavily against each other, he stepped back slightly, just enough to turn the lock behind him. The finality of the action made your heart pound even harder, the implications of this moment crashing down around you.

Before you knew it, Hotch crashed his lips into yours once again.

“Goddamn it, you’re so fucking wet,” he muttered into your neck, as he moved his hand under your skirt, you could feel his smirk against your skin. He was kissing you again, his fingers sliding up your body until they reached your breasts. You arched back into him with a soft sigh of pleasure, your hips rolling against his growing erection. You could feel how much he wanted you and it made you even more desperate for him.

You broke away from the kiss, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Fuck me,” you said your voice sounded rough, still thick with lust from the kiss. You could see the flicker of pleasure that danced across his face, the fire burning in his eyes when he heard your words.

He didn’t speak though, he just pushed you back against his desk and as your ass met the wooden edge he lifted you up onto it by your things. The movement made your skirt ride up further, you tried to pull it back down out of instinct, but Hotch stopped you with a firm grip on your wrist. You gasped when his hands moved to grab the edge of your panties as he ripped them off. That had always been his favorite thing to do. Nothing had changed.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he had two fingers buried deep inside your cunt. “Fuck,” you hissed against his lips. He added a third finger and you gasped, your nails clawing into his back as you braced yourself, pleasure radiating through your body. You were already close to coming, desperate from the lack of a man's touch, he’d only been fingering you for a few seconds, but it was a much-needed release that you hadn't realized you had needed. He was determined to make you cum, was going to make you cum in his office, on his desk. You truly hoped that his door was locked.

Hotch leaned in and kissed you again, sucking at your bottom lip and then moving down to your neck. He bit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you moaned in response. Your legs spread around him and he groaned as you rocked your hips against his hand, trying so desperately to chase your release.

“Fuck, I need to get inside you,” he muttered against your skin. "I need to feel that pussy again. My pussy." He growled.

You felt a shiver run through your body at his words. “Please,” you begged, “now.”

You didn’t know if you unbuttoned his pants or he did, but somehow they were already around his ankles and he was pushing into you. His cock pulsed as he bottomed out, clouding your vision with the pure bliss from finally feeling him again. You let out a breathless moan as he stretched you out. It had been way too long since you'd felt the touch of a man you thought. His touch. Your hands slid down his back trying to pull him closer in an attempt to push him deeper inside of you. He groaned as he started to thrust into you. You felt every ridge of his cock as he moved.

The rhythm was hard and fast, your skin slapping together in loud claps. Your pussy was dripping, slick with wetness, your muscles clenching around him with every thrust as if you were trying to lock him in place inside your heat. You cried out when he pushed you down flat on his desk, his arms wrapped around your body as he started fucking you with the raw essence of an animal. The pleasure ran through your head and you nearly came right there.

Hotch grabbed your hair and yanked your head back. “You’re going to cum on my cock, aren’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed, trying to move your hips under him. Your teeth gritted, eyes rolling back into your head as your breathing sped up, almost hyperventilating from the immense pleasure.

“You like being fucked on my desk, don’t you?”

“Fuck,” you moaned.

He slammed into you and then stilled. You whined in frustration as he held still inside of you. “Tell me. Use your words!”

“Yes sir,” you agreed, hoping it would get him to start moving again. It worked like a charm and he quickly slammed into you once more before fucking you into oblivion again. Hotch hit your G-spot with every thrust, you could feel your orgasm building up inside, the knot tightening, dangerously close to snapping in half. You felt him swell inside of you, his cock pushing into you harder and faster than before, as his thighs started vibration, you knew he was close too.

He leaned down over you and kissed you as you came. He swallowed down your cries as his hips stuttered. His cock felt like it was going to split you in half, but it felt so good as it sent you into a new level of pleasure. He came hard, hot liquid filling you up, you clung to his shoulders and cried out again as he groaned into your mouth.

Hotch pulled away slowly, his breath ragged as he held you close for a moment longer. The heat of the moment lingered in the air, but as he took a step back, you felt the loss of his warmth immediately. He gently helped you shift into a sitting position on the edge of his desk, his hands steadying you as you settled.

He moved to stand between your legs, the space filled with unspoken words and the weight of years apart. His eyes searched yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart flutter. Hotch cupped your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. The intimacy of the gesture, so simple yet so profound, stirred something deep within you. It felt as though he had never left, as if no time had passed at all since that fateful day in his office so many years ago where he had just been... gone.

He pressed tender kisses to your lips, each one a promise, a reassurance that this moment was real. You leaned into him, surrendering to the familiar comfort of his presence as you wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head against his chest. You let the tears that had been building up finally spill over. They rolled down your cheeks, mingling with the remnants of the heat that still pulsed between you.

“I… I met up with Jack,” you admitted your voice barely above a whisper, laden with emotion. The moment hung heavy in the air. You could see the flicker of surprise in Hotch’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by understanding. “He’s grown up so much. He’s… he's an adult now.”

Hotch’s expression softened, a mix of pride and sadness flickering across his features. “He’s always been a remarkable kid,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m glad you two were able to reconnect.”

“I missed you both so much,” you confessed, the weight of your words crashing over you like a wave. The years of longing, the nights spent wondering about him and Jack, came rushing back. “It’s been so hard, Aaron. Watching you on TV, hearing you talk about your values and the future... all I wanted was to be a part of that future again.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know. I wanted to reach out so many times, but I didn’t know if I was worth it to you. I thought you’d moved on. Didn't want to disrupt your life.”

You shook your head, a mix of determination and vulnerability surging within you. “I never moved on. I just learned to live without you. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Hotch stepped closer again, his hands still cradling your face as if he were afraid you might disappear. “Then let’s try again,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice melting the last remnants of doubt lingering in your heart. “Let’s see if we can make this work, for us and for Jack.”

You swallowed hard, hope igniting within you like a flame. “I want that,” you whispered, a smile breaking through your tears. “I really want that.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours once more, the kiss gentle but filled with an undercurrent of promise. It was a reaffirmation of everything you both had lost and everything you hoped to regain. In that moment, surrounded by the chaos of the world outside, you felt a sense of peace and belonging you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he said, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes bright with determination. “We’ll figure this out together.”

With your heart full and tears still glistening in your eyes, you nodded. For the first time in years, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. The future ahead felt uncertain, but for the first time, it was a future you were excited to face — together.

@vikingstoner69

568 notes · View notes