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littlemissmentallyunstable · 4 months ago

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title: fix you

pairing: aaron warner x (first person) reader

synopsis: aaron returns from a meeting with his father, but something is off… (prior to the ignite me tattoo btw)

warnings: mentions of abuse, a bit suggestive at the end ;)

a/n: first aaron warner fic ever… thanks for reading 🤍🤍

tag list: @wish-i-were-heather @midiosaamor @sweetlikeanangel @maybxlle @whatsamongus @elysianwayy77 @bewitchingkisses @emelia07 @inmyheaddd @sweetreveriee @azysmate @anintellectualintellectual @off-to-the-r4ces

I hear someone stumble in and immediately panic seizes my chest. Aaron Warner doesn’t stumble, so logically it must be an intruder. But who the hell would’ve found a way into Aaron’s private quarters? I don’t care, I grab the gun from under the floor board and slowly approach the door. My heart bangs in my chest, crawling its way to my mouth. It’s so dark that I can barely see a thing. I hear a second step taken and I can tell by the way the weight is hitting the floor unevenly that it’s a shaky step. I take my chance and swiftly rush out, gun pointed towards the figure.

“You’re holding that all wrong, love,” says a dry voice.

“Aaron?” I ask, my voice catches in shock. I squint through the darkness in attempts to recognise him.

“Care to explain the gun?” he replies, eyebrows raised at my questionably aimed weapon.

“I thought you were an intruder,” I say, dropping my arms down to my side and playing the gun down.

“I am not,” Aaron tells me bluntly.

“Obviously,” I smile, attempting to touch his arm. But just as a go to clasp my hand around it, he moves.

Swiftly and almost silently, he walks past me. I feel his body brush against mine softly.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I need to shower,” he replies.

There’s something off about him. He stumbled in, his voice is uneven, he wants to get away from me. Something happened and I have this horrible feeling that it was something horrible.

“Are you okay?” I say, trying to seem casual.

“Fine,” he replies. His tone is blunt but cut-throat. He can tell I’m fishing for what’s really wrong and he’s making it clear he doesn’t want to talk. Unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong girl if he wants me to shut up and move on.

“Did it go okay?” I continue.

“It went how it usually did,” he tells me, his voice low.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. I knew who his dad was and how he was treated, I knew the traumatic stories of his childhood and the bad memories that would haunt him at night, I knew I wanted to kill the man who’d given them to him. But one thing I never knew was anything to do with the meetings held with his dad.

“You know my father, love. He isn’t a pleasant man and nor are his meetings,” he says plainly, “now I’m going to wash.”

He walks towards the bathroom, flicking the light on. The brightness is fluorescent and artificial. I begin to follow him and then I see it. I stop in my tracks. Reams of crimson ribbon decorate the back of his white shirt, jagged lines of the deepest blood red. The fabric has soaked in the liquid and it’s splayed out all across the white. My stomach turns.

“Aaron…” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“Please, love,” he sighs, running a hand through his perfect hair, “I need to shower.”

“He hurt you,” I murmured, “again?”

He freezes suddenly, realising he’s bled through his white shirt. He’s too exposed to hide it from me this time. He can’t brush it under the carpet when the stains are on the surface. He lifts his head up, back still towards me.

“Don’t,” he says harshly, his voice so low it sounds dangerous.

I don’t say a word as he walks into the bathroom, but my legs can’t help but follow even though my brain is telling them it might be a better idea to not. I step inside quietly and I can feel his body tense.

“Aaron-“

“I said don’t,” he repeats, the bitterness in his tone making me flinch.

Something that resembles anger flickers in my chest. An amber flame of fury.

“Sit down,” I say, my voice firm and unwavering.

He stills, staring down. I don’t say a word and neither does he. In the silence, the air grows heavy and thick, weighted with unspoken words. I don’t know how long we stand like this until slowly he sits down on the lid of the toilet. I wait a few beats, then slowly crouch down, level with his knees and his eyes shooting straight to the floor.

“He hurt you again, didn’t he?” I ask for the second time.

He’s silent.

“Please Aaron,” I beg, “you can’t keep doing this.”

The desperation in my tone makes his heart ache, but still he doesn’t look at me as he says, “he’s hurt me my entire life, love, today he was no different.”

“Show me,” I murmured.

“I don’t want you to see this,” he grits through his teeth, still refusing to meet my eyes.

“I don’t care,” I say, “you can’t keep shutting me out.”

“I can and I will,” he replied curtly, turning away.

“Warner,” I snap, in an attempt to get his attention.

He looks up sharply. His green eyes flicker with some sort of hurt. I never called him Warner, he was my Aaron. Warner was for everyone else, but Aaron was for me.

“Let me help you,” I say firmly, “you need to let me in like I let you in, this goes two ways.”

He stares at me saying nothing for a while. I wonder when he’s going to get up and walk out. Maybe leave completely. Forever. That thought scares me the most. Aaron shuts down when he can’t share his problems. He shuts down and shuts me out.

I am surprised when he slowly takes his shirt off, revealing his battered back. I bite back a gasp and conceal the shock and horror from being displayed on my face. Amongst the jagged scars that ripple across his back, the ones I already knew of, the ones I had once traced, there were fresh wounds. Long, distorted shapes are looping across him, oozing fresh hot blood. Great purple bruises splayed out of the sides of each lash mark, creating some sort of sick and twisted abstract art piece.

He must be in so much pain.

“It’s a shame really,” he murmurs, “I quite liked that shirt.”

I pull myself together, “you have a dozen others like it.”

“I liked that one,” he replies quietly.

“I like you without a shirt better anyways,” I grin at him.

“Well,” he says cracking a half smile, “I suppose I can spare it then.”

“I suppose you can.”

I grab a wash cloth from the cabinet above and soak it with warm water. Gently, I dab his new lashings, trying to wash them. The deep red bleeds through the white of the cloth, spreading through it, like a river of hate. With each stroke I see his face contort.

“Does this hurt?” I ask tenderly.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his voice hard.

“You’re wincing,” I say flatly.

He glares at me. It’s hot.

“I’m fine,” he states.

I drop it and continue to clean. When I am satisfied that I’ve done the best I can, I return to the cabinet and pull out antiseptic and bandages.

“Not antiseptic,” Aaron grumbles.

“Don’t be a baby,” I retort with a laugh, cutting the bandages to the right size.

“I’m not!” he says, a bit too defensively.

“I’m not letting those wounds get infected Aaron, I’m using antiseptic,” I tell him, unable to suppress my smile.

He rolls his eyes and reluctantly lets me press antiseptic into each open gash. He hisses each time, refusing to cry out so I attempt to be as quick and efficient as I can.

When I am finished, I move on the bandages. I stand in front of him and work around. Gently, I wrap the bandage over his back and torso. His hands suddenly clasp my waist, his grip is firm. I bite back a gasp. His hands are so hot I can feel them through my clothes, though in this moment I wish I didn’t have the barrier of clothes.

I try to ignore the distraction he knows he’s making. Softly and methodically I continue to bandage his back and once I make the final wrap I lean down and press my lips on his. He kisses back eagerly, pulling me onto his lap. I wrap my thighs around his hips and continue to plant tender kisses all over his mouth. I’m dizzied by the sensations of passion. We pull away finally when neither of us can think straight and his eyes lock with mine, the delicate green tainted with something I couldn’t quite place my finger on.

“How do you feel?” I ask, brushing a strand of blonde that had fallen, out of the way.

“After that,” he murmurs with a grin, “on top of the world.”

“Your back,” I deadpan.

“I don’t care about my back,” he groans, “kiss me again.”

“Aaron,” I say, my tone accusing.

“Please, love,” he begs, closing his eyes, “I’m suffering withdrawal symptoms here.”

“Aaron,” I laugh.

“Just one kiss, it won’t hurt,” he says quietly, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. His touch so airy I almost don’t feel it.

“I’m not kissing you until you answer me,” I reply.

“You like to make my life difficult don’t you?” he sighs.

“Ditto,” I poke my tongue out.

“It’s much better now you’ve worked your magic,” he answers my question, gazing at me.

There’s a long pause, but it feels like our eyes carry on the conversation. But every time I look into those emerald voids, I feel his pain. And it makes me see red.

“He shouldn’t do this to you,” I murmur, anger lacing my tone.

“I know,” he replies.

“I hate it,” I practically growl, my face all screwed up at the thought of someone hurting Aaron. My Aaron. I hadn’t had time to get angry earlier, I’d been too worried about the wounds. Now they were clean and dressed, I have the opportunity.

“I know,” he says again.

“I want to stop it,” I tell him, then falter, “but I don’t know how.”

“I’ve been trying to work that out for a while, love,” he says, nuzzling into my collarbone.

“Just,” I pause and sigh, “please let me help you, you don’t have to hide for everyone you know.”

“It’s what I know how to do,” he murmurs, looking up, “opening up is the opposite of how I was trained to be.”

“But you’ll try?” I ask hopefully.

“I’ll do anything for you, love,” he smiles, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I smile, my cheeks glowing a soft pink.

“I love you,” he whispers with another kiss.

“I love you too,” I giggle, melting into him.

He cups my face in his hands and kisses me slowly, tenderly. The motion is long and drawn out, each millisecond testing my self control. Desperation claws at me, all I want to do is kiss him harder and faster but I stay patient. My hands find their way to the back of his neck and comfortably into his hair.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says against my lips.

“You don’t sleep until three o’clock in the morning,” I scoff.

He turns and looks at me, a twinkle in his eye and a smirk placed comfortably on his lips, “who says we’re sleeping?”

a/n: this is my first aaron warner fic and cut me some slack bc I have not read shatter me in months, I really should do another reread… but hopefully I captured the characters okay. But tbh after reading it back I kind of hate it, it feels rushed and weird but yolo so I’m posting it anyways!!

and I know what you’re thinking ‘bella you promised us the mysterious blonde part 4’… I know it is being written, it’s just really long and I want it to be perfect so there are a few little fics in between

shatter me masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#aaron warner #aaron warner x reader #aaron warner x you #aaron warner one shot #shatter me #tahereh mafi #juliette ferrars #nazeera ibrahim #kenji kishimoto #unravel me #ignite me #restore me #defy me #imagine me

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ssa-danhotchner · 17 days ago

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Crawling back to you | Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: Aaron Hotchner finds himself unable to stop thinking about the connection he let slip through his fingers.

cw: fem!reader, use of y/n, past situationship

wc: 934

note: this is my first time writing here please be kind, english isn't my first language

The clock ticked past midnight, and Aaron Hotchner sat alone in his dimly lit study, the amber glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. A half-empty glass of whiskey rested by his hand, untouched for the past fifteen minutes. His gaze wasn’t on the paperwork scattered in front of him, nor on the book he’d meant to start reading an hour ago. Instead, it was fixed on his phone, his thumb hovering over a name that made his chest tighten.

[Y/N]

It had been years since he’d spoken to you. Not since you left the BAU. Not since he made the call to end whatever it was that had been building between you two—before it became something neither of you could control.

It had been years, but Aaron could still recall the way your laughter echoed in the bullpen during quiet moments between cases. The sound had been a rare gift in his otherwise chaotic world. You brought a lightness he didn’t know he needed—a reprieve from the endless weight of profiling killers and navigating his fractured personal life.

He thought of the nights you stayed late, pouring over case files with him in companionable silence. You didn’t ask questions about why he couldn’t leave, didn’t push when he kept his walls up, but your presence had a way of eroding his defenses. You didn’t demand anything from him, and that was the problem. You deserved someone who could give you everything, and Aaron knew he was not that man.

Still, there were moments when his resolve faltered. The way your hand brushed his when you handed him a file. The soft, concerned look in your eyes after a particularly grueling case. The lingering touch of your fingers on his shoulder as you said goodnight. He told himself it didn’t mean anything, but he knew better.

Aaron swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, exhaling a shaky breath. The memory of your last conversation played in his mind like a song on repeat, the words still as sharp as they were the day they were spoken.

You stood in his office, arms crossed tightly over your chest, the tension between you palpable. The door was closed, the blinds drawn, but it felt like the whole world could see the cracks forming between you.

“You’re really doing this?” Your voice was quiet, but the hurt beneath it cut through Aaron like a knife. “You’re going to pretend like we don’t mean anything?”

“It’s not that simple,” Aaron replied, his tone measured, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“It is that simple,” you snapped. “You either want this—want me—or you don’t. But don’t stand there and tell me it’s for my own good, like I can’t decide that for myself.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I’m doing this because I care about you,” he said finally. “Because I can’t give you what you need. I can’t be what you need.”

You stared at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Aaron. You don’t get to push me away and call it love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But this—us—it’s a distraction. And distractions get people killed.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell. You took a step back, shaking your head as if trying to make sense of what he’d just said. “You’re scared,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re scared to feel something real because it might actually make you happy. And God forbid you let yourself have that.”

Aaron didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He stood there, watching as you turned and walked out of his office, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in his ears.

Aaron glanced at the phone again, your name glowing on the screen like a challenge. Are you awake? The words he’d sent seemed too small for everything he felt, but they were all he could manage. He hated how easily he could picture your face—your tired but curious smile, the tilt of your head when you thought he was being ridiculous. Would you even want to see him? Or had he burned that bridge too thoroughly?

The truth was, Aaron wasn’t sure what he wanted. Did he want closure? Forgiveness? Or something more dangerous—something he wasn’t sure he deserved?

Aaron hit send before he could stop himself. The phone felt heavy in his hand as he set it down, the seconds ticking by agonizingly slow. He told himself not to expect a reply—it was late, after all—but when his phone buzzed a moment later, his breath caught.

I wasn’t. I am now.

He stared at the words, a thousand emotions flooding through him at once. Relief. Nervousness. A flicker of hope. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to follow up, but he forced himself to type the truth.

I’ve been thinking about you.

The reply came quickly.

Funny. I’ve been trying not to think about you.

Aaron winced, though he supposed he deserved that. Still, you hadn’t ended the conversation, and that was something.

Would you meet me? he typed. I know it’s late, but I need to see you.

There was a longer pause this time, and Aaron held his breath, waiting for your answer. Finally, his phone buzzed again.

Same café as always?

Aaron grabbed his coat before he could think better of it.

The only thing he knew is that this time he wouldn't let you go.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch fanfiction

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baewritez · 5 months ago

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Just A Little Touch Up (0)

( Aaron Pierre X Plus Size OC )

Summary : The black and white life of a makeup artist is given color by A-List Client

Tags : Work Place Romance , Age Gap , Plus Size OC , BDSM , 18 +

How does one find themselves bent over a kitchen counter with their hands tied behind their back? Better yet how does one find themselves pent under one of the most beautiful men to grace my eyes?! But that is it; that is what holds the answer. If you were to ask how I ended up in this position, I would say it was an exchange of looks, eyes full of desires, wants, needs so pure like honey that you could almost taste its sweetness. His eyes, like crashing waves held me captive fixed in place while a smirk started to spread on his face. I want to be the next thing spread across those juicy pump lips, as if thunder rolled out his lips so confidently, he said “So do you know how long we are in hair and makeup for?” his voice piercing the darkest part of my desires leaving with a newfound longing.

Strumming over my words “t-t-t-two hours I think” warm air filled the trailer blowing past him as he walked up the stairs closing the door as he stepped in. His cologne of warm nutmeg and patchouli oil filled the air as I fought the urge to take a deep breath. “Thanks, my assistant and manager won’t be on set til 9:00am so it’s just me and you.” Looking up at him I felt like a dwarf, and he was a skyscraper as he moved closer towards me. “Um that is okay I think I can be finished with your makeup before then. You can sit here.” I gestured with my hand to the black makeup chair in front of me. He held out his large hand towards me. “I am Aaron” I looked at the veins near his knuckles; my mouth started to water as I tried to swallow my thirst down. The image of his big hands grabbing my curly puff and pulling flashed in my mind. SLAPPING my hand down I took a step a back and smiled. My heartbeat was like an alarm in my ear at just the idea of being close to him set it into a frenzy. “Would you like a water or coffee?” His hand slowly went back down to his side as confusion blossomed on his face, but he gently brushed off the interaction and exchange. As he started to get settled into the seat his bulky frame filled the space around me as I instinctively grabbed the counter behind me. A look of concern washed over his face as his handsome facial features scrunched up. Holding up both of his hands the white shirt and black leather jacket raised up to show his chiseled deep v leading to what I could only think was euphoria “I don’t bite, Love” his husky voice breaking the awkward silence. But all I wanted was for him to leave bite marks and hickeys where no one could see and even in places where they could be seen. I wanted him to show the world that I was his; but that was a fantasy. “So, water, right?” My voice trembled, as I started to break my gaze from his charcoal jeans as it now covered the valley of ecstasy. Slowly tracing up past his white v neck t-shirt into his hazelnut brown and storm cloud eyes taking in his clear and blemish free skin. “Water is perfect, Love.” he replies. Aaron moves his arm to rest of the side arm of the chair and he places his hand on chin and rests it on his full amber beard. Taking a deep breathe I turned to face the counter and mirror; I bent down opening the mini fridge to grab a cool bottle of water as a shiver ran down my spine. Coming up from the fridge I am stopped in my tracks as I glance into the mirror only to be frozen in time as Aaron’s eyes created a fire in his wake. I am the match, and he was setting me ablaze his eyes moving from legs to my ass gliding up like a feather. My palms start to form sweat beads became clammy. It’s as if I was rubbed up against a balloon the hair on my neck and arm stands small shocks pulse throughout my body. The sound of our heavy breathing and the humming of the ac unit filled my ears. He was my Hades making me his Persephone as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth. My mouth is left open the idea of his thick finger filling that emptiness sends another shiver down my spine and my body goes relax. The thud of the bottle snaps both of us out of drunken stupor.

** A/N : I hope i didn't keep you waiting too long. If you like the preview let me know. Welcome to BaeWritez where desire can be fulfilled. - XOXO BAE

#black fanfiction #black plus size reader #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #x reader smut #x black plus size reader #x black oc #x black fem reader #terry richmond #smut #bd/sm kink #black reader #original character #work in progress #workplace romance

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lavenderspence · 5 months ago

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unexplained sadness | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 2.5K

Content warning: pre-established relationship, depression, mental health struggles, mentions of therapy, angst, supportive!aaron

Summary: you've struggled to find a way out from under the darkness for years, but you were thankful he offered the final push you needed.

A/N: I drafted this a few days, contemplating if I should even post it. it's very self-indulgent. I wrote it at a time when I wasn't able to understand my own feelings, and im still not sure how. I think this is the realest my writing has been, but i do think I'm posting this with the most vulnerability as well. I want you all to remember, just in case you're struggling - you're amazing, you're enough and I believe in you. Life is crazy, but it will get better, allow yourself to be patient, and most importantly, take the greatest, most gentle care of yourself 💕

masterlist

You looked around, well aware of the amount of relief that should be flooding your body right now. It usually did at the end of a case, where another monster was put to rot in a cage much appropriate for its’ sins.

But even knowing what you should be feeling, the simple truth was - you weren’t feeling anything at all, and you hadn’t for a while.

And even when you did feel something, you could never explain it. It was a mess, where many emotions fought a battle, but in the end, all it came down to was an endless void where the darkness and despair of the unexplained won out.

The only thing you could feel at that moment was the pressure of the vest compressing against your chest. It stole the little amount of oxygen in your lungs in favor of an overwhelming amount of hidden sadness.

Even with the sun high up in the sky and the warmth it was supposed to spread all over your skin, you felt cold - no warmth actually penetrated the top layer of your skin. And the chatter - EMTs, police officers, and outlookers, you couldn’t process anything at all.

It was like you were standing there, like a statue, a headstone to remind everyone of your presence once upon a time, but not anymore. Physically, you were alive and aware, but mentally, you’ve been fighting a battle you could confidently admit you were losing.

Your thoughts were deeply wrapped in a cobweb of confusion and melancholy, a never-ending cycle that couldn’t stop repeating itself. It felt like you didn’t exist outside the realm of your own despair. Each day the shadows around you persisted in their pursuit of you, dragging in with them this empty feeling, designed to leave you feeling like a loner.

The string holding you tethered to the person you’d been before was tinning each day as the distance between you grew bigger and bigger. You no longer even felt her presence at all. For weeks you’ve fought a silent battle against your own mind, and even your body sometimes.

You tried to hide behind a mask of fake smiles and nights spent around the people you trusted most, hoping you’d feel better, but you never did. You only felt this state you were in, as it gained speed and grew in volume.

But there was a certain pair of eyes that saw the subtle changes in you, straight into a place even you couldn’t see. Warm chocolate, sometimes shining amber in the sun - somehow strict but also oh so soft.

You thought you hid it well, but you could never hide yourself from him, and you should have known.

Your hotel room was dark and quiet, safe for the gentle light and sound that came from the TV. A movie was playing, an early 2000s song in the background. The duvet felt heavy over your body, and you longed to kick it off in an effort to feel less trapped, but you couldn’t find the strength to. It was like your whole body was paralyzed in a fatal position with your muscles locked and your eyes open but unseeing.

Case after case came, and each day it got harder. You had to try and perfect a mask you were getting tired of wearing, tired of hiding behind. You couldn’t skip work, lest you wanted to feel like more of a failure than you already did sometimes.

You felt scared to admit to your struggles, half unsure what your struggles were to begin with, half unwilling to unload on others. You were willing to suffer and fight this on your own until you either had nothing left to fight against or no strength left to fight at all.

Your mind was working overtime, half empty and dark, half full and constantly spinning, you didn’t even process the foreign sound at first. Only it wasn’t so foreign - a series of gentle raps or someone’s knuckles against the door. Knocking. They were just enough to alert you of a newcoming presence but not disturb you or others in any way.

You didn’t move a muscle. Even when two more knocks followed, even more gentle than the first, all you could do was blink. Even with the soft call of your name that came seconds later, you couldn’t find the strength to answer or even get up. You couldn’t even twitch.

You stood there frozen in place, in time. Frozen between the walls of a prison of your own mind’s making.

The knocks stopped, as did the voice calling out your name, maybe finally resigned to the fact you weren’t answering at all.

Giving up on you the way you’d given up on yourself.

You would be surprised if you didn’t feel a tiny bit of relief at being left on your own. Too bad the relief didn’t actually last long - just seconds after the lock beeped, signaling it was unlocked, and the door was slowly opening, bathing the room in the hallway light.

Even with the small, hesitant steps this person took, you were instantly able to tell by the sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor who it was.

“Did you know it’s actually illegal to break into someone’s space?” Your voice came out raspy from misuse. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed since you made it to your room, but if you had to guess, probably several hours had gone by.

“I do know that actually, it’s criminal law 101.” He retorted before you felt the mattress dip close to your feet, “You missed dinner.” He mussed.

A part of you couldn’t handle having a conversation with him, not right now. Not in the complete darkness, and the quiet stretched between you both.

“I wasn’t hungry.” You answered simply. You waited for him to say something, and you waited and waited, and he wasn’t saying anything. It was like he was looking for the right words to use, so as not to offend you, or set you off. But you wouldn’t feel any of it if he did - just as the night was dark outside and so was your mind.

“Just spit it out, Hotch.” You finally used a part of his name, unintentionally closing the distance the smallest bit even when you tried to stay away. Maybe subconsciously you knew you could trust him, if a little.

“You’re not doing well.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Wow, way to show you aren't actually a gentleman.”

“I’m not trying to...” You could almost see him shaking his head, so in tune with his reactions from years of working alongside him, “I’m worried about you.” It left him in a whisper, like he was afraid to admit it.

“I’m okay, there’s no need.” You denied it like it was your biggest defense against his accusations. Except they weren’t that, genuine worry dripped along with his words, but you had a hard time accepting it. You couldn’t, didn’t want to. Being vulnerable, especially in front of him, could cost you a lot, and with the way you’ve been living, you couldn’t afford it.

Even when deep in your heart you trusted him with everything, even yourself.

You felt him place his hand on the duvet, enclasping his palm around your calf. “You were okay five weeks ago, and you haven’t been since then. I’ve been watching you wear a mark and barely holding yourself from falling apart. I don’t think ‘okay’ applies right now.”

“I thought we promised not to profile each other.” You muttered brokenly, feeling parts of the mask he was talking about cracking in places. It was like having him so close, peeling your outer layers slowly, and leaving you exposed, finally making your emotional reactions coincide with your lack of understanding. It was like he was exposing all of you both to himself and you too.

“Not at the expense of suffering in silence, we didn’t.” He answered with conviction, no hesitation. He was making it apparent your wellbeing was more important to him than any promise he might have made to you or others. He was letting you know he was prioritizing your health over everything else.

He understood you even without you having to say anything. Just by watching you try to swim to the surface of the ocean and still being pushed by the crashing waves, he could already feel that you were struggling.

He could see you were self-isolating, even when you were being surrounded by people. He picked up on the signs in the subtle subject changes you made whenever someone asked anything about you. You were unwilling to share, even though you loved sharing any little detail about your interest, allowing others to do the same.

You let Garcia talk about her software and cute animals and allowed Reid to share any little fact with you he could. But even when you listened, it wasn’t hard to see you really weren’t. Staring into spaces or faking an interest, even though he knew you would be interested in the first place, had there not been anything amis to begin with.

And slowly piece after piece had started falling together, like a puzzle started, yet left abandoned.

In the darkness of the hotel room, miles away from your home and mere doors down from the rest of your team, a piece deep inside you started longing for the understanding he was offering. It started building up with worry over the reality of the words you knew you needed to say but were too scared to. It started wishing for a new slate, where the overwhelming amount of confusion and empty darkness no longer followed you like a shadow.

It slowly started coming to terms with the fact that you weren’t enough to fight this on your own and that maybe you needed help to do so.

For the first time in weeks, months, who knew, maybe even years, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to admit to your state of mind where reality got mangled with your deepest darkest thoughts imaginable, where self-doubt and the feeling of worthlessness took over. Where giving up sounded so much better than trying out again. Where any positivity was instantly turned into negativity whether you liked it or not.

For the first time you craved being helped, you wanted to understand your own struggles and get better. You wanted to thrive in the life you were living instead of settling for simply existing. You wanted to talk, and you wanted to tell him all that.

You rolled your lips between your teeth before you bit down until you tasted blood. One of your hands barely made it out from underneath the warmth of the duvet before you grabbed into the bedding with a tight fist.

“I don’t think I’m doing okay, Aaron.” You whispered into the darkness. The bed dipped and groaned as he moved closer, settling just centimeters away from your cocoon this time. You were so busy looking over the skyline that you didn’t even see his hand move until you felt his warm palm overtop your skin. He held onto you, trying to prompt you into releasing the bedding, tapping his fingers in a gentle manner.

He was offering you comfort without really saying or doing anything. He was letting you try and put your thoughts together before you entrusted him with the truth.

“One minute I’m good, and the next it feels like I lose all touch with my own self and my feelings - It’s all empty, or an overwhelming amount of sadness I couldn’t begin to even understand. I can’t even grasp what prompts this sudden change. I’ve tried fighting it for so long, years maybe, and each time it comes back, I’m left feeling more hopeless than the last.” You explained in a small voice.

A wave of relief, if small, rocked your whole body. There was something freeling about saying it out loud, ignoring the fear of admitting that had followed you for years.

“Have you ever told anyone about it?” His voice was just another shadow in the room. A timbre so calm, quiet, and soothing that you knew he was listening with no reservations and no judgments. Just a pure need to help.

You went to shake your head, but remembered you were both still looking towards the window. “I’ve always played it off as a joke. I’ve never let it sound like I really mean it. Not like I do right now.” It was one of the many truths you’d admitted to that night. Even when you played it off, you knew deep inside it was a small cry for help you didn’t want to. You were unwilling to take the right steps in order to get the help you needed.

“Why joke about it?” You thought about it for a second, trying to clear out the fog of the past.

“I guess…” Your fingers clenched underneath his own. “I guess I just wanted to see if anyone cared enough to ask if I was serious. They didn’t.” Realistically, you knew you shouldn’t wait on other people or expect them to see something amiss before you looked for help. But a part deep enough inside you wanted the reassurance that someone loved you enough to notice.

“But you want to get help?” He mumbled, still tapping his finger against your own.

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about it. You owed yourself that much, and all the help possible you could get.

“Okay.” He exhaled in relief, “As soon as we get back, we’ll start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. You felt his hand squeeze your own in reassurance. You turned your palm up, enveloped his own hand, and gave him one back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

A few minutes of looking at the starless sky passed before he prompted you to move, if just enough to walk into the bathroom and wash your face - and you did. When you came back, he’d made himself comfortable leaning against the headboard, legs stretched on the mattress.

He spent the night sleeping in yesterday’s clothes, trying to make sure you were doing okay and weren’t left feeling lonely.

You knew there was a long path ahead of you - the path to self-understanding and acceptance of your own flaws and struggles, as well as the changes you may need to adapt to moving forward. Something you were undoubtedly going to have a hard time with. Where you’d need to fight against the days when you questioned whether it was worth it. Where you’d slowly have to come to terms with the fact that as long as you were making yourself happy and keeping yourself afloat, there wasn’t anything worth more.

The path to recovery was never supposed to be easy or linear, but you had him to thank for being the final push. You had to be thankful for each minute of the time he gave you. And each grain of love he showed you in the process.

You needed the help - for yourself, your past, your present, and your future self. And for every second you spent failing to understand the person you were and the feelings you held onto.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst

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ruewritesoccasionally · 8 days ago

Text

The Reunion Pt.4 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: angst, emotional turmoil, unresolved feelings, themes of heartbreak, romantic confessions

Chapter Summary: YN faces the fallout of her breakup with Trey, struggling with lingering feelings for Aaron. When Aaron finally confesses his love, the weight of their emotions crashes together, leading to a pivotal moment of honesty and vulnerability. As their long-simmering feelings come to the surface, both of them take the first step toward something new—something neither could deny any longer.

Word Count: 1.5K

a/n: it's finally here !!! i was dragging this out for the longest time because my brain simply refused to work but i'm so excited that everything is written up now

Pt 1, Pt 2 & Pt 3

The faint hum of the television filled the room, yet she wasn’t listening. Her fingers idly traced the rim of her wine glass, and Trey’s voice faded into the background. He was beside her, close enough that his knee brushed against hers, but she felt detached, as if floating somewhere far away.

Aaron’s laugh—deep, infectious, and lingering—played on a loop in her mind, a cruel reminder of the night she’d shared with him just days ago. She tried to banish the memory, to focus on the man sitting across from her, but it was useless. Every stolen glance at Aaron’s lips, every fleeting touch during the movie night, had rooted itself in her thoughts, refusing to let go.

“Hey.” Trey’s voice broke through the fog, but she didn’t react. She was still lost in a world that didn’t include him.

“Hey.” Louder now, firmer.

Her head snapped up. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Trey set his drink on the table, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

Her brow furrowed. “Say what?”

He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time in weeks, she realised he’d seen through her façade. “That your heart’s not here. You’ve been miles away all night. Hell, maybe even longer than that.”

“Trey, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. “We don’t need to drag this out. I think we both know it’s time.”

She stared at him, stunned by how easily he’d unravelled the truth she hadn’t been brave enough to face. Her lips parted to argue, to deny it, but no words came. Because he was right.

Trey leaned back on the sofa, exhaling deeply. “I’ve felt it for a while, you know. The way you smile when your phone buzzes, the way your eyes light up talking about… him.” He didn’t need to say Aaron’s name. It hung between them like an unspoken truth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I know. And that’s why I’m not mad.” He managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes you just know when it’s not meant to be.”

Silence fell between them, heavy yet not entirely uncomfortable. She nodded, a small weight lifting off her chest as Trey stood, retrieving his jacket.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he added after a long pause. “And I hope it makes you happy.”

“Take care of yourself,” he said softly, planting a small parting kiss on her forehead before stepping out the door.

For the first time in months, she felt... free. But that freedom came with a weight all its own. She sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the space he’d just occupied. Her mind should’ve been racing, should’ve been replaying their conversation on a loop, but instead, there was only one thought anchoring her.

Aaron.

The scent of her vanilla and amber lingered on his hoodie, faint but impossible to ignore. Aaron paced the length of his flat, his trainers scuffing the worn wooden floor. His heart was in his throat, thoughts racing so fast he couldn’t pin them down.

Images flashed in his mind—her laughter lighting up the reunion, the way her hand lingered on his arm as they’d hugged goodbye, the soft sigh she’d made during their movie night when she’d leaned just close enough for him to feel the warmth of her body.

He ran a hand through his curls, gripping the back of his neck as Marcus’s words echoed in his head: "If you wait too long, you’re going to lose her."

But it wasn’t just Marcus. It was her. It was the way she looked at him, how her lips curved into a smile just for him, how her eyes softened when he made her laugh. He thought of the first time he’d met her, the way her voice had wrapped around him like a melody. He thought of the countless moments she’d unknowingly stolen his breath.

He swallowed hard, the memory of last night fresh in his mind. So close yet so far. He couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t carry the weight of words unsaid. It was now or never.

Grabbing his jacket, he left his flat, the weight of his choice propelling him forward.

The knock on her door startled her, cutting through the stillness. She frowned, rising to her feet and making her way to the door. When she opened it, Aaron was standing there, his dark curls damp from the rain, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Aaron?” she asked, surprised.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, his expression unreadable. “Can I come in?”

She nodded, stepping aside to let him in. He paused just inside the doorway, his gaze flicking to her face, then to the room behind her.

“Everything okay?” she asked, closing the door.

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

Her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms, concern etched across her face. “What’s going on?”

Aaron turned to face her, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he were fighting an internal battle. Finally, he ran a hand through his curls, letting out a frustrated groan.

“I’ve been rehearsing this for days,” he admitted, his voice low. “And now that I’m here, I don’t even know where to start.”

Her heart began to race, a strange mixture of apprehension and anticipation bubbling in her chest.

He took a step closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’ve been your friend for years, YN. Your best friend. And I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—to bury this, to pretend it didn’t matter. But it does. You do.”

Her lips parted, but he held up a hand, silencing her.

“Let me finish,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I didn’t have a chance, that you were happy with someone else, that you didn’t feel the same. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t stand here and say nothing, not when...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“And I know it’s super disrespectful for me to come here and say this to you when Trey is in the picture, but I’ve waited too long for a woman like you, to say all this to, and I just can’t wait any longer. I-”

“We broke up,” she interrupted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron froze, his eyes widening as the words registered. “What?”

“We broke up,” she repeated, her gaze steady, though her heart was pounding.

He stared at her, his breath catching. “Say that again.”

“We broke up,” she said again, her voice firmer this time. “It’s over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, a slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice low, almost awed.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Relief washed over his face, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted. “You… you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I tried to bury it, to be your friend and nothing more, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

Her breath hitched, tears pooling in her eyes as his words wrapped around her heart.

“I love the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, the way you crinkle your nose when you’re trying not to laugh too hard. I love how you make me feel like I’m enough, just by being around you. And if I didn’t say this now, I would've regretted it for the rest of my life.”

He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that escaped down her face. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”

Before she could say anything else, Aaron closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he were afraid to push too far. But when she leaned into him, her hands gripping his jacket, the kiss deepened, growing more fervent.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Aaron murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“So have I,” she whispered back, her eyes fluttering open to meet his.

Her hand covered his, her fingers trembling. “Aaron…”

He tilted his forehead to rest against hers, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Say the word, and I’ll take you out on the best first date of your life. Say the word, and I’ll prove to you every day that you made the right choice.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Closing the gap between them, her lips met his in a kiss so soft yet so charged that it left them both breathless.

When they pulled apart, he smiled, his thumb still brushing her cheek. “So, is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” she murmured, her smile matching his.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @kxllanxtdoor @random-human02

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x black!reader #aaron pierre x fem!reader #aaron pierre fanfic #ruewrites

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smok3r7 · 8 months ago

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They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Can It Work?

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: Your first case doesn’t go as planned or at least not how you wanted it to go. Are you fit for this?

Word count: 4.3k

Season 8, Ep. 8 “The Wheels on the Bus” is incorporated in this chapter, I hope you guys enjoy, I had a fun time with this one<3

—

As you sit in the black leather office chair, staring at Aaron with pure intentions, your hands grip the armrests tightly to conceal their shaking. The cold air in the room makes you shiver, but you will not let him see your vulnerability. Aaron's piercing gaze meets yours, and you feel the nerves inside you threatening to unravel.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, pleading your facade will hold. Despite the icy chill running through your veins, a fire burns within you, a fierce determination to face whatever challenge lies ahead. You square your shoulders, meeting Aaron's gaze head-on, a silent battle of yearning unraveling between you.

You refuse to let fear control you or take over, ready to confront whatever obstacles you’ll face.

But when Aaron's gaze wanders from your eyes to the glinting gold chain peeking out from beneath your button-up shirt, a rush of anticipation courses through you. With bated breath, you observe the subtle shift in his demeanor as his pupils dilate upon catching sight of the golden heart pendant that he gave you so many years ago.

In that moment, a strong sense of satisfaction wraps around you, knowing that he has noticed the intimate piece of jewelry nestled against your skin. You can almost feel the invisible thread of connection tightening between you, a silent acknowledgement passing between the stares to one another.

"So how've ya been?" you ask into the cold office.

He takes a moment before replying, moving his amber orbs back to yours, "I’ve been fine, just trying to stay on top of everything. You?"

You're hesitant to tell Aaron, so you give a quick response. "I've been busy, but good." Despite the smile on your face, Aaron senses something off. He looks at you intently, waiting for more. You can feel the weight of your secret pressing on your chest, threatening to spill out at any moment. But you push it down, putting on the facade of normalcy.

The truth is, things have been far from good. You've been struggling with something that you're not ready to share yet. There are just some things that shouldn’t be shared immediately, and the fact that you still have feelings for him, is one of them. But you almost feel compelled to tell him, but the need to keep this job fights that feeling.

"We can’t let…whatever this is-” You point your finger to yourself, back to him, and to yourself again, “Get in between the job. It just can’t.” You express it mainly to Aaron but also as a reminder to yourself. “People are counting on us to help them and their community. Our problems are minuscule to theirs.”

Aaron nods in agreement, his determination matching yours. "I agree," he nods, "We both can be professional, right? As long as that happens, you will be a perfect fit to the team."

“I can keep things professional. It’s my forte,” you chime as you stand up and soothe your button up. “It was nice to meet you, Aaron Hotchner.” You figure this is a chance for you both to start over again, you reach your hand over his desk, waiting for him in return. The unexpected warmth in his smile caught you off guard as he reciprocated your handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you, dear.” In that moment, the icy facade of Aaron Hotchner melts away, revealing a glimpse of the person behind the stern exterior. The person who once used to be your person. The person who you used to love.

As you walk out of his office, you can’t shake the feeling that something is going to happen. And little did you know - this encounter marks the beginning of an unexpected connection that unfolds in the weeks to come.

—

“Abducting a bus, a form of transportation, gas masks, shock collars, dividing people into teams. This sounds a lot like Gods of Combat." Rossi announces, but the room stares at him in pure disbelief that the older Italian man knows something about video games. “This is a video game.” He backs himself up, shrugging his shoulders just a bit.

“These guys are replicating a video game?” Derek asks, almost jokingly folding his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against a desk.

Rossi nods his head and moves towards the big round table, pointing at crime scene photos, “In the game, you take over a form of public transportation. Subway, train, bus. That's how you get your players.”

“Wait a minute. You've played this game before?” You blurt out, you truly are taken aback by Rossi knowing so much about this so-called game. You lean back in the office chair and stretch your legs out in front of you, folding your arms against your chest.

“Well, I may have played it once or twice. But, with how similar it is… it seems like they definitely pre-selected these kids.” Rossi moves his eyes between the whole team.

“I’m sure they got all the kids' personal information from social media sites and they knew when the kids would be most vulnerable. And which bus route they’d be on.” JJ bounces her thoughts to everyone, with which you all agree.

“How do you win this game?” You and Hotch ask at the same time, even though you’re on opposite sides of the table. The whole room goes quiet and the awkward stares between you and Aaron begin, but you try to stay focused on Rossi who apparently knows it all.

You can’t help yourself from looking over to Aaron once more, you instantly see him looking at you but not at your face. You calmly raise your right hand to the golden heart that lays high on your chest. His eyes move off of you faster than the speed of light, almost too fast to catch, but you do.

You’ve caught him staring at it a dozen times since the first day you saw him after so many years, it’s like he can’t stop because he can’t believe after a decade you still have it, let alone wear it.

Two peas in a pod, Derek mumbles to himself as he turns around and fills his second cup of coffee of the morning. You can’t help the small smirk that quickly appears, but you pull it down before too many people notice. But still playing with the small heart.

“Well… That’s why we gotta hurry up and find them. Because the player with the highest body count wins.”

Your stomach drops instantly. You weren’t expecting that information, because now if you are too late to find these kids, they could all end up dead. That responsibility alone, terrifying.

—

The FBI vest clings to your sweaty body as you carefully make your way through the dimly lit building. Your arms feel like stone and jello at the same time, the weight of responsibility heavy on your shoulders.

Despite the physical strain, your mind remains sharp and focused. You have a mission to accomplish - to save the innocent children trapped in this nightmare.

As you navigate through the dark abandoned corridors, you hear faint cries echoing in the distance, urging you to move faster. These kids don’t deserve the horrors that await them.

With each step, you draw closer to the source of the cries, and your heart pounds in anticipation. You prepare yourself for what lay ahead, ready to confront whatever challenges stood in the way of rescuing the children and bringing them to safety.

Continuing to navigate the dark abandoned factory with your team, you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, with Derek leading the way and Aaron covering the rear.

Your heart races as you watch Derek check a hallway to his left, prompting you to swiftly move towards the doorway on the right. With your gun raised, you enter the room and release a silent breath as you find it empty. The tension is high as you three press on, each step echoing in the empty space.

“Just shut up!” Echoes through the cement hallways, in the direction Derek’s heading towards. The three of you quicken your pace, still checking rooms that appear here and there. The arguing becomes louder and louder, until Derek tells you and Hotch to stop along the wall while he slowly moves into the open room, where you can only assume are the unsubs.

“FBI, drop your weapon!” he yells out, “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I'm here to help you.” You glance at Hotch to make sure he’s thinking the same thing as you. Which he must because he nods once, allowing you to slowly follow Morgan and he follows you.

As the tension hangs in the air, you announce your credentials and last name, followed by Hotch doing the same. The three of you spread out cautiously, not wanting to startle the unsub and trigger a dangerous or harmful reaction. A group of a dozen or more kids are behind a chain link fence with a padlock on the door portion, and two of them have dog shock collars on.

Each step you take feels deliberate, every movement calculated to maintain control of the situation. But from the look of things, you can tell this isn’t going to go smoothly. Your gut instinct is in overtime.

Knowing that one wrong move could escalate the already precarious situation. The stakes are high, and as you brace yourself for whatever might unfold, the weight of the moment is nearly suffocating. But yet, you are calm, cool, and collected.

The brown haired boy looks no older than seventeen, this must be the younger brother, the least dangerous of the two. “C’mon kid, we don’t wanna hurt you,” you firmly plead with him, his gun still aimed at Morgan but his eyes on you. You’re not sure what convinces him to do it, but he lowers the gun to the ground and puts his hands behind his head.

Go, Hotch tells Derek to cuff the kid. But before he gets to the seventeen year old, his older brother comes around the corner with his gun aimed directly at you. Instinctively, you shoot, hitting him dead center in his chest.

A deafening shot echoes in the narrow space. Shock and disbelief mingles with the smell of gunpowder as the reality of the irreversible act sinks in. You watch as the dark brown haired man hits the wall behind him and quickly sinks down to the dirty cold floor, motionless.

You stand frozen in disbelief, a faint screaming from the kids going in one ear and out the other. Your hands tremble, but your grip on the gun remains steady, pointed at the fallen figure before you. In that moment, time seems to stand still as the weight of what you just did settles in. It wasn't just any man you had shot – it was the slick unsub you had been hunting down for days.

The gravity of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. Your first case on the job, and you have taken a life. The scenes of your own life play out in your mind, a blur of memories and emotions. If you hadn’t taken action, you would be the one on the floor…not him.

You acted on pure instinct, driven by adrenaline and the need to protect the victims, your team, and yourself. But now, as you stare down at the consequences of your actions, you know that this moment will change you.

“A-are you okay?” Aaron’s voice is faint as he asks repeatedly, which shakes you awake from your panic. His right hand on the top of your gun, where your fingers are still tightly wrapped around the handle. You let him take it from your hands, but you still stand there motionless as you stare at the body no more than five feet away from you.

“I will be.”

—

As the sun sets over the horizon, creating this painting-like sky with the brightest oranges and pinks melting into each other, Emily and Derek sit across from you at the jet table, waiting to hear your thoughts about the job. You take a deep breath, trying to gather the many thoughts you have as you begin to debrief them.

You tell them about the adrenaline rush of cracking the case, the satisfaction of bringing justice to the victims. But you also fired your weapon for the first time and ended up killing him, and even though he was your unsub and an evil person - you still took a life.

You’re battling inside if you want to share these thoughts, but this is the time to be truthful about how you’re dealing with something so heavy. It’s the moment you have to decide if this job works for you or not, because if it doesn’t then you have to move on to something else for work, which is okay to do.

“I think I’m just… Still in shock? I’m not sure…” You state but it comes out as more of a question than anything. “I know this guy was the worst, but having to kill him still doesn’t sit right with me.” Leaning back just enough in your seat where your lower back releases some tension in your sore body, “But at the same time… It- it does.”

Morgan and Emily both chuckle to themselves, but in a sympathetic rather than mocking manner. “You may feel that way for a while, or a little bit. First time, it took me two days to get back to myself again. I just didn’t feel real or good about myself, I guess, is the best way to explain it,” Emily truthfully tells you, taking a sip of water to follow as she glances to her right, where Morgan sits.

“It took me a day, but that day felt like months. I almost didn’t come to work the next day… But when I woke up, I told myself that it was me or him. I ultimately had to do it.” Morgan admits, “That’s all you can do.”

You give a forced smile as you play with your fingers and he stands up with his headphones and phone in hand as he moves towards the long couch behind you. But before he passes you, he gently lays his hand on your shoulder. Take your time, he sincerely tells you.

It finally hits you, the importance of having a team that truly cares about each other can make all the difference in the world. Emily and Morgan's unwavering support is your anchor in this weird time in your life.

However, a part of you yearns for Aaron's reassuring presence; his comforting words and warm embrace are sorely missed. A simple, I’m glad you’re safe, would bring you back to solid ground immediately.

—

“Can we talk?”

As you reach your desk the voice you’ve been wanting to hear so bad, finally it’s here. Even though you just wanna go home and escape from this nightmare of a case, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity of being with Aaron.

“I’ll meet you in your office, gotta use the ladies room.”

Aaron nods his head and turns back towards his office, speaking with Morgan about something, it turns to mumbles as you get farther. As you walk down the hallway towards the bathrooms, you hear the distant sounds of chatter and laughter from the bustling office. You’re surprised how many people are still at work, considering it’s close to midnight.

You quicken your pace, eager to get back to Aaron's office. As you enter the empty corporate bathroom, you take a deep breath and try to calm your racing thoughts.

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

After a few moments of deep breathing and building yourself up, you splash some water on your face and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Everything from these past few days replay in your mind, each detail vivid and haunting. Sticking to you like leather seats on a hot day, ripping your skin. You shake your head, willing yourself to focus on one thing at a time.

With a determined look, you straighten your shoulders and head back towards Aaron's office. Quantico may never sleep, but neither do you when there’s work to be done - since you fired your weapon, paperwork is necessary.

On your way back to his office you spot Reid, Emily, and JJ waiting for the elevator, looking ready to go home and sleep. I wish that was me.

JJ calls you over with her arms open, waiting for you. Your face warm with a smile, you go to her and welcome her warm embrace that’s full of love and worry. Her motherly traits have become a huge part of JJ’s personality that it pours out of her at this point. And you’re glad she’s here.

“You’ll be okay.”

“Thank you… You guys get some sleep.” You tell them, wanting to say you’ll see them tomorrow, but you’re not sure if you will.

“You too,” Reid tells you with a small smile on his face, one you haven’t seen much of yet, but you’d like to.

The elevator dings and opens, you step back with a small wave as they walk in and return one to you as the metal doors close. Inhaling deeply, you start your journey back to his office over again with the only intent to listen.

“What’re you still doin’ here?” you question Derek, who’s at his desk busy with what looks to be paperwork of some kind.

“Gotta tell the director it was a good shooting,” he responds, putting his pen down on his desk, he takes in the sight of you standing across from him for a moment, “You’re doin’ well, I can tell you’ll be a good part of the team already.”

You smile and tell him thank you, and to have a good night, which he reciprocates with a playful wink. You like Derek a lot, he’s a great guy all around and he can lighten the mood quickly when things get too serious or he asks the hard questions - the ones that need to be asked.

Walking to what almost feels like the lion's den, you’re nervous. Even though you trust this man with your life, it’s impressive and intimidating he made it as far as the Unit Chief. The relationship now being a boss and employee one, it scares you just enough - your career is in the palm of his hands, he can do whatever he wants.

Without really preparing yourself you knock on the door that’s slightly ajar, come in, and you do without a second thought. Swiftly taking a seat in the same black leather chair as when you first joined the team. You swear you see Aaron wipe his eyes so the tears won’t show, but you don’t say anything.

"I'm sorry you had to do that today," Aaron confesses with a tone you haven’t heard in forever, his amber eyes filled with regret and worry. "I should've been on top of it, that's my fault." His words hang heavy in the air, laden with genuine remorse.

You can see that he means every word he's telling you as he reaches out to comfort you and make sure you’re dealing with this situation the best you can. As you look into his sincere eyes, a wave of gratitude washes over you, knowing that his support is unwavering and is still in him.

Even after a decade, this man still looks out for you and honestly, really cares about you and your well-being. That’s something you don’t find too often anymore… A bond like this one is sacred and holds a lot of meaning

“Don’t be… I had to learn one way or another,” you naturally bicker back, “So now it’s done and out the way.” Shrugging your shoulders, but your right leg bounces rapidly from your anxiety of today. It’s starting to catch up to you and you’re not the only one to notice it.

Aaron doesn’t need to move his eyes to know what’s going on, he just knows. “Well, I’m gonna do your paperwork for you because you need to get home and sleep.” He leans forward with his hands folded together on his desk full of papers and folders. You try to protest but he’s not having any of it, he barks your name to stop your rambling protests - which works like always.

He stands up and moves to your right side, putting his hand out in front of you for you to take. You hesitantly place your hand in his, feeling a jolt of electricity run through you as he gently pulls you up from the seat. As you rise to your feet, there's an undeniable spark between the two of you, like there was back in college.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as you both lock eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. And in that fleeting moment, you kiss him passionately, like you’ve been wanting to since you first laid eyes on him. Your hands naturally find their place on the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails.

Aarons body reacting like yours; his hands finding their home on your hips and his tongue gliding its way to yours, itching to take over. It seems like he missed you just as much as you missed him, which you thought was virtually impossible.

But just like that, you stop. What am I doing? He’s my boss…I can’t be doin’ this. What the fuck?

You pull away hesitantly, Aaron sighing but doing the same as he takes one step backwards to give you space. At least he understands, even without words yet again. You open your mouth to say that you’re sorry and that you should’ve known better, but nothing comes out - practically speechless.

As Aaron's voice whispers, "Goodnight," the office feels heavy with unspoken emotions. His words are filled with both sincerity and sorrow, a reflection of the lingering sadness in his heart. You hesitate to walk away, feeling the weight of his feelings and the depth of his longing. It was clear that he struggled to hold back his emotions, for he had missed you the same as you did him.

Before leaving, you give him a smile you haven’t made since that last year in college and you know that he recognizes it. In that moment, you realized the depth of his feelings and the strength of his unspoken love. And as you leave his office, a mix of emotions wash over you, leaving you both yearning for a connection that seemed just out of reach.

—

As you sit in the comfort of your home, a couple hours after you got home and showered as much of the scum off of you as you could, and you still feel sick. Now you’re wrapped up in a soft blanket while Golden Girls plays on your tv in front of you, and a bottle of vodka that you take shots of here and there.

The weight of the case crushes down on you, just as Emily and Morgan had warned.

The image of the kids behind the fence, some with shock collars on, and the man slumped on the ground from your gun burns your retinas, you can’t escape it. The tears finally flow freely, a release long overdue. Something you haven’t been able to do and you thought you wouldn’t, but you are.

The first night back is always the toughest, Emily’s voice reminds you that this is normal, the silence echoing the chaos left behind.

The weight of the case you carry is supposed to hit you hard in the beginning - a reminder that you're only human. But you can’t grasp the idea of being able to kill a person without a second thought… Even though your life and others were in danger, it still seems invalid.

Setting down the glass bottle on the floor, you lay on your side with tears pooling on your pillow. The images on tv are all a blur, you can only hear the sounds of Dorthy and Sophia bickering about Stan. Your stomach twisting itself inside out and back again, your temples pounding, and your heart confused.

For multiple reasons.

Your brain flips from the indescribable memories from the case, to the unforgettable memories with Aaron in his office. The two things couldn’t be more different, it’s like comparing apples to bananas, it just can’t be done.

Emotions swirl within you, trying to find their place in the chaos. It’s hard to distinguish the good feelings from the bad ones right now, the line between them blurred by the weight of the situations. It feels like you should be more upset, more focused on the bad, but somewhere deep inside, a small spark of hope refuses to be extinguished.

As you lay your head down, exhaustion seeping through your bones, fighting the liquor that runs through your blood, a glimmer of hope flickers within you. Despite the battle within, you hold on to that fragile shard of optimism.

Maybe there can be a fix to the wound you have from him, maybe not. But what you do know is this; You are fit for this job and you will continue to be a part of the BAU.

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maybege · 2 months ago

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Friendship Breakups Are The Worst - FBI 13

Summary: You thought things would be better when you got back. You thought wrong.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.3k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: none, I think

Remember how we don’t like Josh?

Yeah, this chapter is going to make that even worse.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Returning to Washington after two weeks with your parents, you weren’t sure if “returning home” was the right term to use. To be honest, you weren’t really sure where home was anymore. Because as nice as it had been to be with your parents, one thing this trip had made crystal clear was that Idaho no longer was home either.

This was something you would have to unpack, it seemed, and you could not wait to fall into your bed after a long travel day to mull this over in your head. Maybe Josh was home, too, and you could ask him what he thought. After all, he was just as far from home as you were and it certainly could not hurt to have some outside input to make sense of the thoughts in your head.

At least that could keep you from obsessing about your first day back tomorrow.

You knew you were cutting it close when you booked your return flight for the evening before you were due back but you could not bear to be alone in the city that seemed to be the origin of all of your problems and the solution for said problems at the same time.

(The image of Hotch delivering your PTO application form back to you with his no-telling look of disapproval had burnt itself into your mind.)

The night was already getting darker outside as you were digging for your keys in your purse and the door to your apartment flew open, revealing a face you weren’t all too thrilled to see.

“Amber, hi,” there was no denying that the smile on your face was fake. But the one on hers was as well.

“Hi,” she greeted you in that overly sweet voice that made you grate your teeth, “Don’t mind me, I'm already on the go. I was just here to get the measurements for the room.”

You frowned. “The what?”

Before she could reply, Josh appeared out of nowhere, his hand on her shoulder as he guided her outside. “Amber, thank you so much for coming, I will call you, okay?”

The girl smiled, happily waving at you as she passed you by. Josh closed the door behind you and carried your bag through the open door of your room.

Why was the door to your room open?

“Why was Amber looking at my room?” you asked, already dreading the answer.

Josh had no reason to move out. He was the main renter after all. And you were the one who had just spent two weeks out of state. “Do you think I am moving out?” Josh did not say anything, “You ... are kicking me out?”

He didn’t meet your gaze and strangely enough, that was what triggered your anger. A lifetime of friendship and he was too cowardly to look you in the eyes and admit whatever bullshit he had committed.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” you bit out, “I don’t understand, Josh, what happened? Did I do something that you suddenly cannot stand to live with me?”

“You are – you are so sensitive!” he burst out and you took a step back, eyes widening at seeing your friend so hateful, “You can’t take any jokes and you’re all high and mighty ever since you got that job at the FBI. And you constantly complain about people staying over.”

“But you were happy for me,” you stuttered out, “You – you were the first to congratulate me when I got the call.”

“I did not think you would last!” he blurted out, his hands in the air as if he was finally surrendering.

You froze. Why did your heart beat so loudly all of a sudden?

“I did not think you would make it longer than a week there, okay?” he sounded exasperated, hurt even. As if you were the one who had just told him you did not believe in him. “But it’s been almost a year and –“

“And I still work there,” you interrupted him, rage and hurt bubbling up inside you, “I still work at the job I was so happy about getting and that is what is bothering you? My success? My happiness at finally finding something where I think I can make a difference? After working through – through self-doubt and –“

You stopped short, the penny dropping in your brain as you suddenly saw your alleged best friend in a whole new light. Your best friend who still couldn’t properly face you, even with his betrayal out in the open.

“Oh, but it isn’t,” you realized quietly, “You are jealous because I achieved what I wanted while you spend your days pretending that you are all on track to get your degree to everyone including yourself while you are spending your days getting drunk and talking about it as if

“Just go, okay?” he scoffed, “I thought you'd return to Idaho so I promised to rent out the room to Amber. She moves by the next month.”

“No worries,” you bit out, blindly reaching for the doorknob behind you, “I have no interest in moving back here now.”

In any cheesy movie, the weather reflected the character’s moods. A sad (or at least somewhat dramatic) scene was always accompanied by thunder, rain or otherwise appropriate weather backdrops (see: the first proposal scene in the 2005 Pride & Prejudice version).

Washington’s weather didn’t give a fuck about your emotional state.

It was dark and cold because it was eleven pm on a Sunday evening but otherwise, the city was lit with lovely lights and you met way too. Blinded by the whirlwind of emotions, you stumbled into the closest 24/7 diner you found. You had passed it several times on your way to and from work but had never stepped a foot inside. How ironic that the first time would probably be the last time as well. Who knew where you would end up living by the end of the month?

Oh God. Who knew where you would end up living by the end of the month?

One order of pancakes and coffee later, you sat in a red leather booth, staring into the liquid that was as dark as your future, it seemed. The pancakes were and probably would remain untouched, no matter the lovingly decorated deep frozen berries on top. You had had the slim hope that, if you were to smell food, you would feel like eating. But all you felt was sad and nauseous.

Had this really just happened? Had your longest friendship just crumbled into nothing at the snap of someone’s fingers? How could that have happened? What were you supposed to do now?

Your mind could not comprehend the two major life changes that you had gotten for the price of one. Dissolution of your oldest friendship from home? Check. Loss of apartment space leaving you for the moment homeless in one of the most expensive cities to live in? Check.

Double jackpot. Lucky you.

A tear dropped into the coffee cup, ripping you out of your thoughts and you looked around, paranoid that anyone had witnessed your low point. But like so often, the other patrons of the diner were focused much more on themselves than any other person in the diner.

Until the hotdog was flying to your chest.

Your grandfather always said that misery attracted misery and if that was true, it really should not come as a surprise that the waitress tripped right next to your table of all tables. You watched the dish fly through the air in slow motion and though you registered that you needed to move, your body moved much slower than you wanted it to.

And then you had a mess of hot dog, ketchup and mustard all smeared over your dress until it settled in your lap.

Great. Just what you needed.

A fresh wave of tears spilled over your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the poor girl – Nancy, her nametag read – looked at you, tears and panic in her eyes as she looked at your now ruined dress.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you sniffled, taking the napkins from her and pressing them into your dress, trying to wipe the condiments off, “It was an accident. No worries. Could – do you happen to have another set of napkins?”

Happy to have something she could help you with, the young woman dashed off into the kitchen, returning with a bunch of napkins in her hands just as you had picked the food pieces off yourself. “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked, big eyes looking helplessly at where you tried to dab on the stain.

“No, uh,” you swallowed back the tears, “It’s all good, I promise. Thank you, though, for the napkins.”

She seemed reluctant to leave you pondered what you could say to get her to leave you alone in your misery when a new set of customers walked in. A whole group, judging from the noise they made, caused her to leave your table to take care of the new arrivals.

Thank you, universe.

Now you could wallow in self-pity. At least for five minutes because suddenly someone was standing right in front of you. And you would recognize that jeans and shirt-clad body everywhere.

“Derek?” you sniffled, looking up at your colleague who had pity written all over his face. And who had a beautiful woman standing right next to him.

“What in the world are you doing here, kid?”

“Um,” you could feel your bottom lip tremble, “Just hanging out?”

“Come on,” he nodded to the door, “You can crash at my place.”

“Derek,” you whispered, new tears filling your eyes, “Are you sure? Your date –“

“She’ll be fine,” he interrupted you gently, “Now come on, you look like you could use a shower and a friend.”

He had never been more right.

You took the pillow gratefully, fluffing it up and putting it on his couch.

Derek had been right: The shower had made you feel tremendously better and after briefly soaking your dress in the sink a good cry, you had felt ready to explain everything that was going on.

“I really cannot thank you enough, Derek,” you finished your tale, clutching the fuzzy blanket in your hands, “It’s … really been a day.”

“You can say that again,” he scoffed, shaking his head, “That is no way to treat a friend and I am begging you to let me go with you to get your stuff. I have a few words for that Josh fellow.”

You smiled at his protectiveness, finally feeling like this day was turning out for the better.

If only it weren’t the last day of your vacation.

Sleep was unrestful and way too short.

You did not know how much time you had spent tossing and turning on Derek’s couch, your mind restless while Josh’s words – accusations, your brain corrected – kept echoing in your head. He had been so angry, so emotional, that suddenly you found yourself questioning the one friendship, the one relationship, you had since kindergarten.

When had he changed how he thought about you?

Had it been in middle school, both of you going to school and you being so sure of yourself you’d be able to get into university? Had it been in high school? Him falling one year behind even though he already was a year older than you? Had it been then that he decided he did not want to attend your prom? That he would do his best to make ‘jokes’ about the studies you chose?

When, in the last eighteen years, had he decided he did not want to be your friend anymore? And, most importantly, why hadn’t you noticed it?

Why had it become so normal for you to just accept that he was lying to others about you? When had it become okay to simply take the jokes instead of confronting him about them? Why, with everything you had achieved in life, had you not been insistent and strong enough to tell him your mind before it was too late?

You sighed, turning on your side, facing the wide window that looked onto the brownstone next door. This next day would be a bitch, you already knew that.

It did not take long until you could hear Morgan pattering around in the kitchen, most likely trying to give you some more privacy, which you appreciated. The smell of coffee got you motivated enough to finally sit upright, bracing yourself for the day ahead.

And the day ahead arrived with a phone call. With an apologetic smile, your friend answered the phone, “Morgan here.”

You sat up, knowing that it was most likely his work phone. An assumption that was proven right as he threw you a pointed look.

“Yeah, listen, tell JJ not to call her. She is with me,” a pause as he grinned, “What do you think, Hotch?”, a pause, his grin grew wider, “Yeah, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” And with that, he hung up.

“Coffee?” he asked, already on his way to the kitchen and you groaned.

Your legs ached as you sat up and you tried to stretch your arms over your head, already feeling how exhaustion meddled with your body. “Yes, please. I’ll try to get dressed.”

You stood up, walking over to the kitchen chair where your dress was at least somewhat dry but the stain still very much visible. You did not have the time nor the emotional energy to go back to your place to change.

Morgan seemed to notice your struggle, throwing a look at you as he placed two to-go cups on the counter.

“I doubt my pants would fit you but I could lend you a shirt?” he offered, “Maybe just to cover up that stain?”

Resigned, you looked down on the enormous ketchup and mustard stain on your dress and nodded. “That would be nice, I have a to-go bag back in the office, then I can change into something more appropriate.”

“Sounds good, kid,” he nodded, nodding towards the bathroom, “You want to go get changed first?”

#maybege writes #aaron hotchner x reader

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c0wb0yenthusiast · 1 year ago

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While you were sleeping

Part 1

Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary : It’s Christmas Eve. You’re all alone at work until your ‘mystery man’ is pushed onto the train tracks. You save him and are now mistakingly thought of as his fiancée. For the rest of the holidays, the family seems to cling onto you. What do you do when you meet his seemingly cold and unwelcoming brother?

Word count : 3k

A/N : THIS CHAPTER DOESN’T CONTAIN A LOT OF AARON! Don’t sue me I’m just trying to set the story but attempted to add a little snippet at the end. So before anyone gets mad at me just remember there’s a thing called developing plot so don’t hate me please. Anyways I had fun writing this and part 2 will definitely be out soon!

It started off as a completely innocent activity.

Ogling the man who took the train to work everyday. He was lean, casual and relaxed with soft - as least, you thought it looked soft - straight, light brown hair which fell over his eyes if it was windy.

You’d sit back in your booth and think about a future with someone like him. Listening to the constant clatter as people slid their tokens through while you began to daydream. From the look of it, he seemed to be successful too.

He’d always smile at you too.

His smile brought out the creases in his eyes and his straight teeth. He was so perfect it was meant to be.

It was small and you may have been taking it too far, but he was so dreamy.

“Thanks.”

You could only melt on the inside as he walked off, his scarf trailing down his back as it had been lazily wrapped around his neck.

However, this would always distract you from punching other people’s tickets. You’d get a furious rap on the window with an angry businesswoman.

But that was fine for you. It was fine if it meant being able to catch glances of him.

It was a chilly December morning. The wind seemed to push against you as you made your way to work. It may have been due to the fact that it was Christmas Eve.

Your boss had managed to convince you to work holidays. Probably because you didn’t have anybody waiting at home for you. Except for the landlord’s son.

You can only wrap your scarf around you tighter while you clasp onto your sandwich. You were nearly there.

The booth was slightly warmer than outside, with only your chair and table greeting you as you got yourself comfortable.

Here you were - working on Christmas Eve while everyone else were probably bundled in blankets and sipping hot chocolate with their families.

Listlessly staring into the glass barrier, you admire the blanket of snow which the city had been showered in. It just seemed to show that everybody was connected or all together.

Apart from you.

You settled in your chair, turning a token between your fingers slowly.

Before he came up to the booth.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” He smiled, tapping on the barrier.

You instantly looked up to meet his eye which made you falter at his piercing gaze.

He was wearing his long, dark jacket but a knitted red scarf was slung around his shoulders. His hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at you, sliding his token in the little gap.

Underneath his jacket, you could spot your favourite suit - rich navy blue blazer and a clean, pressed shirt which brought out his light eyes. His buttons were a beautiful mix of brown and amber, sewn neatly onto his jacket which was half buttoned. He was careless in such a fashionable way

You look up at him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

This was the most he’s ever said to you.

“Uh-“

He’d already walked off and was waiting happily for his train.

You looked like an idiot - frozen in action. Your jaw almost hanging open at the sheer embarrassment.

Nobody else was at the station or by your booth, so you took the opportunity to ogle your mystery man once more.

He stood idly, checking his watch and clutching his briefcase in his hand. Was he going to work? Was he visiting family?

While you imagined a future with him in 10 years, it suddenly came to your attention that a couple of men were now standing by him.

They hadn’t put a token in, what were they doing?

You squint in an attempt to catch a better look while being blocked by the glass barrier, you could faintly hear their conversation.

“Hey, nice jacket.” The tallest one approached him closely, he was most likely the ringleader.

“Must be expensive.” Another chirped in.

It happened so fast.

Before he could even respond, they’d taken the opportunity to shove him onto the tracks.

He fell face first, his briefcase dropping from his hand as he fell.

They immediately ran off, urging you to do something, anything.

You jumped out of your chair, dashing out of your booth and now standing on the spot where your beautiful stranger had been pushed.

He lay limply on the tracks.

He’d been knocked unconscious.

You couldn’t see his face but you knew it was bad. He could’ve hit his nose, or even broken a tooth.

Without even thinking you lowered yourself down cautiously next to him and turned him over with some effort.

You tried to think of a way to capture his attention or even wake him up, but his bloody nose and parted lips were making your mind race.

“Sir- sir? Sir!” You kept repeating over and over, using an arm to tilt him towards you.

Blood was now dripping down his face and you couldn’t contain your distress.

“Somebody help me! Please- sir!” Another hand was now stroking his cheek. You needed him to wake up.

He couldn’t leave you here on the tracks like this.

You never even got to know his name.

That was when you heard it.

As you were lamenting, the muffled sound of a horn could be heard through your panicked cries.

Still holding onto him tightly, you look up.

It’s a train coming your way.

“Sir! Sir, there’s a train… and- and it’s really fast and I don’t think it can stop for us.. please wake up.” You added, pleading with this unconscious man as the silhouette grew larger and larger out of the corner of your eye.

He really wasn’t going to wake up; he sure was stubborn.

He was too heavy to drag up onto the platform, but you’d just spotted a small nook to hide in.

With no time to consider your chances, you laid with him and rolled into the small corner. You were holding onto his expensive jacket like it was your own life force as the horn was now blearing through your ears.

Your face was pressed against his chest, your eyes shut tightly as if that would alleviate any of the pain you could’ve felt if the train had hit the two of you.

He really seemed like a successful man. Even his cologne smelled good.

The train came to a halt at your station and concerned passengers were now wandering mindlessly to find a way to help you.

You could only hold onto your dream man and anticipate what would happen next.

It was all such a rush you never understood how you’d handled it so well. It was probably all the adrenaline.

You were whisked away in an ambulance with him lying on the stretcher. As you sat with a professional in the back, you’d steal glances of him from time to time. You never thought this could happen.

They’d managed to clean you up fairly quickly but kept you in the hospital waiting room for the authorities.

You’d been sitting for around twenty minutes, holding onto his scarf that had been separated from him in the frantic rush to put him on the stretcher.

Was he going to be okay? Was this your fault? Were you going to be arrested?

All these questions bubbled in your head and were slowly beginning to rise. If you didn’t talk to someone soon, you might explode.

Suddenly, you spot him being wheeled in another stretcher through the glass doors.

Surely they had to let you see him. You needed to know if he was okay, especially since you’d saved his life.

You got up and pushed the door open, about to follow him and the group of doctors wheeling him but was met by another doctor.

“Sorry, only family are permitted to visit-“

“Oh, but-“

“Are you family?”

“Well, no..”

“Then you need to stay here, please.” He added, but there was no sincerity in his tone as he guided you back into the waiting room, just outside the forbidden door you’d just entered.

You couldn’t stand by and let your dream man be whisked away once more. You needed to see him.

Clutching the scarf tighter, you could feel the pain growing. If you’d actually tried, you could have possibly had a future with him. Maybe if you were actually social-

“God… I was going to marry him..” you whisper, holding a yearning hand up to the door.

This was the moment when your whole life was absolutely flipped upside down.

A nurse frantically rushed up to you.

“Dear, is that- do you need to see him? Are they not letting you inside?”

You look up at her, but her glare is urging you to stand up and look back at the doors.”

“Yeah.. it’s.. it’s fine though.”

“It’s not! They shouldn’t be doing that.”

She took your arm and guided you through the doors once more. The corridor was empty as the two of you walked down; it seemed to be never ending.

“Your man is right… here. I believe this is the room he’d been assigned to, dear.” She taps her clipboard while she smiles and waits by the door.

“Oh.. thank you.” You smile back. This is all quite overwhelming for Christmas Eve, probably more exciting than any of your previous years.

You push the door open gently, examining him while he slept. He seems calm enough, a brace was now placed on his nose and he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

His scarf settles in your arms as you take a seat next to him.

You need a minute to take in the way his hair is mussed and how peaceful he seems to look.

“Hi..” you murmur, shuffling closer.

You were planning to just apologise to him, speak to the authorities and move on to your life.

Maybe he would be able to hear this all in his sleep.

“It’s uhm.. it’s me. You got pushed onto the train tracks..” you chuckle, but quickly stop yourself.

“I didn’t find that funny.. I just thought it’s quite a coincidence for Christmas Eve. It sort of set us up together.” Your voice was coming out much smoother and softer as you got rather comfortable with your mystery man.

“I’m sorry you have to spend Christmas Eve like this.”

Suddenly, the door almost burst open with the group of people now entering. An ocean of voices flooded the room, overlapping each other and growing in volume.

“Sean! What happened to Sean!”

“He’s right there, why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s sleeping, can’t you see?”

“Stop arguing!”

They all stop abruptly, now turning to look at you in unison. You’ve never seen a family so connected.

The group contained two elderly men, an old woman and a man in his early 20s.

“Who are you?” The younger man cocked a brow.

What you didn’t notice was the doctor who refused your entry had gathered them here.

He came to the front of the group, pointing an agitated finger at you.

“I thought I told you-“

“She is family! She is his fiancée!”

They all seemed to quiet down at the nurse’s sudden interruption. Even you were startled, you didn’t realise she’d stayed.

“Sean has a fiancée?”

“It’s been a couple of years..”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us!”

“She could’ve been a mistress-“

You stood up quickly, gathering your coat. This was all too much for you.

“I- I should go..”

“Nonsense!” The old woman stood in front of you and continued, “Sean may have wanted to surprise us!”

“He’s already surprised us enough today…”, one of the men grumbled.

The other three men nodded and murmured amongst themselves, most likely doubtful.

You couldn’t say no; she seemed so definite that you might as well be his fiancée now.

“We’re so sorry for being so ignorant, honey. It’s just that Sean never let us know he had a fiancée..” she put her hands on your shoulders fondly, smiling.

“It’s.. it’s okay.”

“What would Aaron say?” The youngest seemed much more panicked than the rest, probably solely focused on Sean in the hospital bed.

Who’s Aaron?

Like a Greek chorus, they moved together in a flock as they surrounded Sean’s bed. You followed slowly, standing a couple of inches behind them as they examined his current situation.

“My poor boy..”, the woman - presumably his mother - sniffed and held onto one of the men.

“What happened to him?”

“Coma. He got pushed onto the train tracks.” The nurse was now standing by them, gesturing to her clipboard.

You were too busy mapping out who his potential family were in your head.

“He’s not dead, honey. He’ll make it..”, the husband added reassuringly.

“Let’s leave soon before everyone bursts into tears. Sean would want us to stop feeling sorry him.” The other old man patted the young boys back and nodded to you.

That was your cue to leave.

Or so you thought.

In the waiting room, the boy wandered off around the corner to the vending machines. It was just you and the old man.

“Come. Sit with me.” He gestured to the chair in front of him.

You obliged, trying to be polite as he now thought you were going to be bound legally due to marriage soon anyway.

“You feeling okay?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine.”

“It must’ve been quite stressful. Saving Sean from an oncoming train.”

“It was definitely.. something.”

“How long have the two of you been together?”

You paused. When did you first see him? When was the first time you were graced by his smile and clean suits?

“June. It was a Monday.” You smiled fondly at the memory.

Beneath your daydreams, doubts were lurking in the back of your mind. Why were you going along with this?

“So.. around 7 months? Pretty quick for an engagement. He never told us about you.”

“Yeah.. yeah..”

He was about to ask another question, but the rest of the family were now approaching swiftly and took seats in the chairs around the two of you.

The mother sat next to you, smiling up at you admirably.

“You went onto train tracks for my boy. God, thank you!” She sniffed again and flung her frail arms around you.

You almost flinched at the sudden movement but accepted her embrace awkwardly.

“Thanks.. I’m just thankful that he wasn’t injured severely.”

“And she’s humble too! Sean really found himself a rose in a bundle of thorns.” The husband commented, grinning.

This was all becoming far too much for you. It was Christmas Eve - you should’ve been sitting at home, swirling a mug of hot chocolate in your hands and enjoying watching your cat play with the new toy you bought him.

You shouldn’t be in the hospital surrounded by strangers that now believe you’re engaged to your mystery man.

Sean. That was his name.

He’s no longer your mystery man, is he? He was your fiancé now and there was nothing you could do to get yourself out of this predicament.

They talked amongst themselves, sharing fond memories of Sean. Some of them included ‘Aaron’, who you still hadn’t met.

After 10 minutes or so, the mother turned to you.

“Dear, we were all wondering.. since Christmas Eve has been such a disaster..” she sighed and sniffed again, ��Would you like to join us for Christmas? It’ll just be a small celebration, but we all think it’s so unfair we haven’t been able to introduce you to any of the family traditions. Right?”

She looked at everyone else, who all nodded enthusiastically. They all seemed to be sold on you being Sean’s fiancée, so why not go with it?

It was evening now, the sun had set much earlier and darkness shrouded the house.

They had refused to leave you alone in an attempt to make you feel happier concerning the situation at the moment. It wasn’t working.

You weren’t his fiancée and it seemed to be eating you alive. You can’t tell them now, they seem to like you so much already!

You’re sitting on the porch, staring out into the darkness. It’s chilly but you got to borrow one of Sean’s coats he’d left at his childhood house, you wrap it around yourself tightly and embrace the faint scent of cologne as you find solace in the eerie silence.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate what they’ve doing for you. It’s just all quite overwhelming for one day.

You’re only one person, you don’t think you can handle it all.

You exhale shakily, folding your arms over your chest to try and block out any breeze.

That’s when you see it.

A car pulls up in front of the house. It’s a nice one - shiny and expensive. You contemplate going inside but decide it’s probably no threat.

Then, a tall man encased in a long, black coat begins to walk up to the porch.

He’s refined, smooth and carries a sense of power. However, it seems to fade as he walks up the pavement. He’s less tense at the sight of the warm aura and bright light escaping from the inside and shining onto the frozen grass that he steps on.

Every ounce of friendliness leaves as soon as he comes face to face with you.

He stops abruptly, looking down at you with a cocked brow.

“Who are you?”

Before you can open your mouth, the door swings open and Mrs Hotchner rushes towards him.

“Aaron, we didn’t think you’d make it! It’s so good to see you, honey!” She cried, flinging her arms around him.

“Always a pleasure to see you, mother.” He replies, patting her back gently but not tearing his eyes off of you.

You shrink a little at his piercing gaze. It’s like he’s slowly peeling back the layers of your character, examining all of your features and trying to determine how to feel about you. Maybe you’re looking into it too harshly.

He just doesn’t know you yet.

And by the looks of it, he’ll get to know soon.

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the-hopeless-haze · 2 years ago

Text

Glorious Happenings of Happenstance

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: mild smut

Summary: You get Aaron to accompany you to a wedding. It's the only night you have together, so you might as well make the most of it. Right? (as requested by Aaron deficiency anon)

-------

You hate your brother.

You don’t, really, you just dislike him right now, dragging your whole family to Boston for a wedding a week before you were supposed to be starting your new job. It was always like that with you two, push and pull, a constant game of tug and war of who was going to outdo the other one. You got the prestigious job but he was getting married. Young - like all the army rats. Dumb. Stupid. It wouldn’t last. But whatever. The hotel is nice, and you managed to escape your future sister-in-law’s bachelorette plans to get a drink at the bar by yourself. Never mind the fact she couldn’t legally drink and neither could your brother. Stupid. Very stupid.

But your parents made it known your input was unwanted and uncalled for so you kept your mouth shut. Maybe you could just be inebriated this whole weekend. God forbid someone tries to talk him out of one of the worst mistakes of his life.

You order a mojito because you’ve been sweltering in the humidity of the Boston summer, but then… you think maybe you won’t need to be drunk on liquor as you see a tall man with jet-black hair sit down on your right, leaving a few empty seats between the two of you. He looks authoritative; like people listen when he speaks; like he could command a room without so much as whispering. He’s too old for you, but fuck it, if your parents had nothing to say about your brother getting married the second he turned eighteen, they can’t say shit about who you end up with.

But still. You’re not staying in Massachusetts, and from the looks of him, you doubt he is either. He must be here on business, still dressed in black dress slacks and a suit jacket in the heat, never mind that it’s almost 10 pm. Although, who knows? Lots of suit types around, although not necessarily in hotel bars.

He orders something strong on the rocks, sipping slowly at the amber liquid. You eye his hand on the glass... and god. It dwarfs it, making it look tiny wrapped in his long fingers.

You bite your lip and turn away, sipping cautiously at your own drink. You weren’t thinking about meeting anyone here, anyway. You sweat off most of your makeup this morning driving to the hotel and your hair was a frizzy mess, soaking up all the moisture from the air it could get. You needed a shower. You just wanted a few drinks alone before turning in for the night. Right?

You’d never had a one-night stand yourself. You didn’t know how those worked, and you thought emotional entanglements before starting as an FBI agent, however brief they were… wouldn’t exactly be a good start to your career. You didn’t want to be missing him, waiting for calls that never came.

Jesus. You need to get a grip. You haven’t said a word to this man. You don’t even know his name.

Scanning him over again, you drink in his dark hair and eyes, thick eyebrows, sharp jawline, and broad shoulders. You’re not being exactly subtle in checking him out as you start to feel the effects of the alcohol loosening you up a little.

So you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are that he catches you.

Aaron noticed you when he walked into the bar, but he deduced that you were tired and wanted to be left alone. A woman alone in a hotel bar that clearly wasn’t here on work, clad in a sundress… you were here to deal with something. Fight with a lover, family member, or friend - someone you were on vacation with. You didn’t want company. And neither did he, really. But now that your eyes met, he feels like you look so familiar, and yet he can’t quite figure out why. You give a small, shy smile and you slide down the few bar stools and tell him your name.

“I’m Aaron,” he responds, using his first instead of his last name to introduce himself. A rarity. You’ve got to be twenty years his junior. Nothing can come of this, he tells himself, trying to ignore the thin strap of your dress that was falling off your shoulder.

“You here for the wedding?” you ask, hopeful that maybe he was some long-distance relative of your brother’s fiancée, that you would somehow be able to run into him again. Celebrate the inevitable divorce.

“Wedding? No,” he answers, eyebrows raising a little in surprise.

Damn it. Couldn’t be so lucky.

“Who’s getting married?” he asks.

“My brother,” you answer.

“Shouldn’t you know who’s in the wedding party, then?” he asks, giving you a small smile, just wide enough to see the hints of dimples on his cheeks.

God. You were half in love with him already.

“I don’t know her side,” you answer, smiling back.

“They haven’t been together long?”

“Nope. Guess.”

“How long? I don’t know. Six months.”

“You think that’s short? Try four,” you say. “He’s going into the army. Straight out of high school. And no, she’s not pregnant.”

“You don’t sound like you approve,” he observes.

“Would you?”

“I don’t know. Stranger things have worked out.”

“I’ve never seen high school sweethearts stay together. And if they do… they’re usually not happy.”

“You’re barely out of high school yourself.”

“I’m 25!”

“Proving my point,” he says, smiling again. “I married my high school sweetheart.”

“I don’t see a wedding ring on your finger,” you point out.

“No. You don’t,” he sighs, taking a swig of his whiskey.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately apologize, hating yourself for your lack of filter. “I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s okay,” he cuts off your apology. “I invited the observation. We… we wanted different things.”

“Isn’t that the way shit always ends?”

Aaron nods, swallowing down the rest of his drink. “What about you? Are you against all marriages or just the shotgun ones?”

“Mostly just those, but I don’t know. I really don’t see the benefit at all,” you shrug.

“Right. So jaded in your old age,” he quips.

You giggle, shaking your head. “I’ll buy the next round?” you offer tentatively.

“I believe it’s the other way around,” he says, flagging down the bartender before you could and adding your next drink to his tab.

You try and fail to ignore the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. “There’s always tax breaks.”

“What?” you ask, caught off guard by his out-of-context statement.

“Filing as married. Tax breaks,” Aaron clarifies.

“Yeah. Health insurance, too. Or, you know, not having to live in the barracks.”

“The joys of marriage.”

You roll your eyes. “How romantic. Spare me. Please.”

“No one’s tying you down, hmm?”

“No,” you say, but you give him a lilting smile, one you hope dares him to try.

“Fair enough.”

“What brings you out here, then, if it’s not to be my plus one to this sham of a wedding?”

“Work,” he replies. “Giving a conference at a college nearby.”

“You don’t have time to come in between?”

You don’t know why you’re inviting him. You don’t want him to meet your family, not like this, anyway. You don’t want to lead him on. It’s the alcohol, maybe, loosening your lips.

“I think your parents would kill me,” Aaron says firmly.

“Right. If they don’t care what my brother does, they shouldn’t care what I do. Bringing you to the wedding would be marginally less stupid than actually getting married.”

He sighs your name, shaking his head. “I can’t in good conscience agree to that.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll never see you again after this.”

“So?” you shrug.

“I don’t intend on starting something I can’t finish,” he says lowly, and you wonder… is that flirting? Is that what he’s doing?

“Fair enough,” you concede. “A little bit too much pressure for something that’s destined to go nowhere.”

“You’re not from here, either?”

“I’m moving for my job,” you tell him.

“Which is?”

You laugh and shake your head. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” he says, smiling against the glass as he lifts it to his mouth. “CIA?”

“You’re serious,” you say, incredulous. “You actually believe I’m joining the CIA?”

“You’ve got a talent for holding a conversation without saying anything,” he points out.

“Takes one to know one,” you shoot back, realizing all you really learned about him was his first name and that he was married and now divorced.

He shrugs. “Good quality to have if for whatever reason you need to go undercover. Also, good quality to have when you’re in possession of vital, secret information. Something to think about.”

“You want to refer me?”

“Smooth,” he grins. “Nice deflection.”

“I’m most certainly not joining the CIA, Aaron, but if that’s what you’d like to follow you around in your fantasies of me, be my guest,” you smile back.

“Fantasies?”

“Since nothing can come of this. All we’re left with, right?”

“It’s a conversation in a bar. Those end two ways. Three, actually.”

“Which are?”

“The people involved in the conversation get a room. Or they leave and never speak again. Or… provided one is a CIA agent and on a covert operation, she may in fact kill the man involved.”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh anyway. Maybe it’s the alcohol loosening him up a bit, you don’t know, but you get the feeling he’s not often like this.

“I’m beginning to think you’re paranoid, now. What do they want you for?”

“Some light treason, probably,” he snarks.

You’re not drunk enough that the beginning of his earlier remark escapes you, though. “I take it a room isn’t in the cards for us?”

Looking at you apologetically, he whispers your name before shaking his head. “It’s not fair to either of us. Some people can live their lives like that… but I can’t. If that’s what you’re looking for, I’m sorry. I’m not the man you need tonight.”

Oh, but he is.

You hang your head, blushing. “I’m not… I don’t usually do this, either. I just figured…”

“It’s not because I don’t find you attractive,” he reassures you. “I just…can’t lead you on when I know it can’t last.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” you say, nodding. “There is a fourth way this can end, though.”

“Yeah? I’m all ears.”

“I see you tomorrow,” you grin, downing the rest of your drink. “You’ll still be around.”

And with that, you stand up, kiss his cheek, and you walk out of that bar. And you don’t look back to see his reaction no matter how much you want to.

You know he’s bad news. You know he won’t show up. You know he’s absolutely right, and an attractive man like that must have been through a series of one-night stands after his wife left or he left her and realized they just left him hollow. Didn’t fill the void she left.

He didn’t want you to add to that chapter in his life. And you can’t blame him. You’d be a toxic end to that book if there ever was one.

————-

So when you see Aaron through the windows, who lost the suit jacket, finally, hanging outside of the wedding reception, you think you’re going insane. Hallucinating. Having an out-of-body experience or something.

He was too old to be playing games. Why was he here, hanging on the outskirts like this? It’s not like he was trying to get your attention. You were having a conversation with your cousin who was praying she caught the bouquet, and when you eyed him, you told her that you need some air.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” you say, stepping out of the stuffy reception hall into the cooler night air. “Or out. Not enough balls to actually crash it?”

“I… well. I suppose I’ve been caught,” he says sheepishly, and if the lighting out here wasn’t so bad you’d swear you saw him blushing. “You look beautiful.”

Maybe you do look good, or at least better than the bar last night. You settled on a maroon one-shouldered dress that clung to your curves, paired it with black-heeled sandals and you managed to get your hands on waterproof mascara and eyeliner to beat the humidity.

“Why are you here?”

“It was the fourth option.”

“We’ve reached an impasse, though.”

“We’re down to three options, again,” Aaron nods. “I realized it was prolonging the inevitable.”

“It’s two, Aaron. Room or no room,” you say, a little tense. “There’s no inevitable. There’s just now. You showed up. You showed up now.”

He scoffs, stepping a little closer to you. “You don’t even believe that. All you think about is the future. You think your brother and his wife are destined to divorce so they shouldn’t get married. Why should we start something when we know it’s going to end? That’s what this whole week was predicated on for you. Inevitability. And trying to avoid it and get others to avoid it as well. It’s your whole anti-marriage stance. Why should anyone start what they can’t finish? Right? Why bother with any of it? Why come on to me at all? One day someone is going to leave, by choice or by circumstance.”

“You showed up,” you say again. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Aaron. You don’t know shit about me. You said so yourself last night.”

“No. I don’t know your last name or your favorite color or what your major in college was. But I know that you’re afraid.”

“Everyone’s afraid,” you shoot back. “You showed up. Why?”

“I… I wanted to see you again. It’s different now. It’s not a conversation in a bar anymore. It’s two people outside of a wedding.”

“Why see me again? Wasn’t the point of not starting to avoid hurting? Isn’t that what we’re all afraid of? Pain? We spend our whole lives trying to outrun it. You don’t like one night stands because they hurt. Because they leave you empty. Because they make you wonder and worry about the what-ifs and the consequences.”

Aaron shakes his head. “It’s not just about that. I thought about this. About us. If we only have the night… I want to do it right. I want to spend it with you.”

“Not in me?” you quip, smirking.

He says your name in a warning tone. “Don’t.”

“Fine,” you laugh. “I take it you’ll actually crash now?”

“Yes,” he nods, looking at you intensely. “I hope you can dance.”

“Dancing’s a dangerous game,” you tease. “Could quickly lead to other things.”

“Not in a room full of your family.”

“You’re a little tapped, huh?” you ask, grinning.

“Tapped?”

“Fucked in the head.”

He shrugs. “We have one night. I want it. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it, Aaron,” you say, and lead him back through the glass doors of the hall. “You’ll quickly find I’m just as fucked.”

“I think I already knew that,” he chuckles lowly, taking your hand in his.

What kind of man agrees to this? You’ve had boyfriends you’ve had to fight with to meet your family in the first place, and here’s this man, all set to attend a full-blown wedding with your entire extended family. Maybe you didn’t care if it was long-distance at the end of tonight. He seems like a keeper.

Your brother eyes you from where he stands at the altar. You smile and shake your head, ushering Aaron into the back row with you. You didn’t exactly feel like you needed front-row seats for this.

His future wife, Crystal, she’s pretty, with olive skin, kind brown eyes, and curly black hair, but you’re still just taken aback by how young they are, how your brother will be selling his body and soul for the military in weeks and she’s coming along for the ride. Young love. You remember your first, the neighbor next door, a little older than you. Like everyone with their first love, you swore you’d marry him one day.

But you didn’t.

And you were better off.

Vows spoken. Rings traded. You almost tear up a little, given your recent fight with your mother about this, her saying she was glad at least one of her kids was getting married, that maybe she did have the hope of grandchildren someday. And it’s not fair, not really, to put that kind of pressure on you. You were career-oriented. You were never going to be the kind of woman who easily submit, who did what a man said, who took his last name and gave up the one you used for decades. You were never going to be a woman like Crystal, even when you were younger, and would do just about anything for male validation. Something in your brain was wired to be contradictory when someone tried to box you in.

How can you speak meaningful vows with someone you barely knew? You hear your brother spout something about love and eternal happiness, in sickness and in health, and it’s so easy to promise that when all you’ve seen is their good days.

You don’t have a traumatic background. You just know people leave. And you have always tried to never let yourself be in a vulnerable position. Even here, Aaron is the one who’s got less of a leg to stand on. Sure, his being here was going to lead to some awkward conversations with your relatives, but they were your relatives. He was the one out of place.

Your aunt turns around after the ceremony ends to say something to you, but she stops short upon catching Aaron’s eyes. So it begins.

“Who’s this?” she asks.

“My hooker for the night,” you tell her, deadpan, staring at your nails like you’re uninterested, and it’s so hard not to break out into a smile when you see Aaron blushing in your peripheral, sputtering and trying to come up with an excuse as to why he is sitting next to you other than being a sex worker.

You take it he’s never been with a woman like you before.

And at first, you disliked the odds stacked against you, but now you’re realizing how much fun you can have with this. There’s no need to hide your true colors because you’re both leaving at the end of the night anyway. You can be as unhinged as you want. No reason to play it up, make it out like you’re someone you’re not just so he might ask you out again… because this is it. Lowkey. No pressure.

“Don’t worry, honey, she’s always been like that,” your aunt reassures him, patting his shoulder gently. “Although if you really are a hooker, I’ll take your business card. You’re good-looking and you’ll be a plus one? A dream.”

“I assure you, I’m not a hooker, ma’am,” Aaron denies quickly, stoically.

“That’s what they all say,” you quip back. “Remember how much I’m paying you.”

If looks could kill, you’d be bleeding from a thousand stab wounds right now. But you were having fun, more fun than you’d had with a man in a long time.

“You’re not cute,” he whispers in your ear when your aunt turns back around.

“You wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you thought that,” you retort, starting to feel a little hot under your dress at his lips so close to your skin. “Besides, you should be gloating right now. You’re so attractive that my aunt thinks women would pay you to have sex with them.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I should be jumping for joy at that,” he says sarcastically.

“Exactly,” you nod, smirking at him, taking his snark seriously. “Relax. One night, right? Even if you make a complete ass out of yourself, this is it.”

“Yeah.”

“When’s the last time you had a good time, Aaron?” you ask suddenly. “No strings attached, good time? Because fine. I don’t know your last name or your major in college or your favorite color either. But if I’m afraid, you’re miserable. You need to let loose. You came here for a reason. I can at least give you that.”

“I just don’t want—“

“Them to think you’re a hooker? Please. First of all, I’m the most frugal bitch alive. They know I didn’t actually pay you to be here or to dick me down later. No one will believe that. And again, Aaron, what the fuck do you care what they believe? They’re never going to see you again. And we’re at a sham of a wedding to top it all off. So… live a little. Have a good time. Tell me some stupid jokes. Dance with me. Have a couple of drinks. And let it go. Whatever baggage you have does not exist in this room if whatever fears I have aren’t supposed to either.”

“You make a good case,” he mutters.

“I know I do,” you grin, pressing your lips to kiss right behind the ear you were whispering in, marveling at how quickly his skin flushes red at your touch.

Both of you stop talking for a moment as the first dance starts, and the couples slowly start to head to the dance floor. “Lover” by Taylor Swift, Crystal’s choice, you guess; and you can’t help but think it’s a funny one. A love song, sure, but almost a cop-out of marriage if there ever was one. “I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover”… but not my husband. Backing away from the thought of forever commitment. I want all your summers but not your last name or your ring on my finger. Nothing to symbolize it, tie me to it.

“Can I have this dance?” Aaron asks you, and you wonder if he’s secretly a masochist. Maybe he likes to be teased and kept on edge.

You nod, though, and let him lead you out into the dance floor to join the other couples.

“Keeping enough room for Jesus?” you tease, looking down at the space between your bodies.

Scoffing, he pulls you closer by the waist, so there are millimeters of space between your bodies now, and you feel your face heat up as his hands stay on the small of your back. “Happy?”

“Happier,” you concede. “How do you know how to dance?”

“I was married before,” he reminds you. “It doesn’t seem like you know how, though.”

“Hmm?” you question, glaring at him.

“Your hands go on my shoulders. Or around my neck.”

“I knew that,” you mutter, placing your hands on his shoulders tentatively, catching his dark brown eyes with yours, shuddering at the intensity he was looking at you with. Taylor Swift continues to croon her undying love and you stare at this man, at this moment in your lifetime, fading away as you’re holding him close, swaying slowly to the music.

Love at first sight doesn’t exist. You rationalized that all away ages ago. Lust, sure. Lust is common, ordinary, every day.

But you know what lust looks like. It’s predatory looks from men across a dusky bar room or it’s wide-eyes, pupils-dilated, unbridled passion, kiss-bruised lips. But you weren’t getting any of that from the way he was looking at you.

And you know you’re going to see those eyes in your dreams, eyes you can glean pain from, eyes trying to reach the depths of your soul to see where you buried your hurt to rest too. Understand you, not the things you tell people when you make small talk like your college major or your favorite color but the things you tell people when they want to get to know you like your stance on God or presidential candidates or… marriage.

You don’t know where the hesitancy came from, all of a sudden, but it’s the intensity of his eyes and the heat radiating from his body and the lights are lower and the song is ending and you’re inching your face toward his and you’re not sure who touched their lips to whose first but his mouth is on yours now, and his eyes finally close. You watch them flutter close, long eyelashes brushing against yours as he lets himself envelop you without a word. You’ve never been kissed like this, so feather-light and without a hint of urgency, like he’s taking his time, like he’ll take the entire wedding reception to explore every square centimeter of your mouth with his own. Being you, though, you don’t have the patience for that, and you bring your hands from his shoulders to clasp around the back of his neck and you get the intensity you crave, parting his lips with your tongue, closing your eyes too, feeling his soft black hair brushing against the sides of your wrists and your bodies are pressed so close and you could get lost here, couldn’t you? - but then you feel someone tap your shoulder, and you break away from him with a squeal.

“Who is this that you’re sucking face with? I’ve never seen him before,” your mother says as you turn around.

“Ask Aunt Linda,” you laugh, trying to regain your composure. “I was enjoying myself.”

“Clearly,” she says, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “Is this some kind of protest?”

“No, his name is Aaron. Aaron, this is my mother,” you say.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he says, reaching out his hand for her to shake, smiling with his dimples in a way you’re sure made his ex-in-laws fall in love with him.

She reciprocates, but she shakes her head at the same time. “I’d prefer to have met you before you were wearing my daughter’s lipstick.”

“We can’t always get what we want,” you grin at your mother. “I think it suits him, anyway.”

“Of course you do,” she says. “Why didn’t you mention you were bringing a date?”

You shrug. “Just kind of happened. Like. You know. The wedding.”

“Oh. So this is a protest. I apologize, Aaron, for you being a part of her juvenile scheme.”

“It’s really not a bother. She’s a pleasure to be around,” he grins.

Your mother laughs. “You two really did just meet, huh? You have no idea.”

“Not very nice, Mom. Don’t scare him away. Maybe I can make this a joint wedding.”

“Hell would freeze over before you get married, darling,” she says, squeezing your shoulder. “Well. Have a good time. But please keep your hands off each other. We’ve got both sets of your grandparents here and we don’t need to be sending anyone into cardiac arrest.”

“Right, Mom,” you say, rolling your eyes as she walks away.

“I see where you get all of it from,” Aaron chuckles softly.

“I see you’re a major kiss-ass even if you’re never going to see my mom again,” you retort, stepping closer to him again.

“No harm in being polite.”

“That wasn’t just polite. That was being a kiss-ass. And you still have lipstick all over your mouth.”

Then you feel his mouth on you again, soft, thorough, warm. “Did I get it?” he asks, still smiling at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle, then use the advantage you have to hold his face there and pepper kisses across his face, leaving red marks in the shape of you across his skin before he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, kissing your mouth again, letting you take the lead again, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping onto your shoulders like your sand slipping through his fingers.

Because you are.

“I’m going to need to clean this off before I have to meet your father,” Aaron says, laughing. “I’ll be right back.”

Aaron doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing, and he feels like he can’t recognize the man looking at him in the mirror, red lipstick smeared across his face, a seemingly permanent blush on his cheeks blending in with it. The cold water helps cool him down some, but then he thinks about you again, all smirks and quick remarks and the way you read him like a book… and he’s on fire again.

There’s no point in asking you where you’re moving. Even if it’s somewhere feasible to travel, his life and work schedule isn’t something he’d want to burden another woman with.

One night. No expectations except for a good time. That he could do, even if it was for a borderline child wedding not unlike the one he had over a decade ago.

Walking back out he sees you, eyes intense and smile lines formed at their corners as you talked to your brother, glass of champagne in your hand. “Oh, this is Aaron,” you tell him, your hand on Aaron’s back as he reaches you.

“Congratulations,” Aaron says, nodding at him.

“Thanks, man. Where the hell did you come from, though?”

“That’s my secret,” you say, grinning. “You don’t get to know.”

“Is this one going to last?”

“Doubt it,” you shrug. “Is yours?”

“Stop it,” he says, glaring at you. “I know you think I’m making a mistake. It’s already done. I don’t want to hear it anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” you say.

“At least I can keep a relationship longer than four months.”

“It hasn’t really been that much longer,” you counter.

“Well, I proposed instead of ending it.”

“Okay,” you sigh, leaning in for a side hug. “I don’t want to argue either. Go be with Crystal.”

Your brother nods, taking the hint the conversation was over, and Aaron takes the opportunity to sit down with you at one of the tables. “Is this common for you?”

“What? Taking men I don’t know to weddings? Far as I know you’re only one lucky enough,” you say tersely.

“I meant… relationships.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I try men on like I try on clothes. I’m a slut. Is that what you’re trying to get at?”

“No, not at all.”

You shake your head, sipping at the champagne and making a face at it, laughing at the acrid taste and handing it to him. “You can have that.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Aaron says calmly, taking the glass from you, and drinking from it slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s good champagne.”

“It tastes like ass,” you laugh, then frown. “You didn’t offend me. Yeah. I’ve had issues with relationships. No secret there. A normal, sane girl wouldn’t have asked you to come here, no offense.”

“A normal, sane man wouldn’t have said yes,” he replies, smiling, squeezing your hand that rested on the table. “Relationship issues are normal. No one in this room or in this city or on this planet has it figured out.”

“Did anyone try to stop you from getting married?” you ask him.

“Her mother wasn’t happy,” he recalls. “My parents figured I would figure it out. We were together through most of high school.”

“But you don’t know at that age.”

“No,” he agrees. “You don’t. Either they’ll be lucky and grow together or they’ll be unlucky and grow apart. But you don’t know unless you try.”

“The odds are—"

“They know that. I knew that. I still wanted to try anyway.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Sometimes,” Aaron admits. “Sometimes I do. I gave her a lot of years, and some of them weren’t good. A lot of them weren’t good, actually, a lot of strain and arguing and worrying about who she was seeing while I was away. But… I don’t know. You live and you learn.”

“Sometimes you do know,” you say sadly.

“Sometimes you try anyway,” he responds, bringing your hand to his lips.

You blink back tears and nod. One night. You can cry later.

Thankfully, the song changes to Cotton Eyed Joe; something ridiculous and impossible to stay down in the dumps for. Aaron glares at you but concedes when you give him a pleading look and you’re able to get him out on the floor to teach him this dance. He looks insane, what you can only imagine as a normally uptight, repressed man learning choreography from you for a novelty song.

Breathless and laughing he kisses you. Again. Again. Again. You don’t care about your mother’s warning and you’re glad he doesn’t either. You get the feeling he’s not one to embrace PDA like this either, but it’s one night for his mouth to be on yours, and the impression he leaves on your parents isn’t going to matter in a couple of hours anyway.

You think you’ll get whiplash from this setlist, the way it switches from upbeat to hopelessly sentimental, but Aaron rolls with the switches, pulling you back to him, swaying you gently to ‘Fade into You’. Resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him, you breathe him in. The woodsy scent of his cologne. The slight musk of his sweat. You feel his mouth press a long kiss against the top of your head.

And that’s how it ends, bringing you into a long hug at the trunk of your car the next morning, everything you own behind you. Both of you leaving this city. Heading home. You don’t talk about it. You don’t mention to him that you’d like to see him again. You don’t say anything.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way,” he says quietly, looking up at the sky, the clouds moving quickly overhead, threatening rain.

“Aaron, don’t,” you mutter. “We knew.”

“I know.”

Who do you get mad at for this? When it’s no one’s fault? God? Fate? The universe?

——------

Who do you thank for this? God? Fate? The Universe?

You walk into your new workplace, the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, Gideon, who you interviewed with last week leads you through the building, giving you your badge, gun, and security clearance. It must be counterfeit. No one is this lucky.

Aaron realized why you looked so familiar the second your name was mentioned. He’d seen your file, read it through thoroughly, and noticed your photograph paper-clipped to it, but he was on a plane for a case and then just as quickly he was on a plane to Boston for the conference. Gideon was the only one present for the interview. Gideon was the one to hire you. Gideon was the one to walk you through the building to his desk to introduce himself to you.

You don’t even blink. “Guess it’s a good thing you were polite to my mother, sir,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

Never mind the fact he already kissed you and the entire length of his body was pressed against yours.

“You two know each other?” Gideon asks, looking between the two of you.

“You could say that,” Aaron answers, but he’s only looking at you. There must be a glitch. Maybe Boston was a dream. No. You remember it, too.

“Not the CIA. Close enough, I suppose,” you grin.

“Sure,” he says softly... because he doesn’t know what to say. When he pulled your resume and your background check again he knew to expect you to walk through these doors at 9 am. A couple of hours still wasn’t enough time to prepare. You… were blindsided though.

“What aren’t you telling me, Hotch?” Gideon asks. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, not at all,” he says, but he’s still only looking at you. “Can I talk with you? In my office?”

You nod, following him, closing the door behind you, and leaning against it. “Don’t you think you should introduce me to the rest of the team?”

“Why didn’t you mention this?” he asks, standing in front of his desk.

“Why didn’t you? You had a million times to mention you worked for the FBI.”

“When I said CIA…”

“I thought you were being funny. I thought you were a traveling lecturer for like, science or something. I don’t know. The FBI, Aaron?”

“I could say the same for you. Jesus,” he whispers, stepping a little closer to you.

“It’s kind of funny we were out a whole night and it never came up,” you say, grinning.

“Jesus,” he mutters again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So what happens now?”

“I don’t know. We work, like adults, and we move on.”

“I don’t know, Aaron. I think someone doesn’t want us to move on,” you shrug. “I can’t sit in here all day. You have to introduce me to the rest of the team before they think I am fucking you.”

He glares at you. “These comments won’t be permitted with the rest of the team present.”

“Jesus. I know when to shut my mouth, Aaron. In private, they’re permissible though, right?”

“I truly don’t know how I’m going to work with you,” he says, trying not to laugh.

“Guess you must be glad you didn’t fuck me before,” you say. “Would’ve been really awkward.”

“Agent… drop it. I do have to introduce you to them. Let’s go.”

But your back is pressed against the door and you know it’s a risk to tease your fucking boss on your first day, but you can’t help yourself because he’s not just your boss, he’s Aaron. The man who held your heels and walked you back to your hotel room, who kissed you outside the door but wouldn’t let you take him inside with you, even though you felt how much he wanted you, too.

You don’t move.

“I need you to move from the door, Agent.”

“I’m ‘Agent’ now? How clinical. We’re still in private, Aaron.”

“If this is how you’re going to play it, I will have you fired.”

“Right,” you say. “Don’t think so.”

“Try me.”

“Is that a threat, Aaron?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters. But he’s only looking at your mouth.

“Just kiss me,” you say. “I know you want to. Probably been thinking about it all morning since you realized—"

You’re cut off by his mouth against yours. “Are you wearing lipstick?” he asks against your lips.

“No,” you answer, pulling him closer, tongue against tongue, hips against hips.

“That’s all you’re getting, Agent,” he says. “I expect you to be nothing but professional. That means no teasing, no mention of Boston, no mention that we know each other even if they ask. Noncommittal answers only.”

“Aaron, 'noncommittal' is my middle name,” you grin. “It’s you I’m more worried about. I seem especially talented at weakening that seemingly strong resolve.”

“It’s Hotch in front of the team. Go,” he nods at the door.

——————

“You did a good job with her,” Aaron says to you on the plane. “Liz. The victim.”

You smile, thanking him. “Used to work in a children’s psych hospital when I was doing my undergrad. Lots of child trauma there. Learned how to get to the root of their stories.”

“You’ll be a good addition.”

“You didn’t think so before?”

“I thought you were going to make me lose my mind,” he admits, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. Thankfully, it was an overnight flight. Everyone was asleep, save you two.

“I still might.”

Aaron nods, grinning, dimples on full display. “That you may.”

“What’s going to happen between us?”

“Nothing should.”

“I didn’t ask you what should. I asked you what is.”

“What do you want?”

You laugh. “I mean, Aaron, I’m the last girl to believe in fate, but that was a pretty big coincidence to ignore. And you keep kissing me whenever we’re alone.”

“You keep getting me alone,” he mutters, taking your hand and threading your fingers through his.

“Yeah, it’s my fault you can’t keep your hands or your mouth off me.”

“Shh,” he scolds.

“It’s true,” you say. “Anyway. You know what I want. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” he admits. “But this is a precarious situation and I’m not risking my career just for sex.”

“Aaron. We aren’t going to get any bigger signs from the universe that we need to try this. I’m open to it. We can try this. For real.”

“You believe that? It was fate?”

You laugh. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Crazy coincidence, if nothing else.”

Aaron looks around suspiciously, kissing your mouth gently when he confirms no one is watching.

Which is nothing how he kisses you later in your new apartment, searing hot against your skin as his fingers circle your clit softly, leaving you to whimper against his mouth. You’re jet-lagged and overly full from breakfast when you landed but you’re wide awake and needy when it comes to him now.

“Aaron,” you whine. “Need you. Now.”

“You have me, honey,” he teases, leaning forward to lay you down on the bed, using the angle to fuck his fingers into you relentlessly. “Better?”

“Fuck,” you say, nodding.

“So wet for me, honey,” he coos at you. “Such a good girl.”

You know you’re embarrassingly close from his ministrations with his hands, so quick to get there from being so worked up since Boston, having to go a whole week hiding this secret, sneaking off into side rooms just to press his mouth and body against yours.

You still don’t expect it to rip through you like that until you’re left shaking and moaning his name. You don’t expect his cock to fill you even better, up to the hilt. You don’t expect him to flip you over so you’re on top, able to watch him blush and whimper from your teasing, telling him he’s fucking up into you so good.

You definitely don’t expect him to suggest round two and go down on you.

Then again. You didn’t expect the man you took to your brother‘s wedding on happenstance to be your fucking boss. That you’re fucking now. Apparently.

“How long do you think we can hide this from a room full of profilers, Aaron?”

“Shut up,” he says, laughing, kissing you, hair all mussed up, making him look deliciously freshly fucked. “You’re good at holding on and holding out.”

“You’re not.”

“Only when it comes to you, honey,” he says, pulling you into him.

“They’ll figure it out because of something you did,” you wager.

“I shouldn’t take that bet,” he says. “But I will.”

And sure enough. When you nearly got shot, and of course Aaron ran to your side, checking you for wounds, kissing the top of your head when he realized you were safe and okay…

Morgan was watching. And it spread through the team like wildfire. Naturally.

“How long?”

“Since Boston,” you answer.

“Wait…” Gideon chimes in.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Aaron says.

------

taglist: @mrs-ssa-hotch

#aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #Aaron Hotchner #hotchner x you #hotch x you

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jqmalikhsgib · 5 months ago

Text

astrology

ten

emily immediately hands you a shot when you walked over to the group. you smile before taking it. emily cheers with the rest of the team.

aaron walks over to you and you smile. he gently puts his hands on your waist and greets you with a kiss.

“hi.”

“hi, honey. i missed you.”

“missed you too. couldn’t sleep without you beside me.”

“sorry i didn’t come home. i had a meeting with strauss and then paper work.”

you simply shake your head. “it’s okay. just glad you’re back.”

“alright! enough love birds. let’s get drunk!” emily lifts her glass. you playfully push her before ordering a drink yourself. you all gather at a table and sit down.

derek was the first person to talk.

“so? you gonna tell us how this happened or are we just gonna guess?”

aaron rest his hands on your knee. “i don’t know. we just connected.”

“come on, boss man! that can’t be it. that’s not how you describe someone you love.”

“he’s being honest, derek. we talked, got to know each other, we connected on a deeper level.”

“i haven’t been in love like this in such a long time. im happy.” aaron shrugs his shoulders.

penelope cheers. “im sorry, sir! it’s just—i haven’t heard or seen you this happy in a really long time. all ive wanted for you is to see that smile on your face. the glow in your eyes is so pure. if anyone deserves to be happy it’s you, sir.”

aaron gives penelope a smile. “thanks, garcia. means a lot.”

“when’s the wedding?” dave asked with a smirk.

you and hotch both laugh before shaking your heads. for the rest of the night you all drink and chat. when you get ready to go you and aaron make sure everyone is safe to drive.

aaron opens the passenger door for you before getting in the car himself and driving off. when you get home it’s quiet. jack was currently with jess for the day. you and aaron had the place to yourself.

you and aaron head upstairs. you walk into your bedroom and cuddle up to one another. aaron kisses the top of your head. you were both too tired to change out of your clothes. you just fell asleep in each others arms.

when you woke up aaron was gone. you see a note on his pillow with your name. you open it with a smile.

good morning, honey.

when you wake i’ll probably be gone. just wanted to let you know that jack will probably be a little late home. he has a parent teacher conference and normally jess goes when im not available.

i didn’t know if you would want to be involved in jack’s schooling this much. i don’t wanna overwhelm you. if you feel otherwise the meeting is right after classes end. please let me know.

love you x

you grab your cellphone to text aaron. you let him know it’s no trouble going to jacks school. he thanks you before telling you he loves you and he’ll text you later.

you get out of bed to head downstairs and make breakfast. after you finish eating you head back upstairs and take a shower. once you finished you grab the paper you wrote the other day of things you needed. finally being able to run errands you grab your car keys and head out the door.

when you get to the store you grab the things you need. once you finished you head to the children clothing aisle. you knew jack needed a new pair of play shoes. the ones he have are pretty much destroyed.

you grab at least two new pair. you suddenly feel something hit your leg. you look down to see a red ball. you grab it before a little girl comes into view. she looks at you shyly. you bend down and give the ball to her.

“sorry! she got away from me.”

“it’s alright. she’s adorable.”

“thank you!”

“how old is she?”

“how old are you amber?.”

“two!” she cheers

“what about you? how olds yours?”

you furrow your brows confused. she points to the pair of shoes.

“oh—im the nanny. sorta. it’s complicated. but not really.”

the woman laughs. “it’s okay. im also the nanny! i get what you mean. the kids become a part of you. they’re like your own. and her parents become your family as well. it’s a great feeling.”

you nod your head.

“if you ever wanna hang out a few other nannies like to go out when we’re off. if you’re ever free you can call at any time. my names hope. here’s my number. text me any time!”

“thank you. that’s sweet. nice to meet you amber.” you wave before walking away. you head to the checkout.

when you get home you put everything away. you look at the time and decide to head to jacks school. once you park you head inside the building.

when jack sees you he runs over towards you. you smile at the boy. “hi, jacksters!”

“hi, yn! are you here to talk to my teacher?”

you simply nod your head before jack leads you to his teachers classroom. once there the teacher smiles at you. you shake her hand before sitting across from her.

“you must be jacks step mom? he told me so much about you!”

you blush at that. “im—im his dads girlfriend, yes.”

“well, jack talks highly of you! speaking of, jack is doing excellent! he’s already reading at a fifth grade level.”

“really? that’s great!”

“mhm! he tells me you read to him every night.”

“yes! we’re currently reading the percy jackson series. sea and monsters is what we’re on now. we should be finished by tomorrow.”

“that’s excellent!”

jack teacher continues giving you updates on jack and his schooling. once you finished up you grab jack and head out the door. you buckle jack in the backseat before getting in the drivers seat and heading home.

“so, you told your teacher about me?”

“i did!”

“what did you say?”

jack smiles. “just told her you and daddy love each other and one day you’ll be married.”

“yeah? you think so?”

“yeah! you and daddy are gonna get married. i just know it!”

you never felt so much love before. it’s not aaron—though you love him so much!—it’s jack. it’s a different kind of love. the love you have for your kid. you know jacks not biologically yours, you still love him like your own. you would love to get married to aaron. you’d love to make jack your step-son officially. be a family with aaron.

you know you haven’t been with aaron too long to even think about marriage. people would think you were crazy. but you felt like you’ve known aaron a life time. you just knew you’d marry him someday. and if jack felt that way as well, you just knew it was meant to be.

“what do you want for dinner, baby?”

jack thinks about it. “can we have those nachos you made last time? daddy doesn’t make ‘em like that. i like yours better.”

you chuckle. “anything you want!”

when you get home you immediately start making dinner. it was a little late so you weren’t surprised when you heard the front door open. you felt aaron’s arms being wrapped around you.

he squeezed you waist and kissed your cheek. “smells good, honey.”

“your son wanted my nachos. he said i make them different and better.” you stuck your tongue out.

“you’re his mom! of course you’d make it better.” he smiles.

your heart pounds. aaron noticed the change in your behavior. he frowns as he looks at you. “are you okay, honey?”

“it’s—would you be okay with that? if—if jack decided to call me mom?” you clear your throat.

“why? did he say something to you?”

“not in so many words. he’s—he talked to his teacher about us, he told me somethings about us getting married, i think he called me his step mom to the teacher. it’s just—i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. if you’re not okay with it aaron, i can talk to him.”

“honey,” aaron kisses the top of your head. “if and when he does, ill be happy! it means jack thinks of you as a motherly figure. he already does. i just want you to be happy and i want jack to be happy. if him calling you mom makes you happy, so be it. would that make you happy?”

you nod your head as you burry your head in his chest. “i love you.” aaron whispers.

“i love you too, aar. you mean the world to me.”

“yeah?”

“mhm!”

“im gonna take a shower.”

“okay. dinner should be done when you get out. enjoy your shower, baby.”

aaron smacks your ass as you turn around to finish dinner. you yelp as he turns with a smirk.

once dinner was ready you make jack a plate before calling him. jack comes downstairs and sits down at the dinner table. about twenty minutes later aaron comes downstairs while you head up to tuck jack in.

once you finished reading the book you look at jack before speaking. “may i ask you something, baby?”

“mhm.”

“do you want to call me mom? it’s no pressure if you don’t. i just—ive noticed how you’ve been bringing it up occasionally.”

jack bites his bottom lip. aaron told you he never done that before you. he’s inherited some traits from you. that made you smile knowingly.

“maybe. i just didn’t wanna upset you or daddy.” he frowns.

“oh, baby! you won’t upset us. daddy and i talked about it. if you—if you ever wanna call me mom you have our full permission, okay? we both love you so much. we’ll do anything to see you smile. if that means you wanna call me mom, we’re all for it.”

“so i can call you mom? any time i want?”

“of course, baby. any time.”

jack smiles.

“now, why don’t you get some sleep? got school tomorrow. goodnight, baby.”

“goodnight, mom.”

your heart skips before you kiss his forehead and leave.

aaron was standing beside the door. you were a little startled before he kisses you passionately.

“how’d that feel? being called mom?”

“it felt—im a lost of words. it felt so incredible, aar!”

aaron chuckles softly before the two of you walk hand and hand in your shared bedroom. you lie in bed and hold one another before falling asleep peacefully.

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