#aaron x reader sexually assaulted | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uranometrias · 8 months ago

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✮ꜜ : ❛ long time coming : aaron hotchner x fem! reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader

summary: after getting hurt out in the field, you're on leave for a month. coming back felt long overdue, that is until your plans with the team lead you to a situation that feels a bit too close for comfort after such a traumatic time. what's worse, your feelings you've harbored for your boss have no choice but to come to light when he makes the odd choice to address you as 'agent' rather than your name after one month of being apart, and years and years of back and forth will-they-wont-they.

content warnings: making out. allusions to sexual assault + r4pe (but only in the context of the case). reader has slight signs of PTSD. anxiety/panic attacks. reader runs into a few pushy men while out at the club. drinking / drunk confessions. reader has a crush on her boss, it is also implied that reader finds derek attractive, and he reciprocates these feelings. hotch is very good at calming reader down. no usage of y/n. reader is described as having shoulder length hair (can be read as a wig/weave) angry/disappointed hotch! reader has been hiding her anxiety / nightmares / memory issues from the team. mentions of vomiting. kissing. mentions of elle & the events of the fisher king. no distinct timeline, but can be read as s7 with the iconic team (hotch, emily, derek, jj, penelope, rossi, & spencer)

"Okay, I didn't know we were going all out. I would've prepared better." you smile shyly as Jennifer pulls you into a tight hug. When Penelope had called you early that morning with an excited decree that you'd been cleared to return to work you hadn't been sure how to feel. You hadn't bothered to ask how Garcia of all people was privy to information you hadn't received from your bosses yet, there was no getting a straight answer when it came to the Technical Analyst.

It had been her idea for the entire team to get together. You'd been out of the office for a full month, and in that time you'd tried your hand at maintaining your bonds with the rest of the group. It of course wasn't the same, but you knew that you'd needed the time. The last time you'd joined them on a case things had gone horribly wrong. You shudder at the thought, you had been doing so good at forgetting about it all, but seeing them again made it all come back.

The unsub had been your run-of-the-mill anger excitation rapist, a creep that had been using an elaborate ruse to entice and entrap women. It had been Emily's idea for the two of you to go undercover, the unsub had been killing two women every week, women who in many ways were polar opposites of one another, a trait that you and Emily shared. Long story short, in the midst of your plan to lure and trap the Unsub, you'd been separated from Emily and cornered.

You’d been carted off by the creep who kept you stuck for three hours before the team used his mistake to find you. By then though, the damage had been done. You remember the look on Rossi's face when he and Hotch came busting in, and found you looking bruised up with a bloody face, and a gun barrel to the side of your head. You'd never seen Hotch quite as scared, at least not since everything with Foyet nearly three years ago when he lost Haley and almost Jack.

You'd been too out-of-sorts to hear the way they'd tried to reason with the Unsub. And you hadn't realized your abdomen was losing blood until a gunshot rang out, bullets whizzing past your head as the unsub curled into himself before falling to the ground. You didn't know much, you thought maybe your eardrums had exploded with the way they were ringing, and you'd half expected to smack your head against the ground and end up with an annoying concussion.

Instead, you'd been met with the sight of your boss. He'd yelled something you weren't privy to, mouth moving as he seemingly forced the rest of the team out of their stupor long enough to get a medic inside to look you over. It was like you said, the details were fuzzy, but nothing had managed to wipe Hotch's worried expression as he fussed over your safety, out of your mind. However, if you were honest with yourself for one measly second, that was nothing new.

Nothing seemed to fill up your mind the way your boss did, and it was stupid, and deplorable all things considered. But it's not like it had even been something you'd asked for. It just happened one day. You shake these thoughts of your near paralyzing emotions away, pulling yourself back to the present as you took in JJ, who despite her perceived candor looked great. "Oh come on Jaige." you huff, and you appraise her more openly. "You look amazing, as usual."

She grins, albeit shyly, and she's waiting, maybe for your approval maybe for something else. She's trying to be discreet as she sweeps your for obvious reminders of what happened, and you feel nervous. Most of your injuries had healed up well enough, and the scratches that littered your face had been covered in a smattering of makeup. You felt comfortable in your pretty girl cocoon, all done up with a bright smile on your face that was surprisingly believable.

"Can I hug you?" she asks, and you can tell she's been holding it in, waiting to ask. You nod your head, a quiet chuckle escaping you as the blonde seems to scoop you into her arms. She's careful not to squeeze too tight, but the love is felt all the same. "God, it's been so weird without you around." she hums, and while the rest of the team is already huddled inside, probably in a booth Penelope picked, you're so happy she's the one here telling you this now.

"Now you know how we all felt when they sent you to the Pentagon." you whisper back, and you hear her bemused giggle as she steps back, and she takes you in again. Your red minidress was a stark contrast to the usual business-casual attire you wore everyday to work. Your hair was curled, pinned back with a gold claw clip, hair just barely ghosting over the divots of your collarbones. You'd opted for a shorter do' following everything with the unsub.

"Never leave us again." she pleads, and you feel this warmth blossoming in your chest at the way she's staring at you, almost like she really means it. You'd joined the team back when Elle and Gideon had still been around. At one point you'd been the rookie, the new girl nobody knew what to expect from. JJ had been right there beside you, even back then. She had been sweet, assertive, your first real friend on the team. She'd welcomed you before anyone else.

In time of course, things had changed, JJ had a husband, kids, a hoard of other units that were plotting on her skills at all times, but she was still JJ. Still that same first friend that helped you to see the Behavioral Analysis Unit was the only place for you. "I'll do my best." you promise, and she grins. She links arms with you before you both head inside the bar. There was music playing, some alternative indie song that wasn't half bad.

"Here's the girl of the hour now." Emily exclaims, and it's clear they've already started tossing back shots. JJ's head is instantly shaking in mortification. So it was going to be one of those nights. Penelope meets you both, pulling JJ from your arms and leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek sweetly, before she's turning to you. She's got tears already brimming in her eyes, and you can't help but giggle at the dramatics of it all.

"I'm so happy to see you." she squeals, and you find yourself hugging back despite the sting of your abdomen. "You look so beautiful." she adds a second afterwards. "What are you looking to get lucky?" she asks, as she uses her hands to push you away slightly, hands resting gently on both of your shoulders. You feel your face growing hot at the implication, and you see the way she's looking at your facial expressions for a signal of your lies. Curse her proximity to profilers.

"I just wanted to look nice." you reply and Penelope lets you off the hook. She leads you to the table, and you're just in time to hear the group finish up their hellos to JJ. She's sitting next to Morgan, who's bright-eyed as he looks up at you. You find yourself fussing with your hair, playing it cool as you press your lips together, re-smearing your lipstick as you waved your hand.

You weren't sure why you felt like the new kid all over again.

"It's good to see you, pretty girl." he croons, and you grin. Morgan was flirty, had been since you met him, and if you weren't so disastrously into Hotch, you think he'd be all on your mind. Well, you know... more than he was. There had been times where you'd been partnered together, and it almost felt like the tension was going to cut you in half. Sexual tension aside though, Derek was your friend.

They all were, and despite what your mind tried to tell you as you sobbed yourself through nightmares during your break from work, they were genuinely happy to see you. "I'm glad you're okay." your eyes flit over to the youngest member of the team. Spence is looking relieved as he too looks up at you with eyes full of relief. He's next to Emily, and she's already downing another drink. She'd be complaining about a migraine the next day, you could hear her now.

"Thanks, Spence." you coo, and you offer him a wink as your eyes fall on the only present member of the team that hadn't addressed you. Rossi had made a point to send his hellos, but due to a previous standing appointment, he wouldn't be joining tonight. You couldn't hold it against him, Rossi was scoping the prairie for wife number four. He offers you a faint smile, the group instantly falling into chatter.

"H-Hey Hotch." you mumble, and he's closest to you, sitting on the outside of the booth as the rest of the team tried their hardest to pretend they weren't expecting this. He doesn't say anything for a moment, instead he takes you in. He wasn't blind, he'd seen you before, you'd always been beautiful, but there was something about you done up like this. Red dress, red lip, bold makeup, and heels that showed off your legs, and accented your model-esque posture.

It was obvious that you were still a bit nervous about being out and about, and you were out of practice with being around the team. He imagined after a bit though you'd be back to yourself. You, and the rest of the girls would be falling into a rhythm in no time. He stands to his feet, much taller than you, as you take a small step back to give him space. "It's good to see you up and about, Agent." and his voice is low, clearly as a courtesy to the bustling of conversation behind you.

"Agent?" you repeat, and the word is so foreign. It makes you take another step back, the bottoms of your Louboutin's clacking against the ground. You looked a bit hurt, but you played it off quickly. "Come on, Hotch. I think we're a little past those formalities." you chuckle awkwardly, and you find yourself looking towards the bar. Yeah, you were definitely going to need a drink. He seems to curse under his breath, but you're not sure if that's due to you, or some internal conflict you weren't privy to. You don't wait to figure it out either.

He doesn't have the opportunity to reply to your correction, because you're looking to Emily, JJ, and Garcia. "Wanna get some shots?" you ask, and you sidestep Aaron, making sure you don't look his way again, as the girls immediately exclaim their agreements. Penelope's sliding out of the booth first, Emily and JJ following her example as they head straight towards the bar. JJ's shooting you a knowing glance as she looks between Hotch and yourself.

"You coming boys?" you extend the invite to Derek and Spencer, who are quick to nod along, both men trailing after the others as they head to the counter to order more drinks. You prepare to follow after them, ready for the welcome respite from your mind swimming in circles.

"I didn't mean to offend you." you stop short, spinning on your heel to meet the gaze of your Unit Chief.

"Well you did." you reply, and your voice is small. "I've known you for almost seven years, and here you are treating me like a stranger." you mumble, and you find yourself tugging at your dress. "I mean, I know it's been a while, but geez Hotch, it's still me." you say and he winces. You're not sure what the last month has been like for the others, but you know what they've been like for you. Torturous. It's been Hell.

"I know." he says, and your eyebrow raises, unmoved by his words. "And again, I didn't mean to offend you." he promises, and he clenches and unclenches his fists by his side. "After everything that happened, I guess I just assumed you'd prefer a more professional approach." he mutters, and you scoff quietly. Classic Aaron Hotchner, running away from interpersonal conflict with his tail tucked between his legs. "You don't even seem comfortable with us tonight."

You blink. Okay well he had a point there, but you were trying.

"It's not that I'm not comfortable." you mutter, and you look over your shoulder at the rest of the team. "I guess I just didn't expect to feel so out of place being out and about." you shrug your shoulders bashfully. "Everyone's normal, everything seems the same." you continue, and you notice the way that Hotch's lips have pressed into a hard line. "And it's like no time has passed at all for anyone else, but for me it's like I never moved." you blink, shivering at the thought.

Hotch's eyebrows furrow inwardly as he takes in your words. "I still feel like I'm-" you trail off, feeling a wide lump growing in your throat. "It's like I never left." you course correct, eyes shutting briefly, lashes brushing against your cheekbones. "Like no matter how much time passes, it still feels like I'm there with him and I'm-"

"I understand." he cuts you off, you think maybe to salvage your pride or to keep you from having a panic attack at the thought. "And you're certain you're ready to come back to work? You know you can take all the time you need." he reminds you, and you are immediately nodding your head as you wave a tired hand his way.

"I can't stay cooped up in my house anymore." you mumble. "It's becoming counterproductive." you huff. "I'm ready." you add a second later. "Apart from this awkwardness, I'm also perfectly fine." and it's a lie, you'd been having nightmares every night. Restless, sleepless evenings full of dread, and jump scares of your own creation. "I mean, I'm here aren't I?" you offer a tight smile as you reach out and tap Hotch's shoulders twice, a tense little conversation ender.

You don't want to stay huddled up with him anymore, not while he was looking at you like he was trying to see into your soul. You turn on your heel, dress swishing side to side as you head for the group. You find yourself in between Emily and Penelope, the blonde to your left immediately sliding a drink in front of you. You down it in a second, the intense burn as the alcohol rested in your chest was a welcome reprieve from the anguish and anxiety you'd been feeling.

You forget about Hotch, and all your heavy feelings by the time you're on your third drink. Your heels feel much too heavy under your feet as you stumble into Emily, the brunette chuckling vibrantly as you hang off each other, the music playing overhead lulling you into a false sense of security. It was nice being like this again after so long, laughing at the dramatic banter between Derek and Penelope. You wondered if they'd remain purely platonic forever.

Trading gossip back and forth with Emily and JJ was always a treat, especially as Spencer tried to keep up with eyes wide as saucers while Emily finally cracked the secrets of her coveted Sin-To-Win weekends. You weren't sure what was funnier, the peeks into Emily's life outside the unit, or the horrified looks that crossed Spence's face with every new tidbit of knowledge he learned about his coworkers. You found your eyes flickering over to Hotch again.

He was stoic as ever, but looser than he would be in the office. He seemed to enjoy being a quiet observer much more than he preferred to be in the mix. He leisurely swirled his glass of scotch, and you felt that familiar buzz of warmth in your chest when you managed to catch him smiling as he quietly passed conversation back and forth with a newly drunk Penelope, and Derek, who looked exasperated.

"Are you just gonna stare at him all night?" you jump a bit, turning to face Emily with surprise swirling in your irises. "If you keep it up, he's gonna catch you." she adds a second afterwards and you tense, head nodding as you scold yourself. You peel away from the bar, drink clutched in your hand. You had to get away from the bar for a second, maybe the cluttered dance floor would be the best distraction.

"Sorry." you mutter, and Emily offers a airy laugh. "He's just usually so serious." you lean into Emily, who nods along. She'd met Hotch after you, but still she'd managed to become so close to him it was almost surreal. She seemed to always know what he was thinking, they were in sync. Unlike you, who seemed to always be on the other end of a hard stare from the man. For a while you just began to assume he hated your guts. Or better put, he was indifferent to your existence.

That was why his look, that look he'd given you as he cradled your head while he waited for backup had been burned into your skull. All that went out of the window the second he'd labeled you 'Agent' though. God, how stupid were you? Emily's amusement makes your eyes roll. "Can I be honest?" she asks, and you nod. Penelope and JJ have migrated to the dance floor, JJ grabbing the good doctor and bringing him along with them. He looks incredibly uncomfortable.

"Sure, Em. If you think it will help." you reply audibly.

"I haven't seen him this relaxed since everything went down." she admits, and you're surprised. As if somehow your presence had been enough to set the stone-serious man at ease. "The first few days after your accident he was a mess." she adds, and she's got a surprising about of stability to her tone to be as inebriated as she was. She lowers her voice some as she leans into you, "He showed up late." she mutters this like it's some sworn secret just meant for the both of you.

"I'm sure Strauss was just riding him about another mishap in the unit." you try, and Emily looks unconvinced and unimpressed with you. "He's our boss, it's kind of his job to worry about us." you finish.

"Yeah, I guess so." Emily concedes, and she looks like she's done talking about it, so you find yourself relaxing. "Still. I've never seen him go that hard against an unsub, maybe you're not the only person that's feeling something." she leaves you with that, trying to keep from tipping as she marched towards the group. You chuckle quietly to yourself, ignoring Emily's words as you focus on finishing your drink. It seemed you'd inadvertently been trying to be alone all along.

You felt some of the tension melt from your shoulders now that you were standing at the bar, away from those prying eyes you couldn't lie to. There's this sound of heavy footsteps, and then the clearing of a throat, as you turn to be met with the sight of a man. He looked to be about your age, cheeks and nose covered in a little smattering of freckles. He's got a head full of shaggy hair that hangs in his face. He takes a quick step, sliding up against the bar beside you.

Way too close.

"Hey." he mumbles, and you appraise him boredly. It's not like he was ugly or anything, but despite Penelope's words you were not looking to get lucky tonight.

"Hi." you offer a dry greeting, shuffling your weight from one foot to the other as the bar seemingly became a beacon for thirsty men. Just as you were politely stepping away from the freckled man, you found yourself bumping into another man who'd slithered up to the bar, your ass pressing against his crotch as his hands wound around your waist. A sleazy chuckle escapes the man's mouth as you gasp. "I'm so sorry." you exclaim, and you're quick to peel away.

You feel trapped though, there were at least four guys, they all seemed to be friends, they all seemed to be in kahoots.

There's a third and fourth man joining the fray, they all looked to be about the same age, height, and weight class. This was probably their routine: approach and overwhelm whatever drunk girl they might have happened upon. It looked like you were tonight's target. "Hey, what's the rush?" the guy closest to you drawls, and you wonder where all your years of training have gone. His arm raises, and it feels like he might hit you so you flinch way too violently.

"Stick around, we'll order the next round." the next demands, and his breath smells like booze. It stinks, and it's hot as it puffs across your face. You almost break your heels backing away from them, suddenly feeling self conscious a`nd way too vulnerable in your short dress.

"No, it's alright, really." you try, and you stumble again. "My friends are right over there." and you point in their general vicinity. "Have a great night though." you offer politely, and you're trying to make your grand escape. One guy, a shaggy blonde haired man is quick to grab you by your forearm, and it's like you're back to that day. Your bureau appointed therapist had been talking to you about your anxiety, how a range of things could become triggers and transport you mentally.

"That wasn't a question. Stay a while." You're stuck, absolutely frozen in place as your entire body tenses up. Some Special Agent you were, the bureau would be so disappointed in you. Your team would be so disappointed in you. All it took to turn you into a pile of nothing was a bit of confrontation. You could remember a stronger version of you, that girl would've had these men on their knees for even thinking of laying hands on you. God, you missed that girl.

His grip on your arm tightens, fingers digging into you harshly as you find yourself surrounded on every side.

"L-Let me go." you huff under your breath, and you crane your neck. You spot JJ, the blonde's eyes locked on yours as the reality of what's going on forces her to sober up. "I just-" and you jerk away, stumbling back completely. You're surprised you don't scream as your glass drops to the ground shattering as glass sprays in every which direction. You feel like your ankle's twisted as you fall back on your ass. You expect to feel the embarrassing thud that came with smacking your ass on the hard floor of a bar, but it never comes.

Instead you feel cocooned by a familiar scent. Strong arms are looped around you, but you suppose your lack of disgust at the action is just a testament of your comfortability. "Are you alright?" it's mumbled against your ear, and the low tone of his voice makes you shiver. All you can really offer is a tight nod as Aaron's guiding you behind him. You don't get to see Hotch in action, not when JJ, Penelope, and Emily are flocking you like Charlie's Angels.

You feel the first signs of the need to barf pricking at you, and you know that you need to get some air. You needed to breathe.

"God, are you okay?" Penelope asks, and you're not sure if you are being dramatic. I mean, it wasn't like they'd done anything really. Now you were gonna look like the freak that ruined a fun night.

"I'm sorry." you chirp, and you miss the way Jennifer and Emily share a hard glance. It's not until you're feeling brisk air whipping around your face that you realize they've taken you outside, and you haven't stopped apologizing. I'm so sorry. Penelope's got wide eyes, quickly brimming with tears as you find yourself crumbling to the ground. Your hand's quick to clutch around your chest as you try to inhale. The dramatics of it all made you even more nauseous.

You should've stayed at home.

"Hey, hey, hey..." Emily's cooing, and it seems being out like this has sliced through her tipsy stupor. She's focused just like she would be on any regular sort of day. "I need you to breathe." she instructs, and JJ's crouching down in front of you, brown eyebrows draw inwardly as she takes in your clearly frantic state. Every puff of air that escapes you is tight and sounds like it hurts. You can just barely hear the sound of a commotion taking place inside.

You do hear JJ's quiet exclamation of "I'll stay with her, go check on Hotch and Derek!" before Penelope and Emily are heading back into the packed building. She calls your name, and it takes a while for you to regain your voice. She's devoid of pity, which you appreciate. JJ knew more than anyone how much you hated being seen as a burden, or someone to be sorry for. Pride was a killer. "Can you try and take a deep breath for me?" and it's then you realize your choppy little intakes of air weren't doing you any favors.

It takes a great deal of effort for your vision to be less blurry. Your ears were full of cotton, and your head was swimming. You feel bile again in the back of your throat, and you jerk away from JJ's reach. You feel like you're suffocating, transported away from the random bar in the middle of Virginia, and back to a place you'd fought so hard to escape. You were certain you'd remember that unsub forever. His evil eyes, the way he tried to use your entrails like paint.

You remember how Elle had changed after she'd been attacked by Garner. How she had changed so much that she had no choice but to step away from the Unit. Would that be your life? You didn't want that life, but it was clear you needed something, you needed help. You couldn't focus on anything else, but what had happened. You'd ruined a night out because the act of being cornered was enough to transport you back.

JJ's still peering at you as if she's waiting for you to start panicking, and maybe you were. "I'm sorry." you huff again, and JJ's shaking her head at you.

There's a deep frown etched into her face as she sighs herself. "Stop apologizing." she insists, and your lashes are wet with unshed tears. "You didn't do anything wrong. Those assholes should've never put their hands on you." she proceeds. "You know that don't you?" she continues, and you don't know how to respond, so you don't. JJ reads you like an open book, and she smacks her teeth. "Well now you do." she says this firmly. "And I'm sure Hotch and Morgan are teaching them that lesson right now." you tense up again.

"I didn't mean to ruin the-" JJ's offering you a hard glare that shuts you up. Another bad habit you'd picked up since the incident. You were working on it, trying not to blame yourself for things you didn't cause. "I'm sorry." and this time it's not because of tonight. "I was so nervous about tonight.-" you take in a hiccupped breath. "I just wanted to prove that I could bounce back." you explain, and it's the first insight you've allowed anyone. "I figured if I pretend everything's normal, soon enough it would be, but it's too much." you huff.

"And that's okay." she promises. "What you went through isn't something anyone's expecting you to forget about in a month, alright? It's gonna take time, and there will be days where it'll hurt a lot more, and there will be days where you're feeling like your old self again." she promises. "What you need to understand is that we-" she pauses as you take it in. "are your family." she finishes, and your lips start to twitch, you're not sure if you'll smile or cry.

"I know-" you proceed, and she holds a hand up in front of you.

"Let me finish." she pleads, and you inhale before nodding. "I don't- none of us want a repeat of what happened with Elle." she says quietly. "None of us want to show up to the unit one day and see your badge and gun sitting on your desk." JJ sighs. "So if you ever start feeling anxious, or terrible, or just like you're back... there." and you wince at the mention. "I want you to call me, call one of us. Don't deal with this alone, alright? Not when you don't have to."

JJ hugs you before you have time to respond, but her words sink deep and make you feel warm inside. "Thanks, Jaige." you mumble against her hair. She squeezes you tighter, and you believe it's to make up for her shyer hug earlier.

"You're welcome." she mumbles back, and then she's pulling back. You don't have much respite, Penelope practically tackling you in a hug of her own. You hadn't even realized the rest of the team has left the bar, you were sure the mood of the night was much lower.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Penelope exhales, and you do too, breathing fine again, save for a few hiccups that escaped you every so often. She lets you go after a beat, and you're quick to take a small step back, suddenly feeling anxious once more.

"Yeah, I'm fine now." your eyes meet Derek and Emily's. "Thank you." and you're chuckling quietly as Derek pulls you into his side. He plants a kiss on the top of your head, and you warm inwardly. Spencer does hug you, and it's a shock. One of those hugs that you never take for granted, because it could be a while before you get another. Once he's pulled away you find yourself still hovering, listening quietly as they all decide the night's not over.

You respectfully bow out, you'd had enough for one day. It's then you notice that Hotch is all by himself. You quietly excuse yourself, but you find that they're not really listening now that you were safer. "Are you alright?" you ask, and your voice is very quiet. Hotch looks up from his phone as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You take in his face, and it's clear he's been in some sort of scuffle. Most notable due to the fact he's got blood smeared under his nose.

"I should be asking you that." he retorts, and your eyebrows furrow in.

"Y-You already did." you remind him, eyes darting away. "Why are you over here by yourself?" you shoot off a round of questions, the wind whipping around, and making you crave the comfort of your bed. You maintain a respectful balance, you weren't in any rush to be all up in someone's space.

"I think I've had enough of crowds for the night." he retorts. You don't realize until it's happened though, your hand reaching up to swipe at the blood that's slowly drying on his upper lip.

"Get into a bar fight?" you ask, and you hold your breath for the answer. Hotch looks down at you, and there's this unreadable expression on his face. You realize that this is nothing new. Hotch had never been easy to read, he was one of the greatest profilers you'd ever met, one of the greatest people. But he'd always been an enigma. His emotions were an Alcatraz all on their own.

"You should see the other guy." the classic rebuttal to a question like yours. It doesn't make you smile, mostly because he's not smiling either. "Are you okay?" and he's got you by your wrist, eyes zoned in on the harsh mark the guy from the bar had left behind. "He never should've touched you." his voice lowers, and there's an annoyance attached to his tone. "I'm so sorry." you find yourself huffing.

"You shouldn't have fought him." you say matter-of-factly. Your fists fold up at your sides, your lips pulling down into a frown. "It'll give everyone the wrong idea." you say, and you wrench your hand away from his grasp.

"Everyone?" he repeats, and he looks confused, classic Hotch.

"Me." you correct, "I'll get the wrong idea." you whisper. "I might actually think you like me." you admit quietly.

"We wouldn't want that." he replies, and his tone is far from mocking. You hate that it makes you crack a smile. You hate that he's always the one that manages to get that reaction out of you.

"Hey, are you two coming? We're all heading to Mo's." Emily calls, and you snort at the fact that their alcohol riddled mind had caused them to forget you'd already declined. You take a step away from Hotch, and you hate that you stumble. You were hating a lot of things tonight. Maybe you weren't as sober as you'd thought.

Aaron looks to you as if he's waiting to see your answer before giving his own, and maybe he was. The second you're politely explaining that you're ready to head home, Aaron is offering to drive you. Derek is whistling, Emily and JJ offering you smug little smirks. Penelope is trying to keep herself secured to Earth. "He's gonna take her home." he whispers to no one in particular, and it's a horrid attempt.

"We all heard, babygirl." Derek replies to her, and you find yourself a bit stuck. The thought of spending the eighteen minute car ride with your boss make you want to scream, but you'd taken a cab. Your own car was parked in the driveway of your place. And he doesn't look like he' taking any goodbyes either way. Rounds of goodbye and see you laters are soon offered. "Take care of our girl, Hotch." Derek calls, and you hear Spencer as he starts to rant about Derek's turn-of-phrase.

Our girl. Hotch finds that the words repeat in his head like an obnoxious echo. "Why are you doing this?" you question quietly. "If you're just trying to make up for the whole Agent thing, there's no need." you proceed, and you take a small step back.

"I'm not trying to make up for that." he replies quickly. "But, you're drunk, and you've been through a lot tonight." he reminds you as if you're ditsy or something. "It wouldn't be smart to leave you by yourself." he continues, and he inhales deeply. He watches the way you watch him, like you're unsure, like you're suspicious. "That isn't a testament of whether or not I think you can handle yourself... and neither was fighting that man at the bar." he promises, and you blink.

"No?" you ask, and your tongue feels extra dry. Like you've licked a stripe of sandpaper.

"No." he reaffirms. "You mean a lot to the team. We wouldn't be the same without you." he says this bit like he means it, and you can't find any trace of a lie residing in his face. He does mean it.

"Thank you, Sir." you reply under your breath, exhaling the word. The chill of the night finally gets to you, and you shiver.

"Can I take you home?" he asks, and you know you're reading into it more than you should. You know what he means, what he's really asking, but delusion was healthy every now and again, right?

"Y-Yeah." your head nods, voice wavering slightly as you take hold of the bottom of your dress. "Yes." you say more firmly.

"Okay." you stand there for a few moments more, passing charged glances back and forth. "You never answered my question earlier." is what he says to break the moment. "About how you were doing..." he proceeds. "I've asked you twice, and both times you-"

"Deflected?" you offer, and his head nods. "I guess I'm just scared you'll see right through whatever my answer is." you admit, and you cross your arms, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Emily and JJ will at least humor me." you explain. "Penelope won't ask... mostly because she's scared of the answer." you chuckle awkwardly. "Derek and Spence, well I guess they're like you too... but you're here, and they're not... so here we are."

Hotch appraises you for a second, but he doesn't say much else. You're grateful for that, but equal parts annoyed that he wasn't leaping to tell you that you were harder to read than you thought. No such luck. Still, you're surprised when Hotch grabs you by your arm, much gentler than earlier, and he's slowing his stride to be in step with yours. You don't realize you've leaned fully into his side until you feel him tense up. He doesn't say anything though.

A win is a win.

You didn't know much about the inner workings of Aaron Hotchner's mind, but you did know that if he was uncomfortable with your proximity, he would have said so. The walk back to Hotch's car is silent. At least outwardly, inside you were panicking. He opens the passenger side for you, and you imagine a world where this was normal. Where it didn't take you being hit on by sleazy men at a bar to be having these moments with Hotch. But it was impossible.

"Did it hurt?" you ask, once the car is moving. He's adjusted the temperature, a soothing warm pooling from the vents. You're surprised at how quickly he drives, you'd half expected him to be one of those slow as molasses drivers. Hotch looks over at you incredulously, his eyebrows raise, but he doesn't look agitated nor annoyed with you breaking the silence again.

"You'll have to be more specific." he replies, and you hum. You pause for a second, trying to find the right words. At the last second you decide saying it straight would be just as good as anything else.

"Punching that guy?" you ask, and Hotch's lips quirk upwards, he was amused with you. In truth, he had no idea what he was thinking. As soon as the girls had ushered you away, he'd found himself swinging before he could think of the repercussions. All he knew was that you'd sounded scared, you'd sounded unlike yourself in a way that made him angry. Everyone saw how you had changed, the elephant in the room was hard to ignore. But you were trying, he could give you that.

"No." he mumbles, and that likely has a lot to do with the fact that he hasn't come down. He's still on edge, still watching you like you might at any moment start spiraling. "Besides, it was worth it." and he says this a bit under his breath, you hear it all the same. "I doubt he'll try it again." he admits, and you feel liberated. It was nice to have someone fighting for you, fighting the fights you weren't capable of.

"Thanks, Hotch." you hum, and it triggers a yawn.

"Back to Hotch?" he asks, and you look over at him confused. You kick your feet back and forth, careful not to dig your heels into the plush of the car's floor.

"Would you prefer I call you sir?" you ask, and he is tapping on the brake, the car slowly peeling to a stop as you come up on a red light.

"No." he answers sternly. "It's not like you." he admits, and the light is turning green again. He steps lightly on the gas, the car surging forward "Especially if you're only calling me Sir, as payback for me calling you Agent." he says, and even though you had tried your hand at pretending the greeting hadn't bothered you, it was obvious he had read right through you.

"Why'd you do that?" you question and your tone is a lot more clipped than you had intended.

"So it did offend you?" he retorts, and you feel anger flaring up. You swallow this feeling, hands balling up by your side.

"Hotch." you snap, and he smirks fully, eyes back on the road. "Can you be serious, please?" you ask, and you probably sound pitiful.

"The last month I've just been..." he trails off momentarily, and you wonder if he's emotional, or just being dramatic. "I should have known better." he expresses. "I should've been there to make sure that what happened didn't." he says, and you tense up. "He never should have gotten the chance to get close enough to cart you off." he completes his thought, and you're shocked. You never would have guessed Hotch blames himself for what happened to you.

"That wasn't your fault." you promise, and you mean it. You'd never once thought of blaming Hotch for what went down. "You were confident in the plan, you were putting your faith in the team."

"There is a very thin line between confidence and arrogance." He rebuttals instantly. "We got cocky, and you suffered because of it." he looks so destroyed as he says this. "And then you showed up tonight, and tried to pretend everything was fine." he notes as you remain silent. "It just reminded me that we're too close." he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "The longer you stay in the unit, the more you become numb to the things we see. You start to ignore the signs that you're not alright." he says, and you'd never thought of it that way.

"Hotch..." you exhale.

"I called you Agent to set up a boundary, or at least I tried." he says this like he's beating himself up. "But then I saw the way it hurt you." and he looks ashamed. "And I never want to be someone who does that to you." you're warring with your heart then. "So I wont do it again." he promises, and he looks to you briefly. "I'll call you by your name, I won't deflect." he adds as your mouth drops open just briefly.

"But, it's not right for someone your age to be so closed off. It's not right for you to pretend to be okay just to keep up with the people around you. If you weren't up to being out, you should've stayed home, our opinions don't outweigh your safety." he lectures you. "They never will." he adds a second after, and he's so sure as he says this. He's slowing down, coming up on your place.

Your leg is shaking slightly, that pesky feeling of anxiety creeping back up on you. "We're here." he says under his breath as if you weren't aware. You don't budge, you can't. You have so much to say, but where do you start. Hotch has shut his car off, almost like he too has a lot sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"I just wanted to prove I could handle it." you admit, and you're crying. "I didn't want to be another Gideon or Elle... or Spence." you cringe at the memories. "I didn't want you guys to handle with me with kid gloves. I didn't want you to see me as the girl who needs the kid gloves." you express honestly, and now your tears are falling in quick precession. "I'm sorry..." you swipe at your face. "I don't know why I'm crying, this is so stupid." you hiss at yourself.

"No, it isn't." the response earns him a surprised glance. "It's good... this is good." Hotch is quick to use a hand to swipe at your tears. He hates the sight of them, but loves what they mean. Your heart's still soft, pliable. You haven't fully succumb to the horrors of the job. "Consider this me atoning." he prompts. "You have my ear, say whatever you need to say." he looks over at you again, and seems to mentally backtrack. "If it'll help you." he adds.

You sniffle audibly, hands clenching and unclenching as the car suddenly feels much too hot. "It's not your fault, okay?" you repeat, and you say it with more certainty. "I just need you to know that." you sniffle again, but your tears keep falling, even as you try to blink them away. "Hotch, you're our leader for a reason, and you were there to save me that night, and you were here to save me tonight." you remind him. "I don't want you to pull back, not when I'm finally making some progress with cracking that hard exterior of yours."

Hotch's lips quirk at your words, and he looks down at his lap. "I've never meant to pull back from you." the inflection with the last words sticks. "I thought I was doing right by you... pulling the band aid off before you got in too deep." he says. "But that was wrong of me, I can admit to that. I'm sorry." and his apologies are like kisses. They wash over you, and force you to believe him.

"Don't apologize to me." you plead, "Just promise not to leave me behind, treat me like an outsider again." you continue as his head nods, and you can trust that he's listening.

"I can do that." he promises.

That seems to be the key to unlocking the dam of your emotions. You choke on the feelings, a quiet sob escaping you as you clasp a hand over your mouth. How dramatic, and pathetic, and God awful were all these feelings. But they'd been years in the making, right?

"Are you alright?." he asks under his breath, worry palpable.

"Do you know that the only thing that kept me from losing it that day was you?" you ask, and your boldness won't leave you, clearly it was now or never. "You told me to 'keep breathing'... you said it over and over and over, and I listened." you explain, and he remembers the day too well. "Even though everything hurt like hell, and there was so much blood." you reminisce. "And I don't know, maybe I'm just crazy, but there was this look." you exhale sadly. "This look you had on your face that made me think... 'maybe it's not just me'"

It isn't. He knows that instantly. You've plagued his mind so severely for so long that he can just barely remember a time where you weren't one of the only things he thought about, worried about, cared about. But he had his post to think about, he was the Unit Chief, your boss, your superior. What would the team think? What would Strauss think? Did it matter? In the grand scheme of things, did those worries outweigh his need, his innate desire to see you safe and protected from harm? Absolutely not. So what was the real problem?

"Hotch..." you inhale deeply, voice cracking distractingly as he gives you his full attention. Something you'd dreamed of, wanted more than anything since the first time you'd ever laid eyes on him. "Aaron." you correct, and you breathe again. "I've been thinking of how to say this... i've been rehearsing it over and over again, because I wanted to get it right, and I just knew tonight would be the night I'd have to have the balls to either say it or let it go forever." you admit.

"Say it..." and he's rushing you, but you suppose that's deserved. You were still stalling, dragging this out way more than you needed to.

"I'm in love with you." and it was out there, and you couldn't take it back. You stare him down, worried about his reaction, about how he would respond. "And it took me getting hurt, and being sent home, away from the team for me to realize." you inhale shakily. "I kept having these-these dreams about that night. All these different scenarios about how things could've turned out different, how I could've died had one thing been out of place." you process.

"You're the reason I'm still here, you're the reason why this team can function, and you're the reason why I- why I came tonight even though my anxiety told me it wasn't safe. Because, somehow I knew that as long as you were here... I'd be okay, and I am." you say, and it's a lot, too much maybe. His reaction is hard to read at first, face just as stoic as most times, but his eyes.... his eyes hold the truth. They melt, pools of warm honey dancing in the darkness residing there.

"And it's inappropriate... and wrong... and silly... but- I couldn't go another day without you knowing, without you hearing from me." you explain. "When you came up to the bar tonight I just... I've never felt this way before... lucky, protected, safe.... and-and I'm not asking for anything from you... I'm not expecting something in return, I just wanted to get it out there... I think we both know it's been a long time coming..." and your words are being swallowed as Aaron leans forward. The middle console is a bridge, a roadblock.

It doesn't deter him though, not from using a hand to gently cup your face, mouth slotting against yours as if it belonged there. You're dizzy, shocked, surprised, but you don't let this mess you up. You can't possibly allow anything to mess up this moment. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two... the seconds tick by with neither of you moving to break the kiss, hands and tongues and breaths fanning over one another as you get acquainted in the most perfect way.

Still, life dealt lots, and yours consisted of a need for oxygen. It's the only reason why you break apart with heady gasps, eyes dilated and fogged with emotions much too heavy to really explain. "Oh, you can't do that." you explain, and Hotch's bemused, eyebrows raising upwards, as his thumb brushes over your cheekbones.

"I can't?" he asks, and he sounds so much lighter now.

"No, you can't. I'll get the wrong idea, you know." you explain, and he smiles brazenly at your callback to earlier. "I'll actually believe you're in love with me or something." you say, and Hotch is slow as he leans back in, a peck being placed right on your lips as your eyelashes flutter, and your heart beats out of control.

"We can't have that, can we?" he's following your lead with the callback, and your cheek presses into his palm.

"I don't know." you answer, and your voice is faint. "I'm scared this'll be a dream." you proceed as Hotch's eyes scan over your frantic face. "I'll wake up and find out that this was all in my head, and the only memories I get to hold on to are from that night." Hotch's lips purse, head shaking in denial as you inhale shakily.

"No, not this time. an ambitious remark. "This time it's real." he promises. "This time I'm here with you to make sure that all those things you felt that night, and earlier by the bar, are how you keep feeling about me." he answers truly. "I'm here to love you back for as long as you'll have me. Is it alright for me to feel that way?" he asks, and your hand jumps up to keep his squished in place against your face.

"You can feel however you want." you reply, and he laughs, a full blown chuckle escaping him as his face seems to light up like a thousand suns. His eyes glisten, twinkling as he looks down at you, like everything was right in the world. And to him it was. Nothing and nobody could hurt you here.

"Good. Then I choose whatever this between you and I leads to, I choose the feelings that come with that." You smile grows to an almost blinding brightness as you reach across the console to hug him, and pull him into your arms. He's quick as he presses a peck to the top of your head, eyes still dancing over you as if he was seeing you for the first time. And maybe he was, that part wasn't your business, all you knew was that loving Aaron was easy, it could be.

A long time coming, but a wait well worth it. Lucky you.

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bau-muffin · 10 months ago

Text

“It’s All Wrong But It’s Alright”

Summary: You and Aaron Hotchner have an interesting relationship. He’s your boss, and you’re one of the agents underneath him.

What happens when you get triggered during a case, and comforting you leads to something more?

Word count: 6,006

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Reader

Read it on AO3

mentions: SA, CSA, it’s implied that reader has a history of CSA, oral sex, fingering

Hotch knew as well as anybody that this case would emotionally weigh heavy on the team, maybe even more than it usually did.

They had successfully apprehended Monica Menzel and her sixteen year old son Jacob, but certainly not before uncovering disturbing details that would more than likely haunt the team for the rest of their lives.

The victims, all of them, were below the age of nine. There were no preferences in boys or girls or hair color, not even eye color, but they were all tortured and sexually assaulted in the same exact way, and then their bodies disposed of and covered with a tarp, as though in remorse. As it turned out, Jacob was losing control and abusing these children while Monica disposed of them quietly.

It made Hotch doubt whether good in humanity ever existed, especially when he thought of Jack waiting at home for him to come back so he could tell him all of the shenanigans he had gotten up to at his Aunt Jessica’s and regale him with the details of classroom drama.

And, he figured, the rest of the team were thinking similar thoughts, their minds all engulfed with the children in their lives and how it only takes a split second for every sense of safety to become compromised.

But as the team left the precinct, neatly separated into SUVs, and caravanned back to the hotel, Hotch looked over at you in the passenger seat and wondered who you were thinking of. When he had opened the door for you, you’d sat down and not even murmured a “thank you,” like you usually did, instead looking as though you were a million miles away. He knew something was turning inside your head. It didn’t take a profiler to see it.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he flipped up the blinker to make a turn.

“I’m exhausted,” you replied, almost too quickly. “We’ve been up and at it with this case since five this morning, and I didn’t sleep very well last night. Probably didn’t get more than three hours

in total.”

When Garcia had booked hotel rooms for you guys, she disclosed that since the town was at the peak of tourist season, she couldn’t book enough rooms for everybody to have a room of their own; which meant that two agents would have to take one for the team and share. You and Hotch had drawn the short straws, but despite being a subordinate and superior sharing a room, it hadn’t been awkward at all. You each had a double bed and made yourselves at home.

Still, he was all too aware that you had tossed and turned into the wee hours of the morning, and more than ever he wished he could have assuaged whatever was bothering you.

“Was the bed uncomfortable for you?” Hotch asked casually, his eyes still on the road.

“Not at all. I was just… thinking, is all. You know how it can be.”

He nodded solemnly, his lips forming a solid line. “I do know.”

You hummed an affirmative noise before turning to look outside the window, though there wasn’t much to look at since it was already almost dark and most of the street lights were still off.

Hotch wished you would open up to him. Heck, even before, you didn’t mind opening up to him, even just a little. But now it was like a barrier loomed around you and your thoughts, forbidding anyone who dared approach.

“For most of this case, I found myself thinking of Jack,” he confided, glancing over at you.

“Yeah? I don’t doubt it. Having kids when you’re in this line of business… it can’t be easy.” For a moment, your tone sounded open and concerned, and he sensed your eyes on his side profile.

“It’s not at all,” Hotch said quietly with his eyes still on the road ahead of him. “It makes me wish I could take Jack somewhere and hide him away from the ugly side of humanity. But… I’m all too aware that’s not feasible, nor is it healthy. So, we persevere together, and all I can hope to do is guide him until he’s ready to step out into the world on his own.”

“I imagine he’s already seen too much of how ugly humanity can be,” you said gently.

“He has. There’s no hiding it from him now,” he admitted softly.

“Once you’ve seen it, heard it… you can’t go back from it. Even that young.”

Something in your voice made him glance your way intensely. Was it… wistfulness? Melancholy?

It was quiet for a few moments as he focused on driving while you turned back to the window and continued staring out. He figured he couldn’t force you to confide in him, so he may as well give you space, but he was still worried; probably more than he’d like to confess.

As soon as you entered the hotel room, you beelined straight for your suitcase. “I’m going to take a shower first, if that’s alright with you?”

Hotch nodded as he began plugging up his devices on his side of the shared side table. “Perfectly fine with me. It’ll give me time to call Jack before we settle down for the night. Take your time.”

You began gathering up your clothes and necessities and toted them to the bathroom, the door closing behind you softly. Hotch had never wanted to wiggle his way into your brain more and find out what was going on in there.

He’s always known you had a soft spot for children, and he was first hand testament to it, just witnessing how you’d interacted with Jack every time Jessica brought him by the BAU for a visit or when he would bring Jack for an event at Rossi’s—you’d always taken time to ask him how school was, you’d ask about some project or another he had told you about before, and often times you’d reach out to ruffle his hair fondly. When he had read up on your files during the hiring process, he also learned you had nieces and nephews, and from how you spoke of them, you seemed to love them and had a good relationship with them; probably a tad bit protective, especially considering what you’d seen on this job.

But something about the way you were withdrawing and reserved now suggested this was personal, much more personal than you wanted to let on.

Still, Hotch felt like it was none of his business, and picked up his phone to call Jack.

By the time he finished an exuberant conversation with his son and Jessica, Hotch heard your blow dryer running. (you always kept an extra blow dryer in your go bag. Derek once suggested you take it out to have more room for clothes, and Hotch thought you’d form daggers with your eyeballs and throw them at him. (Derek never brought it up again.)

Fifteen minutes later, you walked in with your dirty clothes and stuffed them into a mesh bag in your go bag; and Hotch felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

He hardly ever saw you dressed this casually. Your hair was down, fluffy at the crown from blow drying it, and wearing a large oversized t-shirt and shorts, as well as colorful fuzzy socks on your feet. But your face—it made him stop cold. Your eyelashes were wet with freshly shed tears, your eyes were rimmed with redness, and your cheeks were spackled with flush.

Hotch said your name, but he was interrupted.

“Hotch… just—hold me,” you said pleadingly, your voice cracking slightly.

Wordlessly, Hotch opened up his arms to you while he was sitting on the bed, and you fell into him, burying your head into his chest while your body spasmed with sobs.

He didn’t even care if you got snot on his dress shirt. Whatever comfort you needed that he could afford you, he wanted to give it to you. A washable shirt was nothing compared to the weight you seemed to be holding inside.

Soothingly, Hotch rubbed your back while his chin rested on your head and whispered, “Hey, hey.”

You continued sobbing, and tentatively his hand moved up to your hair, stroking it softly. Soon, the shaking and spasming ceased, and you just leaned into him, and the first breath you exhaled seemed like it released twenty pounds of burden from you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently, his hand roving politely over your back. He couldn’t help but think about how the cotton shirt under his hand was the only thing separating him from your skin; probably just as soft and gently dewy if your face was any indicator, but he pushed it away as soon as the thought came—now was not the time.

You were quiet for a moment.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Hotch said quietly, “but I know that talking about it… it can help, getting it out in the open.”

“I don’t want to burden you, Hotch. This case was heavy for all of us,” you all but whispered, almost muffled by his shirt.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed you shutting down after a case. Especially pertaining to child abuse. I’ll respect your privacy, but you need to know you don’t have to bear this on your own.”

You chewed your lip as tears threatened to spill over again, contemplating your options. Lie to your boss and evade the question? Pretend everything was okay? Maybe tell him you’re emotional because you’re on your period?

Finally, you lifted your head away from his chest and looked at him. It was almost breathtaking how much comfort and care you found in Hotch’s face, and it sent a shiver down your back as the kindness in his warm brown eyes melted you.

“Hotch…”

“Aaron,” he urged softly, “call me Aaron. Don’t you think we might be beyond work nicknames now?”

“Aaron,” you tested out the name on your tongue like a foreign object as your tone lowered, “I… I have a history with…. sexual abuse.”

“It’s not in your file,” Hotch said, concern creasing his face, and a little bit of his professionalism seeping in.

You shook your head. “It wouldn’t be. I had it sealed away.”

“But-“

“I knew it would affect how people, especially employers in our field, would look at me, Hotch,” you said, “especially as a woman. I… I’m considered weaker emotionally, at least from the stereotypical level anyways. Swimming with this upstream in my public record would’ve held me back. I hold up, and I save my breakdowns for when I get home. And in my defense, this is only the second one I’ve had since I started working at the BAU.”

Hotch looked at you, his brows slightly furrowed. “That… makes sense. But I still wish you had told me- or at least one of us- about this. We could have helped you reach out to resources. You… didn’t deserve to carry all of this by yourself, especially when you know your cases might trigger you.”

“It’s taken me a while to trust anybody with this,” you said softly.

He’s silent for a moment, his hand stilling while it was smoothing your hair. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you every day in the field with my life, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminded you, “You do. But… do you trust me with your past?”

“Yes,” you murmured.

Silence fell between you as you both seemed to become aware of what was happening in that moment.

Your head was on his chest, as it moved up and down with every breath. One of his hands was in your hair while the other was resting on your back. Your hands were splayed on his shoulders. His lips were only mere inches from the crown of your head. Your legs were resting between his. You were in his arms and the shiver of sadness that came with crying was being chased away by the warmth of them around you.

The temptation on Hotch’s part to kiss your head, your nose, your lips, it was almost surmountable. But he didn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability, or his position as your superior. He couldn’t do that to you.

So, you did what any subordinate would spontaneously do when they’re a little fatigued by his politeness- you reached up and kissed his face, only missing the corner of his mouth by half of an inch.

He said your name almost in a gasp.

It was such a simple thing, but it shifted the world underneath you both.

“I’m your superior,” Hotch reminded as much to himself as to you, “we can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“You’re emotionally vulnerable right now. I’m your boss and you’re my subordinate, so there’s also a power imbalance. And I- I’m so much older than you. You could have any man you want, you don’t have to settle for me.” His voice cracked almost minutely when he mentioned settling, but you heard it.

You scoffed as you lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not settling, Aaron. I don’t know who told you that nonsense, but no one is settling by… by being with you. And… I may be emotionally vulnerable, yes,” you admitted before your tone turned soft, “but I’ve… I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

Hotch felt surprise jolt through him and he tried to lean up a little more even with you on top of him, though his hand still cradled the small of your back. “Oh, really?”

“Are you really so surprised?”

“You’re just…” he struggled to find the right way to say what he meant, “you could have anybody you want, you know? I’m a middle aged man headed towards being over the hill, with emotional baggage, and a young son.”

“You’re also emotionally constipated,” you said with a small smile tugging your lips.

He chuckled quietly, and you felt the vibration of it from his chest. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“It means I’m aware of your shortcomings, Hotch. Or what others may view as shortcomings.”

There was another beat of silence, then things started moving like a whirlwind.

He rolled you over so that you were underneath him, and his nose rubbed the side of your face as he lowered his mouth to your ear. “You really need to start calling me Aaron during these intimate times, don’t you think?”

You gulped as you looked up at him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Hotch asked quietly, “I would feel… so guilty if you ended up… regretting this later. It’s okay to take a bit longer to think about it.”

There was a hint of passion in your voice as you tilted your chin up to him. “You don’t know how long I have been thinking about this, Aaron Hotchner.”

That lit a fire in him that he didn’t know he had a wick for, and his hands slid over the sides of your face as he tilted your head up towards him, inspecting the flush that had formed on your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful. I’ve always been aware of it, did you know that?”

You opened your mouth to answer, and he covered your lips with his own, feasting on you like a man starved. It wasn’t long before his tongue asked entrance, and you granted it, his tongue grazing against yours.

You weren’t sure how you expected Hotch to kiss. Passionately? Without a doubt. Fervently? Definitely. But you didn’t realize “reverently” and “frenzied” were adjectives that could be used together, and yet it was perfect.

You hadn’t realized you were doing it, but you were grinding against him, his slacks rubbing against the cotton of your shorts, eliciting moans from him that you’d never heard before, but felt like music to your ears as it sent a shiver down your spine. In response, his hands slid to your breasts, his thumb rubbing against your nipples through your thin T-shirt in gentle circles as the rest of his hands cupped your breasts.

“Someone didn’t wear a bra,” Hotch said almost cheekily.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to get felt up tonight,” you laughed.

“I suppose not. You really are beautiful, you know that? And seeing you under me… I never thought you could get prettier, but apparently it’s possible.”

“Aaron…”

Hotch continued rubbing your nipples, gently, but with enough friction that it shot pleasure through you. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Aaron.”

“Do you mind doing me the honors of removing my shirt? Please?” You asked.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, kissing your forehead before he gently set about removing your shirt, shimmying it over your head before tossing it unceremoniously on the AC unit under the window.

You watched nervously as his eyes roved over your chest, almost feeling the burn of his gaze on your skin. But then he began leaning down and kissing a path from your collarbones, down to your belly button.

“Sweetheart, your breasts are magnificent,” he whispered before pressing kisses to each of them, “they’re just right for me.”

“Are you so easy to please?”

Hotch kissed your breasts again in answer, slower this time, as he nipped and sucked on the skin, leaving hickies in his wake. He chuckled to himself as he looked at his handiwork.

“I truly hope you weren’t planning on wearing a low cut shirt tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t, but I guess you eliminated that choice for me.”

He smiled, almost deviously, if you could believe he was capable of it. “You could, but I think you would have to answer some… piqued interests. But I also think… one part of you wants to show everyone, that you were marked, by me. And…” his voice lowered, “I can’t say I hate the idea of it.”

Before you could form a reply, he inched down towards your nipples and took one into his mouth, sucking on them gently. He wasn’t at all surprised when he felt your fingers thread into his hair, tugging at them the more he played with your nipple with his tongue.

Before he switched to the other nipple, he looked up at you, almost ironically puppy dog-like. “Are you enjoying this, my dove?”

“Yes,” you panted, “I’ve… I’ve never had this done to me before.”

He froze where he was. “None of your other partners did this for you?”

You shook your head.

“Amateurs,” Hotch muttered to himself before licking your nipple, wetting it.

Before long, he was back at it, sucking your other nipple, far less gentle than the way he had started, and his hand squeezing and kneading the first breast.

“Dear god-”

He completely unlatched from your breast to smirk at you. “I’m afraid God has nothing to say in this little foray.”

Impatiently, you reached up to unbutton his button up shirt feverishly, your fingers clumsily clashing into each other. Hotch chuckled at your excitement.

“You’re so cute when you’re eager,” he murmured to you, his own fingers reaching down to assist you in unbuttoning his shirt.

“Do you know how often I’ve wondered what you look like under here?” You asked as your eyes watched more and more of his chest expose.

“I’m not exactly… Derek in terms of body shape,” he confided. “And maybe at one point, I would have rivaled him. But I’m afraid my abs have… congealed a bit, especially since I became a dad.” He unbuttoned the last button.

“If you think that will deter me one bit, you have another thought coming, Mr. Hotchner,” you said sassily as you began pushing the shirt off of his shoulders. It was your turn to marvel at him and his body- his arms were toned, his chest had polite smatterings of hair and, much like Hotch in every other facet of his life, a happy trail that could only be described as neat and tidy. He was right that he wasn’t built like Derek, but in every line of him, you could tell he held incredible strength even for the average middle aged man, even if he had an adorable hint of tummy that you wanted to press kisses on. The scars from Foyet did not escape you, and you respectfully reached to trace them with your fingers, a ghost of pressure. To know that he endured that, and thrived in spite of it… you felt soft towards this stern looking man.

“You’re sure you still… want a piece of this?” He said almost awkwardly with a smile.

“If I wasn’t sure before, I know I am now,” you assured him as you kissed the underside of his jaw, “you’re beautiful.”

“I’m… beautiful?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me no one’s called you beautiful before?”

“Handsome, sure. Beautiful… no.”

“Well that’s just sad,” you pressed a kiss to one of his pecs, “because it’s the goddamn truth.”

You’d never seen him blush before, but you smirked with satisfaction when he turned red from his ears down to his neck.

“Are you ready to take this to the next level then?” Hotch asked, his hands moving down to the waistband of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings while he waited for your confirmation.

“Absolutely.”

With shaking hands, he began pulling down your shorts, tugging them down until he could discard them across the room, leaving you in your cotton underwear.

“You’re so wet already,” he said with a small smirk as his fingers touched the crotch of your underwear, hooking it to the side before ultimately deciding to just take it off entirely, as He quickly yanked it off and sling shot it.

“Those were my nice pair,” you mumbled, though you were thrilled at being completely exposed to him, feeling the crisp hotel air against you.

“I’ll buy you some more if they’re ruined,” he promised as he moved further down your body.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” Hotch said as he began rubbing your clit. You squirmed but you couldn’t stop the moan that sprang from you.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praised you, “the noises you make are almost provocative, sweetheart.”

“You’re too good,” you said breathlessly, the tightness in your stomach overwhelming you. Hotch chuckled as he kissed the side of your neck, careful not to leave a mark, knowing you’ll still have to ride on the jet home with the rest of the team tomorrow.

“I’m not sure if that speaks well of me or poorly of the guys you’ve been with before, sweetheart, we’re just getting started here,” he deflected slightly. He continued rubbing your clit, the circular motion sending jolts of what felt like electricity through your body.

Your hands instinctively reached to the side and gripped the sheets when he began sliding a finger in tentatively, his thumb on your sensitive nerves now, keeping the circular motion going. His eyes searched yours, those eyes slightly darkened by warm lust.

“Is this good?” Hotch asked.

“God, yes,” you bit out.

He hummed a noise of acknowledgment while he slid in a second finger, emitting a moan from you.

“You’re so tight, darling,” he murmured, “am I going to need to stretch you out a little before we get to the main event?”

“It’s been a while,” you admitted.

“How long?”

“Before I moved to Quantico.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, surprise registering on his face. “Baby, that was… at least over a year ago.”

“I’m so busy with work that I hardly have time to meander into the dating scene. Haven’t really wanted to either.”

“Maybe we could talk to your boss about that,” he said teasingly.

You were about to respond when you felt his third finger slide in, and you took a deep breath.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed into your ear, his voice low with desire, “taking me so well while I fill you up with my fingers, and taking those deep breaths.”

His fingers pumping in and out of you made you gasp and grasp the bed sheets even tighter between your fingers. You hadn’t, in a million years, thought you would be in a position where Aaron Hotchner was between your legs, pleasuring you with his fingers. Those fingers you had studied for months, fiddling with pens while he listened to others talk, and fantasized what they could do to you. Now you were feeling it, you were finally feeling what exactly those fingers will and can do to you- and the answer was “make you feel fucking amazing.”

The combination of his fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit was too wonderful to describe. You could write a sonnet and it still wouldn’t completely encapsulate how you felt.

“I think I’m ready,” you whispered.

“Are you sure, baby?” He murmured, “we don’t have to hurry. If it’s been awhile for you, then I think we should take our time. You deserve to be completely ready and comfortable.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” you said, glancing down at where you could feel his erection against your leg. Hotch blushed slightly.

“This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is all about you. And you make me feel good when you feel good, making all those pretty sounds for me, knowing I’m the one who makes you feel like that, and that I’m the one with my fingers in your pretty pussy.”

You shivered again, but you bit your lip as you looked down at him.

“I still need to put my mouth on you, baby. Do you want that? To feel my lips on you while my tongue finds your swollen clit?”

“I… you don’t have to, I know some guys don’t-“

“Don’t tell me you think it’s an action of sacrifice on my part,” he scoffed with a smile, “like I said before, I want to make you feel good. I would be honored to eat you out, darling.”

Your cheeks were pink from the slightly crass words. “I didn’t even know you knew-“

“Just how old do you think I am?” Hotch rolled his eyes. He gently slid his fingers out of you and you barely stifled a groan as you felt the loss.

“So do I have your permission?” He asked, kissing your neck again.

“Yes sir.”

He smirked up at you as he bent his head towards your core. “You’re calling me sir now?”

“Terrible habit.”

Feeling Hotch’s lips on you was like nothing you’d ever felt before, but the moment his tongue began lapping at your clit, rolling it around and sucking on it, you don’t know where you went. Everything melted away, and all you felt was him.

Occasionally his eyes would flit up from his task and gauge your reaction, but every time, he knew you were more than satisfied. You grasped the bed-sheets tighter still, your head tilted back as a loud moan you didn’t realize you were making left your lips.

As his tongue searched relentlessly, hitting nerves you forgot you had, your legs jerked in response. Without even looking, his hand grasped your hips, stilling them firmly.

“Oh my god-“ you groaned.

Hotch moved away from you, his lips and chin covered in your juices, but a devious smile alighted on his face. “I take it that you liked it?”

You panted a few breaths. “A little.”

“Ah, yes, a little is what got your cum all over my face- imagine if it was a lot?” he chuckled as he moved himself up your body to kiss your lips, your juices meeting your tongue.

“Aaron, I…” you hesitated for a moment. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah?”

“I think… I think I want to do this again. When we get home in Quantico. And… I want to save the… you know, actual sex, for then. In one of our actual beds. Am… am I being too presumptuous?”

He kissed your forehead. “You would’ve been a fool if you thought I was going to risk it all for a one time thing, sweetheart. Of course I want this again, you’re not being presumptuous.”

Hotch moved to climb off of her, but you grabbed him by the belt loop with a hooked finger and a raised eyebrow, emboldened by your arousal.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked.

He chuckled. “As much as I loved eating you out, I can’t live with your juice on my face, dove. And… I figured you were signaling to me that we were done for the night, so I was going to clean you up.”

“We’re not done.”

“No?” He raised an eyebrow.

She glanced pointedly at his erection, tenting his slacks.

“Oh… darling, we don’t have to-”

“I know we don’t. I want to.”

Hotch leaned back on his knees. “Darling, I-“

“I hate having to keep interrupting you, sir, but perhaps losing the slacks will help us to continue this conversation.”

He reached down for his belt buckle with a laugh. “Bossy, aren’t we?”

Within a few seconds, he had unbuckled and his slacks beside the bed. Through his boxers, the outline of his dick was prominent, and you felt your mouth salivate at the sight of it.

“You did this to me, baby,” Hotch said softly.

You blushed, still looking at him, but your hands reached for the waistband of his boxers, and inched them lower.

“Damn, sweetie, do you have a permit to conceal this large of a weapon?” you drawled as you stared eagerly at his dick, the pre-cum gathering at the tip of it as it stood tall.

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink. “This one and a few others.”

“How do you want us to do this?”

Hotch hummed. “On your knees on the floor, sweetheart. Do you need a pillow?”

You clambered off the bed and got on your knees, waiting for him to follow suit.

He stood in front of you, almost hesitant, but the moment you gingerly grasped his dick, something in his eyes snapped into action, and his hands grasped your hair, tugging at the roots slightly.

You licked him from balls to tip, and under your touch, you could feel him shudder.

Experimentally, you swirled your tongue around the tip, then eased it into your mouth until you felt him hit your cheek

“Fuck-” Hotch rasped, his grip in your hair getting tighter, “you’re teasing me, doll.”

You looked up at him with arched eyebrows, deviousness reflecting in the glint of your eyes.

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that? All those times we were on cases and you’d do those cute little mannerisms of yours. You’d tap your finger to your chin, or you’d part your lips when you would lift your head to look at something. Or when you would drink your coffee and widen your eyes at me over your mug. You’re just- fuck.”

Of course, that sudden expletive was because you’d mischievously pulled a bait and switch and taken him all the way to the back of your throat, opening up wider for him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed, “sweetie, you’re marvelous, I- shit.”

You looked innocently up at him, although the slight shift in movement almost made you choke.

“That will teach you, you cheeky- oh god, I don’t know how much longer I can keep…”

Ropes of cum spilled down your throat, and somehow you swallowed it all, though it took a lot of effort to do so. After it dissipated, you pulled away from him, just sitting back on your knees and looking up at the beautiful man before you, his hands in your hair. To the eye that didn’t know anything about him, he was just an average middle aged man, but to hers, before her stood a man who had been through so much, and loved and cared despite the risks involved, and whose strength was unmatched.

Hotch gently pulled you to the bed and laid you down. “I’m going to be right back, sweet thing,” he said as he kissed your forehead before going to the bathroom to retrieve wet wash rags.

Thirty minutes later found you on his chest, skin to skin, and his arms around you gently.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You asked.

“Probably, but what?” He replied before kissing the crown of your hair.

“When you said you noticed all of the cute little mannerisms I apparently do.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating his chest under you. “Absolutely I do. I’ve noticed from the beginning, when you applied for this job and came in for an interview. You kept touching your neck when you were nervous or felt vulnerable.”

Your eyebrows collided. “You were still in the process of divorcing Haley at that time.”

“I can’t say I immediately fell in love with you at first sight,” he admitted, “but I can say I felt like I met someone I thought would be nice to have around.”

“When… did you realize you liked me in a… in a different way?”

Hotch stroked your back. “When you remembered Jack’s birthday and sent home a little present by me to him.”

“God… Hotch-“

“We just went through all of this for you to call me Hotch? Really?” He smiled cheekily.

“It’s a habit! Anyways, you… you’ve known for that long? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to cross any lines that I shouldn’t have,” he said simply.

“We’re going to have to figure out how to deal with the fallout from here, you realize that, right? And Strauss.”

“God, I didn’t think I’d hear Strauss brought up post coitus,” Hotch groaned. You laughed heartily.

“Let’s just… keep it between us. Just for now.”

“For now,” he agreed. You snuggled into his chest, and fell asleep like that.

Of course, you forgot that he left a mark on your collarbone when you had to untangle your limbs from him the next morning to pack up and get on the jet and go home. You couldn’t use the curling iron excuse, not that far down. And it was simply too hot for a turtleneck. So, before you boarded the jet, you made up your mind to gaslight everyone. And you meant everyone.

“Am I crazy or is that a hickey?” Derek pointed out when you sat across from him at the four seater, closest to the window. Hotch lifted a brow and widened his eyes at you from where he was sitting, conveniently facing you at the two seater behind Derek.

“God, Derek, don’t you know anything? This is a birthmark.”

“A… a birthmark?” Derek sounded bewildered. “Girl, I’ve known you for almost over a year now. You didn’t have a birthmark.”

“You didn’t notice? I’m almost hurt, Derek Walter Morgan.”

“That is not my real middle name, you know that, right?” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Where could you have possibly gotten any lovin’ from, hm? I know it wasn’t boss man.”

“You know, Derek is right. I don’t remember you having a birthmark,” Spencer jumped in from where he was perched on the couch across from you guys.

“Oh c’mon, Reid, like you’re the most observant person in the room!” You said with a smile.

“I know an iron burn when I see one and… sorry, but that’s not it,” Emily quipped.

“It’s just a birthmark- have you guys considered concealer exists? What’s next, you guys believe Emily naturally has berry red lips too? Gullible.”

“So… why did you leave it off today?” Rossi asked, obviously suspicious.

“I woke up late. Didn’t have time to do my makeup routine.”

This begrudgingly seemed to suffice most of the team, but Rossi was no fool, and he noticed Hotch’s t-shirt under your flannel, and winked at Hotch, who only rolled his eyes, then glanced at you, a vulnerable smitten woman among profilers.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #smut

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hardlyinteresting · 11 months ago

Text

Personal

Aaron Hotchner x reader

A case hits a little too close to home for the reader. Hotch makes sure she knows she not alone even as they struggle to decide if they're colleagues, friends, or something more.

Warnings: female reader, (I've given her the nickname Sweets), No physical description of reader, mildly graphic descriptions of injuries, cannon-compliant themes of violence, themes of past domestic violence, mild hurt/comfort, I am not a profiler so there are likely mistakes in the profile (please let me know if there are any warnings you'd like me to add. Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

Word count: 3.2K

"Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain" Ann-Marie MacDonald

The case comes in early in the morning. Aaron has hardly managed a sip of his coffee when the phone rings with a call from a local P.D. in Aberdeen, Virginia. It's urgent. It always is. He cannot begrudge the haste with which his job forces him to chug down the scalding liquid in his mug as he calls upon Garcia to prep the relevant files for the case. It's not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. Sufficiently caffeinated (albeit with a burnt tongue), and briefed on the case, Hotch calls the team to meet him in the conference room.

His colleagues seem to be in good spirits today. With a passing glance around the room Hotch silently completes a behavioural checklist for each of them in his mind. No one on the team seems over-exhausted, overtly anxious, or withdrawn. They chat amongst themselves, teasing and joking like siblings as they wait for him to settle into the remaining seat at the table. He nods at Penelope, “Garcia, let's get started”. With a quick “yes, sir,” she presses a button on the remote to begin the briefing.

This morning the police in Aberdeen discovered the body of a woman left propped up against the wall outside a local medical clinic. Abigail Lawson. 27 years old. She had been badly beaten. A single stab wound. No sign of sexual assault.

“Cause of death?” Prentiss asks.

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Garcia supplies the response.

“And she's the first?” Morgan follows up.

“Two weeks ago Stella Amos, twenty-five, was admitted to hospital with similar injuries. She passed away two hours later. A punctured lung”.

The photographs of the injuries are disturbing. After years on the job, the images never seem to get less brutal. A chill travels down his spine as he looks over the extent of the wounds on both of the women. A hush falls over the room as everyone else takes a moment to swallow down their own shock and compartmentalize their feelings of disgust. They train themselves, scanning the photographs and notes for the facts they can work with in hopes of saving anyone else from meeting the same fate.

“No stab wound. Are we sure these cases are connected?” Reid surveys the provided facts one more time.

“Similar age, hair colour. They were from the same neighbourhood. Steady jobs,” Rossi lists, “there's a pattern in victimology to be sure”.

“They could be unconnected acts of domestic violence,” Morgan posits before continuing, “but leaving these women at medical centres is unique. Could be remorse”.

“A man who beats women within an inch of their lives before dropping them off for medical attention. It's a big risk. Knowing they might survive to identify him”.

Hotch nods at the assessment. He had followed the same thought process himself when he got the call.

“Maybe he's banking on them being too afraid to talk if they do pull through,” another voice in the room speaks up for the first time this morning. Sweets, the team calls her. An affectionate nickname that’s stuck since her first week on the team. “the stabbing is an escalation and these are high-risk victims. This UNSUB isn't worried about getting caught. These attacks are personal to him somehow”. It's an important assertion, and something they'll need to consider as they build and expand their working profile.

He's glad to hear Sweets adding to the conversation. She's never been shy when contributing to the team's brainstorms, and he had begun to worry when it had taken her so long to speak up. He doesn't miss the wobble in her tone, or the way she now avoids eye contact. She’s a valuable team member, and despite being the most recent addition she’s settled herself flawlessly over the last year. Aaron is well aware of the poor retention rate for new team members in the BAU and has continued to be impressed by her ability to hang on to her brand of optimism and take their most difficult cases in stride. She’s worked hard to see the best in people, and unsurprisingly endeared herself to those around her; himself included.

At first, Hotch had been grateful for her unique perspective from her experience working for victim services. Then, he grew to appreciate her attention to detail, and the way his piles of paperwork seemed smaller and smaller at the end of each week. She quickly became a friend and a confidant after long nights in the office, and the field. Now, their relationship lies in limbo somewhere between friends and something more.

Lately, the tugging at his heartstrings has grown nearly painful. All the old cliches leave his heart racing and he feels like a teenager whenever her hand brushes against his own. A night out with the team had ended with her curled up in his bed the next morning, and he’s been a goner ever since. It's been weeks, she hasn’t mentioned it, so neither has he. The guise of professionalism makes it easy to shove down his insecurities, and recurring fears; his age; his scars, physical and metaphorical; the weight of his career; he pushes them to the back of his mind. He does not dare to hope. He does not allow himself to consider the reasons why she might want to keep him at arm's length. It hurts less that way. “Whatever the case we've got a week before he strikes again,” Hotch confirms, his mind focused on the case, “we should head out”.

It’s August, and the sun is nearly blinding; the heat and humidity are intolerable, but nobody complains as they split up between the most recent crime scene, the morgue, and the precinct. Hotch would never admit it, but he’s glad when the woman who occupies half his thoughts volunteers to head to the station with JJ. Not for his peace of mind, but hers. Driving into the town he had seen her hands fidgeting in the back seat of the Suburban. Something about this case is already weighing on her, and he doubts the discomfort of the summer calefaction will be much help. He tries not to think about it any more than that.

The crime scene doesn’t tell them much more than they already knew. There’s no security footage to help them identify the UNSUB. But, the way he leans the victims to sit against the way rather than just dumping them shows some kind of warped sense of concern for their well-being. The women are likely substitutes for someone else. He was likely raised in a violent home. He can only hope that the rest of the team has managed to learn more.

Sweets is glad that the station had the forethought to move a coffee maker into the room they’ve set up for the BAU team to work out of. In her short time on the team, she’s learned how essential caffeine is to the function of herself and her teammates. Not enjoying coffee is not an option. Cream and sugar make it tolerable to those who despise the bitter taste. As she preps her second cup of the day she watches Spencer dump 4 packets of sugar into his mug. Whatever gets you through the case. She reminds herself.

“Defensive wounds on her arms, but her manicure wasn't chipped. There was no blood or skin under her fingernails. No bruising on her knuckles,” Morgan shares what he and Rossi learned at the morgue, “She held her arms up to protect herself, but she didn't fight back. She didn't scratch, claw, or punch her assailant”.

“She probably knew him then,” Prentiss says, “He’s not sneaking up on these women. But, he has the advantage and control required to attack them head-on”.

The profile continues to build and Sweets pulls further in on herself. The personal nature of the attacks leaves her nauseous. Flickers of memories she’s fought hard to forget flash behind her eyes, but she forces herself to stay in the room. Reign it in, she wills herself. Without looking across the room she knows Aaron’s eyes are on her. Her cheeks warm though she can’t be sure if it’s his gaze or her anxiety to blame. She tries not to read into it, not wanting to feel too self-important. It’s his job to watch everyone on the team, she knows that. It doesn’t mean anything, she reminds herself the same way she has since she woke up next to him all those weeks ago. She doesn't want attention because she slept with him, and she'd be silly to think it meant anything to him anyway. It's easier to ignore it. He hasn't mentioned it, so she hasn't either.

Despite her best efforts, she does like him. More than she should. Normally, the attention would leave her with butterflies fluttering in her chest, like a schoolgirl with a crush. But today, she feels too seen, too exposed. she focuses her attention on controlling the unwanted emotions this case continues to dredge up. Aaron has seen her undressed, he’s seen her let down her walls and crack jokes. He knows her better than the rest of the team, but this is not a side of her he needs to see.

Under the table she plants her feet, pressing the soles of her boots hard against the linoleum. She reminds herself who she’s with and why she’s here. When she’s able to breathe without gagging she speaks up, “If it looks like domestic violence maybe that’s exactly what it is”. Hotch’s head tilts up, his eyes moving off of the files he’s been pretending to read for the hundredth time, “What do you mean?”

“This morning Morgan said these murders looked like cases of DV. Maybe that’s exactly what this is. We know he had some kind of relationship with the victims-- maybe they were dating him,” Sweets holds her breath waiting for a response.

“It would help to explain the gaps in our profile-- Prentiss, call Garcia and have her look into any recent purchases by the victims. New clothes, new shoes, restaurants, anything that might suggest they’ve been dating,” Hotch instructs, “Sweets, you and JJ should speak to their friends and family; ask if they’ve mentioned anyone new in their lives”.

Like with any case, she hopes her insight helps, that her perspective and thinking might get them one step closer to finding the UNSUB before anyone else gets hurt; and that they might be able to bring closure to the families of the victims.

She's learned that personal experience can help as much as it can hinder. Seeing things from an angle that no one else can is certainly an advantage, but it doesn't make it easy to live with either. But, her stomach churns. His face. His touch. The bruises he left behind. She tries to remember she has nothing to be ashamed of. She has nothing to hide. It's no secret everyone on the team struggles with different types of cases, JJ has always found it difficult working cases involving children, and Hotch becomes snappier when they're searching for family annihilators.

She can feel Aaron's eyes on her again. She prays the twisting in her gut and the scratching in her mind are worth it.

The next morning begins with news of a third victim. A Jane Doe was found outside the fire station. Aged between 22 and 25. Beaten beyond any kind of recognition. The M.E. will have to try to use dental records to ID her.

The crime scene photographs are a gruesome addition to the already horrific crime board in the conference room. “It would take an incredible amount of rage and power to beat someone to death like this,” Rossi points out.

Hotch’s fingers buzz. His usual ground method of rubbing his thumb and forefinger together isn't working. He clenches and unclenches his fist willing the memory of bone cracking, and blood splattering beneath his knuckles away. He hates that even years after his death George Foyet continues to find new ways to sink his teeth in; the mere memory of him is enough to leave bile rising in the back of Aaron's throat.

Their profile is ready. A white male, mid 20s to early 30s. Traditionally attractive. He's well-groomed and takes pride in his appearance. He more than likely works in an office setting. At work, his desk is neat and well-organized. He does everything by the book. He aspires to a role above his own and will talk about it often. In his eyes, he's overworked and under-appreciated; but, in reality, it's his quick temper and outward frustration that have kept him in his menial role. He may be flirtatious towards the women around him but likely won't pay them any attention when it comes to business matters. As a child he would have grown up in a working-class household, and more than likely faced abuse at the hands of his father. As a teenager, he learned to place blame on his mother for this abuse and began looking down on her the same way his father did. But no amount of hatred could ever win him his father's attention. This made him hate his mother more and allowed his misogynistic views to solidify in adulthood. He will have a history of violence throughout school and early adulthood, and more than likely charges for battery or assault.

A call from Garcia confirms that the first and second victims both had paid for dinners at restaurants within the same two-block stretch despite living and working on opposite sides of town. Their cards had been used at the restaurants only 25 minutes before their attacks.

“And he didn’t pay for their dinners either. Chivalry really is dead,” Prentiss dismisses. Predictably, their collective disdain for the UNSUB continues to grow as they learn more about him. Penelope manages to rustle up security footage from one of the restaurants, she's unable to get a facial ID on the man leaving with the first victim but promises to search for other footage from the area and call back when she has a new lead. One step closer, Hotch reminds himself.

Twenty minutes later word from the M.E. Office arrives. A positive ID on Jane Doe. Grace McKinney, 24. Aaron watches as Sweets pins a photograph of Grace to the victims' board. Her hands shake as she takes a step back, and then she's rushing out of the room before he can ask if she's alright.

His body feels lead-heavy, his limbs so hebetudinous that he’d swear he was melting into the floor if it weren’t for his feet carrying him out of the room without instruction. Sweets is doubled over in the alleyway behind the station, remnants of her breakfast splashed across the ground. She has nothing left to bring up, but still she dry heaves as if trying to expel more than the contents of her stomach. He knows the feeling.

“Sweets?” his voice starles her, and Hotch is quick to hold his hands out in a surrendering motion as he approaches, “Are you alright?” He knows the real answer, and he knows that she’ll look right at him and lie; but he asks anyway. “Are you asking as my boss, or as my friend?” She asks. “Would it make a difference?” it’s his turn to wonder. Finally close enough to touch her, he places a hand on her back. It’s impossible to miss the shiver that runs up her spine. Sweets hides her face, angling herself away from her, shrinking in on herself. She tries to hide from him, as unwilling as ever to show any kind of weakness real or perceived. “I’m asking as someone who cares,” Hotch tries again, snuffing out the burning sensation that seems to grow in his chest; his fear of vulnerability fighting hard to shut him down. He won’t let it. “It’s me,” she tells him as if it’s obvious. “Yes”. He's confused. Of course, it's her, he can see her standing right in front of him. “It's me. I'm the Jane Doe; Grace. Abigail. Stella”. His heart stops. She continues, looking at him for the first time, her eyes tearing up, “Not literally-- I just mean…”

“The victimogy. I understand. Same age, hair colour, similar backgrounds--”

“Yes,” She admits, “but we see cases with women who look like me all the time”.

Aaron nods, taking her openness as an opportunity to guide her out of the alleyway, waiting patiently for her to continue in her own time. “I had a boyfriend a few years ago…I just-- I need some time to collect myself”.

Again, Aaron nods, understanding, “Would you like me to leave?”

She shakes her head, her hand shooting up to hold to his arm. She’s shaking less now than she was before. More than ever he wants to hold her, but he doesn’t want to overstep; and during a case, there are lines he cannot cross as her boss. It’s the crux of the predicament they’ve found themselves in. Their personal lives and feelings bleeding and blending to create this strait. Deep down, he’s sure that a line of open communication between them would ease this impasse, but he’s far too shy to suggest it. For now, he settles for being glad her breathing has slowed, and her tears have stopped. “Thank you,” Sweets breathes out. Her hand slips down to squeeze his before she lets go and steps away from him. “Anytime,” he swears. He means it.

They find their UNSUB three hours later. Garcia’s scanning of security footage gives them a few license plates from cars within a two-block radius of the restaurants the victims went to. Only one owner fits their profile. He’s at work when they find him. Sweets takes great pleasure in cuffing the man. Hotch has no complaints.

When they arrive back in Quantico it’s nearing midnight. The team takes their leaving swearing they’ll finish their paperwork tomorrow morning. Sweets takes advantage of the rare silence in the bullpen to complete her reports. She’s not ready to go home. Not yet. At work, she has a shield, a carefully crafted persona; as cracked as it may be at the moment, it holds back the onslaught of personal fallout she’s sure waits for her at home. Sure her apartment is warmer and cozier than the office ever is. Her bed is far more comfortable than any desk chair. But, at home, she has nothing to distract her. At home, she has no obligation to maintain a facade sewn up by professional self-preservation. At home, she’ll be alone without the steady presence of Aaron Hotchner working away in his office.

The room is bathed in warm lamplight, a comfortable difference from the overhead fluorescents down in the bullpen. Something like a moth, she’s drawn to it by an instinct stronger than her willpower. She knocks on the door frame before leaning into the room. “I finished my report,” she tells him when he looks up. “You didn’t have to finish that tonight,” he tells her with furrowed brows. He sets down his pen and shuts the file he was working on to give her his attention. She steps into the room, setting her report on the edge of his desk. “I didn’t want to go home yet”. She explains though she gets the feeling that he understands. If there’s anyone she knows with a mutual streak of using workplace responsibility to avoid personal turmoil, it’s Hotch. Still, he nods, validating her most simply. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Are you asking as my boss or something more?” she wonders.

“Would it make a difference?” He asks. “Yes,” She responds. Sweets watches as he swallows, his brows knitting together as he considers his answer carefully, “I’m asking as someone who cares about you very much, in whatever capacity you need me to right now”. It’s a diplomatic response. Gentle and inviting without being outright hopeful. Quintessentially Aaron Hotchner.

“Will you come home with me,” Sweets allows herself to be bold enough to ask.

“Yes,” he tells her simply.

In the morning he slips away only to return with two cups of coffee and a box of breakfast pastries. They don’t need to be in the office until 10:00 and he plans on taking advantage of the time they have together until then. Sweets accepts the cup he holds out to her with an eager smile, and a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic

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piinksdoll · 3 months ago

Text

→ [Victimology | Aaron Hotchner]

Pairing~ Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Bau!Reader

Genre~ fluff/angst

Word Count~ 2.4k

Warnings~ reader described with brunette hair and hazel eyes, typical criminal minds gore

a/n~ k this is the first part because it was just getting too long so there will be a part 2! probably will be posted tmr! also this is NOT proofread and written in 3 hours so bear with me

part 1! part 2!

(Y/N Pov)

Hotch called us into the briefing room for another case right before we were about to leave. “Ugh we were this close to a night in our own beds!” Garcia whined as we walked back into the bullpen. “Maybe next time.” I smiled at her sympathetically. I've been with the BAU for 10 months, although my time hasn't been long, I've found an amazing family. Hotch made me a permanent member just a few weeks ago and I could not be more happy, even with the late nights and crazy paperwork. “We have to get going, we'll be briefed on the jet.” I look up at Hotch as we are walking, there's an unfamiliar look in his eyes. A sudden feeling of uneasiness creeps into me.

(Narrator Pov)

The team loads into the jet, Y/n and Hotch next to each other with Spencer and Derek across from them and the rest of the team on the couch beside the four seats. “Alright my crime fighting superheroes! This guy’s a doozy. You guys are heading to New York City where 3 women have been discovered dead each a week apart.” Y/n shakes her head “He's not wasting any time.” Derek nods “Yeah, what else have you got for us mama.” They look back to Garcia on the screen for more information. “Ok yes, the local PD have contacted the victims' families, Kimi Sulliven’s best friend, Alyssa Nguyen’s mother, and Jennie Novak’s parents are all waiting for you guys at the precinct.” Hotch nods at her words. “The victims were all dumped in parks with no visible marks, bruises, cuts or anything.” Spencer voices “Yeah so that's because the autopsy results showed they died from carbon monoxide poisoning. Although there was evidence of sexual assault.” Garcia hesitantly said not loving the graphic details. “Alright, Rossi, Prentiss head to the ME, Reid and I will start working on the geographic profile, JJ talk to the victims' families, Y/l/n and Morgan head to the last dump site see what you can find.” The team nods.

(Y/n Pov)

I nod at Hotch’s words before looking at him once more. The team had all spread out around the jet leaving me and Hotch together. “Hotch are you…ok?” I look up at him. In the few months I've known Aaron Hotchner, I've come to find he's a man of few emotions. And although I know he doesn't show it, he feels everything. I've always been nervous to look him in the eyes, but this feels right. “Yes, why do you ask?” I turn my body towards him “Hotch, now you know and I know that's not true. What is it really?” He sighs before looking down at the file in his hands “I'm not actually sure.” He looks at me, suddenly there's a pause and all I can see is his eyes.

(Narrator Pov)

Y/n and Morgan get to the last dump site. “Ok so you're the Unsub, what makes you want to dump the body in central park?” Y/n looked at Morgan for a response. “Maybe he brought them here because it symbolises the last time he felt loved.” Y/n nods “Yeah maybe in his weird and twisted mind he sees leaving them here as a way of them being loved forever.” Morgan nods agreeing with Y/n.

At the precinct

“I've mapped out the locations the victims were last seen and also the dump sights but there still isn't a connection. But I do see similarities between the victims and Hotch…” Spencer trails off looking back at the unit chief and JJ. “What is it Reid?” Spencer looks back at the victims. “The interesting details about the victims is their striking physical similarity. They are all strikingly attractive brunettes with hazel eyes and clear skin, which statistically places them in a minority, as hazel eyes only occur in about 5% of the population. This level of specificity suggests that the unsub might be targeting based on personal preference or an idealised image. It's possible that these physical traits represent someone from the unsub's past or an unattainable standard they are trying to recreate. Also…" Spencer looks down nervous to speak. “Reid. What is it.” Hotch says more seriously this time. “Y/n matches the unsubs preference perfectly. Hotch, we profiled that he's narcissistic and will be following the investigation. He might already have his eyes on Y/n and she might not be safe out in the field.” Hotch immediately calls Morgan and Y/n to get them back in the precinct. “Yeah Hotch?” Morgan's voice rang out from the other side “Morgan, get Y/l/n and get back to the precinct right now.” Morgan looked around for Y/n and grabbed her before getting into the SUV “Alright Hotch I got her, we're coming back but why do you need us back so quick?” Aaron felt his heartbeat calm, he squeezed his eyes as relief washed over him. “Alright, nothing, I'll tell you when you guys come back.”

Y/n and Morgan arrive safely to the precinct

The two rush in, worried something has happened. “Hotch what's happening? Is everyone ok?” Y/n asked, looking between Spencer and Aaron. “Everyones ok Y/n, just sit for a second.” Y/n looked at Aaron confused, “Wha-? I don't get it, what's happening?” Morgan spoke up “Yeah what's going on you guys?” JJ turned to look at Y/n. “Y/n, we noticed the victims all have similarities which is why the unsub chose them specifically. And… you match the victimology to a tea.”

(Y/n Pov)

My heart dropped at JJ’s words. I've never been directly affected by a case, but this is something else. “Y/l/n you need to stay in the precinct, do not go out into the field for any reason at all, and when we go to the hotel tonight you'll be staying with me.” I nodded slowly at Hotch’s words not knowing what to say. “Listen, we're not going to let anything happen to you Y/n.” Derek took my shaking hands into his while speaking to me. I turned and smiled at him “Thank you Derek.” I got up and stood beside Spencer “Ok if I can't go out into the field then I'm going to help you Spencer. I don't want to hear it.” I said not even giving him a chance to protest. “Alright, did you guys find anything interesting about the dump site?” I looked at Hotch. “Yeah so we were thinking maybe he brought them there because that's the last place he'd ever felt loved.” I echoed Derek's words from earlier. “And he's been dumping them there because in his mind, he's leaving them in a place of eternal love.” Derek finished. I heard Spencer muttering to himself before he spoke up. “Ok earlier I said there were no connections between the dump sites but I realised after you guys said Central Park might have been the last place he'd felt loved, that the locations where the victims' bodies were discovered form a distinct geographical pattern, each site bearing personal significance to the unsub. Central Park, in particular, stands out. It’s not just a convenient dumping ground—it’s symbolic. It’s likely the unsub left one of the victims there because it holds sentimental value to him. Perhaps it’s the last place he felt a genuine connection or experienced love like Y/l/n and Morgan said, making it a place where he feels both comfort and pain. Revisiting that spot by following the investigation, might be his way of trying to relive those emotions or confront what he’s lost. The other two locations are the Brooklyn Bridge and a small café in Greenwich Village. Each site represents a meaningful moment in the unsub's life. The Brooklyn Bridge could symbolise a pivotal experience—perhaps a moment of hope or transition, while the café might have been a place where he shared an intimate connection, like a first date or a special memory. Together with Central Park, these locations map out the story of someone who’s desperately trying to recreate or relive a time when he felt truly loved and connected." I nodded at his words, “Maybe he's trying to recreate his relationship with a former partner? Maybe he got divorced recently and tried to replace her?” Emily voiced. “Alright Garcia, give me all the men who have been divorced in the past few months. Block all blondes, gingers, anyone who's not brunette with hazel eyes.” I hear Garcia typing over the phone. “I'm sorry sir, there's nothing with those parameters.” I heard Hotch sigh deeply. We decided to call it a night by 1am and head back to the hotel.

At the hotel

We made our way to the hotel, Hotch didn't leave my side for even a second. “Alright, JJ and Prentiss you’re in a room, Reid and Morgan you two are together, and obviously Rossi has his own room then Me and Y/n will be in another room.” I looked at Hotch with a ghost of a smile, secretly excited to be sharing a room with him. Hotch, Reid, Rossi and Morgan headed upstairs and before I could follow them, I felt JJ and Emily’s arms holding me back. “What?” I eye them suspiciously. “Hotch and Y/n sitting on a bed….” Emily started teasing, I rolled my eyes at her “Will you stop?” JJ smirked at me “Oh come on, don't act like you don't like him. We’ve noticed your lingering touches, and stolen glances…” I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at their words. “Ok fine, I like Hotch. But he for sure doesn't like me, am I even his type?” Emily rolled her eyes “Y/n you’re crazy smart, and so beautiful. I'm sure he feels the same way. I've seen the way he looks at you.” JJ nodded at Emily's words “Y/n you didn't see it, but when Spencer discovered that you're the unsubs type exactly, I saw how panicked he got. And not in the way he does when any of us are in danger.” I smiled to myself at the thought of Hotch caring for me. “Alright come one lover girl.” I laughed as we caught up to the guys.

In the hotel room

“Sleep good you guys!” I yelled as everyone made their ways into their rooms. I turned to walk into mine and Hotch’s room and without realising I walked straight into his back. “Oh- I'm sorry sir, what's happening?” I look past him at our room “There's only one bed. I'm sorry I specifically asked them for a 2 bed room. I’ll take the floor.” I look up at him confused. “Wha- no sir, absolutely not. Don't think I don't know about your bad back after the last case, we’re both adults, we can share a bed.” I walk into the room and pick my side of the bed before he gets a chance to protest. “Ok yes you're right, we're both adults. You can take a shower first if you'd like, I take my showers in the morning and I need to call Jack to say goodnight.” I smiled at him before nodding and getting into the shower. After showering, I changed into my pyjamas. I quietly cursed myself for not bringing more appropriate pjs. I slipped into my silk shorts and matching cami before stepping into the bedroom.

(Narrator Pov)

As Aaron pulled a t-shirt over his head, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that had crept up in his gut. He looked toward the closed bathroom door, hearing the faint sound of the water stopping, and felt a rush of protective instinct. The thought of her being a target made his chest tighten, a cold surge of fear that he had not felt since the Foyet situation with Haley. It scared him to think he cared once more about someone that deeply. Taking a deep breath, he pulled on his sweatpants, trying to steady his nerves. As he made his way to the bed, Y/n stepped out of the bathroom.

(Hotch’s Pov)

I looked up as the bathroom door opened, my usually composed demeanour faltered for a moment when I saw her standing there, hair damp and clinging to her shoulders, droplets of water catching the dim light. The soft sheen of the satin shorts and cami clung to her, highlighting her figure in a way that made it hard to look away. I swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how small the room felt. I’ve shared hotel rooms with colleagues countless times before, but this felt different, more intimate, more dangerous. I forced myself to look back at the paperwork, but my mind betrayed me, I traced the curve of her silhouette in my mind. It was going to be a long night.

(Y/n’s Pov)

As I stepped out of the bathroom I saw him and every coherent thought I had vanished in that moment. He’s sitting on the bed wearing his reading glasses with a tight muscle tee that clung to his chest and broad shoulders, and grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. I always assumed he had muscles but this time it was different, his muscles defined and stretched the fabric of his shirt with every subtle movement. I felt my breath hitch as he turned, catching me staring. He gave me a small, questioning smile, but all I could focus on was the way his arms looked, strong and powerful, in a way I’d never let myself notice before. I quickly averted my gaze as I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, I could feel Hotch’s eyes on me as I moved towards the bed. I sat facing him on my knees before I spoke “Hotch, do you really think he’ll come for me?” he looked at me, his eyes laced with concern. “I don't know but no matter what happens we will always protect you… Y/n… I will always protect you.” I felt myself blush again, I looked down at my hands. The look in his eyes sent a shiver up my spine. I had to get out of there before he saw me being any more embarrassing. “I- um, I need to go get something from Emily and JJ, I'll be back!” I rushed out of the room and out onto the patio of the hotel. I wrapped my arms around myself feeling the cool breeze of autumn envelop me. I suddenly felt goosebumps go down my body, a rush of uneasiness washed over me. I turned to go back inside the hotel when- everything went black

tag list~ @yourfavoritefangirl

#masterlist #my fics #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds #pinksdoll

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bellezaycafe · 1 year ago

Text

I Will Break Him || Mafia!Max

genre: mafia!f1

pairing: max verstappen x oc

warnings: THIS IS 18+ … blood, death, violence and the beginnings of a sexual assault. somehow inspired my Max’s broad shoulders (i think that should be a warning on its own)

comment: my first fic! let’s see how this goes. If y’all want an x reader version, let me know. Hasn’t been reread or checked :(

——$——

I had been minding my own business when they jumped me.

I was walking to my car from the library of all places. I’d been carrying three books on statistics in abnormal psychology for an assessment I had wanted to start that night.

Instead, I spent that night in a cold room, disoriented and aching. At least, that was were I had assumed I was kept for the night because I had no way of telling what the time was when I woke.

There was a man, leaning in the corner like a shadow, when I woke.

“I can see why he likes you,” the man deadpanned. I couldn’t make out any facial features in the sun light.

“Wha- What are you talking about?” I croaked.

“I can see why he likes you,” he repeated. “I would have taken you for myself if I had gotten to you first.”

I scrambled to my feet and as stepped forwards. I could make out his eyes, eyes that were dark pits of hate.

“What?” I tried to ask but it came out as a squeak. “I don’t know what’s happening. I-“

“Oh, you are a pretty thing,” the man murmured as he drew closer. I could hear the slight slur of his words that time.

I was trembling. My mouth had gone dry, my teeth clattered and my knees felt weak.

He took another step towards me, muttering, “I think I will have you. Here and now.”

Dark eyes met mine and there was nothing but fear in my bones.

"Please," I begged, "please leave me alone."

"Baby," he crooned. A wicked smirk curves his lips as he looked me up and down again. "Just give me kiss, then you'll be begging for the rest."

He'd backed me against a concrete wall, an arm on either side. I could smell the alcohol on his breath so clearly that I knew he had been drinking vodka.

The room’s door crashed open. A broad-shouldered man stood there, like an avenging angel. His black muscle shirt and trousers matched the dark expression on his face.

He stepped into the room, the gun in his left hand was loaded and the knife in his right was already slick with blood.

A second black-dressed man, followed. There was barely leashed anger and adrenaline in every line of the two men's tense bodies.

A third person entered, slightly taller than the other two with broader shoulders and dressed a white dress shirt. It was not completely white, it had been sprayed with fresh blood and some sections were coated with it. I recognised that man.

Max.

If I had thought that the first two men were angry, furious even, than I had not considered the rage in Max’s eyes. He locked eyes with my assailant and his intense fury doubled.

"Aaron." The second man said, then continued in cool and deadly calm Italian.

Max locked eyes with me and his face softened, slightly. His eyes dragged up and down me, checking me for blood, or injury.

Aaron turned to the newcomers, snapping in rapid Italian. It gave me a chance to scramble away.

Max’s eyes found Aaron again and the men moved in unison, the first two made their way towards Aaron, while Max made his way to me. He didn't spare a glance at me when he put his body between my assailant and I.

The first man, striding forwards, said something in Italian that made Aaron scramble from the room.

It was only then that Max focused on me. The fire bright rage was still there as he gently grabbed my wrists and checked for injuries. His breathing hitched when he found the bruising around my wrists and biceps.

"Carlos." It was a deep, tightly-controlled snarl I had never heard him use before. I had never seen him like this before. "If I see him again, I will break him."

Just past Max's body, I saw Carlos nod with an understanding I didn't have.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He whispered, as if I might shatter.

I shook my head. He bent his knees slightly, brining his eyes level with mine. “Ophelia, be honest with me.”

I nodded helplessly.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shook my head again, a sob leaving me involuntarily.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him.

“My god, Lea. It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, you’re safe.”

I flung myself into his embrace. I needed that physical comfort, I needed hands on me that were gentle and careful. I didn’t care that we was covered in blood, I didn’t care that the blood was probably not his and I didn’t care that he seemed to be a part of an underground war.

But I would care tomorrow, and boy, I had many questions for him.

——$——

If you want more from Max and Ophelia, don’t hesitate to comment a prompt or recommendation :) - Belle

Masterlist

#mafia!f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x oc #f1 fic #f1

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voxmortuus · 1 year ago

Note

I have a very specific DARKFIC request for you with a pretty serious trigger warning.

Tangerine and non-con with a virgin fem reader. Eventually the reader starts to enjoy it as the scene caries out. Bonus points for pet name use and a splash of breeding kink.

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Dark!Tangerine x F!Reader ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Bullet Train ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 2.6k ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧Dead Dove Do Not Eat | Virgin Reader | Rough Intercourse | Hitting | Spitting | Choking | Hair Pulling | Bleeding | Degradation | slamming readers into bathroom wall | Pressing readers head against the wall | Taking it from behind | NON-CONSENSUAL UNPROTECTED INTERCOURSE | Eventual consent with reader enjoying the scene | Mention of Cock warming | Eager to please Reader | Pet name | Breeding Kink | Cream Pie | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ DISCLAIMER: *̥˚✧ DO NOT ROMANTICISE OR GLAMORIZE SERIAL KILLERS OR RAPE! I do not condone these actions, nor do I support them! This was written upon request. Do NOT send me hate mail, you will be blocked, do not post on this with any sort of negativity you will be blocked. If you don’t like it don’t read it it’s that simple!!! If you ever encounter this in real life please contact the Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline. Please understand this is a fanfiction, think of it like Hollywood. Also, I’m sorry if this is horrible….. ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I hope this finds you well, I hope this hits all the right notes with you. ✧*̥˚ IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

It's like his nose was a hound dog for that virgin blood. Watching you sit there on the train in an empty car you were reading your most current favorite book The Terminal List by Jack Carr, with your earbuds in listening to the latest song you were hooked on by Ice Nine Kills. You were minding your own business when this man dressed sharply sits across from you. Looking up you give him a polite smile and went back to your book.

After a brief observation of the man sitting across from you, you noticed he had blood on his shirt, but you didn't think much of it. Sure alarming, but it was what it was, especially these days. Licking your lips, you turn the page. You feel these eyes on you. You glance up and sure enough, he's looking at you like you were some delicious snack. You give a slightly tense smile and look back down at your book.

You start to feel uncomfortable; your heart is racing; your mind is focused less on the book and music and more on this strange man sitting across from you staring you down. You lick your lips once more before you gather your small backpack and excuse yourself. You feel him watching you, but you don't look back, you just keep going.

Upon excusing yourself, you head toward the bathroom. Closing yourself in there you try and calm your nerves. You look over yourself in the mirror and shake yourself a bit and let out a slow breath. You plan to go back out after a few more moments and move to a different car.

After fixing your makeup, you finally get your nerves calm enough to return to the car. Opening the bathroom door, you walk right into his chest, and you stumble a moment.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." You say softly.

He didn't say anything. He gripped your throat and moved you back into the bathroom closing the door and locking it.

"Excuse me... no. Let me out." You state firmly.

"Babydoll, you need to be relax and be polite." He smirks.

"You need to fuck off... no." You state trying to push past him.

He pushed you back against the wall and shook his head and licked at his lips. "I don't think so Babydoll."

"I'm not you're Babydoll, and you need to back off." You state firmly, but it appears he's not listening.

You try and push him off you but his strength wasn't letting that happen. His hand starts to roam your body.

"What the fuck! Stop it!" you snap.

"You need to shut up." He states as he slams you against the wall.

Turning you around he reaches around and slips his hand under your shirt groping you. He lets out a soft groan against your neck. You begin to panic and pushing back but he keeps you in place with his forearm.

"Stop... please stop." You plead.

He hears you, but he doesn't listen, and he moves from your chest to slipping his hand into your leggings and realizes you're not wearing any panties and he smirks.

"Such an easy little slut you are huh?" He muses.

"Please don't do this." you beg. Your eyes well with tears. Closing your eyes tears drop.

"Oh come on now Babydoll, I love when they cry..." He purrs into your ear as he starts to massage your bud.

You begin to panic, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind running miles a minute. You try and choke back tears, but you feel like you can't breathe, and you try and fight him off but he's just keeping you there.

Closing your eyes you let out a soft breath and you attempt to push yourself away again, trying to escape from it all, your mind races, your heart pounds, your eyes crying.

"Please, please don't do this. I'm begging you. I'll give you whatever you want, but please stop." You plead.

"Oh Babydoll, you're going to give me exactly what I want." He smirked as he pressed himself against you.

Was he hard? Oh geez... oh no, yes, yes he was and then you knew your fate. He slips your leggings down as he presses your head against the wall. Your breathing quickens. You had no idea what to expect, you were saving yourself for the right person, the right moment, and here he was getting ready to rob you of that, to take it all away from you.

Thoughts ran through your head. Why you? Why now? Why this? What did you do to deserve this? Why won't he listen? All these on repeat, and it wouldn't stop. Why won't he stop? Why is he doing this?!

Trying to find your words to plead you turn around to try and push him but he is quick to slap you across the face and it causes your lip to bleed. You whimper a moment, and you try and fight back but he again, slams you against the bathroom wall. With a hand around your throat he spins you back around and slams you against the wall again.

"God damn it Babydoll, be a good girl." He snarls into your ear.

Moving from your neck to your hair he grips a hand full of your hair and moves you so he can position himself, but you fight. He snarls again before he says fuck it, and shoves his hard cock between your virgin lips and rips your innocence from you in one swift thrust.

You scream, in pain, the snapping, the hot pinch of pain, the searing hot rush hits you and you take in a jagged breath.

"No... no no no! Stop! PLEASE!" you plead but there is no stopping.

You try and fight him, but with him pinning you against the wall you can't escape him. His thrusts become quick, they become hard, and they hurt. His growling his snarling, his grunts and groans fill the bathroom and all you want is to be let go, return to your seat, read your book, listen to your music, that of which was now on the floor from the fighting. Your ear buds letting the music escape from them freely while you're being held hostage against this bathroom wall.

You begin to cry, hard, but this only seems to fuel him even more. Why was this happening right now. You begin to breathe heavily in panic. Your chest moving rapidly with each thrust, it wasn't out of enjoyment, it was out of panic, and anger, and aggression. He tilts your head back and your mouth opens only for him to spit in your mouth. You growl and spit back but he slams your head against the bathroom wall as his thrusts become harder.

You try and find your happy spot, but it wasn't working, everything was becoming too much. You couldn't get your mind to focus. So you focus on what's around you. The buttons for the toilet, the scent of the bathroom, the scent of him, the scent of blood... wait, blood? Oh, yeah... blood... that happens in moments like this. And then you feel angry again. This hot rush of anger hits you and you start to fight again.

"LET ME GO!" You start to fight again. Trying to push him away. But with the angle he's got you at makes it difficult.

"Babydoll, shut up." He growls. "You can fight all you want, you're giving me nothing but a harder cock." He smirks.

You growl and try and fight but that wasn't happening. His thrusts were hard, rigid, painful, your hips felt like they couldn't withstand the thrusts. You take in a jagged breath, you clench your jaw and you try and jerk your head with his hand in your hair and he only slams your head against the wall again.

You feel this daze hit you, one too many slams against the wall, you feel this tingling in your nose as he starts to thrust a little slower. Was he taking his time? You close your eyes trying to find that happy place, but all you can feel and see and focus on was his face, and how he felt stretching your virgin cunt. You clench your jaw breathing out of your nose.

You didn't want to think about it. You didn't want to feel this, you wanted this bubbling feeling to go away. You clenched your jaw and attempted to think of something else. The harder he thrust, the slower he took, the more your mind focused on the way it felt, how his cock felt slipping in and out just enough to tease the length. You actually felt yourself getting wet and you clench your walls around him. Not out of pleasure, but out of hopes of stopping yourself of getting wet, you didn't like it, you didn't want it.

You wanted to save it... but there was no saving anything. You hated him, you were angry with him, you hated him, you wanted to kill him... to rip his heart out and eat it with a side of french fries. You sniffle as you try and regain yourself and pushing back against him he shoves you forward again, his thrusts deep, slow, almost teasingly slow. What was he doing? Oh no, no he knew what he was doing. He wanted you to cave, but you weren't going to. You didn't want to.

This wasn't a game, this was a fight, and you wanted him to stop, taking all the stops but you weren't able to move, you felt this sense of defeat, accepting what it was. You just stood there, as he used you.

"That's it Babydoll... acceptance. You're tight little cunt feels so good... that tight little cunt belongs to me now. It's now molded for my cock. I'll be keeping you close Babydoll, use you whenever I want." He purred against your ear with a slight snarl.

You had no words, but why were they doing something to you, why were they making you feel conflicted. Why were you liking this? Your breathing picked up. You bite your lip a little harder.

"I'm going to breed you, fill you every day. Use you like the little slut fleshlight you are." He mused.

Okay now that did something. You whimper softly. Biting your lip, your hips spread a bit as you arch back a bit taking in more of him. He doesn't say anything in this moment, you just take his cock, focusing back on the feel of it, focusing on the way it fit inside you just right. Focusing on how it made you feel, you feel yourself loosen up around him, feeling yourself getting wetter.

"You...you... want to breed me?" You ask with an almost timid voice.

"I'm going to breed the fuck out of you Babydoll. You like that?" He asked.

You think a moment and nod. "Are you going to fill me up?" You ask.

He laughs with a slight groan. "Whenever I want." He purrs against your ear again.

You focus on the things around you, and you realize the title of the next song. Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams. You bite your lip and you let out a soft whimper, feeling how long he was, how wide he was, how he stretched you, you think about his words, how he wanted to use you, how he breathed, how he wanted to breed you. Your breathing picks up a little more.

It went from you hating this moment, to you starting to enjoy this moment.

"I want you to use me... to breed me... to fill me up..." You admit.

The thought of it, dripping his seed from your cunt was something that actually really turned you on. Biting your bloodied bruised lip you let out a soft moan as you spread your legs a little more letting him slip deeper and you press your ass toward him letting him take even more.

"That's it Babydoll, take more of my cock." He growled as he started to thrust upward into you.

You gaps feeling him slip fulling into you, feeling him hit right to the base of his shaft.

"You're so big... you feel.... you feel..." you don't want to say it.

"I feel what Babydoll?" He asked.

"You feel good... I like how you fill up my virgin pussy." You state. Where was this smut coming from? Where was this seeping from? Must have been all the fanfiction you were reading before coming on this train. "Please... fuck me a little slower... I want to feel all of you." You plead.

He blinked a few times and smirked. "My pleasure Babydoll." He mused.

Slowing his thrusts, you think a moment and you reach down to slip your pants off your leg.

"I want to face you.... please... I want you to face me and fuck me." You plead.

He smirks and pulls from you. This moment you could run, but you slip the pantleg off and place your hands on his shoulders and he lifts you and presses you against the wall, noticing the bruising on the side of your face, the blood from your lip, he leans forward and licks at your chin and sucks on your lip as he slips his cock back inside your slightly bleeding wet drippy cunt.

You let out a soft moan against his lips as you wrap your legs around his waist and feel him thrust deeper within your walls. They begin to message him.

You rest your head against the wall behind you. Your hands move from his shoulders to play at the hairline at his neck. As he bounces you against his cock your bud is rubbing against him and the sensation is overwhelming. You let out a loud moan. Feeling yourself getting wetter you close your eyes as they roll back. You whimper and moan rather loudly.

"That's it Babydoll, enjoy yourself." He smirks.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck... breed me... fuckin hell breed me. Pump me full." You moan loudly.

He looks over you and tilts his head and smirks as he picks up his pace, thrusting faster, harder, deeper. You feel yourself getting close. You clench your jaw as you drop your head against his shoulder. Your breathing quickens, he begins to pick up his pace a little more, his breathing, his moans quicken as he pumps into you.

"FUCK!" you scream as your body begins to shake.

Never experiencing pleasure like this, you were going to quickly get addicted. He slams you down on his cock.

"Fill me! FILL MY CUNT! BREED ME!" you scream.

He chuckles. "An eager Babydoll you are... I'm going to enjoy filling you up everyday." he smirked as he gave a few more slams and lets out a heavy groan.

Your body shook as you just let everything go. Your whole body just releases and takes his hot ribbons of breeding seed. You scream with a finish as he continues to pump his load into you.

You grip at his hair a moment, your breathing erratic, your mind calm and quiet, your body tingling, sore, and euphoric. Everything felt good and sore at the same time.

"Fuck..." You pant. You look over him. "Do you have a name?" You ask him.

"Sir works just fine, Babydoll." He smirks.

You tilt your head and smirk. "Does this mean I'm all yours now?" You ask.

He looks at you and smirks. "With a mouth like that, damn fuckin straight it does Babydoll." He states with confidence.

"Can we do this again soon?" You ask.

"Are you going to fight me next time?" he asked.

"No... but maybe I can make you hard and I can sit on it while we wait for the next stop?" You ask.

"Cock warming may be a little too advanced for you." he smirked.

"And this wasn't? I'll warm your cock, and you can fill me up again." You smirk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 2 years ago

Text

Undercover in a Skin Tight Skirt

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: The BAU Chief isn’t fond of sending his scantily clad wife in as bait

Warnings: Misogyny, mentions of rape and murder, near sexual assault, suggestive language, provocative clothing, description of gore, alcohol, religious allusions

Work Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

“The unsub is hunting within what seems to be a pentagram,” Reid explained. “Each club creates a point on the star while the bars have already formed the circle.”

“What is he sacrificing virgins?” Garcia rhetorically asked over the phone. “I don’t know about you but night clubs and bars isn’t where I’d be hunting virgins.”

“Maybe he’s trying to point to the immortality of these types of places. You know alcohol, sex, drugs,” Emily suggested.

“So he’s kidnapping these girls and then he’s raping and murdering them to what? Punish them for their promiscuity?” Morgan suggested.

“Or he feels entitled to them,” I suggested. “Maybe he’s taking them because he believes in polygamy because he’s a man but isn’t receiving the female attention he feels he deserves?”

“Or he feels he deserves as certain woman. Given that every victim was between the ages of 20 and 30, had H/C hair, E/C eyes, and a S/T (skin tone) complexion,” my husband, Aaron suggested.

“Okay so we’ve got a religious man who feels entitled to women, shouldn’t be too hard to find,” JJ said sarcastically.

“Well we need to find him before he finds another girl tonight. If he follows his pattern we’ll have Phoebe Simpson,” the girl who was currently missing, “show up dead tomorrow.”

After some research from Garcia and more talking through the profile we found the unsub, Pastor Daryl Richardson. Now the team was just trying to figure out how to catch him since we knew we’d need to catch him in the act. Unfortunately everyone was dancing around me going undercover since no one wanted to suggest putting the boss’ wife in danger.

Finally I had had enough. “Why don’t I just go undercover? Everyone knows I perfectly match the unsub’s type.”

“Y/N,” my husband’s voice immediately warned, not happy about the suggestion.

“Why not?” the local sheriff asked. “Seems like a good plan to me.”

“Because this is an increasingly unstable and erratic unsub and I won’t put my wife in that kind of danger. We’ll figure out another way to catch him. End of discussion,” Hotch declared before storming off.

“Aaron,” I called after him, getting out of my seat to follow. “Aaron what the hell?” I asked once I caught up with him. “Even before I even got into the BAU we both agreed we wouldn’t let our personal lives interfere with a case. Now you’re letting our marriage get in the way of catching this unsub.”

“I am not making this personal,” Aaron insisted.

“Then why’d you say you wouldn’t let your wife do this?” I challenged. “Why didn’t you say my agent or team member?” Aaron was at a loss for words. He knew the ‘that’s not what I meant’ argument wouldn’t work on a profiler. “Look me in the eyes and honestly say you wouldn’t let JJ or Emily do this if they fit the unsub’s type.”

Aaron couldn’t lie to his wife. Truthfully he would be hesitant to allow this with any of his other agents but he wouldn’t forbid it the same way he did with his wife. “I can’t,” he admitted. “Fine you can go undercover but there will be cameras on you at all times, you’ll have a weapon, an agent or officer within ten feet of you, and your outfit won’t be too revealing,” he listed. I rolled my eyes at the final command but agreed nonetheless. Seeing my eye roll, Aaron switched to my lighthearted husband that I rarely saw at work. “What? I have to keep some things just for me.” I let out a laugh at that, heading back into our workspace as Aaron returned to the stoic BAU Chief.

“Agent L/N will be going undercover to be picked up by the unsub. Officers and agents will be stationed throughout the club keeping an eye out for Richardson and my agent. Agent L/N will also have a weapon on her in case of emergencies but there will be cameras on her at all times. When Agents Prentiss and Reid tell us to move over the comms we all move to apprehend the suspect. Is that clear?” Aaron command the room. He wasn’t going to allow any slip ups while his wife was the most vulnerable person in the room. “We’ll reconvene in an hour to give everyone their positions.” The officers all agreed, splitting off to get ready while the sheriff and the rest of your team began looking at the layout of the club.

“Y/N, do you have something you can wear that would attract the unsub’s attention?” Derek asked.

I thought for a second, considering what was usually in my go bag. “No it’s all t-shirts and business casual outfits.”

“There’s a mall just a mile up the road,” the sheriff offered.

“Reid, JJ, go with her to find something for tonight,” Hotch ordered.

“Why am I going shopping?” he protested.

“Because you have sense and will make sure whatever she wears isn’t too bad,” he explained, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

So Spencer begrudgingly followed JJ and I to the Suburban, with me in the drivers seat. “Do you need something too?” I asked her.

“Probably, I don’t travel with a lot of mini skirts,” she joked.

“Can you believe Aaron actually said my outfit can’t be too revealing?” I asked with a scoff.

“Oh I believe it,” JJ laughed. “He sends death glares to every officer who looks at you a little too long.”

“He does not,” I dismissed.

“He does,” she insisted. “You seriously haven’t noticed?”

“No, have you Spence?” I asked, glancing at him through the rear view mirror.

“He does sometimes,” he agreed.

“Oh my god how did I never notice?” I wondered as I pulled into the mall parking lot.

After a few minutes I found a leather skirt and a bustier top. An outfit similar to the ones many of the girls were last seen wearing.

“What do you think?” I asked JJ, stepping out of the dressing room.

“You look great! Hotch is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this.”

“Yeah he definitely will. I’ll make it up to him,” I shrugged. Walking out into the public area I found Spencer in a seat, tapping away on his phone. “What do you think, Spence?”

He glanced up, his jaw dropping open. He had never seen me dress like this, usually I stuck to business casual or field gear. “Wow, you look…” he couldn’t even stutter out the words.

Later that night I was doing my makeup in my hotel room, having already gotten changed and done my hair. I heard the door unlock, alerting me to Aaron’s presence. “The cab is here,” he announced walking into the bathroom. Through the mirror I could see him freeze as he caught sight of me. “This is what you’re wearing?” he asked carefully. What he really wanted to say was that there was no way in hell he was ever letting another man lay his eyes on his wife like this.

“It’s similar to what most of the other girls were wearing,” I explained nonchalantly, standing to face him. His gaze immediately slipped down to my chest before settling on my face again. “I’ll make it worth your while tonight,” I promised, sliding my arms around the back of his neck.

Aaron pursed his lips, considering your prospect. “Fine,” he agreed. “C’mon, we need to get you and JJ in the cab.”

Once I got downstairs the team was waiting for me. Derek immediately wolf whistled. “Damn.”

“Wow, you’re really gonna let this happen, Hotch?” Rossi asked.

Aaron shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay in the field? We’re gonna have to let this get fairly far before we can give the order to grab him.”

“I’ll be okay,” he insisted. “I’m not letting her go into that club without me. We made vows to not let our personal lives interfere with our professional ones.”

JJ and I rode in the cab together acting like already tipsy friends. She almost immediately split off with one of the officers, leaving me at the bar alone. Everyone had a comm except for me, leaving me in the dark about where Richardson could be. The only protection I had as a tiny gun strapped to the inside of my thigh, just barely hidden by the skirt. It was the only place I could conceal it given the tight and revealing nature of my outfit.

It wasn’t long before the pastor slid into the seat next to me. “Can I top off your drink?” he asked, a southern accent detectable in his voice.

“Um sure,” I agreed shyly. “Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you around here. And I’m sure I’d remember you,” he flirted, his hand already on my knee.

If I didn’t know what I knew about this man I’d honestly be charmed. He didn’t seem to hate women like we profiled but given his level of violence and dominance towards his victims I knew he was picturing all kinds of fucked up ways to torture me. “Oh I’m visiting a friend but she seems to have found a new friend for the night,” I nodded over to JJ who was still dancing with that officer.

“Well maybe I can be your new friend?” he suggested, his fingertips now grazing the hem of my skirt.

“I’d like that,” I smiled brightly, downing my drink before slipping off the stool, leading him to the dance floor.

We danced for a little while, letting him put his hands almost anywhere he wanted. I caught glimpses of my teammates but they were always gone in the blink of an eye and I was a little disappointed to not see Aaron. But nevertheless I let this guy grind on me for a few songs before he pulled me close to his body. “How about we go somewhere quieter? So we can get to know each other,” he suggested in my ear. I nodded eagerly, whirling around to take his hand.

He led me through a series of back doors and hallways. We went so far into the building I began to fear that the team would lose sight of me on the cameras.

Eventually we ended up in a back room. He held the door open for me, forcing me to enter first. “Finally, we can talk,” he said through a creepy smile, locking the door behind him.

My alarms were going off. I knew I was in serious danger now as I tried to back up a little. But he advanced quicker than I anticipated, dragging me onto the floor with him already straddling me. Surely this was enough evidence and my team would come to the rescue. “Get off of me,” I insisted, trying to push him away.

“Girls like you dressing like fucking sluts, just asking for it. You need a Man of God to show you how you should behave,” he said, pulling out duct tape which he began putting over my mouth. He began placing the tape on my arm when he froze. I was still struggling against his weight, all of my FBI training useless against this beast of a man as he put his full weight on me. He reached his hand underneath my skirt when his fingers met the metal of the gun. “What the hell is this?” he yelled angrily, ripping the gun out. He immediately pressed it to my temple. “What are you? A cop?”

“It’s just for protection!” I insisted. “Please I’ll do anything you want.” That was a genuine plea for my life. I had no clue if the team knew where I was or if they had even seen me leave.

“Take off your top,” he ordered angrily, pulling the gun away from my head but still pointing it at me.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed, my trembling hands immediately going to the fasteners of the top. Based on what we profiled this was a major deviation from his routine. But before the man got too frustrated by my genuine inability to undo the top I hear Derek’s scary voice.

“FBI!” he yelled before the door burst open. It all happened so fast Richardson didn’t even have time to react as the door swung open. Several agents and officers were immediately on top of him, pulling him off of me. The next thing I saw was my husband’s face. His rough palms were immediately holding my jaw asking me if I was okay, gently pulling off the duct tape.

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” I agreed, standing up on shaky legs with his help.

Reid and Prentiss ran in, Spencer already holding out his jacket for me. Hotch took it, wrapping it around my shoulders as he tucked my head under his arm as he led me outside. There were already news reporters eager to get a shot of the man that had been terrorizing the city but they became equally interested in “the lone survivor” being escorted under the FBI agent’s arm.

Back at the police station I had been given hot coffee and a blanket as Aaron sat beside me on the couch. “He didn’t… touch you, did he?”

“No, the furthest he got was reaching the gun,” I tried to shrug him off. I hated feeling like a victim. I’m an FBI agent who did the job I signed up for.

“He won’t talk,” Derek said, exiting the interrogation room. “We’re not going to be able to intimidate him.”

“Let me try,” I immediately suggested. “We profiled him as a narcissist. The fact that he didn’t get to hurt me will drive him insane. He won’t like that a woman has power over him either. Especially one dressed like this,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.

“No, absolutely not,” Aaron immediately disagreed. “Y/N you just went through a major trauma. He was a second away from raping you.” He was basically begging me to understand how afraid he was.

“He’s in cuffs, I’ll be fine. Aaron, this is the only chance we have if finding Phoebe Simpson alive.”

He sighed deeply. “Fine,” he relented. “But I’m in the room.”

“He won’t talk to me while you’re in the room, I have to be in there alone.” Aaron didn’t like it but he he knew I was right so he just nodded before following me towards the interrogation room.

As I entered the room I could immediately feel Richardson’s eyes rake down my body. “You know for a ‘Man of God’ you sure do have a habit of looking at girls like they’re pieces of meat.”

“It’s your job as a woman to fulfill me,” he shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Isn’t one of the Seven Deadly Sins lust, Pastor?”

“It’s not lust to look at what’s mine. God told me that you’re mine.”

“A little late for that,” I mocked, wiggling my ring finger to show off my wedding rings. “Married.”

“Your husband lets you dress like a slut for other men to see? This is why you needed me tonight to show you your place below men, satisfying men.”

“Well I know you’re unsatisfied. They’re already calling me the lone survivor,” I bragged, taking a seat finally. I crossed my arms under my chest, revealing even more cleavage.

Richardson’s eyes immediately went to my chest and stayed there. “What do you mean lone survivor? I haven’t done anything wrong. Except apparently showing you the consequences of your actions is against the law.”

“You know, we have profilers here. That’s how we caught you, they figured out that you kidnap, rape, and murder women to have control over them.”

“I do have control over them.”

“So you are the one that has been kidnapping and murdering these women.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are you just tried to do it to me.”

“No I’m not!” he yelled lunging across the table. I didn’t even flinch, knowing he was restrained, something I was proud of until I heard the door bang open.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Hotch storm up to Richardson, trying to intimidate him. “Hotch, it’s fine. He’s restrained,” I said, never taking my eyes off the unsub. He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Leave.” Closing his mouth again he complied, storming out of the room.

Outside every member of the BAU had their jaws dropped. Even if it was part of the plan they’d never talk to him the way Y/N just had. Hotch was fuming, not at his wife but at the man who was looking at her like a piece of meat.

“We already know you’re the one hurting these girls, tell us where Phoebe is and I’ll tell the prosecutor you were compliant.”

“What so my sentence gets reduced from five life sentences to four?” he spat.

Establishing my dominance wasn’t working anymore so I stood up. “Among other privileges in prison,” I coyly suggested, sitting on the table next to him. I was keenly aware of how high my skirt was riding right now.

Outside Hotch was screaming in his mind for his wife to not get within reach of the very dangerous man she was interrogating. The team nervously observed his angry expression.

“So tell us where Phoebe is and maybe I’ll make an appearance in your life again once or twice. I’d be so grateful.”

His hands were now straining against the cuffs to touch me but I was just out of reach. Unable to let the idea of sex with a woman he wanted to control go, he relented. “I brought all the girls to a friend’s farm.” With that I quickly hopped off the table, strutting out of the room. “Hey! What do I get?”

“Nothing, you get nothing,” I promised, exiting the room. “I’m coming with,” I said to the team already grabbing the bag of extra clothes and heading for a bathroom. I changed the fastest I ever had in my life and soon I was running out to the Suburban, my team and field gear already inside. Hopping in we took off as I strapped on my vest and boots.

“Never knew you were such a temptress,” Derek laughed.

“Men are so easy to manipulate when you take away what they want.”

We caught up with the rest of the SWAT team just as we pulled up to the farm. “We’ll take the house!” Aaron ordered and we followed him. Morgan kicked down the door and we were immediately confronted with the most putrid smell.

We went through clearing the rooms until I entered the bedroom. The smell became so strong I nearly gagged and I was horrified to see the already decomposing body of Phoebe Simpson. “We got a body in the bedroom,” I announced.

“Is is Simpson?” Rossi asked as he entered.

“Yeah,” I sighed dejectedly.

As Aaron came in he was horrified to see the state of the body. Aside from the decomposition she had been left in an abused state, cast aside like garbage. He became disgusted realizing that could’ve been Y/N. He knew she was safe, there was more law enforcement surrounding that nightclub than the White House but he still couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario. He immediately reached for his wife, pulling her into his chest to assure himself she was there. Breathing in the scent of her hair as they exited the room.

Masterlist

Smutty follow up

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #hotch #hotch x reader

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starshinegarcia · 8 months ago

Text

Don’t Blame Me

Aaron Hotchner x BAU Reader Part 2!

Part 1 Here

(Based on Season 4 episode 9)

“If you walk away, I’d beg you on my knees to stay”

TW: Mentions of Sexual Assault (Marked if you need to skip)

It had been a full day since your.. less than a professional encounter with Hotch, and it’s safe to say that you had been left reeling. Not only was it unbelievably unprofessional- you enjoyed it and wanted more of it, and that was what made you the most angry. You had never even considered being attracted to him- aside from the occasional dream fantasy- and now? You were all in your head about what this meant, not focusing on the task and case at hand. Your teammates had taken notice, and had all tried to inquire in their own way- Emily bluntly, Garcia by sweetalking, Morgan by flirting- but you had pushed aside every effort and kept to yourself- making an extra effort not to make direct eye contact with Hotch, if you could help it. And that had been successful- until now, that is.

“It’s possible that we need a decoy. Someone to see how his methods work, up close and personal.” Reid offers to Hotch, and Hotch nods, his gaze shifting to your desk, where you were chewing on the tip of a pen, eyes glazed over and deep in thought about- something. “Someone he knows, someone he’s comfortable with. So he can feel like he’s winning.” Reid follows his gaze, pausing, “Sir, if I may- __ seems to be distracted at the moment and it may not be best for her to-” Hotch is ignoring him, closing the case shut and motioning in your direction. “Agent __, Agent Prentiss, I’d like to speak with you two.”

Emily snaps her fingers in front of your face- but you had already come to the sound of Hotch saying your last name. You rolled your eyes at her, trailing behind her and positioning yourself out of Hotch’s gaze. “We need you two to go undercover, in order to fully grasp the methods our unsub is using, adapted from Viper’s.” “So, we need to get Viper to try his moves on us.” Emily sighs, nodding. You talk softly, gritting your teeth slightly, “Yes, sir.” Hotch’s eyes find yours, finally, “Agent, you can sit this one out, if you feel unsafe-” “No. I can do it.” Your voice comes out bitter and sharp, so you hastily add a “Sir.” at the end to cover your tracks. You follow Emily into the women’s locker room, grabbing your go bag and angrily digging through it. “You okay?” Emily raises her eyebrow at you, well versed at reading women by now. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

The familiar lights of the, once again, still sleazy bar hit your face as you walk in, carefully trailing behind Emily, with eyes alert. You had both changed into less FBI-agent like clothes, grabbing a drink from the bar as you found a seat n the corner. Before long, the familiar sharp scent of cheap cologne met your nostrils as Viper emerged behind you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s back for a taste. Who’s your friend?” You see Emily swallow a snarky remark, “Emily Prentiss.” “Enchante.” Viper smirks, bowing dramatically as his eyes find you. “So, tell me, did my methods work?” “You could say that, I suppose.” You hear Hotch’s voice in your head, Agent, you can sit this one out, and you grit your teeth, leaning in closer and continuing to banter with him.

SKIP HERE FOR SA TRIGGER!! At a certain point, you feel Emily tugging on your shirt, and you whip around to see her slyly following a man in a fedora. You turned back to Viper, “This has been.. Nice, but I have to go now, I’m afraid. Look me up on Facebook- unless you’re too off-grid for that.” Viper’s eyes change, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you to him quickly. “I don’t think so.” He growls, dragging you back into the depths of the bar. You freeze, going limp as you realize the danger you’ve put yourself in. You fumble for your gun- shit, you had gone in unarmed and unwired. You found yourself in the same dark corner you had been in earlier, just in daylight- it was much scarier now. Viper’s rough hands found your body, as you shook your head, trying to protest, or fight back, “Stop, please-” “Don’t fight it.” His hand found your mouth, muffling your protests.

You sunk your head against the brick wall, closing your eyes as tears streaked down your face- until a sharp voice broke through the dark. “FBI, Freeze, hands behind your back! Now!” You blinked quickly, seeing the blurry vision of Hotch aiming a gun at your attacker through your tears. Viper scoffed as Morgan cuffed him, and you fell against the wall, your knees crumbling underneath you. Hotch immediately put his gun away, moving towards you- but you summoned every bit of strength left in you and threw your arms around him. He stiffened at first, but just as quickly wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you and using his free hand to stroke your hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“Don’t blame me, love made me crazy”

(if it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right)

𝐀/𝐍 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬!! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭,, 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 ;)

#criminal minds #emwrites #em writes #aaron hotchner #bau team #criminal minds hotch #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fic #fanfic #aaron x reader #aaron hotch imagine #hotch x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds incorrect #derek morgan

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boldlyvoid · 1 year ago

Text

I Know Places 2: Minimal Loss

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader | Masterlist | AO3 link

Summary: Away on a case with Reid, he and our dear reader are held hostage by Libertarian Cult Leader, Benjamin Cyrus. It's now Aaron's turn to try and keep his cool while Leading the Hostage Recovery and Support mission at the same time he's realizing he's fallen in love with his subordinate…

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (child sexual assault, hostage situations), hurt/comfort, Drug use tw, unrequited love (so he thinks), mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, drug-induced love confessions

Word count: 10.3k

It’s weird being in the office without her. She flew out to Colorado with Reid last night, the two of them stayed in a hotel (one with two queen beds this time) and she texted him this morning before she headed out for the case. He missed her. He missed picking her up this morning. He missed their coffee banter and how every morning without fail she got the same breakfast that always left his car smelling like a buttery croissant.

He smiles to himself as he thinks about her. He wonders how she’s doing, he can’t wait to call her tonight and catch up… hopefully, the interviews don’t take more than a day. He’d miss her too much if he didn’t get to see her tomorrow too. Maybe he could pick them up from the airport? No. She drove herself and Reid there, so maybe he’ll bring her a baked good and they can watch TV together? Either way, he wanted to see her as soon as she got home.

When they were approached by Colorado child protective services, they received a copy of the 911 call that sparked the investigation and a short summary of the alleged unsub. Libertarian cult leader, Benjamin Cyrus of the Fringe Religious group called the Separatarian Sect. was being accused of being inappropriate with the young teenage members. The age of the caller who made the 911 call is 15. This was a crime, no matter what the libertarians personally believed, under Colorado state law, he was breaking the law by having any kind of sexual interaction with a minor.

Sending Y/N and Spencer was a no-brainer. They couldn’t send JJ because she was pregnant, but they wanted a woman there to make the children feel safe. Spencer went because he’s memorized the entire bible and most historical quotes, he’d be able to deal with a libertarian cult leader the easiest. He had faith in—

“HOTCH!”

With his door open, he’s able to hear Morgan's scream even better, he’s immediately up and out of his seat, rushing towards the door when he notices everyone watching the TV.

“The TV, Y/L/N and Reid,” he points to the screen.

The report on screen is standing a few miles from the compound, showing footage from a raid and cutting back to his face as he speaks. “No one knows for sure how many people are inside. It is believed that at least three child service members are still trapped inside the compound.”

His heart drops into his stomach as if he just fell 30 feet in 10 seconds. His eyes widen, he steps towards the railing outside his office and grips the metal pole for dear life.

This can’t be happening.

She can’t get hurt.

He can’t lose her too.

Just then every single phone in the office starts to ring, he’s pulled back to reality and he catches his breath, “alright, that means we’re the lead with Hostage Rescue and Support. Let’s go!”

He runs to his office and grabs his go bag, he shoves his phone in the bag, makes sure his gun is still on his hip and his badge and wallet in the back pocket of his suit pants. He doesn’t bother bringing his suit jacket, he honestly doesn’t even remember to take it as he bounds down the stairs and runs to the elevator.

They all rush to the plane as quickly as possible, it’s always fueled and ready to go, so getting into the air takes less than 15 minutes. Once in the air, they open up their laptop and Penelope patches over a live feed of the Colorado news.

“It turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado attorney general, Jim Wells, says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a 6-month weapons investigation”

“6 months?” Morgan repeats. “We didn’t check?”

“Oh, we did,” JJ pipes up, visibly pissed. “I had ATF call Wells and he told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied.”

“Why?” Rossi asks, not understanding why he’d lie about that.

“Wells is challenging the governor in the upcoming election,” JJ explains. “He thought that ATF were going to poach his big election-launching weapons bust. Now, it’s clear he didn’t know there were FBI agent’s there, he just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed.”

“What do we know about the sect?” Rossi poses the question to the group.

Penelope, listening in on a video call the whole time, flips the screen from the news to her face. “Liberty Ranch was founded in 1980 by Libertarian Leo Kane. He created it as a self-sustaining commune.”

“Libertarians believe that everyone has the right to do what they want as long as they aren’t infringing not eh rights of others,” Derek points out.

“But libertarians aren’t religious,” Dave reminds them. “Clearly this sect abandoned libertarian principles.”

Aaron takes a deep breath, he’s still anxious, and his heart is racing but he has to get his head in the game. “Benjamin Cyrus, the current leader, introduced religion 8 years ago when Kane left.”

“Garcia, what do we got on Cyrus?” Derek asks her.

“Oh, we got bupkis,” she sounds disappointed. “It's like the guy never cast a shadow on the known universe… however his predecessor, Leo Kane, is doing a 17-year stretch at Deerfield Federal Prison… apparently libertarians do not like paying taxes.”

“17 years for tax evasion?” Derek laughs.

“Oh no, that would be 2 years for tax evasion and 15 years for going after four IRS agents with a Louisville Slugger…” Garcia pressed her lips together awkwardly, what a dumb crime to commit.

“Let’s have Kane brought to the scene,” Hotch instructs her to get the paperwork going. “He’s our best chance at finding out some idea of who we’re dealing with.”

“You got it,” she cheerfully agrees and turns off her camera.

They all settle into their plane seats then. It was a 3-and-a-half-hour flight, all he could do was prep negotiation teams and worry about Y/N. He worried for Reid's safety too, of course, Spencer was like a son to him… his heart just yearned for Y/N and after losing Kate, he can’t bare going through that kind of loss again and so soon.

He felt as though he was destined to only know what it was like to be left, not loved. He had such a tumultuous relationship with his ex-wife, being high school sweethearts also came with high school drama. He graduated a year before her, he was in college and she wanted to see other people. So they took their first break. He was doing law school and she was in teacher's college and they took a second break because his studying took up too much of his time and she felt as though she needed physical attention he couldn’t give her… then he went to Scotland Yard, back when he didn’t know if he wanted to work for Interpol or the FBI and once again distance caused them to go on break a 3rd time. He met Kate Joyner, they had a thing and when he returned to the States he asked Haley to marry him. He should’ve known that she would run once his attention shifted to things other than her. He thought maybe having a baby would change that about her. He thought maybe she loved him— loved their family enough to stay.

He was wrong.

Now he’s divorced, Kates dead and… and he thinks he might be falling in love with his subordinate.

He takes a moment to go to the bathroom on the jet just for a chance to get away from everyone. He leans against the sink and puts his hands over his face, shaking his head with disbelief. It all happened so fast. One minute they’re co-workers and he enjoys working with her and the next she was filling the void in his heart. Mind you, he knew her when he was married, he didn’t have the capacity to see her as anything other than a friend… now that’s all changed.

He took the ring off and his heart searched for warmth. For comfort. For morning coffees and laughter on the drive to work. For late-night chats and gossip about celebrities. For a hand to hold. For a body to cuddle into in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. For someone to care for him. For Y/N.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this. How he’s going to stay calm and cool and collected while he knows she’s in there? He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she’s hurt. He isn’t sure how he’ll make judgements and do the negotiations knowing that every decision he makes could have consequences.

He heads back to his seat to see everyone else is also doing their best to stay calm. They all love Reid and Y/N, and each of them wants to bring their friends home in one piece… he’s not alone in being anxious and worrying for their safety. Maybe he can play it off, maybe they won’t guess he loves her in a way that differs from how they do.

—

Once they land they’re met with bureau issues SUVs and given an escort to the crime scene, all their sirens on, they speed down back county roads causing dust to fly behind them and rocks to flick up from under their wheels, hitting the car behind them.

When they arrive at the Hostage Negotiation and Support Command Centre, Aaron lets Morgan and JJ head in to set up and he pulls Dave aside. “They’ve left the choice of negotiators up to me.”

“I taught most of the hostage negotiation unit,” Dave reminds him. “You want a recommendation?”

“I’m making you lead negotiator.”

“Me?” Dave can’t believe him.

“why go to the students when I have the teacher,” he simplifies his decision.

“because the teacher is emotionally involved,” Dave spits back. “So is the agent in command.” He stares Aaron down, watching for any facial moment that would give way to just how much he cares for Y/N. Of course, he knew.

He gives in, looking down to the ground, he can’t explain how much this is hurting him. “I know I am. This is a unique situation. We have two agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.”

“True, but I can’t be objective. I know them too well!”

“This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of Y/N and Reid as much as it does Cyrus,” Aaron explains. “That’s why you’re the best man for the job.”

“Assuming that Spencer and Y/N—” he puts weight on her name to make Aaron know he caught that. The use of her first name and Spencer's last, it’s a hierarchy of needs. He knows Aaron subconsciously wants her safe just the tiniest bit more than Reid. “Are still in a condition to make moves.”

“I-I know how bad this is,” Aaron says, voice dropping down to a whispered tone. “That’s why I want you doing the talking. I need you doing the talking.”

“Alright,” Dave gives—.

“You’re obviously not in charge, I can see that!!!” A man's voice bellows through the air.

“I’m sorry sir, I’m under direct orders from the FBI,” one of the hostage negotiation team members explains.

“I’m the attorney General of this state, I demand to know why I wasn��t told the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Separatarian Ranch?”

It’s Wells. The man who got them stuck in the position, to begin with.

Aaron starts walking away from Dave, driven by anger, he walks right up to the man. “The only thing that you’re in a position to demand is a lawyer.”

“Who the hell are you?” The man asks as if he’s about to laugh at Aaron's voice of authority.

“I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who’s going to tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you obstructing a federal investigation of negligent homicide,” Aaron spits back, getting more in this man's face.

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

Aaron takes another step in, towering over the man, “Get off my crime scene.”

And just like that, the man cowers, running away to his car and driving away.

Aaron turns to the other man, the one who was trying to answer Wells’ questions before. Aaron knew him from the bureau. “Hey Dan, you know Dave Rossi?”

“Sure do,” Dan smiles, reaching over to shake Dave's hand.

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” Dave jokes.

“Waco, Ruby Ridge, Freeman standoff,” Dan recounts. “Let's hope someone listens to you guys this time.”

“Oh, they did more than listen. They put us in charge,” Dave announces, hands on his hips, ready to go.

“So bring us up to speed?” Aaron asks.

“I've sent the state police packing. They started this mess and lost a man in the process. I hope that’s okay?”

“If you hadn’t we would’ve.”

“Good.”

“The county Sheriffs have had no run-ins with the sect, so we’re using them as support. We’ve had no contact with them so far. they’re got power. Solar. We can shoot out the panels if you think—

“No, no that’s an escalation,” Dave shoots that down.

“Okay, that means they have access to the news,” Dan reminds them.

“I’ll get JJ to talk to the press. Are your men ready to be briefed?” Aaron asks. Dan nods. “Let's go.”

Inside the trailer they’ve set up for secure meetings, Derek, Dave and Aaron start to give the preliminary profile and brief. There’s only a handful of men, which is best. Having too many cooks in the kitchen leads to chaos. 6-10 people, that’s much more manageable.

“We call this the Minimal Loss scenario,” Dave explains. “Every person we get out is a life saved. We won’t save them all. All of us have t be prepared to accept that situation.” He looks over at Hotch and then presses his lips together awkwardly.

Derek steps up to the whiteboard and picks up a marker, “cults are structured like pyramids.” He explains while drawing a triangle on the board. “You got the leader at the top, die-hard believers beneath… and the biggest group, the base. The followers.” He makes a point to circle that group and look at the other men. “Women and children are in this group. These are the people we can save.”

“The ‘trickle, flow, gush’ strategy is designed to get the base followers out,” Aaron explains. “First one or two, then three or four, then as many as we can, as fast as we can. And if at any point it starts to go bad. We go in.”

“The leaders are charismatic sociopaths who target the most susceptible to their seduction. They have the ability to see what each person needs and then they become that thing. We have to undermine their perception that we’re an invading army laying siege to their homes,” Dave explains.

“We’ll lose the fatigues,” Dan assures them. Losing the army look will make them much more approachable. “Ranchers clothes work for you? Like we did at the Freeman standoff?”

“Perfect. Anything we can do to demilitarize the situation,” Dave agrees. “But that’s about it… we have to make first contact and then we can act accordingly from there.”

“We have a phone set up for you guys outside by the lookouts,” Dave explains. “Nightfall is coming, they’ll be the most in need when it’s dark. We should call then.”

“Agreed,” Aaron nods.

Dave hits the speed dial button for the ranch, they wait for 5 or 6 rings and then they answer. “you killed my mommy and daddy, are you going to kill me too?” A little girl's voice answers, on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

“No one is going to kill you, honey,” Dave assures.

“This is Benjamin Cyrus, who am I talking to?” Comes down the line mere seconds later.

“David Rossi. I’m an FBI agent. We’ve sent the state police away, there’s just us and the local sheriff now. All we want to do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt,” he explains.

“Then leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin, one of the police bled out on the way to the hospital,” he explains, wondering if they haven’t watched the news yet. “So let's just stop this before things get worse. Please, just put the guns down and come out.”

“we’re believers Dave,” Benjamin starts. “We believe that god says what he means and means what he says. His laws don’t depend on what state you live in.”

“I have no issue with your beliefs,” Dave reminds him.

“You don’t. But the state does,” Benjamin is clearly pissed off that any of this happened today.

That makes two of them.

“I can’t answer for other people,” Dave states.

“God will answer for everyone in the final battle that I’ve foreseen.”

Aaron sighs, leaning his head back and shaking it. He hates these religious types. Rossi makes eye contact with him as he keeps talking, “That’s why I’m here. To make sure that this is not that battle.”

“We shall see…”

Sounds more like a taunt.

“Now the three child services workers—

“one is dead,” Benjamin interjects.

Aaron's heart sinks down to his stomach further, he feels like he could be sick. They all have the same look on their faces.

“It wasn’t us,” Ben assures them. “It happened in the standoff, a stray bullet flying into our chapel clipped her.”

“We need a name, so I can alert the family,” Dave explains. Hoping to pry it out of him.

“Nancy Lund,” he says and everyone lets a wave of relief selfishly pass over themselves.

“Okay, now please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you they’ll be taken care of,” Dave asks. Trying to start the trickle.

“With enough supplies, we can tend to our own,” Benjamin explains. They’re not leaving any time soon.

“Okay, I need a few hours to put it together,” he explains. “I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

Without a goodbye or a thank you, Cyrus hangs up.

They head back into the trailer after that, prepping med kits and retrofitting any electronics that get sent in with small microphones so they can spy on their every movement and plan. Aaron’s just excited for the chance to hear her voice again and know she’s okay.

“I’m going to go in and double-check that the kids, Y/L/N and Reid are okay,” Dave announces as he walks back into the trailer.

“Rossi, at least let me go with you?” Derek bags.

“No,” he shakes his head. “This is about building trust. I go alone.”

“I want the parabolic arc mics fixed on every window in that structure,” Dan announces to the rest of his crew.

“They won’t pick up much,” one of them pipes up. “They have blinds on all the windows, unless they’re shouting the glass won’t vibrate enough for us to get audio.”

“Well if they’re not shouting, these bugs will pick 'em up… at least until the batteries die,” Dan assures them, screwing the back onto an electronic thermometer. “How familiar are your agents with our playbook?”

“The BAU wrote the CIRG handbook,” Aaron reminds him. “They’ll know that we’re trying to get ears in there at all times.”

“Good, let’s hope they can get these people talking.”

“They will.”

—

At first light, Aaron sits at the listening station with a mug full of freshly brewed coffee and his headphones on, listening to everything as Rossi drives up to the compound.

He hears their introduction, muffled through the boxes of supplies. He hears Cyrus spout some more godly bullshit and claim he’s trying to protect the children. He’s not ready to let any of them go now, so Dave shakes his hand and heads out on his way. As soon as the door is closed, Cyrus says: “Prepare the wine.”

There’s a shuffling sound as everyone moves around the room, the elders no doubt do everything Cyrus says and the women and children stay seated. After a few minutes, he hears Cyrus again, muffled but there, saying something about being 1 day closer to god…

“Look at Jessica's body language,” Y/N’s voice can be heard as though she’s standing right beside the box of supplies. “The way she looks at him.”

“She literally worships him there’s no way she made that 911 call?” Spencer questions next.

Derek and Aaron look at each other, nodding with a small smile, they’re okay. Not safe, but okay.

“Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter,” Y/N speaks again. “She’s inserting herself between them…”

Cyrus is getting everyone to drink just as Dave is running back into the trailer. “Reid and Y/L/N are okay.”

“what about Cyrus?” Derek asks.

“He's too calm? It's like he was waiting for this to happen?” Dave suggests. “And now that it has he feels vindicated.”

“Hey guys,” Dan calls their attention back to the headsets.

“We’ll be with him soon. We have drank the poison together,” Cyrus’ voice is heard.

They all turn to each other with horrified expressions. “What the fuck?” Aaron exclaims, “I thought you said he was calm?”

“He was! He wanted me to think nothing was going on, he’s a master manipulator! We have to take everything he says and does with a grain of salt,” Dave reminds him.

“We need to go in!” Derek shouts, gathering his things with Dan.

“If we go in there people are gonna die!” Dave shouts.

“People are already dying!” Aaron shouts back, headset pressed to his good ear, he’s still listening to Cyrus preach.

“What do we do?” Y/N whispers.

“Nothing,” Spencer assures her.

“We have to do something these people just took poison!” She snaps back at Reid.

“I don’t think they did?”

“Wait! Wait!” Aaron gathers them all back towards him. “Listen,” he switches the audio playback to the speakers.

“Cyrus just told them they did, I think he’s bluffing,” they hear Spencer’s whisper loud and clear.

“Why do you think that?” Y/N asks.

“Just after he told them they took the poison he waited for them to react and then he nodded to Cole who started to note down everyone who looked sad, look…. They're scanning the audience for the people who are fine with dying now and who are a bit skeptical. This is their way of narrowing down the true believers and those who he can send out to Rossi,” Spencer explains. “He’s smart enough to possibly know our strategies, he wants to send out a trickle of people and then do something during the gush…”

“Jim Jones pulled the same stunt,” Rossi reminds everyone, agreeing with Reid. “They did a test run just like this years before they did the real thing.”

“Dan, prepare your men to go in but not before I give you the go-ahead,” Aaron points back to him. “We need to wait just a few more minutes, if I hear Y/L/N or Reid say anything about people falling sick or passing out, we go in.”

“Got it!”

Aaron covers his hand over his mouth and hopes to god he doesn’t have to send men in there. They already lost one social service member in the crossfire, he can’t lose his agents too.

“Be still, there was no poison,” Cyrus speaks. “Instead a test of faith BECAUSE YOUR ADVERSARY THE DEVIL WALKETH ABOUT AS A ROARING LION!! Choosing who he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper.”

“Dan!” Aaron calls out to him, he comes popping his head back into the trailer. “Stand down, Cyrus said it was a rouse.”

JJ comes walking in behind him, “The former sect leader just arrived.”

“I got it,” Derek volunteers himself. “call me if there are updates.” He says as he leaves, holding his phone up to assure them he has it.

“Charles Mulgrew, convicted in Kentucky at the age of 18. Three counts of statutory rape,” Penelope says through the phone, recounting her findings to the whole team now… well, the free 4.

“So we need to talk to the warden,” Derek says with a sigh.

“Way ahead of you there, honey,” she assures him, making Derek crack a small smile. “Mr. Kentucky Warden said that once inside, Mulgrew found religion and became a model citizen.”

“Well it’s not that hard to behave when you’re in protective custody,” Derek reminds her.

“General populations a rough place for a child molester,” Hotch adds.

“No, no, no, I don’t think guys understand he was a Model Citizen. This guy volunteered at the prison hospital,— the aids ward, he was reading to prisoners dying of HIV… he was emulating saint,” Penelope explains father.

“Good stuff, mama,” Derek compliments her the way he always does.

“Damn straight now you get our friends back, baby,” she says before clicking off the call to do more digging.

“Well,” Dave stands a little straighter and sucks in a deep breath. “This makes things worse.”

“What? That he’s a model citizen?” Derek laughs.

“That he’s been to prison,” Dave looks at him, he’s completely serious. There’s no room for giggles now.

Derek closes his eyes for a moment and his shoulders drop, “right. He knows what happens to child molesters there…”

“If the current sexual allegations are true and he thinks we know it, he’s not coming out of there,” Hotch agrees.

“Then we have to make him think he’s not going back to prison,” Dave assures.

“JJ,” Aaron calls back into the main tent for her. “I need you to release a press statement saying that we have absolutely no evidence of sexual allegations.”

JJ comes marching back over to them, sweaty and exhausted, she rests her hands on her pregnant belly and shakes her head, “You need to see this, pop the laptop open. Click on the news tab and play the audio…”

They follow her instructions, gathering around the laptop they see the same news guy from yesterday, he’s set up a little camp for himself in the hills somewhere. He has a perfect view of the ranch and he’s keeping his voice low.

“Now well into its second day, the standoff at the Separatarian Sect Ranch is now been taken over by the FBI. There is much speculation in regard to hostages, but anonymous sources inside the state attorney general's office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the ranch. Hostage negotiators say they are making headway with the sect's leadership and are hopeful for a positive outcome. There is still no word as to why an undercover FBI agent was sent in alone…”

“Are you fucking Kidding me?” Hotch stands, anger than ever before. “I’m going to I’m going to wring that fuckers neck. I’m going to make his life a living hell.”

“Hotch,” JJ can’t believe those words left his mouth.

“You two,” he points at Derek and Dave, “you get to the parabolic mics and listen in as best as you can. JJ I want you to circle back with Penelope and tell her she can dig into Wells' life as hard as she can and you can reach out to the press with dirt on him. He wants to win the election so bad he’s willing to get federal agents dead, then we’re going to air all his dirty laundry.”

“Got it,” JJ likes that idea and runs back into the tent to make her calls.

Dave and Derek run to the parabolic mic station, leaving Aaron to head back inside and listen to the other spy mics they sent in.

There’s a silent chatter in the church, the mics are picking up more now that they’re not trapped inside boxes and surrounded by supplies. There are a few different angles they get based on what supply was places where. They’re all synced up, playing at the same time and able to be pinpointed for spy-in on individual conversations.

Suddenly, they hear the sound of a struggle, “Get off me! I can walk without you pulling my fucking hair!” Y/N’s voice shouts back.

“FBI scum like you don't get to give orders,” one of Cyrus’ goons speaks back to her and then he hears a slap.

Y/N groans at the pain and Aaron covers his mouth. He’s never been this anxious in his whole life. He wants to run down there, break in and kick the shit out of anyone who laid a hand on her. And then it gets worse.

More mics pick up the sound of the struggle. They hear what Aaron supposes is her body being dragged as she struggles and then the sound of her smacking the concrete. It sounded hard. Like she hit her head.

“I thought I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus shouts. Slamming the door behind himself.

Of course, he wouldn’t do this in front of the members.

He slaps her again, the sound of her struggle makes Aaron want to throw up. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. One second he’s covering his mouth then holding the headphones to his ears and the next he’s just holding them out for no reason. He listens in as she keeps getting hit. Punched, kicked, slapped… he really hopes that this is the extent of Cyrus’ abuse. If he had to hear anything else…. He would actually throw up all over everything.

“We’ve gotta go in,” Aaron says as he takes the headphones off. Derek and Rossi come running into the trailer then.

“We can’t go in,” Dave reminds him. “We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

He knows Dave is right, Dan’s put the sound of her struggle on the speaker for everyone to hear and Aaron can’t escape it. The sound of her being hit again and again, moaning from the pain, she’s struggling to defend herself.

“Get up!” Cyrus says, hauling her up and then punching her in the face again. She slams into something this time, there’s the sound of a window or glass or something shattering and then her crying.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse evil,” he spouts his bullshit at her. Then he growls, tossing her in another direction and she falls to the floor once more.

She cries, breathing in sounds like it hurts as she whines as she does so, “I can take it!”

“Oh, you can take it?” Cyrus just gets more pissed at that. He slaps her again and she cries more.

“I can take it!”

“Listen to what she’s saying…” Dave suggests.

“She’s antagonizing him!” Derek gets defensive, on Hotch’s side and wants to go in.

“She’s not talking to him, she’s telling us not to come in,” Aaron agrees with Dave, bowing his head, he hates that he’s right.

He can’t take this anymore. He gets up and leaves the room, Dave can listen to the rest. He has to step outside, away front he watchful eye of everyone there and around behind the trailer. He rests his back against it and sinks down to the floor, his face in his hands. He cries.

The weight of everything comes crashing down on him in that moment. He lost his wife. He hasn’t seen his son for more than a few hours in the last 6 months, his friend and colleague died in his arms in the middle of the street and he almost died too. The only good thing that’s happened in all of this is that he’s gotten closer to Y/N.

If anything happens to her he’s going to actually go insane. He may have joked about it before, when he was off work and had nothing to do… but now it feels real. He can’t lose her. He can’t go through the trauma of burying another friend. He can’t imagine losing another woman he loves. Cause he does love her. He loves her more than he should love a co-worker.

It all started when he got divorced. He never had eyes for any other woman but his wife, however, after the divorce… he found himself enjoying her company for reasons other than friendship. Sure, getting coffee together in the mornings was nice and he didn’t care for her choice of TV shows but hearing her talk and knowing her opinions on things felt special to him. He knew a side of her that no one else on the team knew.

And sleeping beside her didn’t help his crush either. She was so soft. She cuddled into him like she was always meant to be there. When he woke up that next morning, spooned into her, he could smell her hair and he had his hand on her stomach… under her shirt. As if in the night they got even closer than either one of them ever thought possible.

Derek comes out to find him just a few minutes later. Aaron’s managed to wipe his tears and pull himself together a bit, he accepts Derek's hand and gets pulled back up to his feet. “They took her to another room but there are blinds on the windows so we can’t hear anything.”

Aaron just nods. “I don’t know why she did that, why she put herself in danger like that.”

“He probably held a gun to one of them and got them to confess, he did that to get Kane out of the ranch, too,” Derek theorizes. “Maybe she confessed to get him off Reid? Reid’s only in there because he knows the bible so well, he can get on Cyrus’s good side and help us out. She knew that.”

“Still,” Aaron can’t really argue.

“I know you love her, man, but we’ve got a job to do,” Derek whispers. “I feel the same way about Spencer.”

Aaron’s a little shocked to hear that but then again, not? It makes sense. The teasing, the closeness, the room sharing… that time Spencer missed his flight to hang out with another man he knew as a teenager. There were signs there from both of them, he just never thought to read them until now.

Aaron stares into his eyes, the two men would do anything for their team already, knowing they both loved someone in the ranch, which made them even more eager to do this right. “So let’s get them out of there.”

Back inside the trailer, Rossi has the speakers on still, and Reids talking. “Nancy said she was a child abuse interview expert from Denver. In the four years I’ve worked with her, Nancy’s never lied to me before.”

“As far as you know,” Cyrus spoke, believing him. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child when just 50 years ago that same law said that a 14-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years?”

“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve investigated abuse charges against small religious groups… most all of them turn out to be false,” Reid lies to him. Successfully.

“What do you think of that?”

“What does it matter what I think?”

“It matters to me,” Cyrus assures him.

“Why?”

“Because god wants to save you,” Cyrus spouts.

“I swear to god if Cyrus comes out of there alive I’m going to beat him to death with my bare hands,” Derek mumbles under his breath to Hotch.

“Get in line.”

“I mean, that’s why god sent you here, isn’t it?” Cyrus poses, making reid feel like he’s a part of them now.

“I think… on the next call you should test them,” Reid suggests. “Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn’t a liar.”

“How would you suggest do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent—

“We already know her identity,” his goon responds for him.

“They don’t know that we know,” Cyrus agrees with Reid.

“but the FBI would never tell is that?” The goon responds again.

“They keep asking you to release people, say you’ll release a kid only if they tell you her identity and if they really care about the children they’ll have to tell you her identity,” Spencer tries harder to get Cyrus on his side.

“You’re trying to get us to release a child!” The man fights with Reid.

“It’s one kid,” Spencer talks to him like he’s an idiot. “If they don’t hold up on their end of the deal then you know they can’t be trusted.”

“He’s right,” Cyrus ultimately agrees.

“Reid has ‘em,” Rossi turns back to them, clearly proud of the kid.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus asks his friend.

“Well… some of them have been talking about… leaving?” He poses the suggestion.

“Leaving?” Cyrus repeats.

“yeah…”

“Wake the baby. Let them see the orphan they’ve made.”

“Okay, everyone!!” Hotch calls out of the trailer, getting the other's attention. “We’re about to get a call, we should expect some members to be released shortly. Get ready for phase one.”

Everyone rushes around then. Preparing to make room for the followers, cars are called in to collect people and take them to a hotel for the night and a few ambulances show up in case anyone is in need of medical support.

But no call comes in.

They wait all night until the sun comes up. But nothing.

“They’re probably going to ask when we call them,” Rossi suggests. “I’ll give my morning call at 6.”

“Okay,” Hotch agrees. “Morgan, I want you to take the truck up to the ranch and collect the little girl, if anyone else is released, Dan will come up and help escort them over here.”

“Yes sir.”

—

Rossi calls in right at 6. They haven’t heard anything else over the mics or through the windows. Most of the members must’ve been asleep in the chapel overnight. Sleeping in pews or on the floor… they all must be exhausted and mostly ready to leave now that the condition of their stay has changed.

“Good morning, Ben, how are you today?” Rossi speaks to him cheerfully.

“We are prepared to release a child if you tell me the identity of the FBI agent promise no harm will come to them from this point forward,” Cyrus leads right into it.

A wave of relief washes over Aaron.

“I can’t give you that information,” Rossi eggs him on.

“I will send the child now.”

Aaron waves his hand to Dan who’s got eyes on the ranch, a little girl has started to walk out of the compound and is standing in the gravel driveway. Dan motions to Derek who’s already taking his gun off and handing it to Hotch who hands him a radio in return. He takes off to the truck then, one of the other men drives Derek up and they watch on the cameras as Derek calmly collects the little girl and gets her into the truck safely.

“I’m taking a big risk here Ben,” Dave tries to play it cool with him.

“Trust is earned,” Cyrus reminds him.

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N,” Rossi says her full name. “She came in with two child service workers to talk to the girls.”

“There’s a good chance we can work this out, Dave” Cyrus assures him. “I’m gonna provide another sign of good faith.”

“You’re doing a good thing here,” Dave assures him. Hyping up his confidence, getting on his good side.

Cyrus hangs up after that and they rely back to the microphones. “Assemble everyone in the chapel. Get agent Prentiss back down here,” Cyrus orders Christopher.

“This is it,” Aaron assures Dave and Dan. “We’ve started the trickle, it’s about to flow. We need to be prepared for women in children to be released as well as some of their husbands who’ve lost faith in Cyrus.”

Just as they thought, 10 minutes after the order to gather everyone, Cyrus starts to explain why he has them all gathered there. He points out that some of them have lost their faith, that he no longer can support people who don’t support him and his god. And then he starts to name names.

“He looks pissed?” They hear Y/N whisper.

Of course, the two of them would stand where they could be heard the best by the others.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she assures Spencer.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to her.

“Look at who he’s releasing,” Y/N says again.

“It’s the ones who failed the loyalty test,” Spencer explains. “I’ll get word to the team. You wait for a sign from the outside that will tell us when the raid will come.”

The room goes quiet for a few moments and then they heard, “Take her back.”

Y/N was being sent back to whatever room they had her locked in, in the first place. They need to figure out where that would be… they need to be able to find her during the raid and get her out of there safely.

“Those of you standing, collect your belongings and meet in the main hall immediately,” Cyrus orders.

Not long after that, they start to see a bunch of people start to leave the chapel. Just then, Cyrus calls them. They send Dan and his guys out to collect the survivors and Hotch listens in on the phone call.

“We will surrender tomorrow at noon, we want the press there to make sure that we’re treated fairly,” Cyrus makes them a deal. “We’ll discuss the details tomorrow at our 7 am call… I’ll see you then Dave.”

“I look forward to it,” Dave agrees.

“Oh, and one more thing, could you send in some food in?” He requests.

“Sure, what would you like?” Dave pretends to be hospitable but by the look on his face, Aaron can tell he rather take a bite out of a leather shoe than keep this act up.

“Fried chicken, all the fixings.”

“You got it! I’ll have it brought right up to you.” Dave hangs up and shakes his head. “I hate this mother fucker.”

“I don’t understand, why did you let them go?” Another goon asks, more like, demands to know from Cyrus.

“They weren’t prepared to do what was needed of them,” Spencer butts in.

“Yeah, no offence but you’re not one of us so shut the fuck up,” he spits back at Spencer.

“Listen to him,” Cyrus sides with Reid. “Tell him, Spencer.”

“They failed the test,” Spencer explains. “They-they had a chance to prove their faith when Cyrus told them that they’d sacrificed themselves for god, but instead they showed they weren’t worthy…. That’s why he wants the media to bear witness to your true final act of sacrifice.”

“how do you know that?” The man asks.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come.”

“Spencer’s asking us for what time to expect the raid,” Dave understands his meaning right away. “He’s telling us this is it! Time is running out! We’ve gotta go in!”

—

The food arrives around mid-day, and they have it delivered to the trailer first. They examine it all to make sure nothing's been tampered with by the restaurant and then they get it all boxed up and ready to go.

“We obviously can’t spike the food 'cause there are kids,” Aaron explains to Dan. “So we need to find another way to alert Spencer that there is a raid coming…”

Just then he picks up a red Sharpie marker and writes on the lid of the chicken box. “New management, open until 3 AM tonight!!” He underlines it a few times and then repeats it on the boxes for the corn and mashed potatoes and biscuits. Spencer has to see it somewhere.

Aaron and Derek are so positive that Spencer can find a way to prepare for the raid inside and figure out a way to get the women and children out of harm's way when Derek, Dave and Dan come crashing through the doors. He’s not going, he has to stay back with JJ and oversee the whole operation. He hates it. But it’s his job.

Derek and Dave go up to the ranch to deliver the food and just as there’s a commotion at the door and everyone is busy at the ranch, the parabolic mikes pick up Y/N’s voice.

“AARON!” Dan yells for him from outside, causing him to rush down to him.

“What?” He fears for the worst.

“it’s Y/N, she’s listening to the blinds with her high-heeled boot and we can hear her, listen,” he hands him the headphones.

“If you can hear me, I know you’re coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel but I need to know when you’re coming.”

She keeps repeating those two sentences over and over.

“come on,” Aaron gets up, grabs a riffle with a laser scope and they head to the hill closest to the ranch. Dan follows behind him with the transmitter, listening in on what Y/N’s saying still.

He points the gun right at the window and she sees the laser shine against the wall in the room she’s trapped in.

“I got you, what time are you coming in?”

He blinks the laser 3 times.

“3 am?”

He keeps the beam steady and nods the gun, up and down, as if he’s nodding yes.

“Got it. Reid is on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus, and please remember there are children here... someone's coming,” she’s quick to pull her foot away from the window and they lose signal with her.

Dan starts to retreat, leaving Hotch there with the gun and a hopeful feeling. “Hang in there, sweetheart.”

—

At 2:15 AM they start preparing for the raid. Swat is called in, they’ve got a supply of Humvees supplied by the army, weapons, ammunition, and tear gas. They’re ready to go. All without Aaron.

Aaron has his headset on and his radio with him, listening in on the Sect while also in contact with the team as they make their way closer to the ranch.

They know somethings up, that somethings coming… they should’ve cut the lights to the Humvees and gone in there blind.

Cyrus heads outside of the chapel, points his gun in the air and starts shooting the sky, gathering attention from the media just over the hill. He wants them to see how this all goes down.

Luckily, Cyrus just doesn’t know how much they know. When Derek met with the previous leader, Kane, he drew them a map of the whole facility. Secret tunnels, bunkers, you name it, they know where it is. So that’s where they go in.

On the radio he hears Dan give the go-ahead for phase one, the men storm the tunnel exit and surprise the guard down there with flash grenades and tear gas, subduing him. The men force their way inside, they drag the guard to the corner and cuff him up so he can’t cause any trouble and within seconds, Derek is on the radio.

“Y/N’s here, she got the women and children down to the tunnels,” Derek alerts him. “I’m sending them out to you, Dan.”

“Ten-4, I have a vehicle ready to transport them to safety,” Dan responds.

“They’ve wired explosives,” Derek alerts through the radio. “We need to move, now!”

Aaron throws on a bulletproof vest then and starts to run out of the tent, “where are you going!?” JJ calls after him.

“to help get them as far away from the blast as possible this is an all-hands-on-deck situation!” He yells back and keeps running.

He runs as fast as he can, following the dimly lit dirt road up to the chapel, he can see the women and children running out of the tunnels and towards the front of the building. “Over here! This way!” He calls to them, “Over here! You need to get away from the building!”

“Aaron!” Y/N shouts, as the last one to leave the tunnel, she ushers the women and children towards him and hobbles along as fast as she can.

She runs right into his arms, and they both make an audible “oof,” as their chests collide but he holds her close. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” she assures him, pulling back, she turns to face the others, “Keep moving, follow the lights, head to that tent back there!”

They usher them up the road, keeping them at a safe distance from the building, he rests his hand on her back and when she turns to him again, he uses his other hand to cradle her face. He can’t really see in the dark, but he can tell she’s all beaten and bruised, “are you sure—

“I’m fine, we need to go back in there, they have Spencer,” she worries, almost in tears. “It’s bad Aaron, the whole building is rigged to go, they have TNT and gas everywhere, in every hallway way, doorway, support beam… it’s going to go up like a fucking tinderbox.”

“Dereks got it,” he assures her. “They’ll be okay.” She doesn’t look like she believes him, so he pulls her in closer again and cradles her head. “It’s going to be okay.”

They hear a few shots then, followed by the chapel door flying open, Derek and Spencer come running out of the building, and Dave comes running out of the tunnel exit with Dan just as the building goes up in flames.

“Jesse,” Y/N whispers, shocked.

They rush to the building, running up the few concrete steps toward where Derek and Spencer were knocked down by the blast. Aaron picks up Derek, Y/N picks up Spencer and as a team, they retreat away from the fire. At a safe distance, they all stop, turn to the blaze and realize they made it. All of them.

Y/N pulls Spencer into her arms, breaking out in a sob, she crumbles. Her knees give way and Spencer does his best to keep her upright, Aaron steps in and supports her, and Derek too. “We did it,” Spencer whispers, “we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” she repeats, absolutely exhausted from everything she’s been through.

“We need a medic!” Aaron calls, “Someone, please, get a stretcher over here!”

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” she tries to push them away, standing on her own two feet again but she’s wobbly.

“No, you’re not,” Aaron argues with her. “You got beat up, I heard it all. You’re not okay, I don’t care how strong you think you are you’re—

She reaches out and covers his mouth, “Stop yelling at me, my head is killing me.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arm under her to support her, he helps her down the stairs just as the ambulance is pulling up to the church.

—

It doesn’t take long for both Y/N and Reid to get checked out by the paramedics. Spencer has some general ringing in his ear from being so close to a blast, and Y/N has a concussion and severe abdominal bruising. They don’t suspect any internal bleeding, but they advise her to have someone watch her all night and to go to the hospital if she feels sick or light-headed.

Derek offers to drive himself, Reid, Rossi and Y/N back to the hotel, JJ and Hotch just have to finish up a few things and then they’ll join, but she turns down Derek's request. “I’m going to stay with Aaron and JJ,” she whispers, not really wanting to talk unless she has to. “You guys head out, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer gives her his puppy dog eyes.

She nods, giving him a sweet smile, “Yeah, I don’t think I can handle Derek's driving right now.”

“Fair enough,” Rossi pats her shoulder, heading off after Derek.

“Okay,” Spencer understands the real reason why she isn’t going, he looks at her and then at Aaron. He’s not dumb. Far from it, actually. Of course, he knows there’s something going on between them… Aaron just wonders what it is on her side.

“Spence,” she stops him, pulls him in for another hug and holds him there. She whispers something in his ear, something Aaron can’t hear, but by the look on Spencer’s face, it’s sweet. When she pulls back, she speaks louder. “You come get me if you need anything, I mean anything… okay?”

“I will, thank you,” he smiles before turning away and heading off to the SUV.

She comes to sit beside Aaron after that, he’s filing out some paperwork about the supplies they used and Dan’s signing off on everything, too. JJ’s wrapping up from things on the phone with the state, and firefighters are now on the scene putting out the blaze… it’s a commotion, but he doesn’t care about anything other than Y/N.

He reaches out for her hand, under the table, he holds it and looks at her. Asking if she’s okay with just his eyes.

She nods, “I’m tired.”

“I can do the rest of this,” Dan offers.

“Yeah?”

He nods, “Yeah, you guys go get some rest, you’ve done more than enough for us.”

“Okay,” Aaron doesn’t fight it, he simply lets go of her hand and starts to stand up, helping her up too. “Come on, let’s get you out of here… JJ?”

She’s still on the phone but peaks her head over, asking what’s up with her facial expression.

“We’re heading out, come on.”

She holds up her finger, asking for just a second, which is good. It gives him a chance to pack up his things and help Y/N into the passenger seat of their SUV. JJ comes rushing over not 2 minutes later, the phone still pressed to her ear, she gets in the back seat and all they hear is “Thank you so much, half our team should be there in a few minutes, we’re about 30 minutes out… thank you, again, bye.”

“Good to go?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah, and I got us all hotels for tonight Rossi is alone, Derek is with Reid and I will partner with Hotch tonight so Y/N can be alone and—

She cuts JJ off. “I don’t want to be alone,” she says in a low tone. It hurts to talk. “Not with my concussion.”

“Oh,” JJ didn’t expect that. “Um, I guess we can be together, Hotch can be alone?”

She shakes her head, “No, mama you go be alone for the night, I’m sure you’re exhausted. You’ve done so much these last two days, Hotch can babysit me, make sure I don’t die in my sleep.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he looks over at her, completely serious. “You’re okay, the paramedics said it’s not too serious, you’re going to be fine.”

“I was kidding,” she gives him a sweet smile.

It doesn’t take long for them to get to the hotel, they check in, they’re handed their room keys and off they go. The double rooms are on the same floor, they’re just across the hall from Derek and Spencer, JJ’s a floor above them and Rossi is on the top floor. He really doesn’t care how much money he spends, he always wants the best rooms.

He carries both their bags upstairs. He had someone go to her other hotel, the one she and Reid were sharing when they arrived, and get her things. He sets them all down on one of the beds and she just stands there, sore and tired. She looks like she wants to cry again. She’s bruising slowly, everything’s getting worse and darker in colour the more time passes.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “Yeah… I just hurt all over.”

“I don’t want this to come off as weird, or anything,” he prefaces. “But do you need or want help changing? Do you want to take a bath? I can help you get in or out— I won’t look, I promise. I just want you to feel better.”

She laughs lightly, but it hurts to do that. “I don’t think I need help… but thank you.”

“You took such great care of me last month, I just want to repay the favour,” he gives her a small smile.

She takes a step towards him and wraps her arms around his middle, resting her head on his chest. He carefully holds her back, his cheek resting against her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“You need a lot more than a bomb to get rid of me,” she teases. He said the same thing in the hospital in New York.

He smiles, dragging his cheek across her hair until his lips are pressed to her head. He kisses her gently, “Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.”

She sighs as she pulls back, “Would it be weird to share a bed tonight? I really don’t want to be alone.”

“Not weird at all,” he assures her.

“Good,” she smiles.

He brings her over to the one bed that their bags are on, they each zip open their own bag and start digging for their things. She takes out her pyjama shirt and her shorts, her little bag of toiletries and her phone charger and then she remembers she doesn’t have a phone anymore. “I can’t believe that fucker blew up all my stuff.”

“We’ll get you a new phone when we get back tomorrow,” Aaron assures her. “Penelope knows to call me if anyone calls work looking for you.”

“Okay, good… I’m going to change in the bathroom first, I’ll call you if I need help?”

“Okay,” he agrees.

He takes the chance to change in the room, he slips out of his khakis and dress shirt and quickly replaces them with a new pair of boxers and a fresh white shirt. It's what he slept in beside her before… that was the best sleep he’s had in years. Even beside his ex-wife he never slept that good.

He heads over to the empty queen bed that their shit isn’t on and folds back the covers for them. He fluffs the pillows and even sets a complimentary bottle of water on each of their night tables, that’s when he remembers he still has medicine in his bag. She emerges from the bathroom soon after, all changed with a soft smile on her face. “Tada?”

“You look nice,” he compliments her. “I uh, I still have some medicine— the T3s…”

“Ooo,” she thinks about it. “I was just going to tough it out but that sounds like a much better option.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you hurting all night long, you’re supposed to be resting,” he reminds her, handing her the pill bottle once she’s closer to him. “There’s water on your side.”

She takes two of them, sets her water down and starts to get into the bed, Aaron stands at her side, watching as she hisses. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Getting punched and kicked in the gut sucked, I’m surprised I don’t have internal bleeding.”

His heart breaks even more, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she waves it off. “Come get in bed.”

Before he does that, he flicks on the lamp on his side of the bed and heads back over to the door to turn off the main light. When he finally slips into bed, she reaches over for his hand and pulls him over so he can spoon her. She just wants to be held. He gently places his hand on her stomach, he doesn’t want to hurt her at all. She lets out a deep sigh, relaxing into his arms and waiting for the pills to kick in.

“I’m really glad they put you in charge of everything,” she whispers. “The second Rossi showed up in the church I knew we were going to be leaving okay.”

“You should’ve heard Morgan scream for me when the situation popped onto the news in the bullpen,” he recounts, still astounded by it himself. “I was just thinking about you when he called for me and then all the phones started going off and I knew we’d be the ones doing the rescuing.”

“You were thinking about me?” She repeats. “What were you thinking about me for?”

“Oh…” he feels suddenly embarrassed. “Just that it was weird not having breakfast together and I was thinking if you didn't drive to the airport, I would’ve driven you home.”

“Awe,” she swoons, she places her hand over his and interlocks their fingers. “We can get lunch together tomorrow after we land… before you take me back to the airport to get my car.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he whispers. “But we’ll have to take it to go…”

“Why?”

“I don't want anyone to think I did that to you,” he explains, a sick feeling in his throat at the mere thought of someone thinking he could hurt her.

“Oh, oh yeah,” she forgot. “Sorry, I’m starting to feel the medicine… if I fall asleep on you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, go to sleep if you have to,” he assures her. “I’ll be right here all night if you need me.”

“Thank you, Aar,” she mumbles out, already slipping into her slumber. “Love… you.”

His heart skips a beat, he wants to say it back but he doesn’t know how much of that is just the medicine and him taking care of her and how much of it she really, truly means. He doesn’t want to risk it, so he just snuggles in closer, kisses the back of her shoulder and attempts to fall asleep with her.

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IKP

@southernraven @alluringshawn @lambsheepsheeping @lmg-stilinski24 @louderfortheback @deludedfruitcake @kleff03 @mrs-ssa-hotch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @lokifanfic2021 @art-and-thoughts

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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ssaflorencem · 1 year ago

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The thrill of killing you| BAU x Unsub reader

Introduction and about me:

I am new to tumblr, I go by she/her pronouns.

This story will be about an unsub reader and about the majority of BAU but will focus on Aaron Hotchner and Dr Spencer Reid.

In this story they reader (aka you) will be speaking both English, Dutch, and Swedish (I will translate all Dutch and Swedish into English)

Y/N is AFAB in this story.

There will be us of Y/N, cuss words and maybe smut (more likely then not). There will be mentions of murder.

While we know the BAU would most likely be able to catch reader quickly, this is going to be a bit like cat and mouse though.

There will be a little bit of Cat Adams mentioned and, in this world, Aaron never left criminal minds (but we still have Luke Alvez)

Reader was born in the Netherlands to Swedish and Dutch parents. She moved to America at the age of ten. (that’s why both these languages will be used)

Chapter warnings: Animal death (of dears been hunted). Mention of guns (hunting rifle and glock). Badly written. Mentions of SA (it’s not graphic at all). Not proof read, sorry about that :)

A/N: there is no mention of the BAU in this chapter. This is basically a background story of the reader. The next chapter will include the BAU.

Chapter One: To the end

It wasn’t hard doing what you do. You had learnt how to hunt at an early age, it was fun. The thrill of going out with only a hunting rifle was exciting to you. You left your phone at your house; you didn’t want any distractions. See, hunting deer was a nice way to blow of steam, that moment when the life of an innocent animal was in your hands, you felt like a god. That deer couldn’t beg for its life, it couldn’t ask for mercy, it could just look at you.

So now when the people you are hunting could beg and plea with you, ‘please I don’t know why you are doing this, I’ve done nothing wrong.’ All you could do was laugh. Sure, tell yourself you haven’t done anything wrong, tell me you’re innocent. Every person you had killed had done something wrong. They had hurt someone else and thought they could get away with it, and you could not let that happen.

Now the thrill of the hunt was better than ever, you know that phase where people say you’ll never experience a high, like your first ever high, that was a lie to you because every kill you did, brought you a sense of justice to this world, made you feel like you were doing something important. You no longer hunted deer, there was pity and sorrow in their eyes. Eyes that just gleamed innocence.

The only thing that was really different now to when you were just killing deer, is you did bring your phone. You brought it so you could listen to music. I mean it was a powerplay, you watched them cry and beg for their life, and you just put your headphones in. You watched how powerless they became; you saw the hope leave their eyes. And it felt amazing.

Your first kill (other than the deer) was a man called Michael O’Stevens. He seemed like a nice man, but he had sexually assaulted around 30 women, but after each one of those crimes he had committed he would go home to his wife and daughter. You couldn’t let him get away with that, but you wanted his wife to know why he had to die, why she was never going to see her husband again. So, you did the only logically thing and wrote her a letter.

“Dear Mrs O’Stevens.

I am sorry to inform you about your husband like this, but I can’t let you see who I am.

Your husband is not a nice man, he is not who you think he is. I’ve watched him, I’ve seen how he treats you and your daughter, but outside your house he is a completely different man.

He finds vulnerable women and hurts them. He takes them in his care and abuses them. He then throws them out like trash, like he hasn’t just caused them a great deal of trauma.

So, I’m sorry to write you this, but tomorrow will be the last time you see your husband alive. I won’t torture him, though he deserves it. I will just make him feel like those women, and then pull a trigger.

It may you hurt you, you may grieve him, but you deserve better.”

You knew better than to hand write it and send it through mail. You hand delivered it to her house in the early morning.

Killing Mr O’stevens was the easy part, but you needed a way of getting him away from the town he was living in.

So, the day after you sent Mrs O’stevens her letter, you dressed up like you had spent the night out drinking and walked down a road you knew Mr O’stevens frequently travelled. Your plan worked; I mean he was attracted to you like a moth to a flame.

He rolled down his car window and shouted;

“Hey, need a ride?”

You knew that you had to play hard to get, you knew that’s what he liked.

“Oh no, I am alright, thank you though.”

“I insist. It’s cold and quite frankly its dangerous to be walking alone.”

“I really don’t want to bother you; I live a far distance away.”

“You are not bothering me, please get in.”

“Erm, Okay.”

With that your plan was rolling into motion. You hid your gun, a .40 caliber glock, under your skirt. Though it was different to what you were used to, you couldn’t conceal a rifle.

He put his hand on your thigh and whisper in a low tone;

“I think you should repay me for been so kind to you. Don’t you?”

Oh, had he just asked the wrong person that.

“No, no I don’t.”

“Really? You think I should just allow you a free ride?”

“If you want me to get out, I can. But I am not repaying you shit, you offered.”

“Woah pretty lady, calm down. You only have to give me head, that’s all I want.”

“I am not giving you head.”

“Well, I didn’t really mean to ask you. I’m going to make you.”

He really was a piece of work.

“No, you are not. I am going to make you pay for all the other women you have hurt, you’re a sick son of a bitch. Now shut the fuck up and keep driving.”

You pulled the gun from under your skirt and held it to his head.

“I bet you think your wife is going to miss you. Huh? She won’t. Your daughter won’t even remember you. And your victims they’ll be glad you’re dead.”

He didn’t say a word for a while, he was crying though.

 After around 20 minutes he spook:

“Why me? How did you find me?”

“I don’t reveal my secrets. Now keep going, you only have another 10 minutes left.”

You had made sure the spot you were in was quiet. No one would catch you in the act, it was the perfect spot.

He didn’t say another word, not until he was out of the car and on his knees.

“Please, please don’t kill me?”

“It’s a little too late to be begging for your life.”

“Please I am sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“You won’t do it again, because you won’t be alive.”

With that you put the gun to his temple and saw his eyes fill with fear.

“Maybe before you die, if you beg for forgiveness, you won’t face a miserable afterlife.”

With that you pulled the trigger. You saw the life drain from him. It was satisfying, you felt the same rush you had felt from killing those deer.

Previous part | Next part

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #emily prentiss #spencer reid #behavioural analysis unit #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotch x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jenifer jareau #luke alvez #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid smut

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blurredcolour · 2 years ago

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If You'll Be My Bodyguard | Part Six

If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist

Summary: The last mad dash through awards season has unfortunate consequences for Austin and you, but against the odds, you still make it to the Academy Awards.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female Bodyguard Reader

Warnings: Language, Threats of Violence, Ongoing Stalker/Obsession Issues, Reader Has Body Issues, Austin Is Having None Of It, More Screenings, COVID-19 Rapid Test, COVID-19 Infection, Sickness, More Parties, Firearms, Wardrobe Malfunction, Austin and Reader In A Public Washroom Again, Sexual Tension, Innuendos, Rating - T.

Credit: Julian Ungano

Word Count: 4756

“…Satan, the great deceiver, has his claws so deeply into your flawed flesh, Butler. Has connvinced you that stealing the soul on Elvis Aaron Presley from his eternal rest for your own gains was a good thing. DECEIVED. Has connvinced you that you are safe with that godless whore by your side, taking my strikes meant for you on her body. DECEIVED. Has connvinced you that I have been stopped now that the unholy cops of Santa Barbara have taken my angel Gabriel from me. DECEIVED. I shall not be stopped until my work is done…”

Though getting a personal mention in the latest letter made your lips twitch into a smirk, you could not help but notice the increased level of rage in her latest missive. The iPad sank onto your knees as your eyes went unfocused, your mind’s eye turning back to reflect on the glimpses you’d managed to catch of the unknown woman, Austin’s threatening stalker, before Austin’s anguish-filled eyes flooded your memory and made you swallow painfully.

You closed the email from Scott containing the scanned copy of the letter and glanced at your watch, wondering how late Shyla would be. Austin’s laughter cascaded down the stairs from where he was partaking in a virtual interview in his bedroom to allow you the main floor to work with Shyla on finally choosing a gown for the Oscars. The schedule had been so hectic that it had not been possible to make time to go to her, and thus she was coming to you with some options today. Another warm laugh reached your ears and made you smile softly.

It had been a good thing, you reflected, that Austin’s father had arrived the night after the incident at the hotel. He had been a comforting and reassuring presence and restored some of Austin’s usual good humour – they had both delighted in the confusion that reigned with two Mr. Butler’s for you to manage at the Screen Actor’s Guild Awards. Austin’s red suit, consisting of three pieces no less, had also seemed like a personal assault on your reaffirmed vow of professionalism. And while it had been a shame that Austin had not taken home the award that night, you could not help but be struck by the growing sense of camaraderie amongst the nominees…and the elder Mr. Butler had also been able to witness his son assisting the leading ladies of Hollywood to the stage, which you were certain filled him with fatherly pride all the same.

Your phone buzzed with a call from the gate, and you quickly answered, pleased to hear Shyla’s rushed greeting mixed with an apology about traffic.

“Come on in, Shyla!” You hit nine on the number pad to unlock the gate and opened the front door to see her pull in, stepping out to help her with a collapsible garment rack and eight garment bags. “This seems like a lot of choices…”

“We have to make sure you look perfect” She grinned, her fashionable, jet-black bob glossy in the afternoon sun.

“You remember that no one is really going to see me, right?” You teased but she was already making her way inside, setting up the rack in the living room.

Following with a shake of your head, you hung the bags on the rack carefully, watching as she eagerly unzipped them to reveal a variety of dresses. They were in neutral shades, as prescribed for the non-talent attendees, but you frowned a little as only half of them had sleeves.

“I know, I know…” She said, immediately reading your face. “Will you please just humour me? I want you to try them all, so we get a really good picture.”

You crinkled your nose but took a slow breath and nodded.

“All right, where do you want me to start?” You tilted your head and took the first one she offered you, a cloud grey scoop neck with thin straps and A-line skirt.

Taking it carefully, you went to change in Austin’s office, which was now essentially your permanent bedroom, and returned to the living room, desperately fighting the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. Shyla tilted her head thoughtfully, walking around you in a circle silently as she took in the full look.

“Well?” You asked hesitantly, not able to see yourself.

“Oh! Oh, come here…” She led you by the shoulders into the powder room where there was a mirror where you could at least see yourself at least from the waist up.

“Oil me up and put me in the ring…Hulk Hogan is here…” You groaned before assuming the ‘most muscular pose’ from body building – your legs spread wide, and your torso bent forward as you flexed and curled your arms inward to show off every exposed inch of muscle on your body. “Whatcha gonna do when Hulkmania runs wild on you?!” You growled in an impersonation of the professional wrestler.

“Betty, darling, I don’t think you’re being very kind to yourself right now…” Austin suddenly appeared, leaning against the door frame with his eyebrows raised.

Shyla, who had been giggling beside you in the tiny room, gasped sharply as you felt heat flush across your face and down your neck.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Butler, did we disturb you?” You immediately straightened, biting your lip.

“No I am finished, and you don’t owe me an apology…” He glanced around the bathroom. “Is this really where you’re doing this? Come on…” He grabbed your hands and pulled you out of the bathroom, Shyla following silently in tow.

He swung by the living room, grabbing the other gowns and easily holding them off the ground as he led you upstairs and down the hall into his dressing room. The last time you had been in here it had been impossibly full of his girlfriend’s clothes but now it felt more spacious with only his things. He hung up the gowns and gently led you by the shoulders to stand in front of a full length mirror before turning on the lights so you had an even better view of how much you hated yourself in this dress. He stepped aside.

“There’s the person you need to apologize to.” He said once you were alone with your reflection, and you looked to him slowly, feeling caught red handed.

“I…” You looked back to your reflection and sighed.

“Have you ever been to the ballet?” Austin asked as he stepped closer and you nodded slowly, puzzled. “And how would you describe a ballerina?”

“Elegant, graceful, beautiful.” You replied easily, without hesitation.

“Have you seen one up close? Their bodies are just as muscular as yours…just because you use yours differently doesn’t negate the fact that you are elegant, graceful, and beautiful yourself.”

The breath shuddered out of your lungs as your eyes flashed to his in the mirror, wide with shock and disbelief.

“Not to mention brave, fearless, intelligent, funny, and a little unpredictable which I thoroughly enjoy. So don’t you dare make fun of your body because this dress looks bad on it…the dress is the problem.” He continued earnestly, blue eyes stubbornly piercing into yours, holding you captive as he cut through all your insecurities as though they were mere paper fictions instead of concrete walls you had constructed around yourself.

You blinked rapidly, ripping your eyes from his gaze forcefully as you tried to hold back the rising tide of emotion, any words you might have spoken congealing in your throat. You felt him squeeze your shoulders reassuringly and sniffed a little, swiping at a few rogue tears.

“So, lets try another dress please…” He looked to Shyla warmly and she quickly introduced herself before offering you the next dress.

You took it quickly, crossing the hall to a larger bathroom to change into a black dress with a smocked waist and balloon sleeves. Taking a few extra moments and a few tissues, you composed yourself before returning to the dressing room where Austin had found a stool for you to step onto, as though you were in a private dress shop. He turned out to be the pickiest of the three of you, rejecting this dress for seeming too casual, and the next with its asymmetrical straps in camel for being too plain.

The fourth dress, a navy chiffon with a plunge neckline with sheer sleeves and full skirt, had you returning to the room with a small smile on your face and a little more confidence. Both Austin and Shyla could see it. Could see that the colour, while neutral, was still stunning, and that confidence looked good on you. You tested the slit, kicking out your leg and doing your utmost to deny the fact that you saw Austin’s adam’s apple bob violently at the sudden appearance of your flesh. Because that did not happen. No.

“I only hesitate with the neckline and…well slippage…I know there’s netting but…”

“Oh!” Shyla’s face lit up. “We have body tape for that!” She pulled a roll from her bag and twirled it between her fingers. “It’s got double-sided adhesive that helps fabric stay exactly where you want it.” She nodded.

“This is definitely the front runner for me…” Austin murmured from beside you and you took another look in the mirror before nodding in agreement.

“Me, too.”

It remained that way, too, despite the other four dresses that Shyla had brought with her. None fit you quite as well as the navy one, nor made you feel the same way either – sleeved and sleeveless alike.

“That settles it then.” You nodded with a sigh of relief, happy to finally have gotten that decision out of the way.

Austin insisted on storing it in the dressing room for you to keep it safe, and helped you and Shyla load the other dresses and garment rack back into her vehicle before she headed out. Standing on the driveway together as the sun began to sink lower in the sky, you turned towards him softly and smiled.

“Thank you, Austin.” You said softly, pressing your lips together as you felt another overwhelming wave of emotion.

“Couldn’t have you saying that garbage about yourself under my roof now, Betty.” He smiled fondly, slinging his arm around your shoulders, leading you inside. “Homemade pizza for dinner?”

You followed him in eagerly, tempted by the sensation that this was a normal night in your normal life…because it felt so right.

The bone-aching fatigue you woke up with that Saturday should have been more of a warning sign. Should have registered in your fatigued brain that something was off, but you simply brushed it off as awards season burn-out and had a little extra caffeine that day. When Austin came down the stairs in his tuxedo-striped pants and long coat to attend the screening that evening, your heart raced fiercely, and you were briefly concerned you had overdone it. This man, the man you were meant to protect, just might be the death of you himself.

And while to the public he appeared himself, and the video they found of him from a newscast as a small boy was adorable, you noticed. Noticed the way that his eyes seemed a little greyer than normal, the way he needed to clear his throat more often, the effort needed to conjure that breathtaking smile, the way his heels dragged a little on the way to the car once the final screening was complete. It should have been cause for celebration, but you were all eager to go home and get to bed.

Everything clicked into place when you awoke the next morning with the sensation that someone had spent the nighttime hours sandblasting your eyes, throat, and sinuses. Your joints, your skin, even the roots of your hair hurt, and despite the heap of blankets on your body you felt the urge to shiver. You forced yourself out of bed, rifling through your bag to find a rapid test kit and performed a throat and nose swab. You managed to limit your sneezes to only eight, a small victory, before leaving the test to marinate, setting a timer as you slid back into the refuge of bed.

The chime of the timer startled you awake, making it obvious you had drifted off, and you stood to look at the test strip, sighing heavily at the clear positive. You took a photo and sent it to Scott before texting Austin.

– Mr. Butler, you should do a rapid test, I am symptomatic and tested positive. I’m so sorry. –

Frowning deeply, you found some cold and flu meds in your kit and took them, sitting back on the bed, blinking as there was a knock at your door.

“Me too, Betty. Come out here I’m making tea…” Came a very stuffy voice through the door.

You pulled on a hoodie and shuffled out, pausing to bend down and scritch Biscuit warmly in greeting, before meeting Austin in the kitchen.

“Don’t apologize for this, either…” He paused to cough into his elbow. “Brendan and Colin both had it a few weeks ago…it’s just our turn I suppose.”

“Did you take something?” You asked, finding a couple of mugs as he got the water boiling, smiling a little as he nodded. “Good.”

“Flavour?” He opened the tea drawer, and you chose your preferred tea, and he did the same.

“Are you hungry at all? Eggs? Soup? Toast?” Even though you were also sick, you still felt a need to take care of him.

“Let’s make eggs and toast because we need to eat…” He nodded and the pair of you shuffled around each other in a silent dance, making food for fuel instead of pleasure, settling onto the couch with blankets and tea.

Biscuit happily nuzzled in between the pair of you as you took turns picking movies and TV shows, easting and drinking as your bodies demanded. You were relieved when Ari tested negative, glad no one else was suffering.

“Honestly, it’s been so non-stop I’m not at all surprised this happened…” He sighed softly and you nodded.

“I had no idea what an insane pace this sort of thing involves…you should get awards just for the trouble of going through it…” You shook your head, grinning as he chuckled, frowning as it devolved into coughing.

As the sun sank lower, you felt his head fall onto your shoulder, heavy with the involuntary nap that overtook him. You smiled fondly and made sure he was tucked in, leaning back against the couch more firmly to brace the pair of you knowing that the soft sighs of his sleeping breath would surely pull you under in short order. You were not expecting, however, to wake enveloped in his arms, tucked under his chin with your bodies stretched out on the couch. You were both on your sides, covered by blankets, with Biscuit curled up at your feet. Austin must have woken up at some point and adjusted the pair of you to be more comfortable.

Because comfortable this was. Heavenly even. You felt so utterly pathetic and unwell and his embrace so warm and soothing, his hands splayed across your back, that you made the deliberate decision to nuzzle back into his chest as though you had never awakened. When you next opened your eyes, he was outside with Biscuit and you crept to your bed, taking the coward’s way out and pretending you never even knew it happened.

The two of you were equally ill and useless the next day, ordering in Thai soup in an attempt to be able to taste what you were eating. By the third day, you started to feel a little better, and the fourth even more so. Day five, the last day of Academy enforced quarantine, you both managed to shake off the last vestiges of infection and plan out the last sprint to the Awards ceremony on Sunday.

“And then I understand that you wanted to travel somewhere following that. Have you made a decision about where?” You tilted your head curiously, sitting on the patio with him and Biscuit, enjoying the sunshine and feeling of a healthy body – something seldom enjoyed unless one had just recovered from something.

“Somewhere warm – tropical even. Far from the usual spots…Honestly, I think I’ll book it on Monday or Tuesday, see where the wind takes me. Everything’s been so planned that I just want to be spontaneous.” He leaned back on his lounge chair and you nodded warmly, hardly blaming him for wanting some agency back in his life. “Besides, you’ll be there, so it’ll be perfect.” He grinned teasingly and you laughed shaking your head, but unable to resist the urge to smooth a bit of your hair tousled by the gentle breeze that day.

The pre-Oscar events seemed just like the dozens of other cocktail parties you’d attended over the past two months, with mostly the same attendees, all desperate to fawn over Austin especially after his illness-mandated absence. Despite being technically recovered, you were still tired when you returned home early Sunday morning and more than a little touched when Marwan offered to do your laundry for the week when he found you loading the washing machine.

You were surprised by the number of stylists who arrived at noon to help Austin prepare for the Academy Awards, only to be informed that half of them were there for you. You narrowed you eyes as he watched them haul you into the spare room, his own gaze filled with glee at having fooled you. After nearly two hours of attention focused solely on you, something that you found utterly overwhelming and perhaps a little embarrassing, you went down to your room to change, moving to grab your undergarments and thigh holster, smiling at the stack of neatly folded laundry on your bed.

Only to blink as the holster and garter lay there right on top. You swore under your breath. In your sleepy haze, you must have put it into the washing machine the night before. Knowing it was handwash only, you inspected it carefully, almost chewing your lip but mercifully remembering it was covered in lipstick. To your eyes, it seemed to be in normal condition, and they slid into place without issue. Sliding your pocket pistol into the holster, you carefully pulled on your dress before finishing the look with comfortable heels and stepped out to meet Austin, waiting in his tuxedo.

“My, my, my…you clean up very nicely.” He smiled warmly, using your real name with an affectionate tone that threatened to turn your knees to jelly.

“Thank you. I suppose you’ll be happy not to put on another tuxedo for a while?” You smiled shyly, your lips morphing into a broad grin as he laughed richly with an enthusiastic nod.

“Truer words…shall we?” He offered his arm, and you took it carefully, corralling the volume of your skirt with your other hand so the pair of you could make it through the doorway.

Out of habit, you headed for the front seat, but Austin grasped your wrist.

“Ah, ah, ah…pretty ladies get to ride in the back.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes.

Across the vehicle, Ari wolf-whistled teasingly.

“Both of you are terrible…” You muttered but complied, gathering your skirts and sliding into the back with Austin.

He grinned at you warmly once he settled into his seat and Ari had pulled out, but you noticed his leg bouncing a little with pent up energy.

“I thought your agent was joining you this evening?” You asked, trying to distract him.

“Hmm? James? Oh yeah, he’s meeting us there, he’ll be with Kate when we’re dropped off…” His fingers reached out, toying a little with the fluffy chiffon of your skirt. “You really did pick the right dress, you know…”

You found yourself smiling shyly, the back of the SUV feeling instantaneously all too intimate.

“Thank you again for your help with that…” You repeated softly and he nodded firmly.

He lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching the scenery pass by the window until it felt like you were suddenly pulling up to the curb just beside the entrance to the red carpet. Austin slid out and jogged around, insisting on helping you out. You were about to step out when you felt something loosen beneath your skirt and quickly reached up the slit in the fabric to find the garter strap had come unclasped.

“Sorry Austin, just a moment.” You muttered, mortified, and he quickly looked aside, throat bobbing with a visible swallow, but continued to shield you with his body as you snapped it back into place.

“Thank you very much, sorry about that.” You said warmly and he took your hand, helping you from the car with a bright smile.

Kate and James were waiting as Austin predicted, Kate exclaiming over your dress and pulling you close, overcome by the celebratory atmosphere of the evening.

You assumed the usual bag and took their personal effects for safe keeping during the red carpet walk. There were a tremendous number of press and fans this time, and it was harder to map your theoretical path towards Austin through the sea of people, but you did your best to remain focused. Whether your face was becoming familiar, or because you were dressed in a way that did not insist upon people ignoring you, you also found a lot of people, talent and non-talent both, greeting and complimenting your look. You missed the particularly heated smolder that the photographers were capturing from Austin as a result.

Nearly three quarters of the way through the gauntlet, you felt the garter strap give again. Felt gravity begin to pull down on the firearm and the thigh holster in turn, with each step you took. You shifted the bag over to that arm, hoping to cover as much of your thigh as possible lest people catch a glimpse of what you were trying to conceal. You clenched your thighs together, trying to take mincing steps, hoping the friction would hold it in the place. The doors to the building were in sight now, you just needed a washroom to dart into and resecure the damned thing.

At last, you were inside the lobby to the theatre and Austin collected his phone and things. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“I’m just going to find the washroom, will you be ok?”

He looked at you puzzled, as this was highly unusual for you, but nodded quickly.

“Of course, Betty, I’ll be right here.” He nodded and squeezed your shoulder, watching you shuffle your way into the single-stalled washroom nearby.

You set the bag on the counter and set your heel on the edge of it, tossing back the skirt and hiked the holster back up into place. Lining up the garter strap and clip, you managed to secure it, only to have it pop back open immediately. There was a knock at the door, and you glanced at it, swallowing.

“Just a moment!” You tried not to sound as frustrated as you felt.

“Betty, it’s me.” Austin’s worried tone came through the door.

“I’ll be right out!” You were just about the close the clasp again when the cursed thing disintegrated in your fingers. “Fuck!” You hissed and he knocked more insistently.

“Betty let me in.” He said firmly.

“No! No, I’ll be fine.” You protested stubbornly, even though you had no idea how you were going to solve this one.

“Betty you’re going to open the door or I’m going to break it down and how do you think that will look.” He practically threatened and you huffed wildly at the entire situation, stomping over to unlock the door.

He slipped in quickly, locking it behind him with a look of concern etched on his features.

“Are you ok? You never leave me in public and I’m worried about you…” His eyes quickly scanned your face and he frowned.

“It’s not…” You bit your lip and sighed heavily at the taste of lipstick. “it’s the damned holster, the garter clip has failed, and it won’t stay up without it and everyone is going to see my gun or me yanking at something under my skirt or both if I don’t fix this.” You let out in a rush.

“Ok…ok breathe…” He smiled softly. “I’m glad you’re not sick or hurt. Are you wearing underwear?” Austin asked and your jaw dropped incredulously.

“Yes of course I am!” You replied defensively. “But I don’t see why…”

“Good.” He cut you off. “Can I take a look?” He asked as he sank to his knees before you and your vision quite honestly swam for a moment. You realized more than few seconds had passed and you had yet to reply, so you quickly began to gather your skirt up into your hands.

“Uh huh.” You managed to vocalize, turning your gaze skyward as looking at him in that position made you feel faint.

There was utter silence in the small bathroom, both of you holding your breath, neither of you moving, until suddenly you felt the brush of his fingertips against your thigh as he collected the garter strap between his thumb and forefinger to closely inspect the clasp, making you jump violently.

“Easy there, sorry…” He soothed you, his free hand cupping the back of your thigh, and it was honestly up for debate whether or not that was at all helpful. “Ok, in the bag, I got Kate to pack the nipple…uh...the…uh…the body tape…”

You did not miss the way he stuttered after saying word ‘nipple’ while face to face with the apex of your thighs and it brought you a modicum of smug satisfaction to know that he, too, was struggling in this moment. You put as much fabric as you could into one arm and reached into the bag, blindly groping until you found the roll of tape and passed it to him. There was an absence of touch then, and you clenched your eyes shut as you listened to him open the package before jumping again as his fingers brushed against your tender flesh once more. You felt him put the clasp in place before he cleared his throat.

“I need you to hold that closed for me.” He rasped, the damned fiend.

You reached a hand down to pinch it closed, feeling him wind tape around the strap from below the clasp, over the clasp, and a good deal above the clasp for good measure.

“Does that feel good?” He asked and cleared his throat. “Like it’ll hold?” He clarified.

“Y…yes. I think that’s great thanks…” You nodded and he stood smoothly.

Stepping back, you let your skirts fall before bouncing on your heels a little, nodding quickly.

“Very secure, thank you so much.” You added, speaking to the general vicinity of his chest as his eyes were too overwhelming in normal circumstances, let alone whatever these were.

The grey smudges on the knees of his otherwise perfect black trousers caught your eyes and you hissed.

“Wait!”

You quickly grabbed some paper towel and dampened it under the tap, grasping his hip to steady yourself as you swiped the dust and dirt from his knees, nodding once you were satisfied you had erased the evidence of him kneeling in a public washroom. You straightened without thinking, suddenly face-to-face with his chin, his head automatically tilting down, eyes boring into yours.

Time slowed, and existence narrowed to the feel and taste of his breath as tiny puffs of it brushed against your upturned lips just inches from his. Your fingers dug further into his hip, like a ship at anchor in violent seas, and he shifted a fraction closer.

A sharp knock at the door sent you reeling backwards, kick-starting your sluggish heart so it now rabbited at your throat.

“Austin?” You heard Kate’s voice through the door and looked to him with wide eyes. He gave you an equally wide-eyed look in return, mouth opening and closing with things he wanted to say. “Are you in there?”

“On my way, Kate!” He choked out instead and you nodded, cramming yourself into the corner and motioning for him to step out.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you standing alone with the bathroom, faced with the nigh impossible task of pulling yourself back together.

Read Part Seven

If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist

Tag List: @littlewhiterose, @austinsvlrslut, @emrysdreams, @slowsweetlove, @xstrengthxinxtragedyx, @shelbygeek, @kingdomforapony, @artlover8992, @eliseinmemphis, @haydensith, @breadsquash, @chimchimjiminie16, @qxiva, @lilsiz

#austin butler x reader #austin butler #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fem!reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #blurredcolour

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jaidens · 1 year ago

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Ok I have this idea rotting in my brain for awhile and I wanna see your depiction of it.

This is a criminal minds request. I’m thinking a Aaron Hotchner x reader fic, but the reader is a corrupt FBI agent in the bureau (doesn’t have to be in the BAU specifically but can be). I’m thinking something similar like what happened to Elle in season 2. The reader has trauma from the past or maybe a case years ago that caused something to flip. When not working, she’s like a vigilante that takes justice into her own hands and murdering criminals. She gets away with this way longer than Elle does. Maybe for months? Years? I don’t mind which. All the while, her coworkers and colleagues at the BAU don’t realize a thing. Even having a little thing going on with Hotch. But something changes. It can be angst, dark romance, etc. I want to see your depiction of it.

Someone Told His White Collar Crimes To The FBI And I Don't Dress For Villains Or For Innocents I'm On My Vigilante Shit Again

pairing [s] : aaron hotchner x reader

warning [s] : canon events (killing, murder, mentions of guns, etc.) | this'll be a little short, I'm just jumping off your idea I guess

a/n [s] : requests are open.

It started four years ago. The case was particularly traumatizing, it included sexual assault and many, many people. It ended up throwing you crazy, researching and figuring out everything you could about the unsub. You're now juggling a double life between vigilantism by night and an FBI agent by day, putting people away for their crimes, knowing you had your own.

Among this, Aaron Hotchner and you had a small fling that had almost gotten out. It was the lingering kisses or longing stares that were kept silent, away from everyone. You had secrets and that wasn't a lie, but they were way worse than a couple of kisses and pulling on ties behind closed doors.

Perfectly, you had kept your life under wraps and your fellow teammates were in the complete dark about your night activities. Surprisingly, they barely asked about the bruises or cuts that littered against your skin after a bad night. Then, you found out, the straw that broke the camels back about everything else.

He was back to his old activities, even after ten years in jail, he was back. The case was almost identical to what had happened last time it broke you. It wasn't him still, it was a dirty copycat looking for fame. You had found him after researching constantly, barely sleeping or eating. It worried Aaron beyond belief when you would come into the office with huge bags under your eyes and stomach grumbling as you take down four cups of coffee.

Even if you had worked in the legal field, you understood the mistakes people made, which let horrible people slip through the cracks of the system. It gave you adrenaline at the thought of giving the families closure knowing that the person who ruined their life was dead. It made you happy and it had been the reason you continued to do what you did.

The person you hunted had begun taunting the FBI with letters and messages. You had gone out for them yourself whenever your team had said it was probably someone looking for fame and trying to dig into the team's skin. You found him in his house, looking through pictures of women he had abducted and killed.

You were torn between two lives, and eventually, they would mix.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner criminal minds

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samasmith23 · 2 years ago

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Quentin Quire: The Evolution from Morrison to Aaron

Over the past few years I’ve noticed that there’s a fairly sizable group of comic book fans who have taken issue with how the character Quentin Quire has been portrayed since his debut in New X-Men by Grant Morrison. Despite there being a lot of fans like myself who personally enjoyed Quire’s redemptive rehabilitation arc during Jason Aaron’s Wolverine & the X-Men arc into a quirky faux-rebel punk, there are quite a few readers who argue that redeeming Quire is inappropriate since Morrison originally framed them as being akin to a fascistic school-shooter during the Riot at Xaviers arc. I’ve discussed at length before about how I personally didn’t have an issue with future writers like Aaron redeeming Quire, especially since I personally really enjoyed how said-arc was handled in WATXM despite the more comedic shift in tone in regards to Quentin’s personality. However, one thing I recently realized was that despite fan-complaints that Aaron completely misunderstood Quire’s character or completely altered his personality, there are actually some subtle ways in which Aaron’s version of Quire is not only reflective of Morrison’s original characterization of him, but gradually abandons those initial negative traits in order to fulfill a positive-growth character arc.

So I was recently reading through a series of articles by ComicWatch editor Travis Hedge Coke titled “Examining New X-Men,” and in them Coke described Quire in those original Morrison stories as being portrayed as a misogynistic incel, stating that “Quire’s heterosexual jealousy throws him immediately into confrontation with men or boys he deems as challenges for the top position in the eyes of girls and women, he perceives girls and women as prizes as a reward for obtaining the top position… [and he] has incredible telepathic gifts including being subtly and intensely persuasive.”

And I will freely admit that... yeah... this kind misogynistic alpha-male behavior is on full display via Quire not only humiliating his fellow student Slick by essentially outing him telepathically through undoing an illusion of his idealized self due to low self-esteem about his actual appearance (consequently resulting in his girlfriend Tattoo rejecting him), but one of the reasons he staged the entire riot at Xavier’s was in a creepy attempt to impress one of the five Stepford Cuckoos.

Additionally, the article also suggested that Quire was also guilty of outright sexual assault since Slick’s aforementioned ex-girlfriend Tattoo immediately joins Quire’s “Omega Gang” and is madly in love with him, and following the riot one of Quire’s gang members desperately tries to convince Wolverine that they were all being mind-controlled by Quire. While Morrison leaves the story vague about whether or not this was actually true or just another lie from one of Quire’s followers to avoid accountability for their crimes, Xavier did state earlier in the arc that Quire’s telepathic abilities were “deep and subtle enough to influence the minds around him” when discussing his development of a cult-following in the form of the Omega Gang. Coke even went as far as to describe Morrison’s Quire as being akin to a younger, less rapey version of Wolverine’s arch-nemesis Sabretooth. It's also worth noting that there also exists subtle racialized undertones (ontop of gendered ones...) in the original Riot at Xavier's arc considering the white and fascistic Quire's overt manipulations of two Black characters in the form of Slick & Tattoo...

Furthermore, in a separate article for GraphicPolicy by Dani Kinney, despite her more charitable interpretation of Morrison’s Quire as someone who was driven to extremes due to frustration with Xavier’s flawed liberal-centrist approach in response to increasing human violence against other mutants, Kinney still criticizes Quire of being racially biased due to his victimization and exploitation of Slick and Tattoo respectively (both of which Morrison frames as bad things in the comic).

Interestingly, later when Quentin Quire began to undergo a rehabilitation arc in Jason Aaron's run on Wolverine & the X-Men (since Logan recognized Quire’s potential as a gifted student and telepath and didn’t want him to fall down the dark path of a mutant terrorist)...

...whether or Jason Aaron intended to or not he ended up showcasing Quire growing beyond the subtle characteristics of racism and misogyny that Morrison originally depicted during the character’s overtly villainous phase. For instance, throughout WATXM Quire begins to form a legitimate friendship and even romantic relationship with his fellow student Idie Okonkwo. Despite this, their first interaction showcases Quentin falling back on his old negative habits, making awkward pick-up lines and advances at Idie (which she hilariously sarcastically rejects in a nonchalant manner, and even Broo points out the inappropriateness of).

As the series progresses however, Quire begins to recognize Idie not as some prize but as a human being with her own autonomy. This is gradual shift first manifests during a school dance in the AVX tie-ins, where Quire is completely dumbfounded to see Idie uncharacteristically wanting to dance with him, even noting that she previously rejected his advances. This sudden shift in behavior for Idie was due to her worsening struggles with internalized-mutantphobia and religious trauma due to having been forced to kill someone by Cyclops in X-Men: Schism, feelings which were recently exacerbated by the Hellfire Brat’s gaslighting of her to give into what she mistakens to be her true “sinful, monstrous nature” via an android televangelist-style priest.

Quire's concerns Idie’s well-being and mental health only increase following an incident during the Frankenstein Murder Circus arc Idie nearly killing a sorceress a fit of traumatic rage due to she herself once nearly being burned at the stake by her Nigerian Catholic village when she first manifested her mutant powers.

This eventually culminates climatic Hellfire Academy arc wherein Quentin Quire actually infiltrates the Hellfire Brat’s supervillain-training school when he discovered Idie enrolled (both due to her worsening religious trauma and gaslighting, as well as wanting to investigate who shot her friend Broo and reduced him to a feral state), and seeks to rescue her from a that toxic environment. Unfortunately, Quire's rescue attempt backfires and he himself ends up getting captured and thrown into the Hellfire Academy's "detention room."

While Quire at this point hadn’t fully overcome his previous negative characteristics (he’s partially motivated by basic jealousy towards Broo and at one point thinks to himself that he might be forced to “telepathically coax” Idie into fleeing the Hellfire Academy), he simultaneously wants to prevent her from killing Broo’s shooter, as he wants to prevent her from going down a similar dark path that he previously did.

Furthermore, I don’t know if this was intentional or not but Aaron actually kinda sort of portrays Kade Kilgore, the Black King of the Hellfire Brats, as somewhat of a dark foil to Quentin Quire. Kilgore as he’s presented in WATXM is essentially like a younger but wealthier version of the kind of jerk Quire used to be during the Morrison New X-Men run. This is demonstrated not only through Kade expressing disappointment at Quire’s failure to live up to the standards of the supervillain academy due to Quentin’s past track record, but Kade is someone who actively manipulates and gaslights Idie by further feeding into her internalized mutantphobia and guilt over having killed before, all with the intent of influencing her into becoming both a murderous supervillain as well as his Black Queen of the Hellfire Club whom he would “have by his side at all times.”

And these are inappropriate behaviors which Kilgore undoubtedly picked up from his abusive corrupt billionaire father despite his own protestations to the contrary (in X-Men: Schism, Kade’s murder of his father was assisted by a secretary who wanted revenge for Kilgore Sr. sexually harassing her). Plus the Hellfire Club in general has a long history of being manipulative and possessive towards women, like with Jean Grey during the classic Dark Phoenix Saga.

So despite Kade claiming otherwise, the Hellfire Club’s misogynistic and manipulative behavior definitely seems to be generational.

In a sense, Kade Kilgore’s creepy & misogynistic manipulation of Idie is somewhat reflective of how Quire previously mistreated characters like Tattoo & Sophie Cuckoo during Morrison’s run. It also demonstrates that while Aaron mostly portrayed the Hellfire Brats as comedic joke-villains due to them being sociopathic spoiled rich 12-year-olds who murdered their parents and seized control over their corporate assets, he still fleshed out members like Kade Kilgore as being negatively influenced by the sexist & manipulative behaviors of his abusive father.

Fortunately however, Idie rejects both Kilgore’s gross manipulations and her own internalized-mutantphobia. While Idie initally seems to accept Kilgore’s offer of becoming his Black Queen, she did this solely just to trick Kilgore into confessing that he was the one who shot her friend Broo. And although Idie nearly went through with her plan to murder the little creep in retaliation, she he ultimately refuses to give into hatred and bloodshed (brought about by both her past religious trauma and the inhumane teachings of the literal supervillain academy) when she realizes that she is still capable of feeling love and and experiencing happiness after witnessing Toad of all people (he was the janitor at both the Jean Grey School & Hellfire Academy) refusing to kill a mentally unstable & murderous Husk (Paige was experiencing extreme mood swings due to a latent secondary mutation tying her emotions to her skin-shedding/transformation powers) because of the love they had developed for each other in previous issues of the series. Sparring Kilgore’s life, Idie then teams-up with Quire to rebel against and destroy the oppressive Hellfire Academy (a conclusion to WATXM’s running gag of Quire constantly fantasizing about instigating another riot and destroying the Jean Grey School).

And while some fans have argued that Quire & Idie becoming a couple creeped them out due to Idie being younger than him, I don’t have too much of a problem with it since was only a 2-year age gap between the two in Aaron’s run (Idie & Quire were 14 & 16 respectively; this was confirmed by the Jason Latour’s follow-up run on WATXM, which featured Quire having his 17th birthday), and seeing Quentin & Idie develop legitimate feelings for each other as they both underwent positive-change arcs actually felt kind of sweet IMO. Plus, Idie was the one who ultimately had to rescue Quire instead of the other way around due to his own rescue attempt FAILING, and the two co-lead the revolt against the Hellfire Brats.

Essentially, Aaron’s version of Quentin Quire felt like a more mature version of Morrison’s despite his new more comedic faux-rebel personality. Quentin by the end of WATXM was no longer a manipulative incel, but had instead evolved into someone who actually learned to respect the autonomy and personhood of not just women, but women of color in particular. This was something that completely flew over my head when I initially read WATXM, but after reading Travis Hedge Coke’s New X-Men articles I began to notice how vastly different Quire’s attitude and treatment towards Tattoo & Idie were, especially since both characters are Black girls. These are some deeper observations about Quentin Quire’s character development & positive change arc that I truly appreciate, since they make me realize that Aaron seemed to understand Quentin’s character a lot more than a lot of fans give him credit for. Sadly though, all this does seem to be lost on a lot of fans due to not just having prior memories Morrison’s more villainous portrayal of Quire, but also due to series which came after Aaron’s WATXM such as Christina Strain’s run on Generation X apparently having Quentin Quire regress into being rude and condescending towards Idie… sigh, oh well that’s the downside of having different writers with different interpretations I guess…

Overall, I'm not against redeeming Quentin Quire like a lot of other fans are since Wolverine in Jason Aaron's run was following in the footsteps of Charles Xavier's philosophy. Logan wanted to give Quire a second-chance and try and mold him into something better than a potential future mutant-terrorist, which he ultimately ended up succeeding in. And while Quentin still boasts about wanting to be the bad kid who destroys the Jean Grey School, most of it is now him being a faux-pretentious brat as he never exploited any opportunity to do so and instead developed empathy with his fellow students, and over the course of WATXM Quire developed leadership skills and even went out of his way to rescue the X-Men at several points in Aaron's series. His faux-rebel attitude is played more for laughs now.

Plus, the X-Men in general have a long history of trying to redeeming or rehabilitating supervillains like Magneto, Mystique, Juggernaut, and even Apocalypse and Mister Sinister.

So why is Quentin Quire off limits for a redemption arc then? Heck, I'd personally argue that Mister Sinister being allowed a seat on Krakoa's Quite Council is far more egregious considering that in past continuity Sinister was literally a Nazi scientist who was present at the Auschwitz death camp.

That seems far worse to me than Wolverine trying to redeem a delinquent teenager who once staged a half-assed riot at Xaviers...

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wonderinglostsoul · 2 years ago

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Chapter 3: Criminal Minds fanfic

Continuation of my Criminal minds fanfic. I really suck at titles. Anyway, you can read it in wattpad.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You are an FBI agent with a past and you were about to enter the BAU.

Trigger warning: BAU stuff like killing, violence, assault, mention of rape and suicide. I tried not to get too graphic with the description

Masterlist

JJ and Morgan went to the crime scene while Spence and Dave go to the medical examiner. You and Hotch went to the police station. You set up the evidence on the board while Hotch was reading the initial ME report. All of the victims was tortured first before they were killed.

“The unsub is organized and sadistic.” Hotch said. Still reading the medical report.

“Yes, I wonder why does he needs to torture them? Is that part of the sexual gratification?” You asked him.

“Yes, when he torture the victim he was able to satisfy himself as well.” Hotch answered.

“And all of the victims was last seen on a bar on a friday. And would disposed the body at the middle of the week.” You told him. You were reading the medical report too when Hotch asked you.

“What else can you say about the MO and the unsub based on the ME report.” Hotch asked you. He was like a teacher giving a graded recitation.

“Hmmm, based on the ME report there are no defensive wounds so the victims was tied during the torture and they cannot fight the unsub.” You answered.

“Good, what else?” Hotch was pressing.

“I also dont see any blitz attack on them or anything that can subdue the victim. So the victims might have come with the unsub willingly.”

“Very good, [Y/L]. We need to check the cctv of the bar to see if there are any clue on who is the unsub. Please call, Garcia.” Hotch told you. You call Garcia to ask for the security footage. While Hotch called the rest of the team to visit the bar where the victims was last seen.

“Come on, we will visit the bar our last victim went.” Hotch told you. You followed him into the SUV.

You were quiet on the way. Then Hotch asked you about your gun.

“So where do you hide your gun?” He asked, you were puzzled what he was talking about but realize he meant your snipping gun.

“Ahh, it was at the back of the SUV.” You answered. Pointing at the pack with your thumb.

“When did you learn to snipe.” He asked you again.

“I actually cannot remember anymore. I first hold a gun when I was a kid.” You told him.

“That young, your dad’s a cop?” He asked.

“No, he was in interpol” You answered. You glanced at him and see that he was surprised.

“He died,” You continued. “He and my mom, they died in a crash.”

“ I am sorry.” He said.

“Its fine,” You said. You look away. You are not yet keen to open up your sad past to anyone much more with you boss. Good thing you are already at your destination.

You and Hotch entered the bar. It was almost empty. The bartender was cleaning up the glass as you approach. You introduced yourself and show him your badge.

“What can I do for the FBI?” He asked.

“Do you recognize this woman?” You show him the picture of the latest victim.

“Ahh yes, Anne Boyle. She is a regular here. Always one with the boys. She was a little boyish but you know she was so beautiful.” The bartender answered. She looks at you for a moment and then remarked “Just like you. I bet you look beautiful in a dress and make up.”

You and Hotch glanced at each other. Now you both realize at to what extent you fit the victimology.

“When was the last time you saw her.” you continue asking.

“Last friday night. She was here alone, you know capping a busy week with a couple of beers.” He answered.

“Do you remember if someone approach her that night?” Hotch asked this time.

“Yes, Andrew Smith.” The bartender said.

“What did they talked about?” I asked back.

“I actually did not hear but Anna seems to be smitten. They went out together.” The bartender said.

“One more thing,” You said “Is she wearing a red dress and read shoes?”

“Anna? NO! She is a tshirt and pants kind of girl. She hates dresses.” The Bartender said with a laugh.

“Thank you.” You said.

You and Hotch went back to the SUV. You were quiet again, thinking about the case. Hotch breaks the silence.

“Are you okay?” He asked you.

“Yeah, just thinking about this case.” You answered, still not feeling it.

“You dont have to worry.” Hotch said. “We will protect you.”

You finally look at him. He glanced at you and gave you a little smile. He looks like a different person whenever he smiles.

“Thank you!” You said, smiling back at him.

You arrived at the station and the rest of the team was there. Hotch gathered all the information that you’ve got on the bar and one name emerge, Andrew Smith.

The police invited Mr. Smith to the station, Morgan and Rossi was doing the interrogation. They were asking him about the night of the disappearances and his alibi but he was not cooperating. Then Hotch receives a call, another woman has disappeared. He called Morgan and Rossi to tell them the new development.

“There is another victim. Her family reported her missing this morning.” Hotch said.

“But it is not yet Friday, how are we sure that this is related to this?” Morgan asked.

“The police said that he was last seen at the bar with Andrew Smith.” Hotch answered.

“So all of this was related to this man.” Rossi added. He gets his cellphone and dialed Garcia’s number.

“I thought you all have forgotten me and just let me rot in this cave.” She said sadly.

“We are sorry, Garcia.” Rossi comforted her. “But can you find anything with Andrew Smith?”

“Andrew Smith” Garcia said. You can hear the clicking of the keyboard in the background. “He is a local there. His family owns a farm house in the rural area.

He is an athlete when he was in highschool but oh…” Garcia trailed.

“What is it baby girl?” Morgan asked.

“He was expelled because of a raped allegation on one of his classmate. Christine Stan.” Garcia answered. “Christine killed herself leaving only a suicide note detailing the assault”

“Does Christine looked like our victims.”Rossi asked.

“Yes, they have a resemblance. I sent the details on your tablet.” Garcia said.

“Thanks, Penelope.” Rossi ended the call. The picture arrives at your tablet. Upon seeing her, you noticed the resemblance immediately. The hair color, facial feature, body type. You even have the same tshirt she was wearing at the picture at home. with this, you have an idea on how to force the suspect to talk.

“I want to go in.” You said. The 3 men look at you. They were contemplating. “I resemble her, might as well used that to our advantage.”

“I’ll come in with you” Hotch offered.

“No, if there is another man there, he will be intimidated and will not talk.” You said, You can see that he is worried, in fact even Morgan and Rossi is worried.

“I’ll ask JJ to come with you.” Hotch said going out of the room. You shake your head in frustration. Why cant he trust you with anything. You are not a weak little girl. You are an FBI agent. But you cannot do anything, he is still the boss. So you waited for JJ and when she arrives both of you went inside the interrogation room. As you expected, the suspect’s demeanor changed the moment he saw you. He started crying and provided all the information that you needed. You asked him where he bring the victims.

“They did not come with me.” He said.

“So what happened when you got them outside?” You asked puzzled.

“We just talked for a little while, make out thats it and the I left them. They were so angry after that but I cannot make myself to bring them somewhere and have sex so I just took off.” He said sheepishly. You know he was telling the truth. His demeanor does not match the unsub because in your mind the unsub would not break even with the site of someone like you. You and JJ exited the room to talked to everyone.

“I dont think he is the unsub.” JJ said.

“I agree.” You seconded. “His physical attributes might much our unsub but his mental state? He cannot do any of that. He started crying just by seeing me.” You added.

“I think we can deliver the profile.” Hotch said. “[Y/N], I think you can lead this one.”

Infront of the the Las Vegas PD you deliver your first profile.

“Our unsub is a white male in there 30s. Has some kind of connection with a woman named Christine Stan and Andrew Smith. He follows Mr. Smith on his trip to the bar and pick up the girls that he left there. He is physically fit and cannot be easily intimidated. He is also good looking and charismatic because he can easily manipulates his victim to come with him without anything to subdue them. You have to start checking every person that has a relation with Christine Stan to crack this case. Thank you!” The police started to disperse and start investigating.

Aaron approach the head of the PD to get Christine’s case file while Morgan calls Garcia to check the people related to her. Reid was studying the map to find any connection while JJ and Rossi was talking to some officer. You thought that maybe Andrew can provide you with more information if you do a cognitive interview so you went back to the interrogation room alone. His eyes light up when he saw you.

“Andrew, I wanted to try something with you. I want you to close your eyes and remember that night you were with Jessica (Latest victim). what do you hear?” You asked.

“I hear the muffled sound of the bar outside. There are groups of people arriving. They were talking and laughing.” He said while his eyes were closed.

“Good! Thats good. While you were talking to Jessica do you notice anyone around around you, a car, or someone that closely monitoring you.”

“Yes, it was a sedan, alittle bit older. It arrived the same time as I did but the driver did not go out. When I left I got a glimpse of the driver door opening but I did not see what happens after that” He said. Then he slowly opened his eyes.

“Do you remember anything from the car. Make, model, plate number?” You continue asking.

“It was a black american made car. Las Vegas plate. I remember 843 but thats all.” He answered.

“Thank you very much!” You were about to stand up when Andrew get a hold of your hand and pulled you closer. The half part of your body slammed at the table. Suddenly the door opened and Hotch emerges at the door. You can see that he was furious. He pulled you away from Andrew and you stand away from the table. Reid was at the door as well waiting to assist if needed. Hotch looks furiously at Andrew. He glanced at you and ask if you were okay. You said yes even if you lower right ribs hurt after it slammed on the table. You all went out and asked Garcia to find someone who owns the car as described by Andrew.

“The owner is Micheal Tate. He was at the same high school with Andrew and Christine. Ohhh they were on the same class. I also got Christines suicide note and she mentioned Michael there. I sent the copy to your tablets. I also sent his house and work address.” Garcia said.

“Thanks Garcia” you said. You read the note. Christine was thanking Michael for always being her only friend and she was sorry to leave him.

“Morgan and Reid you go to his house. JJ, Rossi you come with me and check his work place.” Aaron said.

“What about me?” You asked.

“You stay here.” He said with conviction. You went closer with him and whispered trying not to undermine his authority infront of the team.

“Come on, Hotch. I am not a kid. I am more valuable out there than to stay here. Besides I am the one who got you all that detail. Have a little faith in me.” You said as low as possible but still with conviction. He looked at you in the eye and then nod.

“Fine, go with Morgan and Reid.” He said. You half smiled and went with your team.

On the way, you did not see any place where you can set up your sniper. So you just join Morgan and Reid in the house but he was not there. Reid called you in his room and saw old photos of Christine and the unsub. He made an altar for her.

You investigate inside the room when you noticed a shed outside the window. You saw movement so you tell Morgan and Reid about it. When they look at the window the unsub started running into the woods. You called back up and opened the window to follow the unsub. You figure it was faster then going around the house.

“REID! GO TO THE SHED AND CHECK IF THE VICTIM WAS THERE.” You shouted while running. You can still see the unsub but he has a huge head start with you.

“STOP OR I’LL SHOOT. “ You shouted at him 3 time. when he did not stop, you shot him aiming for his legs. But due to the recoil of the gun, your ribs ache again and you missed him.

“Damn it!” You exclaimed under your breathe. The unsub was able to hide through the trees and vegetation. You slowly approached, gun raised. You walk carefully scanning every tree and leaves. You saw a movement on your periphery then with a snap you turn and pointed the gun. The unsub froze in shock.

“Show me your hands and kneel on the ground.” You said. He looked at you and he seems to recognize you. So you slowly lowering your weapon so he could get a look at your face. Then all of a sudden he smiled and bolted again in a run. You tried to follow him but he was gone already. He knows the forest more than you do. You can hear Morgan near the place the unsub was gone so you went there. You were able to see Morgan but not the unsub.

You radio the rest of Vegas PD to search for Michael. You and Morgan went back to join Reid. He was with the victim. They were riding the ambulance. Morgan called Hotch and told him what happened. Hotch said it was fine and both of you should go back to the station and think of another approach to catch the unsub.

On the car Morgan asked if you were okay. It is somehow disheartening that all of them has to take care of you within this case. You feel so vulnerable.

“I am fine. I am sorry I let him slip.” You said somehow feeling guilty.

“That is not your fault. He knows the whole place more than we do. He might have a escape plan all along” Morgan tried to comfort you.

“You, Hotch and the rest of the team, you all have to babysit me throughout the case. You always ask if I was ok or if I need company. I just feel worthless” You said.

“Thats not true. We know the unsub because of you. Without your ideas we might not be able to identify who he is”

“Reid can, he will for sure,” You said jokingly.

“But you beat him to it.” Morgan teases. You smiled at him.

“Thank you!” You said to him.

You arrived at the station before the rest of the team. Hotch’s team drop by at the hospital first to check on the victim. You were inside the police station when you noticed that you left your phone in the car.

“Morgan! Can I borrow the key? I forgot my phone on the car.” You told him. He handed you the key but get the attention of one of the officer.

“Hey, man can you accompany Agent [Y/N] to the car?” The officer was hesitant because he was busy but still agreed. When you were at the entrance and Morgan was not looking, you told the officer that you can go alone and that the car was just there in the front. He asked you if it is ok and you said yes so he went back inside. You arrived at the car and open the passenger seat. You found your phone in the chair. It might have fell out of your pocket. When you closed the door someone struck you from behind. Before you lost your consciousness, you saw that your attacker was the unsub

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