#comforting jack

[jackcryptid]

Severus and his younger self. (Vid format is on tiktok)

[hanafubukki]

Thinking of funny and comforting menstrual cycle headcanons:

Rook Hunt who notices you are not feeling well. You sit at your desk and see a cute package addressed to you. Inside it: pain meds, snacks, hygiene products, and other necessities. A very helpful package but how did he know? …actually you don’t want to know.

Jack Howl who offers you help rather awkwardly. Telling you it was no big deal and don’t think too hard on it. Who would huff up if anyone tried to cause you any trouble. Silently offering you his food if you’re not feeling well enough to get your own.

Lilia Vanrouge pop up in front of you upside down. Offering you candy he had in his pocket. He noticed you weren’t feeling good. That can’t be! He tells you not to worry about dinner. He will make you his special soup and you will feel better in no time. You might want to lock your doors.

Grim wouldn’t cause as much trouble as he usually does. He’s even doing his homework without you pestering him to. Sometimes, after falling asleep, you would wake up with him on your lap. The warmth and pressure bringing you comfort.

[thewulf]

Bulletproof Bonds || Aaron Hotchner

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

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

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: Yelling, gunshot (non wounded)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ryllen]

x

[kiwriteswords]

Maybe some already together hotch and reader parenting Jack?

Heartstrings Attached [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: this was fun and really nothing like I have written before! I was re-watching The Nanny pilot where Maggie has her first kiss and Mr. Sheffield's reaction made me wonder how Hotch would react to Jack dating!

Tags/Warnings: established relationship, family vibes, mentions of Haley's death, Teenage Jack Hotchner, Jack's first kiss, Jack's first crush, Jack's first heartbreak, Sad Hotch Hours, Missing Haley Hotchner Hours, hurt/comfort, Jack preferring Reader over Hotch, angsty Jack, No mention of if Reader is BAU or not, future fic, fluffy fluff fluff

Summary: Navigating parenthood is hard enough, but add in teenage love and angst, and Hotch was in for it--grateful to have you at his side, he struggles when Jack prefers your comfort to his own.

In the Hotchner household, evenings typically unfolded with a quiet kind of routine, the kind that comes with the stability of an established relationship and shared space. But tonight, as Aaron Hotchner watched Jack, now a teenager taller than himself, pacing back and forth in your living room, he sensed a disruption to your usual peace.

Jack had always been an anxious kid--much of that hung on Aaron’s shoulders, from all that his job took from and brought into Jack’s life. 

"You seem... preoccupied," Aaron remarked, his voice calm as he set aside the case file he'd been reading. Jack stopped pacing and glanced at his father, then at you, who were curled up on the other end of the couch with a book in hand.

"It's nothing," Jack muttered, clearly wrestling with whether to share more. You looked over at Aaron, giving him a subtle nod, an unspoken signal between the two of you that said, 'Give him a minute.'

After a brief pause, Jack sighed and turned towards you, his expression torn between embarrassment and the trust he'd come to place in you over the years. "Actually, I... there's this girl at school."

You set your book down, your full attention on Jack. "Oh? What about her?" you asked gently.

Jack blushed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he mumbled, "I kinda like her. A lot. And I think she might like me too, but I don’t know what to do about it."

Aaron observed the exchange, feeling a twinge of something unfamiliar. Jealousy? No, it was more akin to inadequacy. Here was his son, coming to you with matters he was too embarrassed to discuss with his own father. But watching the ease with which Jack confided in you softened any hard feelings; if anything, it filled him with gratitude.

"What do you like about her?" you inquired, your voice laced with interest and devoid of any judgment.

"She's funny, and she likes a lot of the stuff I do. And she’s really smart," Jack explained, his eyes lighting up as he spoke.

"That sounds wonderful, Jack," you responded, smiling encouragingly. "Have you guys talked much?"

"Yeah, at lunch and stuff. I just... don't know if I should tell her how I feel, or even how to do that," Jack confessed, looking towards his father now.

Aaron cleared his throat, feeling suddenly on the spot. "Well, Jack, the truth is, being honest about your feelings is usually the best approach. It’s not easy, but it’s straightforward. Just... be yourself," Aaron advised, trying to recall how he’d navigated his own youthful crushes, which felt like a lifetime ago.

"You think I should just tell her?" Jack asked, his tone a mix of hope and nerves.

"I do," Aaron said, nodding. "But maybe you could start by asking her to hang out, just the two of you. See how it goes from there."

Jack considered this for a moment, then turned to you. "What do you think?"

"I agree with your dad," you said, your gaze soft yet earnest. "And whatever happens, we're here for you. It's okay to be nervous, and it's okay if things don't go exactly how you plan. What's important is that you're honest and respectful."

Jack nodded, taking in the advice from both of you. "Thanks," he said, a genuine smile breaking through his earlier anxious demeanor. "I think I’ll ask her to the movies this weekend."

"That sounds like a great idea," you encouraged, and Aaron couldn’t help but smile at the warm, supportive dynamic that had blossomed between you and Jack. It wasn’t the traditional picture of a family, perhaps, but it was yours, and it was filled with love and understanding.

Later that evening, as Jack headed upstairs, Aaron lingered behind with you, his expression thoughtful. "Thank you," he murmured, reaching for your hand. "For being here, for being you. For making things like this easier for him... and for me."

You squeezed his hand, leaning into him slightly. "We’re a team, Aaron. And I love being a part of this family."

He nodded, the weight of his earlier feelings of inadequacy lifting in the comfort of your presence. In this household, amidst the quiet routines and the occasional teenage turmoil, Aaron found not just solace but a deep, enduring partnership. And as he looked at you, he knew with certainty that together, there was nothing you couldn't handle.

Aaron Hotchner watched his son, Jack, meticulously adjust his collar for the third time in the mirror. The teenager's movements were stiff, each motion betraying a level of tension that Aaron knew all too well—it was a mirror to his own.

"You look great, Jack. She's going to think so, too," Aaron commented, attempting a reassuring tone as he leaned against the doorway of Jack’s room.

Jack met his father's gaze in the mirror, his eyes flashing briefly with a familiar intensity. "What if I don’t even know what to say? What if—"

"Jack," Aaron interjected, a bit more sharply than intended, "you've prepared enough. Overthinking it won't help."

The words were meant to steady, but they landed like a challenge. Jack turned abruptly, his expression hardening. "You don’t understand. It’s easy for you to say—"

Aaron felt a prickle of irritation. "Jack, I’m trying to help you. There’s no reason to—"

"Yeah, by telling me I’m overthinking? Thanks a lot," Jack snapped, his tone biting, and stormed past Aaron towards the stairs.

You appeared at the bottom of the staircase, having caught the tail end of the exchange. Your expression was one of concern mixed with calm. "Everything okay?" you asked, looking from Jack’s retreating back to Aaron’s tight expression.

Aaron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He’s just nervous," he muttered, following you and Jack to the car.

The ride to the movie theater was tense, the air thick with unspoken apologies and frustrations. Aaron drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, while you sat beside him, offering a gentle presence. In the backseat, Jack was silent, lost in his own whirlwind of teenage angst.

When you arrived at the theater, Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and paused, his hand on the door. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before turning slightly. "Sorry for snapping, Dad. I’m just... really nervous."

Aaron nodded, a mixture of relief and concern in his eyes. "It’s okay, Jack. Just be yourself, she’ll see how great you are."

Jack managed a small, grateful smile before stepping out of the car and into the evening crowd. As he walked away, Aaron watched him go, a pang of helplessness touching his heart. It wasn’t just about tonight; it was the creeping realization of how much he would have to learn to navigate as Jack grew up.

You reached over, touching Aaron’s arm. "He’s going to be fine," you murmured. "And so are you."

Aaron let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "It never gets easier, does it? Letting them face things on their own."

You shook your head, your smile gentle. "No, but we do get better at trusting them to handle it. And Jack knows he has us to come back to, no matter how it goes."

Aaron glanced at you, the steady assurance in your voice grounding him. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he admitted, the weight of his role as a single parent momentarily overwhelming.

"You’d do just fine," you assured him, squeezing his arm. "But you don’t have to. We’re in this together, remember?"

He smiled then, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Together," he echoed, feeling the truth of that word deep in his bones.

As you and Aaron drove back home, the earlier tension melted away, replaced by a comfortable silence that spoke of shared burdens and joint victories. In that moment, Aaron knew that whatever challenges lay ahead with Jack, or with anything else, they were surmountable—as long as you were there beside him.

When Aaron and you arrived at the theater to pick up Jack, the sight of him waiting by the curb instantly signaled a change. There was a lightness in his step, a barely contained energy that was unusual for the typically composed teenager.

Jack slid into the backseat, a faint, almost secretive smile playing at the corners of his lips. He said nothing as Aaron pulled away from the curb, glancing occasionally in the rearview mirror at his son. Jack’s eyes were bright, his usual tension nowhere to be seen, replaced by an excited glimmer that Aaron had rarely witnessed.

The car was quiet, the silence stretching as Aaron and you exchanged knowing looks. Both of you could sense the bubbling enthusiasm Jack was struggling to contain, yet neither of you wanted to press him, giving him the space to share in his own time.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer and always more attuned to breaking the ice, you turned slightly in your seat to face Jack. “So? How was the movie?” you asked, your voice casual but tinged with an undercurrent of excitement for him.

Jack’s response was immediate, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It was awesome! We...” He paused, a flush spreading across his cheeks, and then he burst out with it. “We kissed! It was my first kiss.”

Aaron’s eyes met Jack’s in the rearview mirror, a smile breaking across his face at his son's joyous exclamation. The car filled with a warm, buoyant energy, the kind that comes from witnessing a milestone in someone you love dearly.

“That’s great, Jack!” you exclaimed, your delight evident. “How do you feel?”

Jack laughed, a sound of pure happiness. “I like her so much. She’s amazing. And the kiss was... it was perfect, I think. I mean, I don’t really have anything to compare it to, but...” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged, almost sheepishly.

Aaron listened, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and a poignant touch of sadness at the reminders of his own first experiences with love. “It sounds like you had a really good time,” he said, his tone supportive. “I’m happy for you, Jack.”

“Thanks, Dad. And thank you,” Jack added, looking at you. “For the advice and... just for being there.”

You nodded, your expression soft. “Anytime, Jack. We’re both so happy it went well.”

The rest of the drive home was filled with Jack sharing more details about the evening—the movie they’d barely watched, the nervous moments leading up to the kiss, and his plans to see her again. Aaron drove, listening and occasionally glancing back at Jack, who seemed to grow with each word he spoke.

When you all arrived home, Jack bounded out of the car with a quick, “Thanks for the ride!” before heading inside, no doubt eager to relive the evening in his mind.

Aaron turned to you, his eyes reflecting a complex mix of emotions. “He’s growing up fast,” he murmured, the reality hitting him anew.

You reached over, taking his hand. “He is. But he’s growing up well, Aaron. That’s all we can ask for.”

Aaron squeezed your hand in response, the solidity of your presence grounding him. “Yes, that’s all we can ask for,” he agreed, the pride evident in his voice. As you headed into the house together, Aaron felt a profound gratitude for the family you had become, imperfections and all, bound together by moments of simple, shared joy like tonight.

Over dinner, Jack's enthusiasm was infectious. As he detailed his plans to woo his new crush with flowers and romantic gestures straight out of the movies, Aaron couldn't help but share amused, knowing glances with you across the table. Every so often, Jack would catch them mid-glance and roll his eyes, a grin unable to hide his embarrassment.

"You think I'm being too cheesy, don't you?" Jack asked a playful accusation in his tone.

"Not at all," you replied, smiling warmly at him. "It's sweet. It's nice to see someone still believes in doing romantic things. Flowers are always a good idea."

Aaron nodded in agreement, watching as Jack considered your advice. "Just make sure you pick ones she likes," he added. "It shows you pay attention."

Jack nodded enthusiastically, absorbing every piece of advice like a sponge. "I’ll find out what her favorites are," he resolved.

The conversation lingered on lighter topics as you finished eating, but the warmth of family and shared understanding lingered in the air.

Later that night, as Aaron and you were getting ready for bed, the atmosphere shifted to a quieter, more reflective mood. You turned to Aaron as he was folding his clothes, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You know, Jack is a lot like you," you mused. "Even as a teenager, he’s got your sweetness. And he gets this giddy excitement about someone he cares about—just like you."

Aaron met your gaze in the mirror, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Was I that obvious?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Completely," you teased gently, stepping closer. "I still remember our early days. Despite your stoic exterior, you had this way of showing your excitement that was... really endearing."

He turned to face you fully, his expression softening. "I guess some things don’t change," he admitted, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I still feel that way, you know. Every day with you."

Your eyes lit up at his words, and you leaned into his touch. "And I love that about you, Aaron. It’s the little things you do, the way you show you care. It’s never lost on me."

The conversation lingered in the air, settling warmly around them like a blanket. It reminded Aaron of how much he still wanted to make you feel special, how even the simplest gestures could speak volumes.

"Jack gave me a good reminder; I think I’ll buy you flowers tomorrow," Aaron declared softly, more to himself than to you.

You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with affection. "I’d like that," you said. 

As you finished getting ready for bed, the connection between them felt as fresh and exciting as it did in the early days of your relationship, a testament to the enduring nature of deep, genuine love.

It wasn’t long until the atmosphere of the Hotchner household shifted dramatically one afternoon when Jack burst through the front door, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a storm of teenage angst. He rushed past Aaron and you, not stopping to greet or even acknowledge either of you, his footsteps thundering up the stairs. Moments later, his bedroom door slammed shut with a force that echoed down the hallway.

You and Aaron exchanged a look of concern, both sensing the gravity of whatever had upset Jack so deeply. Aaron's jaw set in a familiar, determined line as he made his way to Jack's room, knocking softly despite the previous display of anger.

"Jack, can we talk?" Aaron called through the door, his voice calm but firm.

There was a tense pause, then a muffled, "Go away," from inside.

Aaron opened the door anyway, stepping into Jack’s room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands. "Jack, whatever it is, I’m here to help," Aaron offered, trying to bridge the gap with understanding.

Jack looked up, his eyes red and his expression one of raw, unguarded pain. "You wouldn’t understand," he snapped, his words laced with frustration. "You met Mom in school and then found Y/N so easily after Mom passed. You’ve never had your heart broken like this."

The comment stung, bringing with it a flood of memories—of Haley, of loss, of the deepest kind of heartbreak Aaron had ever known. But he had to laugh internally at the irony; Jack had no idea what real heartbreak was, yet his feelings were valid in their own teenage context.

"Jack, I may not understand exactly what you're feeling right now, but I’ve experienced loss, more than just once. I can try to help," Aaron said, his voice even despite the emotional undercurrent.

Aaron looked around his son’s room--oh, how it had changed so much over the last few years. The legos and drawings now replaced with soccer trophies and posters.

"It’s not the same!" Jack retorted, his anger flaring again. "You don’t get it. She said she just wants to be friends, after everything... after the kiss. I thought... I don’t know what I thought."

Aaron sat down beside him, trying to close the distance. "It’s tough, feeling like you’ve been pushed aside," he offered. "But it doesn’t diminish what you felt, or what you meant to each other."

Jack shook his head, the rejection too fresh, too raw. "Just leave, Dad. Please," he murmured, not meeting Aaron's eyes.

Respecting his son’s request, Aaron stood and left the room, the door closing softly behind him this time. He returned downstairs, where you were waiting, having sensed that the conversation might not have gone smoothly.

Aaron relayed the interaction to you, his features tight with concern and helplessness. "He’s really hurting," Aaron confessed, the weight of his role as a father feeling particularly heavy.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. "You did what you could. He just needs some time," you reassured him, your voice soothing. "Heartbreak is a part of growing up, as hard as it is to watch. He'll learn from this, with us to support him."

Aaron nodded, leaning into your embrace, grateful for your presence and perspective. "It’s just hard, seeing him go through it," he admitted. "Makes me wish I could shield him from all the pain."

"But then he wouldn’t really grow, would he?" you pointed out gently. "All we can do is be here when he’s ready to talk, ready to heal."

"Right," Aaron agreed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Thank you," he added, the gratitude in his voice reflecting more than just thanks for this moment—it was for every moment you stood by him, helping him navigate the complexities of fatherhood and life itself. Together, you would be ready for when Jack decided to open up, ready to guide him through the pain toward healing.

Later that evening, as Aaron sat in the living room thumbing through an old case file, he couldn't shake the image of Jack’s hurt expression. He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Looking up, he saw Jack hesitating at the foot of the staircase, his eyes darting between Aaron and the hallway where you were.

"Dad, can I talk to Y/N?" Jack asked quietly, his voice revealing his vulnerability.

Aaron felt a pang in his chest, torn between relief that Jack was seeking comfort and a sting of jealousy that it wasn’t from him. He thought of Haley, of how things might have been different if she were here, but then he looked at you, emerging from the hallway behind Jack, and his heart filled with gratitude. You had become an integral part of their lives, filling spaces he hadn't known were empty.

"Of course, Jack," Aaron replied, managing a supportive smile as he watched you approach, your presence reassuring and steady.

You gave Aaron a gentle look that seemed to understand his mixed emotions before turning your attention to Jack. "Let’s talk, okay?" you said softly, guiding Jack back to his room for privacy.

Left alone with his thoughts, Aaron reflected on his journey—the loss of Haley, the challenges of single parenthood, and the unexpected blessing of finding love again with you. It was a complex tapestry of grief and new beginnings.

When you and Jack reappeared a while later, there was a noticeable shift in Jack’s demeanor. He seemed calmer, more composed, and he walked straight up to Aaron.

"I’m sorry for pushing you away earlier, Dad. I didn’t mean to," Jack apologized, his eyes earnest.

Aaron stood, setting aside the file, and pulled Jack into a hug. "It’s okay, Jack. I understand. It’s not easy, and I’m here whenever you need to talk, okay?"

Jack nodded, returning the embrace. "Thanks, Dad."

As they settled onto the couch, Aaron next to you and Jack opposite, the atmosphere was lighter. Aaron felt the need to address the earlier tension and offer some fatherly advice.

"Jack, life... it throws a lot at us. Heartbreak, loss—it’s all part of it. But so is happiness and love," Aaron began, his eyes flicking to you, then back to Jack. "You have plenty of time to find your happy ending. And sometimes, it happens when you least expect it."

He reached over, taking your hand in his, a silent testament to his words.

Jack smiled, a touch of red coloring his cheeks as he understood the implication. "I guess you’re right. I’ve got time."

"And remember, no matter what, you’re never alone," you added, squeezing Aaron’s hand. "We’re both here for you, always."

The rest of the evening passed with a new sense of understanding and closeness among you all. Aaron felt a deep sense of peace as he looked at you and Jack--his family. At this moment, he knew that despite the trials and the losses, you had found a way to build something enduring and real. And for Aaron, you were indeed his happy ending, the unexpected joy that had come from a time of great loss.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

[royalarchivist]

Finn: I'm here. Mine is so– [Laughs] Mine is like the antithesis of yours.

Jack: Yours is so much more low-key!

Finn: It's so much easier, yeah. Look, easy! [Shows off the outfit and laughs]

Jack: We're like opposites, we're like actual polar opposites.

Molly: But you're like, matching though!

Finn: I don't like streetwear.

Jack: We're matching in a way, really.

Finn: It's like the one– the friend that's into streetwear, and the friend that's into– [Notices how Jack's sitting] Why are you sitting like that?

Jack: How would you– oh, sorry. Sorry– forgot I was uh, I was bloke-mode-ing.

[sunny-knight]

What Kind Of Monster Was He?

A @forgettable-au fan (colored) animatic

MINOR BLOOD WARNING!

*Was he the kind to do too much, or not enough?

…OK, SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS-

I had planned to finish this into a full fledged animation, but a lot of the parts I did end up finishing just didnt live up to what I imagined…I waited for more motivation to happen, but it just didnt so HERES THE COLORED ANIMATIC CAUSE IM REALLLY HAPPY WITH WHAT I HAVE and ive sat on posting this for like a 2 weeks 😭 which is an eternity in my time

Im gonna post the unfinished “finished” part on my side account @o-sunny-day though! and probably have people yell at me cause it actually isnt that bad AND IT TOTALLY ISNT I just… art. You get it. ENOUGH YAPPING! ITS TIME TO YAP!

except not yet, MORE BACKGROUND INFO HUCDHUC- but its background info on explaining the lore…

The explaining is much less expansive than in Dear My Dear just because I didnt work on it long enough to think every bit of it through. This is just a clean, nicer looking, and colored version of the very first storyboard.

I usually think about and put more effort into the little stuff while making the FINISHED bits since ive had so much more time to think about that in all the preppin n sketching.

BUT I liked the explaining format I did for Dear My Dear so im sticking with it!

The main idea for this was to do a study of Wingdings’ character from what we’ve been given, mainly focusing in on the expectations he puts on himself because holy shit the lyrics for this works so stupidly well it makes me mad LOOK AT THIS???

its ridiculous. i love it. I didnt know Jack Stauber helped write Forgettable AU???? woww!!! ANYWHO thats the gist of it, not much context is needed past that. Onto the sillies!!!! (per usual excuse the shitty quality of the pngs idk why Tumblr does that-)

Did you know love? Will you rest in peace?

Wingdings and Sans holding hands as kids, before turning to a casket like appearance for adult WD. The flowers hes holding are pretty important too, Marigolds to represent grief, Lilys, new life, and Forget Me Nots for this lovely little line I found when looking up good flowers to use-

“a promise to always remember” ….stop that.

That actually also has a double meaning in this case too. 1, ofc the forgetting of Wingdings. But ALSO Wingdings forgetting something himself. Forgetting who he is. Almost like a Zuko ATLA situation.

Did you have a family?

Who knows where theyre parents are, but this is HAPPY TIME and we’re gonna assume they were so awesome and very kind but had to leave or went to a farm in the sky for whatever reason.

The colors here I had a lot of fun with. Their parents had warm colors but the boys have cold, still with warm accents. Its said they more or less raised each other being very independent as shown in the second part with them running out the door by themselves.

How was the view from the shelf? Did you ever believe in yourself?

Before, we started with the beginnings. The good things, the only thing Wingdings cares to even recall. Now we’re seeing his life really start to turn upside down- making first contact with The Player :D

He’s hesitant to reach out, but is intrigued, before getting a rushing revelation of his reality and how it isnt “real”

Rather than feeling crushing existential dread, he more feels pressured to be BETTER, to figure a solution, to do something. Thats what white represents here

WHAT KIND OF MILK WERE YOU?

We then switch to more examples of how Wingdings is taking this pressure (not well) The soft tones of yellow that were shown before, turn to way brighter, intensifying that feeling that he should be fine, he should be happy, drowning in success of being the Royal Scientist.

But he just desperately wants to just go back to a time of nice coldness.

The warm vs cold tones in this I had so much fun with, coldness is supposed to represent hostility usually, while warm is nice and happy. (same with Black and white. Scary, relieving,) But these points often contradict each other, its hard to tell what you’re feeling vs what you’re supposed to be feeling. Just like Wingdings!

WHAT KIND OF LIFE DID YOU LIVE THROUGH?

The white lab coats, the expectations, theyre on all of them. But Wingdings has essentially become his expectations.

He questions what life he wants to live, one being himself and alone (speaking in wingdings) or not himself and with company (speaking in a “normal” font) Still, he frames it in past tense as he believes theres no going back now, based on what he knows.

“One of the last happy moments they had together” stop that. (i cant find a link to when that was said but I know it was once, about them taking a photo together….)

DID YOUR LIFE RUN RICH WITH CALCIUM?

Calcium….bonesss :3 Hehehehdhehfhehehheheheh still dont know why he has holes in his hands so we’re movin on

DID THEY LAUGH AT YOU OR DID YOU LAUGH AT THEM?

Compared to the childhood Wingdings remembered, heres the sadder, bleaker, more realistic version. He always thought they were laughing at him but… maybe they werent.

DAIRY BELOVED. YOUR DAYS ARE GONE,

It doesnt matter now though. Because in the NOW, Wingdings has become consumed by his expectations of himself, seeing this has the “only option” to do the only thing that he feels will give his life meaning and purpose, establishing connection with THE PLAYER

But the grocery list goes on…

And yet life continues on without him, and his room is transformed into a more livable space now that someone is…living in it. Always hurts so much making the differences between Wingdings and Papyrus’ room. It feels like making something out of the man Wingdings COULD HAVE been. Because honestly thats just what Papyrus is,

Thank you to my bestie @fruitytrip for helping me with all of my art in general but especially the storyboarding on this :3 <3

[hotchscoffeecup]

through love and loss

~for riv, happy birthday angel <3 thank you for letting me tell this story~

pairing: hotch/reader

rating: t

word count: 9.5k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort with a happy ending

summary: after witnessing your long-term friend and colleague profess his love for you moments before dying in the field, you struggle to cope with the grief and trauma of his loss. through his own experience with traumatic loss, day by day, Hotch aids in your healing and the feelings you begin to catch for him as time goes on scare you just as badly. Will you be able to move on and start again? Or will your grief be too much for you to bear?

“You’ve been one hell of a partner,” he says. His fingers gently clasp over yours and your panicked eyes glance up from the gaping wound in his abdomen to lock onto his. They’re surprisingly clear, the lights of the street lamps reflecting back at you in them. His blood paints your now intertwined fingers. Your gaze flickers between them and his eyes, the soft smile on his lips.

“Don’t say that,” you bite, your voice thick with tears. “Garcia!” you cry knowing she can hear you through your earpiece.

“Honey, they’re coming as fast as they can! Hotch is leading the charge, EMS is with them.” Her voice wavers as it crackles through the mic. “Just hold on.” You don’t know if she’s saying it to you or to him. His earpiece hadn’t fallen out when he caught the bullet and hit the ground.

“They won’t make it in time.” He says, choking out a pathetically weak laugh. “I always knew it could end like this. Can you make sure they use a good photo of me at the funeral? Maybe that shirtless selfie I took in Miami?”

“God, can’t you just shut the fuck up for once?” you snap as you apply more pressure to his abdomen. “You always have some kind of joke, some one liner.”

His smile cracks as you press down, a small “oomph” passing his lips. “You,” he takes a shuddering breath. “You love my jokes.”

“Yeah,” you bite as you blow a strand of sweat drenched hair out of your face, “and you can keep annoying me with them after you get to a hospital.”

“Humor me, will ya?”

Hot tears brim along your lash line as you paint on a smile. “Okay,” you answer tightly.

“My ma,” he starts. He coughs and a trickle of blood spills from the corner of his lips. “Tell her I got him, ok? She’ll need to hear that. And, and tell her I went laughing. That’ll help.”

You can’t help the sob that erupts from your throat, but you try your best to stifle it. His hand tightens around yours and you know it’s taking all of his strength to do that.

“Can you do that?”

You nod as tears stream down your cheeks, etching soft lines into your skin.

“And,” he coughs again as he struggles to breathe. “I can’t—” he rasps. “I can’t go without telling you.” His fingers shake as he withdraws them from your hand and reaches up to touch your cheek. Instinctively, your hand reaches up to support it, cradling the warmth of his palm against your face. He smiles as he winces. “I love you. Since the first day I saw you, I’ve loved you. I shouldn’t—” His features twist as a shudder racks his body and a sob breaks free from his lips. “I shouldn’t have put this job above that, what the Bureau would’ve thought. It’s all too short, ya know?” A bitter laugh tumbles free as he takes a deep breath.

You can hear the sirens now. They’re close, but not close enough. They won’t make it.

“Promise me,” he says, his voice wavering. His gaze locks on yours though you can hardly see for the tears blurring your vision. “The next time you feel love, you really, truly start to feel that hint of desire, those, those butterflies in your stomach, goddammit chase them, Catch that feeling, bottle it up, and don’t let it go for nothing. Promise me.”

You shake your head as you hold desperately onto his hand against your cheek. You feel his thumb weakly stroke the skin there.

Cars screech to a halt. Doors slam.

“I promise.”

His hand goes limp in yours.

The scream that tears from your body is primal and unearthly. This isn’t happening. It cannot happen. You scramble to check his pulse, to hope beyond hope you’ll feel the faintest of beatings; something, anything to signify that he’s still there. There’s nothing. Naturally, you move to begin CPR. Or at least you try to before two big arms thread through yours from behind, hooking you against the plane of someone’s body as they pull you away. You thrash and scream against their hold, fighting to get back to him.

“Let the medics do their job,” a voice says in your ear. Morgan. His grip tightens around you, not in a way that’s painful, but grounding. “Let them try.”

There’s a ringing in your ears, growing louder as you watch the two medics crowd around him. One cuts away the fabric of his shirt while another begins CPR. You watch on in silent, stunned horror.

“What happened?” another voice you recognize says sternly, though his voice sounds far away, like you’re underwater and he’s up above the surfaces.

The medics exchange a grim look after a couple of minutes. The one performing CPR’s rhythm slows until she’s doing nothing at all. She shakes her head.

Your knees buckle and you’re falling. Morgan responds immediately, trying to balance your weight against his own as you go to the ground. Though you're prepared to hit the asphalt, it never rises to meet you. Instead, you fall against the scratchy fabric of a Kevlar vest. Arms cradle you into the plane of a wide chest, your body spasming against their frame as uncontrollable sobs wrack your body. Harsh, guttural screams tear from you, your breathing uneven and irregular as you struggle for air between sobs. Black spots dot your vision.

“You have to breathe,” a faraway voice says. His tone is even, modulated. “Listen to me.” He says your name. Your name. Your name. You latch onto that. You try to, but oh my God. He’s dead. You watched him die. You felt his life leave his body. He loves you…loved you.

“I think she’s going into shock. Medic!”

Everything feels detached, like your limbs are not your own. A light shines in your eyes, but you don’t flinch away. You see the stars. You’re on your back? Your fingers buzz and shake involuntarily, numbness creeping in as you fight to inhale a full breath. A hand clasps yours. It's warm. Something slips over your nose and mouth, a mask? Breathing feels easier, but not by much.

“She suffered a blow to the head—”

Had you? Yes, wait. The fight before. The scramble for the gun. The unsub had wrestled it out of your hand and struck you over the head with the butt of the weapon and then…then two shots rang out.

White stars explode behind your eyes, blinding you. There’s a ringing in your ears.

“He loved me,” you whisper as your vision blurs.

Someone’s calling your name.

“He told me he loved me.”

And then it’s dark, and there’s nothing. And you don’t have to feel anymore.

•

“I can walk you inside.”

“I’m fine, Hotch. Just—” You close your eyes and inhale slowly. You’re not fine. You don’t know if you’d ever be fine. You smooth down the black fabric of your dress, the silk wrinkled from how tightly you’d held onto it during the service. Your knuckles ache from clenching them so hard and your palms sting, littered with half moon cuts from

digging your nails into them; any external stimulation to distract your mind from what was actually happening. Anything to keep from breaking down in front of everyone.

“Just?” he hedges.

You blink out of your stupor and stop staring at the dash. “Thank you for the ride,” you say curtly. Without meeting his gaze, you hastily exit the SUV and step into the rain. You clutch your arms against your chest, holding your double breasted trench closed over your body as you tuck your head and slip through the double doors into your apartment complex, hardly registering the motions of entering your code into the keypad.

God knows how many times you’ve walked this path to your apartment, but today it seems longer. You feel the pressure of each step in these uncomfortably tall, but not too tall, heels. Your purse bounces against your leg as you walk, each step heavier than the last. The ride to the top floor takes longer than ever and when you arrive in front of your door you almost can’t recall which key on your ring will unlock it.

The door to your apartment yawns open to greet you, yet you kick it shut, clamping its lips together to envelop you in darkness once again. Everything is the same, yet it’s all different. You stand there on the doormat staring down the short corridor you cross through day in and day out. Did he know he’d leave his apartment for the last time that day?

The hall leads to the open concept shared living room and kitchen areas. Despite all of the shades being drawn, the wide rectangular sliding glass door ahead emits shrouded gray light from behind the curtains. Without clear thought, you move toward it, dropping your keys and purse on the ground at the door. Mindlessly, your fingers move to the buttons of your coat. Shrugging out of the bulky layer, it falls to the floor in a ripple of fabric as you push the curtain open and unlock the door. The dull pitter patter of raindrops crescendos as you slide open the door, the thick glass no longer dampening the sound of the downpour. You breathe in the crisp November afternoon as a wall of cold air slams into you, eliciting goosebumps across your exposed flesh. You don’t think as you step out into the rain, the wind blowing sideways.

Standing still, you let the rain pelt you and the wind throw your hair. It doesn’t take long for it to soak through your dress, which now clings to your figure. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, a tangled mess of mother nature’s finest. The cold seeps in just as fast and before long your lips are quivering and your teeth are chattering. You feel it bruise down to your bones, yet you don’t move. You feel the icy sting because anything is better than feeling his loss. Anything is better than feeling the raw agony of grief as it digs its fingers into your chest and holds your beating heart in its hand and mocks your pain, never letting you forget a second of that night.

There’s your name on the wind, wait, no. It’s behind you. Your instincts have slowed, like deadened nerves, they don’t react the same.

“What are you doing out here?”

You blink and Hotch is standing just outside of your back door, his hand shielding his eyes from the rain. Your lip quivers in response as he steps forward and pulls you inside. He immediately shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before guiding you to the couch.

“God, you’re freezing,” he says as he drops your hand in your lap. “I’ll get some towels.”

You stare at your hands in your lap as he stands, his footsteps echoing down the hall. He returns with two. The first, he passes to you and you just hold it. The second he uses to blot your face before draping it over your shoulders and pulling your hair off your neck and face, smoothing it over your ears and shoulders so it falls over the towel.

When he sits, his eyes meet yours. They’re a deep brown, like coffee, coffee without milk. They’re warm like coffee, too. Just looking into them begins to just barely chisel at the ice you’ve let burrow deep into your bones.

His brow pinches. “God, what the hell were you thinking? You’re going to get sick standing out there in the rain and cold like that.”

Your fingers curl around the towel in your lap, your gaze fixed on the coffee table. “I needed to feel anything else,” your voice cracks as tears well along your lash line. “Because if I don’t, all I’ll feel is the hurt and it’s so deep, and I’m so scared that this is all I’ll ever feel.”

Hotch’s features soften, his lips parting. He knows the feeling all too well. “It seems like that now.” His voice is soft. “When I lost Haley, even though we’d been divorced for some time, it felt like my world had crumbled out from under me and I wondered if I’d ever be able to rebuild it.”

A strangled sob escapes your lips and you hug the towel to your chest. “How? you ask, voice pleading. “How do you do that? I want to do that. I need to start, because I can’t…I can’t live with this pain, Hotch.”

“It’s not immediate,” he answers. “It’ll take a long time for the pain to subside to where it’s only a dull ache and then one day, you’ll wake up and it won’t hurt anymore. You have to give yourself grace and let yourself feel the agony of his loss. Stop trying to push it down. You don’t have to save face for anyone.”

Your voice is small when you speak. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Hotch responds empathetically. “Grieving is the hardest part.” His hand reaches for yours. It’s warm against your icy skin and you remember this feeling. He’d been the one to hold your hand as the paramedics loaded you into the ambulance that night. For the first time, you raise your eyes to meet his.

“I don’t think I can come back,” you say, “not now.”

Hotch nods. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Take the bereavement. I’ll pull some strings to grant an extension on it. When it runs out, we can revisit a return to work.” He squeezes your hand and inclines his head to really look at you. “I understand what you’re going through more than anyone. I know how easy it is to want to isolate and shut the world out. When you feel that darkness calling you? I want you to call me instead. I’ll help guide you out of it. Can you do that?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth to stop its trembling and nod. “I can do that.”

•

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears as the elevator slowly climbs to the floor where the BAU works from. Your fingers twitch along your side as you watch the numbers light up with each passing story. When the elevator dings, signaling it’s your turn to face reality, you square your shoulders and stride through the doors as they part.

A shock of blonde and pink hair greets you immediately. Arms are around you, squeezing you against a fuzzy green cardigan that smells faintly of jasmine.

A small smile tugs at your lips and you're surprised to hear laughter from your lips. “It’s nice to see you, too, Penelope.”

“I missed you!” she says, a wide smile on her pink lips.

“I’ve missed the team,” you say, peering around her. “Is everyone here?”

She shrugs, “It’s Monday morning so everyone is filtering in. You know how it goes.” She turns toward the double doors leading inside. She points over her shoulder with a pen topped with a purple pom pom. Her lips press together. “Are you ready?”

You inhale slowly and swallow.

You know this is going to be hard, but it has been a month. You were sleeping through most nights and had begun seeing the Bureau appointed therapist to cope with the trauma and loss. Hotch had kept his word too. When you had holed yourself away in your room; takeout containers barely touched, forgetting to take showers, and had laundry piled so high it threatened to bury you in an avalanche of fabric, you called him. That’s all you’d done. You couldn’t speak when you did. It had taken all of your strength just to find his contact and hit ‘dial.’

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” was all he’d said before hanging up.

Penelope had given him the spare key to your apartment that she’d still had from when she watered your plants whenever a case kept you out for longer periods of time than usual. He’d figured you’d not have the strength to pull yourself out of bed. He hadn’t even come into your room when he’d first gotten there. He announced himself when he’d entered, not that you’d have reacted if it were an intruder. Ok, that might have been bullshit. At your core, you were still an agent and those instincts would’ve kicked in. You’d stayed in your blanket cocoon as the sound of dishes clanking and water splashing echoed from the kitchen. He’d knocked on your door and entered with a trash bag, collecting takeout and emptied the rather gross and overflowing bedroom trash can by your bed that you’d filled with tissues from the sporadic sob sessions that would overtake you. Silently, he’d pulled your clothes up off the floor into the hamper and started a load of wash. Only when things were clean did he sit on the edge of your bed and let you fall into him and fall apart all over again.

“Rossi sent me with a home cooked lasagna. It should last the week and then he’ll send another next week. I stocked your fridge with Gatorade. You’ll get sick if you dehydrate and trust me, you don’t want that to happen.” It had sounded like he’d spoken from experience.

When you’d managed to stop crying, you’d sniffed and looked up at him. “Did I hear you humming the “clean up” song?”

“It helps Jack stay on task at home,” he’d said, a soft smile and blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Sweetie?”

You blink. Penelope is looking at you, the concern clear on her face.

You clear your throat and nod. “I’m ready.”

As you enter the bullpen, you don’t miss the way people pretend not to stare as you pass by; watching for cracks in your face and your body that might fracture leaving them to pick up the pieces. There’s a tension in the room as you pass his desk, a pregnant pause as they await your reaction but you’d been preparing for it. You feel the pain flow through you and take slow, measured breaths. The dread passes. The room breathes a sigh of relief.

It isn’t until later in the day that you’re passing the briefing room to deliver a file to Hotch in his office that you notice his photo on the wall honoring fallen heroes within the Bureau; his name embossed on a golden placard and eager, bright face smiling back at you.

Your ceramic coffee cup shatters as it hits the tile. Heads turn in your direction and Hotch is quick enough to react, stealing out of his office and reeling you back into it before you crash onto your knees unable to breathe.

•

Work gets easier. The routine becomes familiar again. There are good days and bad days. You don’t break down again at work after the initial shock on your first day back. Aaron checks in with you regularly as does the rest of your team. Hotch seems to pay extra attention, though, and you wonder if the team notices just how close you’d become over the last few months.

It started out simple enough; an extra “how are you?” or bringing you a cup of coffee in the morning. On your first week back, he’d only brought you decaf. “I don’t want to increase any anxiety you might be feeling,” he’d said.

You weren’t cleared to return to the field for two months, so you’d stay behind when the team left; helping remotely from the office with Penelope. You’d missed Hotch during the cases that took them far away from home. At first you told yourself, you were only missing how within reach Hotch had been when you were having a harder time making it through the day. You’d chided yourself and told yourself that it's time to cut the cord, that you had to learn to stand on your own two feet again sooner or later without him there to be your crutch. But was that all you missed?

Having him around made breathing feel easier. It made waking up in the morning seem worth it. He reminds you why you face each day and of the important work you do for the community and country at large. He reminded you why he wouldn’t want you to suffer like this months after the fact.

As you sit at your desk awaiting a phone call from Spencer to get you that update from the morgue, you lean back in your chair and close your eyes. Your ears pick up on the rustling of papers, the gentle whir of the copy machine, phones ringing, and people talking. It’s all so normal. It feels like any other day at the office, yet it feels hollow still.

Hotch had been working on it with you, though. He knew that you’d been withdrawing, despite having come back. You still weren’t taking people up on their offers to go out on weekends or getting a drink after work. It was all too exhausting. So, he started slowly with you. At first, it was really just making sure that you were meeting your basic needs. He’d schedule a time with you at the weekend to go out and get groceries; easy grab and go items because you still didn’t have much energy to cook. He’d help you unpack them and then head back home, not before giving you a hug and telling you how proud he was of you. Eventually, as you’d been able to handle more, he invited you on outings with him and Jack. You’d go watch one of his soccer games or go to the park. Seeing someone so carefree and innocent brought real joy to your heart and it suddenly didn’t seem so unnatural to smile and laugh. And during all of this Hotch had even shared his own experiences with how he’d handled his grief when Haley died. He’d done it all alone though. He’d confided this in you one night over a glass of wine and Thai takeout in your living room.

“I wish I’d had someone to help pull me out of the thick of it, the grief.” he’d said and you’d stopped chewing your food.

“You went through this all on your own?” you’d replied, stricken by the thought.

He’d nodded as he’d wiped a napkin over his lips. “Haley’s sister would keep Jack for a week at a time because I could hardly take care of myself, let alone my own son. It felt terrible, like I was failing him and failing Haley all over again. I would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, pouring over every little detail wondering what I could’ve done differently, how I could’ve changed the ending.”

“Then what?” you’d asked, because you’d been plagued by the same nightmarish loop of that night.

A soft smile had graced his lips then. “I finally accepted that there’s no way I can change the past. I can wish and hope and beg and plead for a do-over, but that just doesn’t happen. I could either live in that painful memory forever or be grateful I got to have the time with her that I did and do everything in my power to honor her life with my own. I chose to keep living.”

Your phone rings, pulling you out of the memory.

“Hey Spence, any update from the morgue?”

“Mm, not Reid.”

You sit up straighter. “Oh, Hotch. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I’m leaving the station now to go interview the victim’s wife and wanted to check in.”

“Oh, sir. You didn’t have to do that. Things are fine here. Penelope and I are holding down the fort.”

“You know that’s not what I’m calling to check in about.”

Your brow furrows. Is that a smile you hear in his voice?

You lower your voice. “I’m fine.”

“If being back in the office is too much, too soon I can petition—”

“Really, Hotch,” you say, keeping your voice down. “It feels good to be busy again. If I’m caught up in work, my mind can’t dwell elsewhere. I’m right where I need to be.”

“Well, not right where you need to be,” Hotch comments.

There’s an immediate silence that follows, his words hanging in the liminal space between you and him over the line.

You open your mouth to speak when a beep hits your line. You pull your phone from your ear and see an incoming call alongside Spencer’s photo illuminating your screen. “That’s Spencer on the other line. I uh, I gotta go.”

•

You startle awake, heart hammering inside your chest. His name leaves your lips in a jagged, anguished cry. Cold sweat trickles down your face as you bolt upright, digging your fingers into the mattress to steady yourself.

The door to your room swings open and Hotch hurries to your bedside. You blink hard following the intrusion but quickly remember why Hotch is even here in the first place.

Jack had had a sleepover party at a friend’s house nearby, so you’d asked if he wanted to come over and have a Lord of the Rings marathon. It was playing on cable all evening and you did love those hairy footed hobbits. Hotch had smiled and said something about it having been years since he’d seen them. You’d started to doze three quarters through The Two Towers and he’d encouraged you to go to bed. You told him that he was welcome to stay and keep watching and he’d made some crack about you having a comfortable couch to fall asleep on. Your apartment was closer to Jack’s sleepover party than Hotch’s apartment, so it just made sense for him to stay. Or at least that’s what you’d told yourself.

He smooths back the hair that’s stuck to your face and the feel of his fingers on your skin helps ground you back to reality.

“Deep breaths,” he soothes. “Here.” he passes you the glass of water off of your nightstand and you mutter a thank you as you gulp it down.

When you finish, he takes the glass from you and replaces it on the nightstand. His other hand curls into yours.

“Hey,” he says, inclining his head to intercept the trajectory of your blank stare. Your eyes shift to meet his. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “It was all the same. Just that night in high definition except,” you swallow and shake your head, hoping it clears the image away like when you’re a kid and shake your Etch A Sketch when you want to create a new picture, “the unsub was laughing. From where he lay, dead on the ground, he was laughing. Blood bubbled up through his teeth as he did so and he just kept laughing.” You drop your head into your hands and rub your temples. “I swear I can still hear it. I can still see his open eyes, unseeing, while he laughed.”

Hotch rubs small circles on your back. “I know how scary it is, how unsettling it can be. It’s only a dream. The unsub is dead. He can’t hurt you or anyone else anymore.”

“How long?” you ask, exhaustion heavy in your voice.

“How long, what?”

“How long do the dreams last?”

Hotch sucks a breath in through his teeth. “I wish I had an answer for you,” he says. “There are some nights I still wake up in a cold sweat just like you, Haley’s name on my lips. There are nights I dream that I saved her, nights where I got to Foyet before he got to her. There are nights I dream of Foyet standing over me, of his knife—”

Your hand slips into his and this time it’s Aaron’s turn to lift his eyes to meet yours. “I understand.”

A small smile turns the corners of his lips. “They get easier to live with.” He pulls you into his arms. You close your eyes and let yourself mold against his frame. The smell of cedar and teakwood has become familiar to you, comforting too. You inhale deeply as he squeezes you against him.

“I should let you get back to sleep,” he says as he pulls away.

“Stay?” you blurt awkwardly, voice smaller than usual.

Aaron’s brow arcs in response. “I’ll be right outside.”

“With me,” you say, gesturing toward the bed. “Just,” you breathe out slowly. You feel vulnerable. Your voice cracks despite how hard you try to keep it steady. “Can you just hold me? For a little while? I’m afraid to close my eyes just to see that smile again.”

“I—” he starts and stops. You feel your lip begin to quiver and you wish you could stuff your words back inside your mouth. He is still your boss. What the hell kind of request was that for you to make? Before you can tell him to forget it, he speaks again.

“Of course I can.”

You shift awkwardly, heart hammering now for an altogether different reason, as you make room for him to slide in next to you.

He eases onto the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him atop the covers and crosses one over the other.

He stretches his arm nearest you, “Come here,” he says softly and almost hesitantly, you lay your head against his chest. His heart beats evenly, if not a little quicker than what you imagine his resting heart rate ought to be. Was he nervous too? Was this crossing a line? Before your mind can run away with anxious thoughts, he wraps his other arm across your body while his hand finds its way into your hair, his fingers gently combing through it in slow, soothing movements.

You feel his eyes on you and you want to tilt your face up to look into them, but something holds you back. Instead you let your lashes flutter close and mutter something about only staying until you fall asleep. If you weren’t lying right beneath his lips, you might’ve missed the whisper of laughter that tumbles from them.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says as he drops his hand to your shoulder and strokes deliberate, gentle lines up and down the skin there.

He talks then; about work, about Jack, just about anything until his voice sounds further and further away and you’re fast asleep. And for the first time since you can’t remember when, it’s dreamless.

•

The hum of the jet’s engine should lull you to sleep at this hour yet you continue to scratch notes into your legal pad, not wanting to forget any details to add to your case report. You’d had trouble concentrating when you’d departed from LAX and had spent the first few hours of the flight lost in your thoughts.

The case had gone well. Within 72 hours, you’d delivered the profile and successfully captured the unsub. Richard Pyre, aged 32, had been kidnapping young women and strangling them, leaving their bodies in public places. Local PD had done an excellent job of canvassing the streets. The team came in and connected the missing pieces they’d not been able to decipher and together, you all had caught the bad guy. It was a slam dunk case. So, it shouldn’t be taking you long to compile notes for your report.

You just couldn’t get him off of your mind. It had been a month since Hotch had stayed over at your place, since you’d wept in his arms and begged him to hold you until you fell asleep. The memory alone brings a hot, embarrassed flush to your cheeks. Why? Because Hotch had fallen asleep in bed with you. His phone alarm that he’d set to remind him to pick up Jack from his sleepover had gone off in the living room. When it continued to beep, you’d stirred awake. At first you’d been confused, not remembering having set an alarm as it was Saturday, but then you’d felt the rise and fall of a chest underneath you. Aaron Hotchner was still in your bed, arms around you. He’d pulled the throw blanket from the end of your bed up and over his legs at some point during the night and just fallen asleep too.

For a moment you’d been scared to move, afraid of what lines had been crossed despite not having engaged in any sexual activities. That was your boss in your bed, for Christ’s sake. Yes, the pair of you had been blurring the lines with friendship lately as he’d become so integral to your life. But then again, everyone in the BAU kinda sorta blurred the lines between colleagues and friends. But you’d never woken up in anyone else’s arms.

You’d tried to slip out of his arms without waking him, but between the movement and his alarm going off in the other room you’d never stood a chance. He stirred awake and rubbed his eyes.

“Good morning,” you’d said awkwardly.

He’d immediately dropped his arms from around your body and cleared his throat. “I, uh,” he breathed in deeply and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I must’ve fallen asleep, I’m sorry.” He��d quickly exited the bed and scurried into the living room, where he’d swiped his alarm off.

He’d quickly collected his belongings, muttering about needing to pick up Jack. He’d averted your gaze and apologized again before giving you a quick hug and making a rather hasty exit from your apartment.

You didn’t talk about the incident afterwards, but something had definitely shifted between the two of you.

You drop your pencil onto the table and angle the reading light more towards yourself to not disturb Reid who breathes deeply as he sleeps across from you, arms cuddling his beloved satchel to his chest. As you reach for your coffee, you exhale a heavy sigh when you notice it's empty. You don’t even remember finishing it. You check your watch: 1:22AM. You really ought to try and sleep, but instead you rise to fix another cup.

Walking on the balls of your feet to not disturb the rest of the sleeping team, you make your way toward the back of the plane where the restroom and bar are situated. The red light still blinks on the coffee machine, signaling it’s been keeping the half-full pot hot all this time. As you lift the pot and begin to pour, someone speaks.

“Another cup? Really?”

You startle at the sound of Hotch’s voice, causing you to miss your cup and spill coffee on your hand. You hiss quietly and shake your hand, flinging drops of coffee across the counter.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Hotch whisper-shouts as he withdraws his pocket square and dries your hand. He moves, bringing your hand under the bar’s lighting to inspect for injuries. Fortunately, it’s just a few blotchy red spots that ought to go away in a couple of hours. His thumb gently strokes the skin around it and your breath catches in your throat. You watch for a few moments, feeling your heart slowly start to beat its way into your throat the longer he holds onto your hand. A part of you wants to draw nearer to him, but instead you clear your throat.

“You should sleep,” he says, finally, dropping your hand. You miss the feel of his fingers immediately.

“Hi Pot, I’m Kettle, you reply snarkily.

Aaron’s lips twitch into a smile. “Yes, well. Typically, I’m working on a lot more than you’ve got to worry about as Unit Chief. I’m usually up at this hour anyway. You, on the other hand, are usually asleep with everyone else. Are you still having nightmares?”

You swallow and turn away, ripping open a packet of Splenda and stirring it into your coffee. “No, actually. Not since—”

“Since?” he presses.

You pick up your mug and turn back around to face him. “Since you stayed the night at my place.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes widen just slightly. He swallows and fidgets with the buttons of his suit jacket. Aaron Hotchner is fidgeting, a clear sign he’s nervous and holding something back.

“It scares me too,” you whisper after a long stretched out silence, hardly discernible.

“What’s that?” Hotch says, tone shifting.

You focus on the heat of the coffee mug in your hands as you press your thumbs into the ceramic to try and fight the heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Whatever this is, these feelings. I’m not stupid, Hotch, and neither are you. We’ve clearly crossed a line and I don’t know how to uncross it.” You take a deep breath, feeling like you’re rambling. “I don’t know how to think around you anymore. Everyday I wake up and get excited because I know I’m going to see you. You bring Jack over on the weekends and it fills me with so much joy I don’t know how to cope with it. And then I feel guilty because I’ve toed this line before. I toed the line and was too afraid because of my job and protocols and it left my heart so broken I didn’t think I’d ever get to put it back together again. Then you come along with your tapes and your glues and you find a way to turn the fractured pieces of my heart into this mosaic of something capable of beating once more.” A tear slips from the corner of your eye and drips down your cheek, falling into your coffee with a soft plop. You raise your eyes to meet his, “Now you tell me what I’m supposed to do with that.”

At this point, your heart is slamming in your chest. Afraid of triggering a panic attack, you turn around and dump the coffee into the small sink carved into the small bar. You don’t need it nor want it anymore.

Hotch says your name and reaches for your arm but you pull away, turning and moving back to your seat at the opposite end of the jet. He could follow, but he won’t. Fortunately for you, Reid being asleep in the seat across from you and Derek being sprawled out across the way didn’t leave much room for Aaron to follow through on your conversation.

•

When the plane lands, you pull your go-bag down from the overhead bins alongside your gun case and cut out as soon as the doors open and the stairs descend.

Emily calls after you, but you duck your head and push ahead off the tarmac and onto the path leading back to the office. You’d finished your report on the plane. Once inside, you drop the manila envelope in the box affixed next to the door to Hotch’s office and dip back out through the main office doors. The elevator dings, alerting you that the rest of the team is about to walk through those doors. Not feeling up to facing anyway you move swiftly to the staircase and push the door open, sliding your body through as the whoosh of the elevator begins to open.

Your thoughts move too quickly as your feet slap against each step, your footsteps echoing in the empty chamber of the stairwell. When you reach the ground level, the parking garage, you fish your keys out of the front pocket of your bag and press the key fob, unlocking your car. Opening the trunk, you toss your go-bag in and place your gun case beside it before slamming it shut. After sliding into the front seat, you put your seatbelt on and back out of your space. As you shift your hands to cut the wheel to the right, someone jumps in front of your car with their hands up.

You slam the breaks and curse. You roll your window down. “Christ, Spencer! What the hell are you doing?”

He lowers his hands and moves to the driver's side window, awkwardly adjusting his satchel on his shoulder as he does so. He swallows and tilts his head to the side, brow furrowed. He takes a few deep breaths. He’d clearly been rushing to follow after you. “I was uh, wondering if I could get a ride home.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “JJ was going to give me a ride, but something with Henry—”

“Just get in,” you say, too exhausted to care.

“Thank you, thank you.” He rushes around the car and clambers into the passenger seat.

For a while neither of you speak. When you pull out of the garage, the sun hurts your eyes. You cuss under your breath as you reach for your sunglasses.

“Why’d you rush off the plane so fast?” Spencer asks as you turn onto the main road. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone disembark the jet that quickly.

You press your lips together, not really wanting to have this conversation. “Maybe I just really want to go home. I’m pretty exhausted, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, considering. “See, I think this has more to do with the conversation you and Hotch had on the plane.”

You jerk the wheel to the side, causing Spencer to cling to the handle above his seat. The sound of your tires screeching to halt echo as a car swerves and honks.

“What the hell, Spence?” you shout, pulling your sunglasses off to look him in the eye. “Did you lie to me about needing a ride just so you could trap me in this conversation?” You point a finger at him. “That’s fucked up. I don’t like lying. We’re friends.”

He tenses, flinching under your hard stare. “And that’s exactly why I’m doing this,” he says, voice tight.

You lower your finger, posture relaxing only slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been paying more attention to dynamics across the team over the last eight months. I read a study on how shared trauma can impact working relationships; some for the better and some for worse. Fortunately, our team seems to have stayed relatively strong following—” He pauses, eyes shifting to yours and then back to his hands in his lap. “His death. Anyway, obviously you took it the hardest, what with having worked closest with him and the lines you walked between colleague and romantic partner.”

You feel your heart squeeze inside your chest, yet Spencer continues on.

“I didn’t see it at first. I thought Hotch was just checking in on you as is his duty as Unit Chief and having to make sure we’re all fit to be in the field. However, as time progressed I started to notice shifts in the way Hotch spoke to you and even his body language around you, even when you weren’t in the office.”

That strikes a chord deep within you. “Okay, and?”

He sits up straighter, lips pursing as he decides how to continue. “It started quite small. I’d catch him end a call with you while out on a case and he’d be smiling, other times his nostrils would flare and he’d wipe his hands down the fronts of his pants, likely because they were clammy, much like you’re doing right now.” He indicates toward you and you clench your hands into fists.

“So, what?”

He laughs exasperatedly. “So, what? You don’t have to be a behavior analyst to see these are all behaviors in line with burgeoning romantic feelings for someone.”

“I don’t—” your words falter as you fail to come up with an excuse.

“You’re scared,” Spencer states. “Moving on is the scariest part. There’s so many feelings attached to it: guilt, remorse, anger, fear, relief, joy. It’s normal to be afraid, but don’t let that fear hold you back from allowing yourself a chance at happiness.”

You swallow thickly as you feel the familiar pressure of tears burn the backs of your eyes. “It’s only been eight months. It feels wrong.”

“I miss him too, you know?” Spencer says after a minute. “I know I might not have been as close to him as you were. You two were in the Academy together after all.” He reaches across the center console and takes one of your hands in his. “And I know that once upon time you and him considered taking your relationship further but decided not to because you were just starting out with the Bureau, but,” he says your name and smiles. “His profession of feelings for you doesn’t mean he’d never want you to find that for yourself. He just wanted you to know that while he was a part of your life, he loved you for all of it. I don’t think he’d want to see you hurt like this. I really don’t.” His clear eyes search yours as he smiles. “For as short a time together as we had, I loved Maeve every day I knew her.”

“Spence—” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“I miss her every day and it’s been two years. I’m not really a guy that goes on dates very often. I’m awkward and weird and I know this about myself. I do know though, that if I am lucky enough to find someone again that loves me, that she would want me to be happy. At least, I’d have wanted her to if our situations had been reversed and I’d been the one to die that day. I wouldn’t have wanted her to put her own happiness on hold.” He squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to put your life on hold. That doesn’t mean you’ll forget him.”

He drops your hand and points to the road. “I’ll buy you breakfast by the way, to make up for the lying.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and lunge over the passenger seat to pull him into a hug. Spencer wheezes as your body weight collides with him, but his slender arms snake around your back to return the embrace.

“Thank you, Spence.”

•

Usually, after a case, you have a shower and immediately go to bed. Not this time though. Spencer’s words play over in your mind again and again as you pace the length of your apartment floor.

You’d picked up your phone a dozen times to call Aaron, but each time you’d dropped it back onto the counter.

Eventually, you just plop down onto the couch and drop your head in your hands. “Why is this so hard?” you mumble to yourself.

You look up and make eye contact with the picture of you and him from the office Christmas party two years ago. He’s wearing a Santa hat and you’ve got on a headband giving you a pair of reindeer antlers. He holds a Solo cup in the air (Rossi had definitely spiked the eggnog) and the smiles on both of your faces are so genuine. A pang of guilt shoots through as you pick up the frame and cradle it to your chest, as if that was anywhere close to what a hug from him would feel like.

“I wish you were here to tell me what to do,” you whisper.

Spencer’s words move through your mind again, especially what he’d said about Maeve. God, this team has dealt with more love and loss than any normal group of people ought to deal with, but then again you all weren’t exactly a normal group of people.

Spencer had a point though. Rationally, you know he wouldn’t want you to hold yourself back from the possibility of love and happiness with someone. You smirk to yourself because you can picture him sitting next to you making some crack about not ever thinking that man would be Hotch. He’d probably point out that Hotch was at least ten years your senior and make some dumb joke about being a gold digger. You’d never really thought about how much Hotch made compared to the rest of you, but with his title and tenure at the Bureau, it probably was up there.

If you are to do this, pursue whatever is going on between you and Aaron, presuming that that was also something he wanted, it won’t be easy. There’s enough red tape as is, let alone throwing relationships and romance into the mix. However, Rossi and Strauss had been together for a year prior to her untimely death. Again, this team had been through too much. She was his superior and there hadn’t been any problems that you’d been aware of, though no one had really been aware of their relationship until it was too late.

God, you wonder. Even Rossi hadn’t been afforded a chance at long term happiness with her. Is the BAU team just destined for trauma and loss? Maybe you should put a stop to this before it has the chance to go any further…but on the other hand you know Spencer would give his left arm if it meant having one more day with Meave. David would probably do the same to be with Erin. So, what were you doing? Why was it even a question?

You place the photo frame back in its place on the side table and grab your phone and keys off the counter. You know you look a bit disheveled. You’d not bothered to change or shower since getting home. You probably still smelled like plane funk too, but if you didn’t go see him now, you probably never would.

You pull open your front door and nearly trip over yourself as you force stop to keep from barreling into Hotch.

His hand is raised, like he is about to knock on the door no longer between you two. He licks his lips nervously and drops his hand after a

moment of you two staring at each other in stunned silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to barge in like this.”

An uncomfortable laugh flits between the two of you as your voices overlap.

“Do you want to come in?” you say, gesturing behind you.

Hotch nods, “Please.”

You shuffle to the side and he steps into your apartment, eyes bouncing around the space. “You’ve managed to keep up with the place, that’s good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, hugging your biceps with your hands. “I find that humming the ‘clean up’ song helps.”

A pink blush sparks across his cheeks at your jab. “I’m glad that’s now a part of my legacy.”

There’s another awkward laugh followed by an even more awkward silence.

You rub your hands up and down your arms, suddenly finding yourself not as brave as you were feeling minutes early.

“Aaron, what are you doing here?” you manage to say after a few more awkward moments of silence.

Hotch presses lips together before taking a deep breath. He sweeps his thumb across his lips, suddenly looking very determined as he meets your eyes. “What I should’ve done on the plane.”

It takes seconds for him to cross the space between you. His hands clasp the sides of your face and then his lips are on yours, kissing you with such fervor you’re surprised that you don’t see stars. At first, you don’t even react, too stunned to believe this is happening. And then your arms are looping around his neck and you’re deepening the kiss, tasting the coffee on his lips as your tongue slips between them.

After a minute, he pulls away and you’re both breathless. He presses his forehead to yours and gasps. You look up at him from beneath your lashes and his eyes are wild and searching.

“We’re doing this, then?” you say between breaths.

Hotch nods and brushes his nose against yours. “I don’t think it’ll be easy.”

You twist your fingers into his hair, your lips brushing his as you speak. “Nothing about our lives is easy.”

He kisses you once, quick and brief. “So, we’re doing this?”

“We’re doing this.”

•

*Two years later

“Penelope is really excited about it,” you say as you pull your knees to your chest. The sun is shining brightly, but the crisp fall air is still chilly enough to warrant a scarf and light jacket.

“She wants it to be bright and colorful, with peonies and baby’s breath everywhere. There’s a board in her office with enough strings and photos connected you’d think it was a case.” You laugh to yourself and smooth a hand across the gingham pattern picnic blanket beneath you.

“There will be a chair for you,” you say wistfully. “It’ll be next to ones for Haley, Erin, and Maeve.”

You reach out and brush your fingers along the perfectly etched letters of his name. “I hope you’ll be there.”

The sun glints off of the circular cut engagement ring on your left hand, casting a dazzling rainbow across his tombstone.

“I think about the promise I made you,” you say as you adjust the bouquet of sunflowers and roses you’d propped against his grave and smile to yourself knowing he’d probably make fun of you for the way you diligently make sure there’s always some fresh arrangement to decorate the space. “I was scared when I first started to feel things for him, scared of what that meant. It took me a long time, and an oddly sentimental conversation with Reid to start chasing the feeling.” You laugh to yourself then. “I felt the butterflies though, and though it took a while, I did finally chase them.”

A small gasp escapes your lips then as a Monarch Butterfly lands on top of the stone. You don’t know a ton about their migration patterns, but you know it’s late enough in the Fall that they should all be gone. JJ had said something to you once long ago about how butterflies can be signs of your loved ones from beyond the grave, their way of visiting when they can.

There’s the pitter patter of small feet whooshing through the grass as Jack’s laughter echoes throughout the field as he races toward you.

“Daddy and I finished visiting Mommy,” he says as he throws his small arms around you. Haley had been buried at Quantico National Cemetery too given Aaron’s position within the Bureau. You wrap your arms around Jack’s and look up to see that Hotch is smiling down at the two of you. He asks you if you’re done with your visit, referring to him as uncle. You palm Jack’s small cheek in your hand as your lips curve into a small half smile and tears fill your eyes.

“Just about,” you say.

Aaron stretches a hand toward you and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

You glance down at his grave once more and watch the butterfly sit atop the stone gently stretching its wings. It lifts off after a few more beats, fluttering around before landing on your sweater, its small legs hooking onto the threads of your sleeve.

You gasp in disbelief as you watch it climb a couple of inches before it takes off toward the clouds.

A tear slips down your cheeks as a bubble of laughter erupts from you, though there’s something of a sob there too. Aaron curves an arm around you and pulls you against the planes of his body that you’re now all too familiar with. He says nothing and kisses your temple as you watch the butterfly disappear into the sky and you can’t help but entertain the thought that maybe there is a heaven and that maybe, just maybe, he was checking in to let you know everything is okay.

You wrap an arm around Aaron’s torso and hug him tightly. Jack scoops up the blanket and bunches it into his arms.

“Well Soon-to-be Mrs. Hotchner,” Aaron says, rubbing your arm. “Are you ready?”

You take one last look at his grave and the flowers you’ve left there for him.

“I’m ready,” you answer with finality. And when you say those words, you mean them. You’re not just ready to leave for the afternoon, you’re ready for this next chapter of your life to truly and fully begin. It doesn’t mean you’re leaving this part of your life behind, the grief will always be a part of you and you know you’ll miss him and feel his loss until the day you die. And you know that Aaron feels the same about Haley. They’re integral parts of both of your stories, and through the healing you found one another. It’s that that carries you through to each new day, to each tomorrow. You’ll spend the rest of your lives honoring their legacies through the work you do and through the love you share with one another and all of your loved ones.

And that’s an encouraging thought.

[aceofwhump]

Torchwood 1x13 "End of Days"

The team's relief at seeing Jack alive after he was dead for several days.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

can i request a hotch x two-years-old-daughter!reader? i could totally see her begging her dad to let her wear her pink, poofy princess dress when hotch has to take her to work with him. but while hotch is busy, she manages to wander off. she then meets spencer (i imagine this takes place when spencer’s just starting with the bau) & immediately clings to him lol. she’s just very giggly, bubbly, cuddly, & LOVES to play with his hair. & poor spencer is just so confused but is endeared by her nevertheless. & then hotch finally finds her & is relieved. <3

sorry it’s so long! love your works!

Aaron Hotchner X Young Daughter reader

Request: can i request a hotch x two-years-old-daughter!reader? i could totally see her begging her dad to let her wear her pink, poofy princess dress when hotch has to take her to work with him. but while hotch is busy, she manages to wander off. she then meets spencer (i imagine this takes place when spencer’s just starting with the bau) & immediately clings to him lol. she’s just very giggly, bubbly, cuddly, & LOVES to play with his hair. & poor spencer is just so confused but is endeared by her nevertheless. & then hotch finally finds her & is relieved. <3

I do love young Hotch daughter who is completely opposite to her dad. Around season 1, Hailey is alive and just had Jack.

Third person pov...

Hailey smiles as her Husband runs around after their hyperactive 2 year old, little Y/N Hotchner was a ball of sunshine and energy.

The 2 year old was excited she had a baby brother and loved to play with him, though she loved playing with her Daddy even more.

Currently the little ball of energy was running around the house away from her Dad who was attempting to put her in her clothes, she was going to work with him for the day.

The little girl was only half dressed as she ran before the man could put her trousers on, giggling she shouts "no daddy!" As the man almost grabs her, a smile on his face.

Still chasing the girl, surprised at how quick she was for a tot, though he wasn't running more like in slow motion, wanting the chase to last a little longer, it wasn't every day he got to do this with his daughter (besides he had time before work started)

From the living room, Hailey watches her Husband and daughter with a smile on her face as she held her sleeping baby, Jack was sound asleep as if nothing was happening.

As they make another loop around the house Aaron stops and hops into the doorway of the living room, back pressed against the wall, Hailey watches her husband as he made a shush motion.

"Daddy?" Calls Y/N as the tot ran past the room, a confused look on her face and she looked for her dad. Poking her head around the door she looked at her Mum. "Where daddy?" She asks a pout on her lips.

Hailey fails to hide her smile as her daughter was grabbed and thrown upside down, giggling madly Y/N yelled to be let down. "Daddy! Let go" giggling even more when her tummy was tickled.

"Never, now its time for naughty girls to be dressed" he tells his daughter smiling wickedly as he continues to tickle his daughter, the H/C girl only wiggled in his grasp.

"No no daddy, wanna wear princess dress" yells the tot, Aaron stops his attack and looks at his wife. Hailey only shrugs her shoudlers.

Ever since her birthday Y/N loved one gift in particular, it was a beautiful poofy princess dress her parents got specially made for her.

She loved wearing it every time they went out and was always careful to keep it clean. Hotch sighs of course she would want to wear it to his work.

Looking down at the sad puppy look hisbwas getting he gave in. Hanging his head he stood up Y/N in his arms.

"Okay, Princess dress it is" he declared, dramatically, while bouncing the little girl in his arms before walking upstairs with a happy Y/N "yayy" cheers the young girl.

Finally ready to go Hotch grabbed his brief case, his lunch and Y/N lunch. As he headed for the door he called for Y/N the little girl eagerly bouncing over to him as he helped her put on her light up shoes.

"Ready princess" he asks her, Y/N gives him a huge gumming smile. "Yes Sir Daddy!" She saluted him before hugging her Mum and baby brother before leaving. "Good luck" Hailey whispers as she kisses Aaron.

When they arrived at the FBI headquarters Hotch pulls his daughter aside. "Now N/N, I know your excited, but I need you to stay close to me today okay? The office is busy and I don't want you to get lost" he explains to the girl.

Y/N smiles and hugs his neck giggling. "Yes Daddy! I be good" she smiles, Hotch pats her head a smile on his lips. "Thank you N/N" the two Hotchners then walk into the busy building.

And what a pair they made, Hotch in his usual suit and red tie combo, his stoic expresson on his face. Y/N in her pink poffy dress with light up shoes waving and smiling at all the agents she sees.

Once they get to the bullpen, Y/N is introduced to the team who are all excited to meet the young girl. Soon Hotch is busy in his office mountains of paperwork to go through.

On the floor lays Y/N, the young girl had grown bored it staying in the office. She had drawn lots of pictures, played with her toys. Now she wanted to explore.

Getting up from the floor she walks over to the door and opens it quietly, giggling silently she squeezes through the gap and is now free from the room.

Giggling she runs around the bullpen looking at all the desk and the members of her daddy's team, one person stand out to her, that's person being Spencer Reid who had jsut recently joined the BAU.

Walking up to thr agent she grabs onto his pant leg and shakes his gaining the surprised Dr's attention, looking doen and the girl dressed in pink spencer gives her an awkward smile.

"Hi..?" He says Y/N grins up at him. "Hi! I'm Y/N" she tells him proudly. Spencer is taken aback how smiley Hotches daughter is.

"I'm Spencer, nice to meet you Y/N" he says, before Y/N holds her arms up to him, Spencer was confused before realising she wanted to be picked up.

Nervously looking over to his bosses office he picks the girl up and sets her down on his lap, Y/Ns smiles brightens as she was held by the young man.

The brown haired man was surprised again when the ball on energy on his lap twisted around so she could koala hug him, pressing tightly to him Spencer hugged her back.

" your nice" came a muffled voice pressed to his chest, Spencer let out a surprised laugh at that making Y/N erupted into giggles all over again.

After hugging spencer the H/C tot began moving around as he tried to work, afgwr wriggling a bit she finally settled behind him, half sitting on top of his chair and half holding onto his back.

Y/N happily played with the agents hair as Spencer worked, he was slowly getting used to the girl spending time with him.

As this happened a very worried Dad was panicking in his office trying to find his daughter, after going through everything in his office Hotch threw open his door and stepped down the ramp into the bullpen.

Morgan stood from his desk as he saw the worried expression on the man's face. "Woah woah, what's happened Hotch?" He asks the worried man.

Shoulders shaking Aaron explained he couldn't find his daughter anywhere, instead of helping Derek just laughed and pointed.

Following his arm Hotch breathed a sigh off relief as he saw where Y/N had got to, smiling he watched his daughter laugh and play with the young doctors hair.

He was glad she was okay and made a new friend. Quickly taking a few pictures he sends them to Haily who messaged back just a quick. "Some one made a new friend" chuckling he responded. "I think they both made a new friend"

Putting his phone away he went back to his office, happy to leave his daughter in his agents capable hands.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot sorry for the wait! Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word Count : 1375

[anpanman95]

liar liar pants on fire

[jonasiegenthaler]

tbl@njd | 22.10.24

[thewulf]

Through the Years || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Aaron Hotchner x reader, It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom"... Read Rest Here

A/N: This was tough to write. But overall very sweet. We love a good teenage melton.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader, Jack Hotchner x Stepmom Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt, Jack being mean lol

Year Six: Jack’s Question

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the cozy living room as you and Jack sat together on the couch, surrounded by an array of colorful crafting supplies scattered across the coffee table. Glue sticks, markers, and construction paper formed a creative mess as the two of you worked on a project together, a rare moment of tranquility in the chaotic life of an FBI agent's family.

As you guided Jack through the steps of creating a handmade card for his grandmother's birthday, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked up at you with a mixture of admiration and affection. His small hands moved with determination, mirroring your own movements as you carefully cut out paper hearts and glued them onto the card letting him guide how he wanted the card to turn out.

"Y/N?" Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of conversation, tentative and uncertain. He shifted back and forth on the couch letting whatever was on his mind eat away at him for the time being.

As Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of the television on, you turned your attention back to him. He looked so nervous that you could only put the supplies down and focus solely on him. "Yeah, Jack?" you replied, your voice soft and encouraging.

Jack shifted nervously beside you, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his words. You could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the weight of his question heavy on his young shoulders.

"Can I... can I call you Mom?" His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with hesitation and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your heart soaring with joy and disbelief. It was a moment you had dreamed of, hoped for, but never dared to expect. Not so soon anyway. You and Aaron had been seeing each other for just over a year. And yet, here it was, unfolding before you in the most unexpected of moments.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at Jack, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion welling up inside you. You wanted to gather him into your arms, to hold him close and never let him go, to shower him with all the love and affection he deserved. But you also knew that this moment was about him, about his courage in voicing his feelings, his desire to forge a deeper connection with you. And so, you swallowed past the lump in your throat, your smile widening with genuine warmth and love.

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I would be honored."

As the words left your lips, a weight seemed to lift from Jack's shoulders, his face breaking into a radiant smile that mirrored your own. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your crafting adventure, you felt a profound connection form between you, one that transcended blood ties and was forged by love and mutual respect.

Jack let out a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he leaned into your embrace. "Good, Daddy said I could," he explained, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and validation.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, grateful for Aaron's support and understanding. It meant the world to you that he had encouraged Jack to express his feelings, to embrace the bond that had grown between you. "Your daddy is a smart man," you replied, your voice tinged with affection as you ruffled Jack's hair affectionately. "And he's right. You can call me mom whenever you want. You can also call me Y/N. Whatever you want kiddo."

Jack beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he settled back into his seat, a sense of contentment settling over him like a comforting blanket. In that moment, it felt as though the world had shifted, the connection between you and Jack deepening with each passing second. And as you returned to your crafting project, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

Year Fifteen: Teenage Turmoil

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated Aaron Hotchner's cluttered desk as he typed away on his laptop, the faint clicking of keys the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. It was Friday night, the end of a long week, but for Aaron, the work was far from over. His eyes flickered to the clock, noting the late hour. Jack should have been home by now, safely tucked into bed. Anxiety gnawed at him as he tried Jack's number once more, only to be met with the unwelcome sound of voicemail. He would give it until 12:30 then he was going to be calling Penelope to locate his young son. He didn’t want to be overbearing but he couldn’t help it. Not with what he’s seen, what he’s had to deal with.

In the living room, you paced back and forth, your heart pounding with worry. Each passing minute felt like an eternity. With every unanswered call, your concern grew tenfold. The clock on the wall mocked you, its hands moving relentlessly towards midnight. You too knew how dangerous it was out there. But you couldn’t lock the kid in. He’d resent the both of you for the rest of his days if you did that.

Finally, the creak of the front door announced Jack's return. Relief flooded through you, quickly replaced by a surge of frustration as you caught sight of his nonchalant expression. "Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" you exclaimed, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

Jack's eyes flickered to you, irritation flashing in their depths before he masked it with a careless shrug. "Relax, I lost track of time," he retorted, tossing his jacket aside without any regard for how stressed both you and his father were.

Your temper flared. "You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! Do you have any idea how worried we were?" As Aaron remained in his office, you and Jack were left to confront each other alone, the tension between you palpable.

He shrugged again before attempting to make a break for his room.

"Jack, please," you implored, your voice trembling with concern. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. It's not just about breaking curfew; it's about communication and respect."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "I don't need a lecture, Y/N. I'm not a kid anymore."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone, but you refused to back down. "I know you're growing up, but that doesn't mean you can disregard the rules we've set. They're there for a reason, Jack. We worry about you when you're out late, especially when we can't reach you."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. I can take care of myself."

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. Your voice tinged with emotion. "It's not just about taking care of yourself, Jack. There are awful people out there and…”

Jack's demeanor shifted, his expression hardening with defiance. "You're not my mom, Y/N. You don't get to tell me what to do."

His words cut deep, a pang of hurt flashing across your features. "I know I'm not your biological mother, but I love you like you're my own," you admitted, your voice wavering with emotion certainly not expecting the conversation to take such a turn so quickly.

Jack's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah, right. You're just trying to control me like everyone else. Well, news flash, it's not gonna work."

Your heart shattered at his harsh words, the weight of his rejection crushing you. "I'm not trying to control you, Jack. I just want what's best for you," you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes despite your best efforts to push them away.

But Jack's frustration boiled over, his voice rising with each word. "Stop pretending like you know what's best for me! You're not my freaking mom! You can't tell me what to do!"

As Jack's explosive words hung in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the room, filling the space with tension and uncertainty. Your heart felt as though it had been squeezed tight in your chest, the sting of Jack's rejection still raw.

A gasp came from your mouth as you tried to form any sort of coherent sentence. "Oh, I'm... I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and you found yourself at a loss.

Jack's eyes widened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he took in the impact of his own words. For a moment, he seemed unsure, caught between his anger and the weight of what he had just said. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, Aaron appeared in the doorway. His expression a mix of concern and disappointment. His presence seemed to ground the room, his steady gaze sweeping over you and Jack.

"What's going on here?" Aaron's voice was calm but firm, his eyes never leaving yours. He saw the watery tears that threatened to spill over at any second. He heard the tail end of the conversation and knew exactly why you were so devastated. You saw Jack as your own child and for him to say something so deeply hurtful left you reeling.

You struggled to compose yourself, the turmoil of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Jack... he... I don’t… I need to go," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turned and fled towards the kitchen, unable to even look at your stepson or Aaron in that moment. You felt utterly embarrassed. Like you hadn’t been loving that child for the last ten years of his life. Did he really feel like that or was he just lashing out?

In the living room, Aaron's expression darkened, his jaw clenched with restrained anger as he watched you leave. The weight of Jack's hurtful words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their father-son relationship.

Jack shifted uncomfortably; his eyes fixed on the ground as guilt gnawed at him. "Dad, I didn't mean..."

But Aaron's patience had worn thin with his moody son. "Not now, Jack," he interrupted, his tone stern. "Right now, I need you to think about what you said and why it was completely unacceptable."

Jack swallowed hard, the gravity of his actions sinking in as he met his father's unwavering gaze. "I know, Dad. I messed up," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.

Aaron's frustration boiled over, his voice taking on the commanding tone he used when interrogating suspects. "You think you can just say whatever you want and there won't be consequences? You hurt her, Jack. You hurt someone who cares about you deeply, and I won't stand for it."

Jack's eyes widened, the full weight of his actions crashing down on him as he met his father's intense gaze. "I-I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to..."

But Aaron cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Apologies won't cut it this time, Jack. You need to understand the gravity of your words and the impact they have on people." As Aaron continued to reprimand his son, he couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. He knew he had to find you, to make sure you were alright. With a final stern look at Jack, he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with concern.

As he entered the kitchen, his heart sank at the sight before him. There you were, hunched over on the floor, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, Aaron crossed the room and knelt beside you, gathering you into his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "You're alright, I've got you." Aaron felt a pang of anguish as he held you, his heart breaking at the depth of your pain. Gently, he lifted your chin, guiding your tear-filled eyes to meet his own.

"Honey," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Listen to me. You may not be Jack's biological mother, but you are his mom in every sense of the word."

You shook your head weakly, unable to comprehend his words through the haze of your despair. "But I-I..."

"No buts," Aaron interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. "Every day, in every action, every moment of love and care you've shown him, you've proven yourself to be his mother. You've been there for him, supported him, loved him unconditionally. That's what a mom does. That’s what you are, sweetheart.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you, a glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness of your despair. "But Jack said..."

Aaron's expression softened, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. "Jack was angry and confused. He didn't mean what he said. And even if he did, it doesn't change the truth. You are his mother, my love, in every way that matters."

As his words sank in, a sense of warmth enveloped you, the weight of your anguish easing with each beat of your heart. In Aaron's arms, you found solace, reassurance, and a renewed sense of purpose. You leaned against Aaron's chest, letting the last of your tears fall, a sense of peace washed over you. His comforting presence wrapped you up in his warm embrace, grounding you in the certainty that together you’d be just fine. “Thank you.” You whispered as he held you in his embrace.

Aaron held you close, his hold on you a silent promise of unwavering support and love. "Anytime, honey," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of chaos. "We'll get through this together."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the kitchen, and you looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway, tears glistening in his eyes. His expression was wrought with guilt and remorse as he hesitated, unsure of how to approach you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice choked with emotion. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just wanted to hurt you, but I didn't mean it. I didn’t mean it at all, I promise. I need you! You are my mom! Please don't leave me." His words came out quickly as he wiped away his own tears.

Your heart shattered at Jack's raw confession, the depth of his pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Without hesitation, you opened your arms, inviting him into the embrace. Aaron backed off letting the situation between the two most important people in his life play out.

Jack rushed over and threw his larger frame right into your arms You wrapped him up tightly as he let his own cries out. The weight of his own words crashing down on him in the instant he saw how much he had hurt you. He was just a kid, of course you could forgive him. "It's okay, Jack," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I know you didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t lose you too.” He let out a whimpered cry breaking your heart even further.

Tears streamed down your own cheeks as you held Jack close, the weight of his words settling over you. "You’ll never lose me, Jackie," you reassured him, using his old nickname, a sign of the deep love you two shared for each other.  "I'm here for you, always. Always and forever kiddo."

Jack's sobs began to subside as he clung to you, finding exactly what he needed in your embrace. "I love you. I’m so sorry." he whispered again. His voice filled with sincerity.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently pulled away to look into his eyes. "I love you too, Jack. It’s okay. I forgive you." You said again, reassuring him.

He nodded, relief flooding his features as he buried his face in your arms once more, the weight of guilt slowly lifting from his shoulders. "You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me," you continued, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "Other than your father," you added with a playful grin, feeling Jack's chuckle rumble against your side. He gave you one more squeeze before pulling away. The remorse still heavy on his face. Carefully, you brushed the stray tears away from his face showing him the love that the both of you needed.

As Aaron joined you both in the kitchen, his presence a reassuring anchor, you shared a smile, knowing that no matter what life threw your way, you would be okay. For truly these two were the best things that had ever happened to you.

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

Request Taglist: @fictionallifestuff

[86espresso]

I love you.”

with jack? maybe they have been dating for awhile and she is not good at saying her feelings at all and jack understood that and has say i love you too but maybe after a hard day he just wants to know if she even likes him

wait bye my heart already hurts 😕 I went SO overboard with this. thank you for requesting ! 🩷

☯︎ “I love you.”

IT was safe to say that Jack was your first real relationship.

You’ve done numerous casual things with people, but you instantly knew it was different when Jack came in the picture. He was so patient with you. He never raised his voice at you. He always told you exactly what you needed to hear.

But you were still new to relationships and the whole being a girlfriend thing, so you had problems in expressing how you feel.

You went nonverbal on Jack for a day because you wanted a hug and didn’t know how to ask.

Still, he was gentle and caring, telling you that you’re doing great and that you don’t need to ask for hugs and kisses, or reasons to say ‘I love you’.

You curled up on your couch, watching Jack’s game on the tv while studying. Your first final was the following day, so you stayed home. You glance at the score and wince as the devils were losing 0-5. By that, you already knew that Jack was going to be closed off and tired. The game ended 1-5 with New Jersey’s goal coming from Jesper.

You’d involuntarily distanced yourself from your surroundings the last few days because of your hectic finals schedule and you had no idea how much it hurt Jack. He was asleep before you got to bed and you were awake before he woke up. You barely gave him the time of day without ever realizing it.

Jack rested his forehead against the door of your apartment for a moment, distraught by the loss but also knowing that you wouldn’t be there for him because you were busy and wouldn’t know what to say anyway. He really wanted comfort in your arms tonight but he didn’t think you’d care to even watch his game.

He turned the key in the lock, hearing a soft click and entered, closing the door behind him. You were sat in the couch, as expected, surrounded by books, unfazed at the door opening. Jack’s heart clenched as he saw you there; he missed you so much. The you that would’ve noticed him at the door and would’ve gotten up to kiss him.

Him dropping his hockey bag is what alerted you of his presence. You jump, knocking one of your books to the floor as you whipped around, your body relaxing when you saw that it was only Jack.

“Jack. You scared me.” You clutch your heart but notice the inevitable distress on his face. “Are you okay?”

Jack didn’t have the energy to bother you with his problems, so he just nodded and went to the kitchen for a glass water. He was surprised to see a full glass waiting for him on the counter and heard the soft padding of your footsteps behind him.

“I-uh kept that for you.” You cross your arms and look anywhere but at Jack. He felt himself soften slightly; one of the things he craved was you showing that you cared but being nonchalant about it. He thought it was adorable.

“Thanks, baby.”

He took the glasses and downed it, immediately refilling it to drink again.

“I’m really sorry about the loss.” You say softly, hopping on the counter next to where Jack was standing. You watch him freeze, as if he was surprised.

“You watched? I thought you were busy.”

“I was but I always watch your games, you know that.” You furrow your brows.

Jack nodded. “Right, yeah.”

“Jack? Why are you upset? Like, actually.”

Jack sighed, you may be not be the brightest in reading people but you knew him like the back of your hand.

“[ ], I need to know-” he stops in front of yiu, putting his hands in either side of you, “if you still- uh.”

“If I still?”

Jack felt sick even implying it, so he gave you a pleading look so that you’d complete it for him.

You take a shot at it, “You know I love you, right? More than anything.” You reach up to hold his face. You feel your heart shatter when he looks at you hopefully, as if he forgot that you loved him.

It was then when you realized how negligent you’ve been. Jack loved your attention on him and said too much of it wasn’t a thing.

He just wanted to know if you still loved him.

You hugged him tight and he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter to feel as close as possible.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks off at the end.

“I know you’ve been stressed, baby. But that’s why I’m here, to share it with you. You need to talk to me more. Will you?” He pulls away to look intently into your eyes.

You nod and hold your pinkie out so he links it in yours. He giggles, does the promise and leans forward to kiss you softly.

[kiwriteswords]

Jealous Angsty Hotch is my favorite

Envy is the bond between the hopeful and the damned [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 3.1k|| AN: I am so sorry this one took me so long!

Tags/Warnings: jealous Hotch, bombshell reader, flirtatious Derek, canon-typical themes, canon-typical injuries, angst, argument, established relationship, secret relationship, BAU reader, undercover operation

Summary: Aaron Hotchner never considered himself a possessive man. He was on board to keep his relationship with you a secret, that was...until Derek Morgan increasingly got under his skin with his flirtatious comments toward you.

Aaron Hotchner was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve. His stoic demeanor and calculated expressions were hallmarks that defined him both as the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit and as a man who guarded his private life fiercely.

Yet, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions under wraps, recent developments were challenging his usual composure.

You had been part of the BAU team for a couple of years now, blending seamlessly into the fabric of the group with your sharp analytical mind and equally sharp wit. You were undeniably beautiful—a fact that had not escaped the notice of the team, especially Derek Morgan. Morgan, with his charming smile and flirtatious banter, had always found a way to make his admiration for you known. The team often teased you about being 'Morgan's type,' laughter and light jests filling the air around such comments. Initially, Hotch had found it amusing, a harmless part of team dynamics. But things had changed.

Lately, his feelings for you had deepened into something more profound, something private and intensely personal. The two of you had started seeing each other outside of work, cautiously at first, but with growing seriousness. It was a secret affair, hidden behind closed doors and knowing glances that only the two of you could interpret.

However, Morgan's casual flirtations were starting to stir a feeling Hotch was unaccustomed to—jealousy. Today, during a brief downtime in the bullpen, Morgan had sauntered over to your desk, leaning close enough that his voice was exclusively yours to hear.

"Hey, pretty lady, how about we grab dinner tonight? My treat," Morgan suggested, his smile broad and inviting. The team perked up, the usual teasing poised on the tips of their tongues.

You looked up at him, your expression a mix of amusement and mild irritation, a look Hotch knew all too well. "Derek, you know I appreciate the offer, but I've got plans already," you replied, your voice steady but gentle, trying not to bruise his ego.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering just a bit. "Oh, come on, you always have plans. When are you gonna give me a chance?" he half-joked, half-serious—a tone that didn't go unnoticed by Hotch, who was watching the exchange from his office with a frown creasing his brow.

Garcia chimed in, passing through, her voice carrying across the room. "Morgan, you better watch out; maybe our girl here has a secret love we don't know about!"

The team laughed, and you blushed, glancing unintentionally up towards Hotch's office. Hotch's heart skipped, his own feelings mirrored in your fleeting look. It was these moments that he cherished—these brief, shared seconds where the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. Yet, it was also these moments that fueled his growing unease at Morgan's attentions.

Later that day, when the team was wrapping up, Hotch found you alone in the break room. He approached quietly, his demeanor serious. "Do you ever think," he began, pausing to choose his words carefully, "that it might be time to let the team in on... us?"

You looked surprised, a spoonful of coffee halfway to your lips. For a moment, Hotch looked at your lips, and that’s all he could think about--an effect only you had on him.

"I... Aaron, are you sure? It's been nice, just the two of us knowing. It feels like something just ours."

"I know," Hotch admitted, his voice low. "But seeing Morgan today, how he—"

You reached out, placing a hand over his. "Aaron, Derek is just being Derek. It doesn’t change how I feel about us. But if it’s important to you, maybe it’s time."

Hotch nodded, appreciating your reassurance. "Let's think about it a bit more," he decided, his hand turning under yours to squeeze it gently.

But life got in the way, and the time to “talk about it” wasn’t there. 

The next case had been grueling—a string of violent robberies across Virginia that had escalated into a hostage situation by the time the BAU was called in. Tensions were high as the team worked tirelessly to profile the unsub and predict his next move. You and Derek had been on site, working to establish a perimeter, when the unsub unexpectedly made a desperate, violent break, catching everyone off guard.

During the chaos, you had been hurt—an injury that seemed minor at first but was soon revealed to be more serious when you collapsed from a hidden stab wound you had sustained while trying to subdue the suspect. Derek, who had been by your side during the takedown, was riddled with guilt and insisted on accompanying you to the hospital, his protective nature in full display.

Hotch, meanwhile, was left to coordinate the wrap-up of the case, his leadership duties anchoring him to the scene. As much as he wanted to be by your side, his responsibilities as Unit Chief made it impossible for him to leave immediately. The knowledge that Derek was there with you, while he could not be, stirred a tumult of emotions within him—jealousy, frustration, and a fierce protectiveness that was unusual in its intensity.

By the time Hotch arrived at the hospital, you were already being patched up, Derek hovering nearby, his worry palpable. Hotch's arrival was quiet, his eyes immediately seeking you out in the busy emergency room. You looked pale, the pain evident in your eyes, but you managed a weak smile when you saw him.

"Aaron," you murmured, relief coloring your tone. Derek stepped aside, giving Hotch space to come closer, but his presence lingered, heavy and unmissable.

Hotch nodded to Derek briefly before turning his full attention to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low, a controlled calm masking the storm of emotions inside him.

"It hurts, but they said I'll be fine," you replied, trying to ease the worry in his eyes. 

Derek chimed in, "She was incredible, Hotch. Took the unsub down like a pro, just got caught with a bad angle." He turned to you, “Glad I was here to hold her hand though when they patched her up.” 

Hotch's jaw tightened at Derek's words, his gaze flicking briefly to him before returning to you. "I'm just glad you're okay," he said, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently, a silent message of support and something more, something only you could understand.

Derek, a profiler after all, picking up on the subtle interplay of looks between you and Hotch, excused himself to give you some privacy, though his glance back as he left spoke volumes of his continued concern. Alone now, Hotch's expression softened.

"This thing with Derek..." Hotch began, hesitating as he searched for the right words. "Does it bother you? His attention?"

You shook your head slightly, wincing from the movement. "It's just Derek being Derek. I don't encourage it, Aaron. You know where my heart lies."

Hotch's features relaxed at your words, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. "I know," he admitted. "It's just hard, not being able to show... not being able to tell everyone that you're mine."

The possessiveness in his tone surprised you both, a stark contrast to his usual reserved nature. You squeezed his hand, understanding the depth of his feelings, the struggle it was for him to even voice them.

"Aaron, maybe it's time," you suggested softly. "Maybe it's time we don't have to hide anymore."

Hotch nodded, the idea settling into his thoughts like a weight lifted. "Let's talk about it when you're out of here. For now, just focus on getting better. That's what matters to me the most."

You both should have known--with your busy schedules, you might as well block out a scheduled meeting time and place it on the bureau-wide calendar to set up a time to talk. 

While on the next case, the briefing room buzzed with discussion as the team reviewed the details of the new case. It was a standard undercover operation, one that required a couple to infiltrate a high-end social circle. 

The unsub targeted women at exclusive parties, and the BAU needed a pair to blend in. Derek and you fit the profile perfectly—both attractive, confident, and capable of playing the roles effortlessly. The physical descriptions between the two of you were an ideal match as well. 

But Aaron Hotchner hated the idea. Like absolutely hated this idea. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Hotch said firmly, arms crossed as he addressed the team. “We don’t know enough about the unsub’s habits to ensure their safety. There are too many variables.”

Rossi tilted his head, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Hotch, the profile’s clear. Physically, they’re perfect. A couple in their late twenties to mid-thirties. Derek and her fit the bill. You’re overthinking this.”

JJ added, her tone light but pointed, “And honestly, it’s not like we have many other options. No offense, Rossi, but you’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

Rossi smirked. “I could charm my way through it if I had to.”

Hotch wasn’t amused. “It’s a security risk,” he said, ignoring the banter. His eyes shifted to you across the room, catching the subtle glance you threw his way. It was a look only he could decipher—a quiet reassurance, a silent message that you understood his concerns. But it did little to ease the growing tension in his chest.

“Hotch,” Emily chimed in, her voice cutting through his thoughts. “We’ve done riskier operations. She and Derek can handle this. Don’t you trust them?”

It wasn’t a question of trust. It was the idea of watching Derek, whose flirtations were already a sore spot, act like he was yours. It churned in Hotch’s gut, a raw, irrational frustration he struggled to suppress.

“Fine,” he said sharply, his tone curt as he relented. “But we keep constant surveillance, and the moment it looks like the situation is escalating, we pull them out.”

The room relaxed as the team moved on to logistics, but Hotch remained stiff, his jaw clenched as he tried to focus on the operation instead of the storm brewing inside him.

The operation started smoothly. Derek and you slipped into your roles with ease, playing the part of a glamorous couple navigating the lavish party scene. Derek’s hand rested on the small of your back as you laughed softly at something he said, your body language exuding the confidence and charm required for the role. A confidence you brought forward even in your real life. 

Hotch watched from the surveillance van, his tension palpable. He hadn’t looked away from the monitors since the operation began, his eyes tracking your every move. Derek leaned in close, whispering something in your ear, and you tilted your head toward him with a smile. It was fake—Hotch knew that. But it still set his teeth on edge.

“Hotch, you okay?” Emily asked, her voice gentle but curious. She’d noticed his rigidity, the way his hand hovered over the comms button as if he were ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. He was hyper-focused on every detail, practically looking for a reason to shut this down.

“I’m fine,” he replied tersely, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Uh-huh,” Emily murmured, unconvinced but wisely choosing not to push.

When the operation concluded, and the unsub was apprehended, the team regrouped back at the precinct. Hotch’s mood had not improved. If anything, it had worsened.

Watching Derek touch you, hold your hand, and lean into your personal space—even for the sake of the mission—had been unbearable. It was irrational, he knew, but his emotions felt like a live wire sparking inside him.

“Well, that was fun,” Derek said, clapping you on the shoulder as the team settled into the conference room. “You were a natural out there.”

You laughed lightly, though your eyes flicked to Hotch, who stood stiffly at the edge of the room, arms crossed and jaw tight.

“Thanks, Derek,” you said, your tone kind but dismissive. You could tell something was wrong—Hotch hadn’t looked at you since the operation ended, and the air around him practically crackled with tension.

You walked over to him, keeping your voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “Hotch, are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Hotch’s eyes finally met yours, dark and stormy. “I’m fine,” he said curtly, his tone sharper than you’d expected.

You flinched slightly at his words, confusion flickering across your face. “Aaron—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice louder now, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. The room went silent, everyone exchanging bewildered glances. Even Derek looked taken aback.

Hotch exhaled sharply, realizing he’d let his emotions slip. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving you standing there, stunned and embarrassed.

You caught up to him in the hallway, your heels clicking against the linoleum as you quickened your pace. “Hotch!” you called, your voice firm. “Aaron, stop!”

He did, reluctantly, turning to face you. His expression was a mix of anger and something deeper—something raw and vulnerable.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared up at him. “You snapped at me in front of everyone. Do you have any idea how unprofessional that was?”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now but no less tense. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Then why did you?” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on with you?”

Hotch looked away, his jaw tightening again. “I didn’t like seeing you with Derek,” he admitted after a long pause. “I didn’t like him touching you, acting like—”

“Like what?” you interrupted, your tone softening as understanding dawned. “Like we were a couple? We were undercover!”

He nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours. “It’s irrational, I know. But I hated it. I hated every second of it.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tension between you. “Aaron, it was just a role. You know that.”

“I do,” he said, stepping closer. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I never thought of myself as a possessive man, but with you... I wouldn’t mind if the world knew you were mine.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression softening as you placed a hand on his chest. “Then maybe it’s time they do. We keep saying it.”

Hotch’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, the weight of his emotions finally easing. “Maybe it is,” he agreed, his hand covering yours. “But first, I owe you an apology.”

“You do,” you said teasingly, though your tone was gentle. “And you might want to apologize to Derek, too. He looked like a kicked puppy.”

Hotch sighed, a faint smile breaking through his grumpy demeanor. “One step at a time.”

And that one step at a time was forgoing every other responsibility until this conversation happened. What came from that was the decision and action to tell the rest of the team. 

After updating your supportive coworkers, Hotch watched you move around his bedroom with a contented ease that warmed his heart. 

You had just slipped into one of his shirts, the fabric hanging loosely on your frame—a sight that never failed to stir something deep within him. As you began brushing your hair in front of the dresser mirror, he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, still processing the team's reactions from earlier that day.

"They took it better than I expected," Hotch commented, breaking the comfortable silence. His tone was reflective, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he recalled the varying expressions of surprise and support from the team.

You turned to face him, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I think Garcia already had a betting pool going for when we'd finally admit it," you teased, setting the brush down. "Though I'm pretty sure Derek was the most relieved to have it out in the open."

Hotch's expression darkened momentarily at the mention of Derek, recalling the tension of the past weeks. "Relieved isn't the word I'd use."

"Oh?" You walked over to him, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Are you sure it wasn't just because you stopped glaring daggers at him every time he came near me?"

"I was not glaring," Hotch countered, though a faint smile betrayed his defensive tone. "It was strategic observation."

"Strategic observation?" You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Is that what we're calling jealousy these days?"

Hotch sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he placed his hands on your waist. "I was concerned, not jealous. As your unit chief, I had to make sure he was remaining professional."

"Concerned," you echoed, nodding exaggeratedly. "Concerned enough to nearly have a coronary every time Derek played his part a bit too convincingly."

"I did not—"

You cut him off with a quick peck on the lips, silencing his protest. "You know, I thought it was kind of hot," you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

"Hot?" Hotch raised an eyebrow, his hands tightening slightly on your waist.

"Mmm," you hummed in affirmation. "Seeing you get all possessive. I half expected you to mark your territory somehow. Maybe a tattoo on my forehead that says 'Property of Hotch.'"

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "I think a tattoo might be a bit excessive, but maybe they could add a spot on your badge," he conceded, making you laugh. His eyes softened with affection. "But I can't deny that the idea of everyone knowing you're with me doesn't have its appeal."

"I could see it in your eyes," you continued, playful and light. "One more flirty comment from Derek, and you might have started a BAU brawl."

"I would have handled it professionally," Hotch assured you, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

"Of course," you agreed, a twinkle in your eye. "Professionally pinning Derek to the ground in a fit of 'strategic observation.'"

Hotch shook his head, his smile lingering as he leaned in to kiss you gently. "I'm just glad we don't have to hide anymore," he murmured against your lips.

"Me too," you replied, your voice soft. "No more secrets. Just us."

"Just us," Hotch repeated, pulling you closer. The weight of the secrets they'd carried felt lifted, and as he held you in his arms, the quiet of the night wrapping around them, Aaron Hotchner felt a profound sense of peace settle over him. Here, in this moment, with you, everything was exactly as it should be.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

[zombi3hearth]

Literalmente ya no tengo más ideas de que hacer esto es solo para no dejar la cuenta en abandono 🐀 (help me, no siento mi brazo 😭💔)