#jealous hotch

[kiwriteswords]

more bombshell reader and maybe jealous hotch!!

Something in the Way She Moves

Masterlist || Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Bombshell Female Reader||Word Count: 20k!!

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, spoilers/mentions of past character's death(s), hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, breakups, forbidden romance, smut, sex without protection, yearning Hotch, Reader is Hotch's Boss, holidays, Reader has hair, cheating if you squint (not on each other; not Reader on/by Hotch), mentions of alcohol at social setting, bombshell reader, possessive Hotch, jealous reader

Sypnosis: As the new section chief of the BAU, you’re determined to lead with professionalism—despite an undeniable connection with Aaron Hotchner, the stoic unit chief who understands you like no one else. When your growing romance draws scrutiny from the Bureau and threatens both your careers, breaking things off feels like the only choice. But resisting your feelings is easier said than done, and navigating the fallout proves more complicated—and personal—than either of you anticipated.

Aaron Hotchner had always believed in rules. They provided structure, a way to ensure order in the chaos of the world he inhabited daily. He lived by them—until you walked back into his life.

When you first stepped into Erin Strauss’ old office as the new Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Aaron had already known you would get the job. Not because you were an excellent candidate, though that was undeniable, but because he had written the letter of recommendation that tipped the scales. He’d been the one to argue your case, to convince the higher-ups that your tactical mind, people skills, and years of leadership in the Child Abduction and Serial Killer Unit made you the right choice.

He knew he couldn’t take on the job himself. He didn’t want to sacrifice his time in the field or more time away from Jack. Things with Beth had just mutually ended, and he knew now wasn’t time for a big change in his career. His team needed stability, too. He knew where to find it for them. He couldn’t think of a better boss for himself or his team. 

But what Aaron hadn’t expected was how your presence would shift the ground beneath his feet.

From day one, you were everything he remembered—commanding, intelligent, and stunning. But there was a new energy to you now. Your style was impeccable, all sharp lines and elegance, yet undeniably bold. You wore heels that clicked purposefully against the tiled floors, and your perfume lingered just long enough to be distracting. Every room you entered turned its attention to you, though you never seemed to revel in it. You worked hard—harder than anyone—but also knew how to treat yourself. Aaron admired that, envied it even.

And then there was the personal side, the one you didn’t show many. The way you smiled when you spoke about your niece’s upcoming recital. The way your laugh, a warm and genuine sound, filled the briefing room when someone cracked a joke. You were extra, yes—extravagant even—but never entitled. You could be sharp-tongued and exacting, but you were also kind and humble. You never asked anyone for anything you wouldn’t provide for yourself.

You were a paradox, and Aaron found himself drawn to you more every day.

The first time the two of you crossed the line, it had been... unplanned.

It was late, the kind of late where the bullpen was empty except for the faint hum of desk lamps and the rhythmic clicks of Aaron typing. You had come down from your office, a mug of tea in your hand and a softness to your expression he rarely saw as you popped into his opened door.

“You’re still here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he replied, looking up from his laptop as you perched on the edge of his desk.

The conversation started as work but soon meandered. Aaron had always valued your opinion, and it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to linger over cases. But that night, as the hours stretched on, there was a shift.

“I’ve always admired your dedication,” you said quietly, your gaze steady on him. 

“Thank you,” Aaron replied, his throat tightening.

“And the way you fought for me to get this position... Aaron, it means more than you know.”

There was a vulnerability in your voice, a crack in the armor you so carefully maintained. Aaron wasn’t sure what compelled him, but before he could second-guess it, his hand covered yours where it rested on his desk.

That simple touch was all it took to change everything.

Weeks passed before either of you acknowledged what was happening. It started innocently enough—a lingering glance across the briefing room, the brush of hands when passing files, the way your voices softened when it was just the two of you. But it didn’t take long for the connection to deepen, slipping past the professional boundaries you had so carefully constructed.

Aaron would find himself texting you late at night, ostensibly to discuss case details, but the conversations often veered into personal territory. It wouldn’t take long until you crossed the boundary, deciding the messages weren’t enough phone calls were needed. He learned that you hated mornings but loved the ritual of your complicated coffee orders, that you missed the simplicity of fieldwork but thrived in your new role because it gave you a broader sense of impact. You learned that he still struggled with guilt over Haley, that he missed spending more time with Jack but refused to let his son see his father falter.

The shift wasn’t dramatic, but it was undeniable. The way you looked at him during meetings lingered too long, your gaze softening when you thought no one else was watching. The way he always stood a little closer to you than necessary, catching your perfume—an elegant mix of jasmine and citrus—that lingered long after you walked away. The stolen moments became something he craved, something he couldn’t ignore.

Aaron knew it was wrong—or, at the very least, complicated. But the way you saw him, truly saw him, made it impossible to stay away. Aaron had met a lot of people in his life, nobody who completely saw him. It was almost as if he spent his whole life searching for it, for it to be looking him in the face all of these years. 

The first time he kissed you, it was in your office.

You were pacing, heels clicking against the polished floor, your tailored suit jacket hanging neatly on the back of your chair. The soft silk blouse you wore glimmered faintly in the dim light, catching his attention more than it should have.

“Can you believe this?” you muttered, gesturing toward the papers on your desk. “A dozen forms to approve before tomorrow, as if I don’t already have enough to do. And the Director wants an update on—”

“Stop,” Aaron interrupted gently, his deep voice cutting through your frustration.

You froze mid-stride, turning to face him. Your expression softened slightly, but your eyes—those piercing, calculating eyes that could read anyone in a heartbeat—searched his face for answers.

“What is it, Aaron?” you asked the edge in your tone melting into something warmer.

He stood from the chair opposite your desk, his broad shoulders and crisp suit making him seem even taller in the small space.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm.

Your brow furrowed, confusion flickering across your features. “Do what?”

He stepped closer, his dark eyes locked on yours, his presence overwhelming in the best way.

“Pretend that I don’t want more.”

For a moment, the air between you stilled, charged with an unspoken tension that had been building for weeks. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, you tilted your head, studying him with the same intensity you reserved for interrogations.

And then your free hand moved, reaching up to curl into his tie, the silk fabric slipping easily between your fingers. You tugged gently, pulling him toward you, your breath mingling with his.

“Aaron,” you murmured, a faint warning still lingering in your tone.

But he didn’t stop. His hand rose to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. Your skin was warm, impossibly soft, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything so grounding.

The kiss started tentative, almost hesitant, but the moment your lips met, it shattered whatever walls remained between you. You leaned into him, your other hand finding its way to his chest, where his heart pounded beneath the crisp cotton of his shirt. His other hand slid to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the curve of your hip, steadying you as you deepened the kiss.

You tasted like mint and something sweet, and Aaron thought he might be losing his mind. The world outside your office door ceased to exist; there was only you, your warmth, your intoxicating presence.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and your breathing uneven. His tie was slightly askew, and your fingers still clutched it loosely as if unsure whether to let go.

“Well,” you said, your voice teasing but laced with something raw, something real. “That’s one way to solve a bureaucratic nightmare.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his forehead resting briefly against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, though he didn’t look it. He certainly didn’t feel it. 

“Don’t be,” you replied, your fingers brushing the lapel of his jacket. “Just... don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady.

And he meant it. Whatever came next, whatever complications or consequences arose, Aaron knew one thing for certain: this—you—was worth it.

Aaron Hotchner had never been one to let himself indulge—not in anything that wasn’t for Jack, at least. His life revolved around necessity and function, keeping his head above water while ensuring those around him could do the same. Haley and Beth had been simple…these minor things didn’t appeal to them. But with you, indulgence didn’t feel frivolous. It felt... right.

The kiss had been a turning point. It wasn’t just the line crossed—it was the invitation to something more. After that moment in your office, there was no going back. Within days, the two of you had quietly shifted from colleagues to something undeniably personal. By the end of the first week, Aaron had asked you out, and to his surprise, you’d agreed without hesitation.

Your first date had been dinner at a small but elegant restaurant nestled in the heart of Georgetown. Aaron had chosen the spot carefully—upscale enough to meet your polished tastes but intimate enough to keep prying eyes at bay.

“I have to admit,” you’d said over a glass of sauvignon blanc, “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to keep up with me.”

Aaron had raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Keep up with you how?”

Your expression had turned playful, your eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “Let’s just say I’ve been accused of having... expensive taste.”

Aaron had leaned back in his chair, swirling his whiskey casually. “You think I don’t know that by now?” he teased. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who insisted on a specific brand of bottled water for office meetings.”

“That’s called maintaining standards,” you countered with mock indignation.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Don’t worry. I might be frugal, but I’m not struggling. And I like to spoil the people I care about.”

The admission had caught you off guard, he could tell. Your confident demeanor had faltered just enough for him to notice, and for a moment, you’d looked down at your glass, your smile softer. “Well,” you’d said finally, meeting his gaze again, “I won’t complain about that.”

By the time you’d gone on a few dates, Aaron found himself more at ease with the idea of what you were becoming. It wasn’t just the shared dinners, the quiet moments in the corners of bars, or the back seats of dimly lit movie theaters. It was the way you fit into his life so seamlessly. Despite your differences—you with your love of extravagance and meticulous planning and him with his pragmatic approach and quiet restraint—you balanced each other.

You worked well together, too. Surprisingly well. If anything, your meticulous attention to detail and unrelenting standards had only strengthened the BAU. Aaron had always considered himself by the book, but compared to you, he realized he could be downright lenient.

“You’re more Type A than I am,” he commented one night after a case briefing, leaning against the doorframe of your office.

You glanced up from your perfectly organized desk, where every file was stacked at precise right angles. “Is that your way of saying I’m bossy?”

“Not at all,” he replied, his tone teasing. “I’m saying you’re by-the-book to a fault. It’s impressive, really.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Says the man who color-codes his case files.”

“Touché,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I don’t panic at the thought of bending the rules when necessary.”

Your expression sobered slightly, and Aaron noticed the way your hands stilled over the papers in front of you. “I just... I don’t want to give anyone a reason to question me—or us.”

Ah. There it was.

“You’re worried about telling the Director,” Aaron said, stepping further into the room.

Your silence was answer enough.

Aaron sat on the edge of your desk, his presence grounding. “Things are going well,” he said firmly. “The team respects you. Cases are running smoothly. We work together seamlessly. There’s no reason for anyone to take issue with this—unless we give them one.”

You looked up at him, your expression vulnerable in a way few ever saw. “But what if they do? What if they say it’s inappropriate or unprofessional? I could lose this position, Aaron.”

He reached for your hand, covering it with his. The touch was gentle, but his grip steady, reassuring. “You won’t lose it. You’ve earned this. No one can take that from you.”

“But what about you?” you asked quietly. “If this affects your place on the team...”

“I won’t let it,” Aaron said with conviction. “We’ve handled worse than bureaucratic red tape. Besides, I think the Director has bigger problems than two senior members of the BAU in a consensual, functional relationship.”

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Functional, huh? That’s romantic.”

Aaron smirked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

You shook your head, your laughter soft but genuine. “I don’t know how you stay so calm about this.”

“Because I’ve spent my life trying to control everything,” he admitted. “And I’ve learned the hard way that some things are worth the risk.”

Your gaze lingered on his, the weight of his words settling between you. And for the first time since this all began, Aaron saw the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice steady. “We’ll tell the Director. Together.”

Aaron nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Together.”

In that moment, as the two of you sat in the quiet comfort of your shared understanding, Aaron knew one thing for certain: whatever the future held, you were worth it. Every risk, every consequence—you were worth it.

Aaron Hotchner had walked into more high-pressure situations than he could count. Interrogating unsubs. Negotiating with armed suspects. Delivering heartbreaking news to grieving families. But as he sat outside the Director’s office with you beside him, he felt a knot in his stomach that rivaled even the most tense of standoffs.

You sat with your legs crossed, your polished heel bouncing ever so slightly—a nervous tick Aaron had come to recognize. You were dressed impeccably, as always, your tailored blazer sharp enough to cut through steel. But Aaron knew you well enough to see the tension in the way you smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from your skirt or adjusted your necklace.

He reached over, his hand brushing yours lightly. “We’ll be fine,” he said quietly, his voice low enough not to carry.

You turned your head, offering him a small smile, but the doubt in your eyes was unmistakable.

Before he could say more, the assistant opened the door. “The Director will see you now.”

The Director’s office was a testament to order and authority. Every book on the shelves was carefully aligned, the awards and commendations behind the desk displayed with precision. Aaron Hotchner had sat across from this desk many times, but today, the air felt heavier. He wasn’t just representing his team or defending a decision. Today was personal.

The Director greeted them with a curt nod, gesturing for them to sit. Aaron glanced at you as you settled into the chair beside him, your posture immaculate, your gaze steady. He knew the nerves beneath the surface were hidden behind that calm, polished exterior.

“You wanted to discuss something... personal,” the Director said, leaning back slightly, his hands folded on the desk.

Aaron cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir. We wanted to inform you about our relationship.”

The Director’s eyebrows rose slightly, but his face remained unreadable. He waited, prompting Aaron to continue.

“We’ve been seeing each other for some time now. We’ve taken every precaution to ensure it doesn’t interfere with our work or the team’s performance. Cases continue to run smoothly, and morale remains high. We believe—”

The Director raised a hand, signaling for Aaron to stop.

Aaron exchanged a brief glance with you. The air seemed to grow heavier.

“I appreciate your honesty,” the Director said, his voice even, almost sympathetic. “But this isn’t acceptable.”

You leaned forward slightly, your tone measured but firm. “With all due respect, sir, we’ve maintained professionalism at all times. There has been no impact on the team’s dynamics or efficiency.”

The Director sighed and leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful but resolute. “This isn’t about professionalism or efficiency, though I trust that both of you believe you’ve kept those intact. It’s about perception. The BAU is already under a microscope. The media, oversight committees, politicians—they’re all waiting for any reason to scrutinize this unit further.”

Aaron shifted in his seat. “Sir, we’ve handled public scrutiny before. We’ve worked under immense pressure and still delivered results. I believe—”

“You believe,” the Director interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “But this is not about what you believe or how well you perform. It’s about how this looks. Two of the highest-ranking members in the same unit, in a romantic relationship? It opens doors for questions about bias, favoritism, and poor judgment.”

You stiffened slightly, and Aaron could feel the tension radiating from you.

“We’ve had to address optics before,” the Director continued, his tone less stern and more weary. “When Erin Strauss was here, we allowed too much to slide—her personal struggles, her decisions that created friction within the team. It put the BAU in a precarious position, one we barely recovered from. And now, with our history, with every move under scrutiny, I can’t let this slide. Not again.”

Aaron pressed his lips into a thin line, forcing himself to remain composed. “Sir, neither of us would let this compromise our responsibilities. Our records speak for themselves.”

The Director nodded slowly. “They do, Hotchner. Both of you have impeccable records, and I trust your intentions. But this isn’t about trust. It’s about precedent. If I allow this, what message does it send? That personal relationships among senior staff are acceptable? That the rules don’t apply here?”

You spoke next, your voice calm but resolute. “We’re not asking for special treatment. We’re asking for acknowledgment that this doesn’t interfere with our ability to lead.”

The Director exhaled, his tone softening. “I understand what you’re saying. And if the world operated on logic alone, I might agree. But the reality is perception matters. The BAU is too visible, too scrutinized. I can’t allow this.”

“What are you saying?” Aaron asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I’m saying one of you has to transfer, or this relationship ends,” the Director said evenly. “Those are your options. I won’t dictate which path you choose, but this arrangement cannot continue while you’re both in these positions.”

The finality in his tone hit like a cold wind. Aaron’s fists clenched in his lap, though his face remained impassive. Beside him, he could feel you bristling but holding yourself together.

“Is there any room for reconsideration?” you asked, your voice level but tight.

The Director shook his head. “I wish there were. I respect both of you immensely. But this is a line we can’t afford to cross.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“I can draft up some reccomendsations for units to transfer,” he continued, “But I’d warn you, that may put a bigger target on your back with the brass.” 

“Is that all, sir?” you asked finally, your voice sharper than you likely intended.

“That’s all,” the Director replied, his tone tinged with something almost regretful.

The Director’s words still echoed in Aaron Hotchner’s ears as you stormed out of the office, your heels clicking sharply against the tile floor. Aaron trailed behind you, his thoughts spinning, barely registering the brisk pace you set.

When you reached the bullpen, you didn’t stop. You headed straight for the stairs that led to the upper offices, bypassing your usual elevator ride. Aaron hesitated for a moment before following, his long strides catching up to you as you pushed through the door to your private office and let it slam shut behind you.

For a moment, Aaron stood outside, his hand hovering near the doorknob. He could hear you moving inside—papers rustling, a muffled sigh, the creak of your chair as you sat heavily into it. He took a breath and opened the door, stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you stared at your desk, your hands resting on its polished surface as if grounding yourself. Your jaw was tight, your expression unreadable, but Aaron had known you long enough to see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“This is ridiculous,” you said finally, your voice low but trembling with barely contained frustration. “We’ve done everything right. Everything. And it still doesn’t matter.”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately. What could he say that wouldn’t feel hollow? That he agreed? That he hated the situation just as much as you did? None of it would change the reality bearing down on both of you.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said quietly, though the words felt inadequate even as he spoke them.

Your head snapped up, your eyes blazing as they met his. “How, Aaron? How do we figure this out? Do I transfer? Do you? Do we just pretend we’re fine with throwing everything away?”

Aaron opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. He’d been in impossible situations before—ones where no option felt right, but he had to choose anyway. This time, though, the stakes felt different. He wasn’t deciding a case, balancing strategy and risk. He was standing on the precipice of losing something he hadn’t even realized he needed until it was almost too late.

When you finally looked away, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the conversation, Aaron allowed himself a moment to think. To really think.

He imagined what it would mean to leave. Retiring from fieldwork had crossed his mind before—Jack was growing up fast, and Aaron had often wondered if he was missing too much. But the idea of stepping into a more conservative role, away from the pulse of the work, left a hollow ache in his chest.

And then there was you. He thought of you sacrificing your position, giving up this incredible opportunity that you had earned through sheer determination and talent. The thought twisted his stomach.

Aaron couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t let another person give up so much of themselves for his job. He had promised himself, after Haley, that he wouldn’t let his work consume anyone else. That was why he had let Beth go so easily when she wanted more for herself and her career.

But you weren’t Haley or Beth. You were different. You were his equal, his match in every way that mattered. And yet, the guilt and shame of letting you make that kind of sacrifice—for him, for them—was unbearable.

“You shouldn’t have to leave,” Aaron said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but the weight behind the words was impossible to miss.

You looked at him sharply. “And you think you should?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I can’t ask you to give this up. I won’t.”

Your hands curled into fists on the desk, and Aaron saw the flicker of pain in your eyes before you looked away. “So what? We just... stop?”

Aaron exhaled slowly, his heart aching at the rawness in your voice. “I don’t want to,” he said honestly. “But maybe it’s what’s best.”

Your laugh was bitter, your head shaking. “Best for who? Them? The optics? Certainly not us.”

Aaron stepped closer, his hands resting on the edge of your desk. “It’s not fair,” he said quietly, meeting your gaze. “None of this is. But if we keep fighting this, it could hurt the team. It could hurt you. And I can’t live with that.”

Your eyes glistened, but you blinked quickly, refusing to let tears fall. “So that’s it? We just... agree to walk away?”

Aaron’s throat tightened. “I don’t want to,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I think we have to.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, suffocating as if the weight of what you were agreeing to was pressing down on both of you at once.

Finally, you stood, your movements slow and deliberate. You rounded the desk, stopping just in front of him.

“Do you really think this is the right thing to do?” you asked, your voice cracking just enough to betray the strength you were trying to hold on to.

“No,” Aaron admitted, his own voice hoarse. “But I think it’s the only thing we can do.”

The words hung in the air like a final verdict, sealing something neither of you wanted to face.

When you stepped closer, your hand resting lightly on his chest, Aaron’s heart broke a little more. He covered your hand with his, holding it there for a moment as if trying to memorize the feeling.

“I hate this,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his one last time. He didn’t miss the tears beginning to well in them. It was instinct to want to look away, it was a sight too painful to unsee, but he found himself still looking through to you.

“So do I,” he replied, his voice raw.

And then, as you stepped back and let your hand fall away, Aaron felt the loss like a physical blow—a kick to the knees. You walked past him, your steps unsteady but resolute.

He didn’t turn to watch you leave. He couldn’t. All he could do was stand there, alone in your office, knowing that this decision—the right one, the necessary one—was going to haunt him for a long time.

The weeks that followed were some of the hardest Aaron Hotchner had endured, and that was saying something. He had always prided himself on compartmentalizing, on keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. But this—you—made that impossible.

The day after the decision, you had returned to work with the same polished professionalism you always displayed. Your suit was impeccable, your tone measured, and your focus sharp. But Aaron saw the cracks beneath the surface. He saw the way your eyes avoided his during meetings, the way your smiles—rare as they were now—never reached your eyes.

And it wasn’t just you. Aaron could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, a constant ache in his chest that no amount of distraction could dull. He would catch himself looking at you across the bullpen, remembering how it felt to have you close, to hear you laugh in those unguarded moments. The memories were like splinters—small, sharp reminders of what he’d lost.

He wondered if it were some sort of sick joke. That once again, here he was, Aaron Hotchner choosing the job over what was right in front of him. 

The team picked up on it quickly, though they didn’t understand the cause at first.

“Something’s off,” Morgan said one afternoon, leaning against Aaron’s office door.

Aaron didn’t look up from the file in front of him. “What do you mean?”

Morgan shrugged, his casual demeanor belying the concern in his eyes. “You and her,” he said, nodding toward your office. “I don’t know... You two used to be so in sync. Now it’s like there’s this... distance.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “We’re fine. Just busy.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press further. Still, Aaron knew the others had noticed it too. Reid’s hesitant glances during meetings, JJ’s subtle attempts to smooth over the tension, and even Garcia’s uncharacteristic silence when she addressed the two of you.

The pain of working together was a constant, gnawing ache. Every interaction felt like walking a tightrope, balancing professionalism with the unspoken emotions neither of you could completely hide.

During briefings, Aaron found himself hyper-aware of you. The way you avoided sitting too close. The way your voice would falter, just slightly, when addressing him directly. It was subtle, so subtle that no one outside the team would notice. But Aaron noticed.

You rarely joined the team in the field, but you were more present than Strauss’ constant absence due to her dislike of fieldwork when in your role. Even in the field, the strain was palpable. The easy rhythm you had once shared was gone, replaced by clipped exchanges and a formality that felt wrong coming from you.

“You’re clear on the approach?” Aaron asked during one such mission, his voice firm but hollow.

You nodded, your tone equally curt. “I am.”

It was efficient. Professional. Everything it needed to be. But it wasn’t you. At least not the you he knew.

The worst moments came in the quiet, in the spaces between the chaos. Late nights at the BAU, when the rest of the team had gone home and the building was quiet. Sometimes, Aaron would catch a glimpse of you in your office, the light from your desk lamp casting long shadows across your face. He wanted to go to you, to break the silence and bridge the gap, but he never did.

One night, as he packed up to leave, he saw you sitting at your desk, your head in your hands. You didn’t notice him watching, and for a brief moment, he considered walking in, saying something—anything. But then you straightened, brushing a hand through your hair, and the moment passed.

Aaron turned away, the pit in his stomach growing heavier with each step he took toward the exit.

The team never said anything outright, but Aaron could feel their unease. They didn’t know the details—didn’t know that the two of you had once been something more, or how close you had come to risking everything to stay that way. But they felt the shift.

JJ tried to smooth things over with small acts of kindness—bringing coffee, lightening the mood in meetings. Morgan watched both of you with quiet curiosity, his usual teasing replaced by a patience Aaron hadn’t expected. Even Garcia, ever perceptive, gave him a long, searching look one day before sighing and saying, “You know, you can talk to us, right? About anything.”

Aaron had nodded, offering a faint smile he didn’t feel. “Thanks, Garcia.”

Months passed, and the ache dulled, but it never went away. Aaron learned to live with it, to bury it beneath the weight of his responsibilities. He told himself it was the right decision, the only decision, but there were moments—late at night, when the silence was deafening—when he let himself imagine what could have been.

And you—he could see it in your eyes, the way you carried the same weight. You were just as professional, just as efficient, but there was a sadness in you now that hadn’t been there before. It mirrored his own, and that was perhaps the hardest part of all.

You were both doing what you thought was best. And it was killing you.

The bullpen was unusually quiet when Aaron Hotchner stepped out of his office. His team was gathered around JJ’s desk, their conversation hushed but animated. The moment his presence registered, they all straightened slightly, trying to appear busy.

Aaron didn’t buy it for a second.

“Morgan. JJ,” he said, his tone even but curious as he descended the steps. “What’s going on?”

JJ exchanged a quick look with Morgan before speaking. “Oh, uh, nothing, Hotch. Just catching up on some... Quantico gossip.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow. Gossip wasn’t something his team typically indulged in—not during work hours, at least. “What kind of gossip?”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flash of discomfort crossing his face. “The kind that probably shouldn’t leave the locker room, but since it’s about someone we all know... it didn’t sit right with me.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he stopped a few feet from the group. “Who?”

Morgan hesitated, glancing at the others. Emily crossed her arms, her expression skeptical but intrigued, while Penelope fidgeted, clearly torn between curiosity and concern.

“Look,” Morgan started, his tone careful, “it’s about…You know—”

Aaron’s stomach sank. He didn’t need Morgan to say your name to know exactly who he meant.

“Go on,” Aaron said, his voice clipped but controlled.

Morgan sighed, leaning against the desk. “JJ and I were at the gym downstairs yesterday. I was in the locker room, and I heard some guy—one of the suits from Finance, I think—talking about her.”

Aaron’s chest tightened as Morgan continued.

“He was bragging about how they’ve been... seeing each other,” Morgan said, his expression darkening. “But the way he was talking—man, it was gross. Like, disrespectful. He was sexualizing her in a way that made my skin crawl.”

JJ chimed in, her voice tinged with frustration. “He called her a ‘great ass with brains’—as if that’s all she is. Then he made some comment about how lucky he was to have caught her attention.”

Aaron’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“I told him to knock it off,” Morgan said, his tone sharp. “Told him it wasn’t cool to talk about her like that—especially in a damn locker room, where anyone could hear.”

Penelope’s mouth fell open, her indignation bubbling to the surface. “You’re kidding me. He said that in the locker room? What kind of—ugh! Men are the worst sometimes.”

Emily smirked faintly, her voice dry as she added, “Not all men. Just most.”

Rossi, who had been quiet up until now, leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. “So she’s seeing this guy? Or is he just running his mouth?”

Morgan shrugged. “Couldn’t say for sure. But he seemed pretty confident.”

Aaron’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He could feel the team’s eyes on him, but he refused to let his expression betray the storm brewing inside.

“Hotch,” JJ said gently, her voice pulling him back. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Aaron said curtly. “But I need to remind all of you that gossip—about anyone—isn’t appropriate here. If there’s a problem, it needs to be addressed through the proper channels.”

The team exchanged glances, but no one pushed further.

Aaron returned to his office, closing the door behind him with a bit more force than necessary. He sank into his chair, staring at the stack of files on his desk without really seeing them.

The idea of you seeing someone else didn’t sit well with him. Not because you didn’t deserve happiness—you did, more than anyone. But because the thought of you with someone who didn’t appreciate you, who reduced you to nothing more than your appearance or used you as a bragging point, made his blood boil.

He hated the way that man in the locker room had spoken about you. Hated that it had happened at all.

And yet, there was something else eating at him. Something sharper, more selfish.

Jealousy.

The idea that you might have moved on—might have found comfort in someone else’s arms—cut deeper than he wanted to admit. He had no right to feel this way. The two of you had made your decision, painful as it was, and he had to live with it. But knowing you might be with someone else, hearing those crude words about you... it was unbearable.

Aaron rubbed a hand over his face, willing himself to focus. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment. Not now. Not ever.

But as he sat there, the words from the locker room replaying in his mind, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that he had let you go too soon. Too easily.

And it was killing him.

Time had a way of dulling pain, or so Aaron Hotchner told himself. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. The ache of what had been and what could never be dulled into something he carried silently, like an old injury that flared up when the weather changed. But it never went away.

And then he found out for certain.

He hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation—it was the kind of thing he normally tuned out. But as he passed by the kitchen in the Quantico building, he caught the tail end of a conversation between two agents from a different unit, their voices low but not low enough.

“Yeah, they’ve been going out for a while now,” one said, his tone carrying an unmistakable edge of smugness. “I can’t believe he managed to lock her down. She’s way out of his league.”

The other laughed. “I heard she’s really something. Smart, gorgeous, the whole package. Lucky bastard.”

Aaron didn’t need to hear your name to know exactly who they were talking about.

He found himself sitting in his office later that day, staring blankly at the case file in front of him. The words on the page blurred together, his focus shattered.

You were seeing him—the man from Finance. The one Morgan had overheard in the locker room, the one who had spoken about you like you were nothing more than a conquest.

Aaron’s jaw tightened, and his chest ached with something that felt dangerously close to regret. He hated the thought of you with someone who didn’t truly see you—who didn’t appreciate the sharpness of your mind, the strength in your character, the way you carried yourself with grace and confidence even under the heaviest burdens.

And yet, what right did he have to feel this way?

You had every right to move on. Every right to find happiness where you could. It wasn’t your fault that he couldn’t shake the lingering shadow of what the two of you had shared—or what might have been if things had been different.

As the weeks dragged on, Aaron tried to bury himself in his work. He tried not to notice the way you laughed at something someone said in the bullpen or the way your eyes lit up during a briefing when an idea struck you. He tried not to think about the nights you spent with someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

And then Beth called.

It had been months since they’d last spoken, her name long buried in the recesses of his mind. But there she was, her voice warm and familiar, asking how he was, how Jack was if he might want to grab coffee sometime.

Aaron hesitated.

He thought of you—of the distance that had grown between you, the way your conversations were now stilted and professional, the warmth that used to linger between you replaced by a polite coolness. He thought of the man from Finance, the way his name had crept into conversations around the office, always tied to you.

Maybe it was time, Aaron thought. If you had moved on, maybe he should too.

He met Beth for coffee and then for dinner. She was as kind and understanding as he remembered, her smile easy, her company pleasant. But something was missing.

With you, there had been a fire—a spark that made every conversation electric, every glance charged with something unspoken. With Beth, it was different. Comfortable but muted.

Still, Aaron told himself it was the right thing to do. Jack liked her, and she was good to him. Maybe this was what he needed—a reminder of what it felt like to let someone in, to have a life outside the walls of the BAU.

But no matter how much he tried, Aaron couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going through the motions. He couldn’t stop himself from comparing every moment with Beth to the moments he’d shared with you.

When Beth laughed, it wasn’t your laugh. When she reached for his hand, it didn’t feel the same as when you had pulled him close in the quiet of your office.

And every time he saw you in the hallways of Quantico or across the table during a case briefing, that ache in his chest flared anew.

Aaron knew he had made his choice. He had chosen to let you go, to protect the work and the team, to do what he thought was right. And now, he was trying to live with that choice, even as it slowly unraveled him from the inside.

But as he sat in his office late one night, the bullpen quiet and empty, Aaron allowed himself a single, fleeting moment of honesty.

He had moved on.

But not really.

Because a part of him—the part he tried to bury beneath duty and responsibility—would always belong to you.

Aaron Hotchner sat at the head of the conference table, scanning the stack of case files in front of him as the team settled into their usual seats. The murmur of conversation drifted around the room—Morgan and Emily debating the odds of another late-night call, Penelope slipping a fresh report to Reid, Rossi sipping a coffee that smelled distinctly stronger than the usual bullpen brew.

You entered last, heels clicking sharply against the tile floor as you carried yourself with the effortless confidence Aaron admired. You placed your tablet on the table and glanced around the room, your polished demeanor demanding attention without a single word.

“Before we get into case updates,” you began, your voice calm but firm, “I wanted to bring something to everyone’s attention.”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, already anticipating the shift in focus. You had a way of setting the room’s tone that even Rossi respected, and your next words proved no different.

“As most of you know,” you continued, your gaze sweeping across the team, “the Bureau’s annual holiday party is coming up. And while I’m well aware that the BAU has a reputation for... skipping it, I feel this year it’s important that we all make an effort to attend.”

That got their attention. Emily’s eyebrows lifted, Morgan tilted his chair back with an incredulous grin, and Penelope froze mid-sip of her elaborately decorated coffee.

“Come on,” Morgan said, his tone half-teasing. “You can’t be serious. You know those parties are all stiff handshakes and bad speeches.”

You smiled faintly, unruffled. “I’m very serious, Morgan. This isn’t about the party itself—it’s about the message it sends.”

Aaron noticed the way you paused, your gaze flickering briefly in his direction before continuing. “After the last few years, it’s important that we show the brass that we’re aligned with their expectations. It demonstrates that we care about appearances and that we’re just as invested in maintaining relationships as they are.”

There it was. A subtle but unmistakable reminder of why things between you and Aaron could never be, woven seamlessly into a broader point that the rest of the team couldn’t grasp fully.

Morgan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You mean to tell me we’re going to this thing to rub elbows with suits who don’t know what we actually do out here?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” you replied, your tone calm but edged with authority. “Appearances matter. And it’s our job to ensure those appearances align with the professionalism the BAU stands for.”

Aaron watched as the words settled over the team, their expressions shifting from mild amusement to begrudging understanding. You had a way of cutting through their resistance without belittling them—a skill Aaron had always admired.

“Plus,” you added, a faint smile tugging at your lips, “I’ve been assured the band will be better than last year’s.” You paused. “And an open bar.” 

That earned a soft chuckle from Penelope, who set her mug down with a small shrug. “Well, if it’s formal attire and a better band, I suppose I could make an appearance.”

“Attire is black-tie,” you confirmed, your gaze sweeping the room. “And yes, plus-ones are welcome. But I expect every one of you to be there. No exceptions.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Guess that means we all have to dust off our evening wear.”

“I have a tux,” Reid offered quietly, drawing a chuckle from Rossi.

Aaron remained quiet, his focus trained on you. He could feel the weight of your words—not just the direct ones, but the subtext you didn’t need to spell out. He knew why you were pushing for this, why it mattered so much to you. And he hated that he understood.

As the meeting wrapped and the team began to filter out, you lingered behind, gathering your tablet and a small stack of papers. Aaron stood as well, pausing briefly near the door.

“Formal wear suits you,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced up, your expression unreadable but your eyes betraying the smallest flicker of something softer. “I expect to see you there, Hotchner. On time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his tone carrying a faint edge of humor.

But as he left the room, his chest tightened with the familiar ache that came every time he was near you. Formal appearances, aligned expectations—he understood all of it.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

The Bureau’s holiday party was exactly what Aaron Hotchner had expected: polished, overly formal, and steeped in thinly veiled networking. The grand ballroom at the hotel downtown was decorated in muted gold and deep red, elegant but impersonal. A string quartet played softly in one corner, their music adding to the ambiance without drowning out the hum of conversation.

Beth stood beside him, dressed in a sleek black gown that flattered her in every way. Her brunette hair was swept into a low chignon, and her smile was warm as she introduced herself to the occasional colleague who passed by. She looked stunning, and Aaron knew that anyone in the room would agree.

But when you walked in, Aaron forgot how to breathe.

You entered the ballroom on the arm of Jeff from Finance, a name that Aaron had come to resent more than he cared to admit. He was wearing a garish plaid tuxedo jacket that screamed “trying too hard,” and his broad grin made Aaron’s jaw tighten. But none of that mattered—because you were radiant.

Your gown was a deep emerald green, the kind of color that made your eyes seem brighter, your skin glow. It hugged your figure perfectly, the fabric shimmering faintly under the chandelier light as you moved. Your hair, styled elegantly but effortlessly, framed your face in a way that made Aaron’s chest ache. You looked... otherworldly.

Aaron had always known you were beautiful. It was an undeniable fact, one that had never gone unnoticed by anyone who crossed your path. But tonight, you were something else entirely. You weren’t just beautiful; you were extraordinary, like a rare phenomenon that people spend their entire lives waiting to glimpse.

When you stepped into the room, it was as though the world tilted slightly, every sound dulling, every light dimming except for the one that seemed to follow you. Aaron’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as a strange, almost childlike awe settled over him. He felt like a boy again, staring up at the stars for the first time and realizing just how vast and infinite the universe could be.

You were that kind of beautiful. The kind that made time seem to pause, as if the room itself was holding its breath just to take you in. You were the kind of beauty that inspired poetry and music—the kind artists yearned to capture and always failed to do justice.

And in that moment, Aaron finally understood why men wrote poetry, painted masterpieces, composed symphonies, and created entire films in honor of women like you. It was all a desperate attempt to grasp something fleeting, something divine, and pin it to the earth long enough to keep.

It wasn’t just your gown, though the deep emerald green shimmered like it had been made for you, highlighting the curve of your shoulders and the elegance of your frame. It wasn’t just the way your hair fell, soft waves framing your face in a way that seemed almost unfair. It was something deeper, something impossible to put into words.

Aaron felt it in his chest, a deep, aching yearning that he’d never experienced before. It was amazement, pure and unfiltered, like seeing magic for the first time and realizing it wasn’t a trick. It was real. You were real. And yet, you didn’t feel like something he could ever touch.

He couldn’t stop staring, and for a brief, dizzying moment, he didn’t care who saw. The logical part of his mind—the one that always kept him grounded—was overruled by something more primal, more human. How was it possible, he wondered, for someone to look like that? To exist in a way that felt so rare and unattainable and yet so deeply, painfully familiar?

He thought of how easily you commanded the room, not by seeking attention but simply by being. It wasn’t forced, and it wasn’t deliberate. It was just you—this singular, dazzling presence that made everyone around you seem to fade into the background.

Aaron had never felt this way before, not even with Haley. Not even with anyone else he’d allowed into his life. This was something else entirely, something more profound and unsettling. It wasn’t just admiration or attraction. It was belief. Belief in something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

And then he saw Jeff beside you, his tacky plaid suit clashing with the elegance of everything you were. The man who didn’t seem to understand how lucky he was, who treated your presence like a status symbol rather than a gift.

Aaron’s stomach churned, his skin crawling as jealousy flared sharp and unrelenting. He hated it—hated the way it burned, the way it clawed at the edges of his composure.

But what he hated more was the knowledge that he had no right to feel it.

You weren’t his. And yet, watching you from across the room, Aaron couldn’t help but think you never truly belonged to anyone. You were too rare for that. Too extraordinary.

And God, how it ached to know he had let you go.

He forced himself to smile at Beth as she laughed at something Rossi said, but his attention kept drifting back to you. He hated the way Jeff hovered near you, his posture possessive and his grin smug. He hated the way Jeff’s gaudy suit jacket clashed with the elegance of your dress, as though he didn’t understand how lucky he was to be standing beside you.

More than anything, Aaron hated the feeling crawling under his skin—the sharp, searing jealousy that he couldn’t shake. It was worse than anything he had felt before, even when Haley had been unfaithful right in front of his face. This was different.

Haley’s betrayal had stung, yes, but it had been rooted in a relationship that had already begun to fracture. What Aaron felt now was raw and consuming, made worse by the knowledge that he had no claim on you. You weren’t his.

You never would be.

Beth touched his arm gently, drawing his focus back to her. “You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

Aaron nodded quickly, plastering on a polite smile. “Of course. Just thinking about the week ahead.”

Beth gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. She turned her attention back to Rossi, leaving Aaron with his thoughts.

He glanced toward you again, catching the way you laughed at something Jeff said. It wasn’t the laugh he remembered—the soft, genuine sound that used to fill his office late at night. This one was polite, reserved, a laugh you gave when you were being kind but not necessarily amused.

It was a small comfort but not enough to quiet the jealousy raging in his chest.

When you caught his eye from across the room, Aaron felt his breath hitch. Your gaze lingered for a moment—just long enough for him to see the flicker of something in your expression before you turned away, a polite smile on your lips as you greeted someone else.

He had made his choice. You had made yours. But standing there, watching you with someone like Jeff, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he had made the wrong one.

And yet, there was nothing he could do but endure it.

So Aaron turned back to Beth, his expression carefully neutral, and let the music and the hum of conversation fade into the background. But the ache in his chest didn’t go away.

It never did.

Aaron Hotchner stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to return with his order. The room buzzed with conversation and the occasional burst of laughter, the hum of the holiday party continuing around him like static. Beth was across the room, talking animatedly with one of the Bureau’s administrators, her glass of white wine nearly empty.

He had volunteered to get her a refill, partly because he wanted to give her a moment to network uninterrupted, but mostly because he needed a moment to himself. Maybe Beth would sell a painting or two with the amount of stiff suits in the room thought, he thought. 

The sight of you with Jeff—laughing politely, your hand resting lightly on his arm—was wearing thin on his composure.

The bartender slid a fresh glass of wine and a scotch across the counter, and just as Aaron reached for them, he heard the unmistakable click of your heels behind him.

You didn’t say anything at first. You simply sidled up beside him, so close that he could feel the faint warmth of your body through the fabric of his suit. The scent of your perfume—something soft and alluring, with notes of jasmine—drifted over him, making his pulse quicken.

Aaron didn’t turn his head, but he felt the air shift between you. His grip on the glass tightened as he fought the urge to look.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I hate you here with her.”

The words were quiet but sharp, cutting through the hum of the party like a knife. Aaron froze, his breath catching as he turned to look at you.

You weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on the row of liquor bottles behind the bar, your expression calm but your eyes betraying the storm beneath.

He swallowed hard, his voice low and steady. “And you think I like seeing you here with Jeff?”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh, finally turning to meet his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was palpable, crackling like static electricity in the small space that separated you.

Then you leaned in, so close that Aaron could feel the warmth of your breath against his ear.

“Do you know what I do?” you murmured, your voice almost a whisper. “I imagine it’s your hands on me instead of his. It makes it... easier.”

Aaron’s heart slammed against his ribcage, the weight of your words knocking the air out of him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare at you in stunned silence.

You straightened, your expression unreadable but your lips curling into a faint, almost sad smile. “I thought you should know.”

His throat felt dry, his voice caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth. He wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came.

Before he could gather his thoughts, you stepped back, your gaze flickering briefly to his hands, still clutching the glasses. “Your drinks,” you said softly, the faintest hint of something unspoken lingering in your tone.

And just like that, you were gone.

Aaron watched as you crossed the room, your hips swaying, your gown flowing gracefully behind you as you returned to Jeff and the group of section chiefs. You slipped back into the conversation effortlessly, smiling and nodding as though nothing had happened.

But Aaron knew better.

He stood there at the bar, the scotch and wine forgotten in his hands, as the weight of your words settled over him. His pulse still raced, his skin prickling with the memory of your closeness, your voice, your confession.

For a man who had always prided himself on control, Aaron felt anything but. You had shattered the careful walls he’d built around himself, leaving him standing in the middle of a crowded room, completely undone.

Aaron Hotchner sat at the table, his back straight, his hands loosely clasped around the tumbler of scotch in front of him. The room was alive with the sound of music, laughter, and the murmur of conversation, but to him, it all blurred into a distant hum.

Beth was seated beside him, engaged in an animated discussion with Penelope. Her warm laugh punctuated the conversation. Aaron nodded occasionally when prompted, but his focus was elsewhere.

Across the room, you swayed to the slow rhythm of the music, your body close to Jeff’s as he held you gently, one hand on your waist, the other resting lightly on your back. Your head tilted slightly, your cheek brushing the fabric of his shoulder. The two of you moved easily, almost effortlessly, to the soft melody of the band.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes found his across the room, and in that instant, the rest of the world fell away.

Aaron froze, his breath catching in his chest as your gaze locked onto his. There was something in the way you looked at him, something unspoken but deeply familiar, that cut through the noise and the lights and the meaningless chatter around him.

It wasn’t just eye contact. It was a connection—a thread pulled taut between you, invisible to everyone else but impossibly strong.

He couldn’t look away.

Your eyes held his, and in them, he saw everything that words couldn’t convey. Longing. Frustration. A quiet, desperate ache that mirrored his own. It was as though every emotion he’d buried, every feeling he’d suppressed, was reflected back at him in your gaze.

And then there was the tension—the undeniable, magnetic pull that had always existed between you but felt even stronger now. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, the kind of thing that made time seem irrelevant.

Aaron didn’t notice the way his fingers tightened around the glass in his hand or the way his heart began to pound. All he knew was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

You swayed gently in Jeff’s arms, your movements fluid and graceful, but your gaze never wavered. The music, the people, even Jeff himself—all of it faded into the background. There was only you and him, locked in this moment, this silent conversation that neither of you could end.

It wasn’t just attraction, though, that was there, simmering beneath the surface. It was something deeper, something raw and unspoken. It was the weight of every choice you’d made, every boundary you’d set, and every word you’d left unsaid.

Aaron felt like he couldn’t breathe like the space between you was both infinite and nonexistent. It was a cruel paradox—feeling as though you were so close he could almost reach out and touch you, yet knowing you were untouchable, unreachable.

The ache in his chest wasn’t just pain; it was a deep, hollow yearning that he couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t the sharp sting of a fleeting wound—it was the slow, relentless ache of loss. Of knowing exactly what he was missing and yet being powerless to reclaim it.

He missed you in ways that felt impossible to quantify, in ways that crept into his thoughts when he least expected it. He missed your touch—the way your hand had lingered on his arm during late-night conversations, grounding him in moments when he felt untethered. He missed the warmth of your presence, the quiet reassurance that came with simply having you near.

But it wasn’t just the physical things. It was everything about you, the parts of you that no one else seemed to notice or understand the way he did.

He missed your laugh—the genuine, full-bodied sound that lit up a room and chased away the weight of even the hardest days. It was rare, but when it happened, it was like the world itself paused to listen.

He missed your softness—the way you could be so strong, so unyielding in your convictions, and yet offer a kindness that made even the most jaded person feel seen. You had a way of making people believe they mattered, a way of making him believe he mattered.

And he missed your fierceness—the fire in your eyes when you were fighting for something you believed in, the way you carried yourself with confidence and grace, never backing down from a challenge. You inspired him in ways he didn’t even realize until you weren’t there to do it anymore.

Most of all, he missed your presence. That quiet, steady support that had become such a part of his life he hadn’t realized how much he relied on it until it was gone. You were his equal, his match in every way that mattered. And now, you were just... gone.

The ache in his chest deepened as he sat at the table, staring at the empty doorway where you had disappeared. He didn’t just miss what they had shared—the stolen moments, the quiet confessions. He missed you. The person who had seen him at his worst and still stood by him. The person who had understood him in ways no one else ever could.

And as the weight of that realization settled over him, Aaron knew that no matter how much time passed, no matter what choices either of them made, the space you had left in his life would never be filled.

And then, just as suddenly, you broke the spell.

You blinked, your gaze faltering as you looked away, your expression unreadable. Flustered almost. Aaron watched as you gently stepped back from Jeff, your movements deliberate but hurried.

“Excuse me,” you murmured to him, your voice just audible enough for Aaron to hear over the music.

You crossed the room with purpose, your gown flowing behind you like liquid emerald. Aaron’s eyes followed your every step, his heart sinking as you reached your table and grabbed your clutch.

Jeff, caught off guard, trailed after you, his expression confused but compliant. He said something to you, but you barely acknowledged him, your focus entirely on leaving.

Aaron’s gaze lingered on the empty space you left behind, his chest tightening as he watched the two of you disappear through the ballroom’s double doors.

The world slowly returned—Beth’s voice beside him, the hum of the music, the clinking of glasses—but none of it felt real.

Aaron took a slow sip of his scotch, his gaze fixed on the door as though willing you to return. But he knew you wouldn’t.

Because whatever had just passed between you, whatever that moment had been, was too much for either of you to bear.

The drive to Beth’s apartment had been quiet. Too quiet. She had smiled softly at him when he pulled up in front of her building, the warmth of her expression filled with an affection that he knew he couldn’t return—not the way she deserved.

“Do you want to come up?” she asked, her tone light but hopeful.

Aaron hesitated, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. He forced a smile, one that felt more like a grimace. “Not tonight. It’s been a long day.”

Beth studied him for a moment, her disappointment subtle but evident. “Okay,” she said softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Drive safe, Aaron.”

He nodded, waiting until she disappeared into the building before exhaling a shaky breath. He should have gone home. He should have driven straight to his house, poured himself another drink, and buried the night in paperwork or sleep.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Aaron found himself driving through the quiet streets, the sound of the city outside his car muffled by the relentless echo of your words in his mind.

Do you know what I do? I imagine it’s your hands on me instead of his. It makes it... easier.

The words played on a loop, relentless and consuming. He could see the way you had looked at him, the softness in your voice, the sadness and longing that mirrored his own. It unraveled him.

He loosened his tie, tugging at the silk knot with a sharp, frustrated motion as if it were choking him. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow, and he couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind—your gown, the way you moved, the way your eyes had locked with his in a silent confession across the room.

He didn’t even notice his speed, the way the city blurred around him as he drove. All he knew was where he needed to go.

When he pulled up in front of your building, he hesitated only briefly. Jeff could be here. That much was obvious. But Aaron didn’t care—not tonight.

He climbed out of the car, his footsteps quick and determined as he approached your door. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse roaring in his ears, but his mind was clear.

He knocked, his knuckles rapping firmly against the wood.

The seconds stretched endlessly until the door opened, and there you were.

You were wearing a silk robe, its soft fabric clinging to your frame and catching the light. Your hair was loose, framing your face in soft waves, and your expression shifted from surprise to something unreadable when you saw him.

“Aaron,” you said softly, your voice tentative.

“Is he here?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though his chest felt like it might explode.

You blinked, startled by the question, before shaking your head. “No.”

“Good,” he said, stepping forward and into your space.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant. 

Aaron’s lips crashed against yours, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him as he pushed the door closed behind them with his foot. The kiss was fierce, dominating, raw, filled with all the pent-up tension and longing that had been building for months.

You gasped against his mouth, your hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as you stumbled slightly, the force of his kiss pushing you backward. He guided you with purpose, his body pressing yours against the wall just inside the entryway.

His hands moved to your face, his fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the connection. It was raw, desperate, and consuming.

You responded in kind, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. The silk of your robe brushed against his suit, the contrast of textures only heightening the sensation.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your chests heaving as you stared at each other.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice trembling but laced with something unmistakable—desire, relief, and a trace of vulnerability.

He rested his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your face as he closed his eyes. “I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his voice rough and raw.

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you pulled him back into another kiss, and Aaron let himself surrender to the moment, the weight of everything else fading away.

For once, nothing else mattered.

Aaron’s breath was ragged as his lips moved against yours, his hands still cradling your face like he was afraid to let go. Every ounce of restraint he’d held onto for so long had snapped the moment you’d opened the door, and now, the thought of stopping felt impossible.

Your fingers curled into the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer, and he responded in kind, his body pressing firmly against yours. The silk of your robe was impossibly soft under his hands as he slid them from your face to your waist, his fingers gripping you like he was trying to anchor himself to the moment.

Aaron knew he shouldn’t be here. Knew this was a line he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cross again. But every logical thought dissolved under the weight of your kiss, the way your lips moved against his with a hunger that matched his own.

“God, we shouldn’t—” you murmured against his mouth, your voice breathless but tinged with something desperate.

“I know,” he whispered back, his hands trailing along your sides, feeling the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your robe. “But I can’t stop.”

Your eyes met his, the intensity of your gaze nearly undoing him. It wasn’t just lust that burned in your expression—it was longing, the same yearning that had been simmering between you for months, the same ache he’d carried every time he saw you.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands roaming up your back as he felt you relax into him. Your hands found the knot of his tie, tugging it loose with a deliberate pull that sent his pulse racing. The silk slipped free, and you tossed it aside, your fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt with a sense of urgency that mirrored his own.

Aaron let out a soft groan as your hands brushed against his chest, your touch igniting a fire in him that he hadn’t felt in years. His mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“Aaron,” you breathed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, and the sound of it sent a shiver down his spine.

His hands found the sash of your robe, his fingers hesitating briefly as he looked at you, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation. But there was none—only want, only need.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice rough but tender, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

Your answer was clear in the way you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “I’m sure.”

The robe slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, and Aaron’s breath hitched at the sight of you, so beautiful and bare before him. His hands traced the curve of your waist, his touch reverent but firm, as though he was committing every detail to memory.

He kissed you again, deeper and slower this time, savoring the taste of you, the softness of your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air heavy with the weight of everything unspoken but understood.

Every touch, every kiss, felt forbidden, a line crossed and recrossed with every passing second. But neither of you pulled away. You couldn’t.

Aaron guided you gently toward the couch, his lips never leaving yours as you moved together. You sank down onto the cushions, pulling him with you, and he let himself get lost in you—the way you smelled, the way your skin felt against his, the way you whispered his name like it was the only thing that mattered.

As his hands roamed over you, exploring, memorizing, Aaron felt a pang of guilt buried beneath the passion. He knew this was dangerous, that there would be consequences. But for now, in this moment, he didn’t care.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, you were his.

And he wasn’t ready to let that go.

Aaron’s mind was a storm as he pressed you against the cushions of the couch, his lips moving with a ferocity he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long. The weight of his body pressed into yours, grounding him in a way that made everything else—Beth, Jeff, the consequences of this moment—fade into the background.

Your hands slid under his shirt, your fingers grazing his skin with a touch that sent shivers through him. He growled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to shrug out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. His shirt followed, buttons undone hastily by your hands, and he barely registered the faint sound of fabric hitting the hardwood before his mouth was back on yours.

This was wrong. He knew it with every rational part of himself. But it didn’t stop the way he kissed you, dominating, claiming like he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else who had touched you. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your thighs, your back—pulling you closer, needing to feel every inch of you against him.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost a growl. His fingers found your bare skin so inviting. “I’ve wanted this… you… for so long.”

You arched into him, your breath hitching as his lips trailed from your mouth to your collarbone, leaving a scorching path in their wake. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Aaron felt like he might lose his mind at the way you responded to him.

“Do you know how hard it’s been?” he asked, his voice strained as he paused, his forehead pressed against yours. His fingers grazed your bare shoulder, his touch featherlight but filled with intent. “Watching you, wanting you, knowing I couldn’t have you?”

Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The intensity in your gaze was enough to undo him, filled with the same longing, the same desperation he’d been carrying for months.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’ve felt it too.”

That was all it took for Aaron to give in completely. His lips crashed against yours again, his kiss deep and consuming, leaving no room for second thoughts. He shifted, lifting you slightly as he moved you further onto the couch, his hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness he couldn’t hold back.

You were his. At least in this moment, you were his.

His hands roamed over you with purpose, memorizing every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His lips continued their relentless exploration of your body. He kissed you like he was starving like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And maybe you were.

The air between you was thick with tension; each movement laced with the weight of everything unspoken. Aaron’s hands framed your face as he paused to look at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but intense. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing over his jaw as you pulled him back to you. “Stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm. “Don’t say that. Not now.”

Aaron didn’t argue. He couldn’t. The way you looked at him—like he was the only thing in the world that mattered—was enough to silence any doubts. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring every second, every touch, every sigh that escaped your lips.

It was forbidden. It was reckless. But in that moment, it was everything.

Aaron’s control, the control he prided himself on in every aspect of his life, was slipping through his fingers. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips moving against yours with a hunger he hadn’t felt in years—if ever. The feel of your body beneath his was intoxicating, and for once, he allowed himself to surrender to the moment.

But you weren’t passive. No, that wasn’t who you were.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, your nails raking down his back as you shifted beneath him, a movement so deliberate it nearly undid him. You pressed up against him, your strength and confidence matching his in a way that sent his pulse racing.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath heavy as his eyes roamed over you. The sight of you—flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, eyes dark with desire—was enough to make his chest tighten.

“You’re not getting away from me this time,” he said, his voice low and commanding, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned in close.

You smirked, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tugged him toward you. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you murmured, your voice teasing but filled with intent.

Aaron’s response was immediate. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. He wanted to mark you, to leave a reminder of this moment, of him, as if to stake a claim neither of you would ever admit aloud.

Your hands moved to his belt, the boldness of your actions sending a jolt through him. He let out a low growl, gripping your wrists gently but firmly to still you.

“Not yet,” he said, his tone a mix of command and amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression challenging. “Afraid you can’t keep up, Hotchner?”

That did it.

Aaron’s lips crashed against yours again, his hands sliding up to cup your face as he deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of frustration, desire, and possessiveness into it. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, drawing a soft moan from you that went straight to his core.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, his voice rough as he broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours.

You smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest with deliberate slowness. “I think I have some idea,” you replied, your voice low and filled with heat.

The push and pull between you was electric, a constant dance of dominance and surrender that neither of you fully gave into. When you shifted, pushing him back with a surprising strength that only made him want you more, he couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” he asked, his hands gripping your hips as you straddled him, your robe slipping fully off your shoulders, completely bare to him. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You don’t mind a challenge, do you?”

Aaron’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you down against him, his voice a growl. “Not at all.”

The heat between you was overwhelming, the air thick with tension and desire as your lips met his again, both of you fighting for control even as you gave into the pull of each other. It was raw, intense, and unrelenting, a collision of two forces that had been held back for far too long.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement spoke volumes, the unspoken words of longing and frustration spilling out in the way you claimed each other, over and over again.

Aaron had always been a man of control, a man who measured his steps and chose his words with precision. But here, with you, that control was unraveling, slipping away with every kiss, every touch. The months of tension, the stolen glances, the unspoken words between you had built to this moment, and now, neither of you seemed capable of holding back.

Your nails dragged along his chest, leaving faint, red lines in their wake as you leaned into him. He hissed at the sensation, his hands gripping your hips with enough force to anchor himself. Aaron couldn’t stop his hands from exploring, feeling the heat of your skin under his touch.

“You drive me insane,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he tilted his head to capture your lips again. The kiss was fierce, almost punishing, a testament to the months of restraint that had finally snapped.

You didn’t shy away. You met his intensity with your own, your lips moving against his with a hunger that left no doubt about how much you wanted this—wanted him.

“Good,” you murmured against his mouth, your voice breathless but laced with defiance. “Because you’ve been driving me insane for months.”

Aaron chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, earning a gasp from you that sent a surge of possessiveness through him. His hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifted you from the couch effortlessly. The action earned a surprised laugh from you, but it was cut short when he pressed you against the wall, his body pinning yours in place.

“This is mine,” he said, his voice low and commanding as his hands roamed your body. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, trailing kisses down your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re mine.”

Your head tilted back against the wall, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “Then take me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of challenge and desire. “If you want me so badly, Aaron, prove it.”

Something snapped in him at your words. His hands tightened on your thighs as his lips found yours again, the kiss rough and consuming, leaving no room for doubt about who you belonged to in this moment. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to leave faint impressions, a silent mark of his claim on you.

Every movement was deliberate, every touch a blend of dominance and reverence. Aaron’s hands slid beneath the loosened fabric of your robe, his fingers exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. 

Your body arched against his, your hands gripping his shoulders as you met him with equal fervor. There was nothing soft or gentle about the way you moved together; it was raw, fierce, a collision of passion and pent-up frustration that neither of you could contain.

“Aaron,” you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a plea, and it undid him. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged as he looked into your eyes, his grip on you firm and steady.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice a growl as he tightened his hold on you.

Your eyes locked with his, dark with desire and unspoken emotion. “Aaron,” you repeated, your voice softer this time but no less commanding.

His lips crashed against yours again, his hands roaming freely, claiming you in every way he could. There was no hesitation, no room for second thoughts—only the overwhelming need to have you, to show you exactly what you meant to him, even if he couldn’t say the words aloud.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. What he saw there—desire, longing, and something deeper, more vulnerable—unraveled him completely.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, filled with the weight of months of suppressed emotions. “Tell me you want this.”

Your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing lightly over his jawline as you looked at him with a gaze that left him breathless. “I’ve always wanted this,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

That was all he needed.

Aaron’s lips crashed against yours, the kiss hungry and all-consuming as his hands slid up your thighs, securing your legs around his waist. He pressed you harder against the wall, the roughness of the plaster against your back contrasting with the heat of his body against yours.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement was filled with urgency, a desperate need to make up for all the time you’d spent denying yourselves this moment. His hands roamed your body, possessive and reverent as if trying to commit every inch of you to memory.

Your hands tugged at the rest of his clothes, pushing them further off him as your lips moved from his mouth to his jawline, trailing kisses down his neck. The soft, breathy sound you made against his skin sent a jolt of electricity through him, his control slipping further.

“Aaron,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

He groaned in response, his name on your lips undoing him in a way he hadn’t expected. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and raw as his lips found yours again. “No one else’s.”

Your response was immediate, your arms tightening around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervor. The way you moved against him, the way you whispered his name between gasps, left no room for doubt—you were his, and he was yours.

The tension between you reached its breaking point, the air heavy with the weight of everything unspoken but understood. Aaron’s movements became more deliberate, his hands gripping you firmly as he gave in completely to the moment.

It was raw, intense, and unrelenting, a culmination of months of longing and frustration. Every touch, every kiss, every movement was filled with a passion that left you both breathless, the line between control and surrender blurring as you claimed each other fully.

When he reached between you, he found you wet and wanting. Bucking your hips against his hand. He circled his fingers, warming you up--not that you needed it. Savoring the little responses he got from you. His other hand reached for your breast, caressing and cupping it with achingly slow motions. 

“Aaron!” It was almost a demand, telling him you needed him now. He understood as you pushed yourself up, wrapping one leg around his waist. His pants and belt pooled at his ankles--it wasn’t the most practical scene, but was anything about this situation? 

He entered you swiftly, an open-mouthed kiss with a shared groan between the two of you. Your hands found his hair, tugging on it as your eyes rolled back. His mouth moved to the hollow of your neck, his hands exploring you all at once, but still not enough. 

He imagined the angle was physically more demanding for you as he lifted you, holding you up against the wall, bringing him impossibly deeper now. He rocked into you with a rhythm that was unmatched. The sound of his metal belt buckle shifting on the floor with every swift slap of his hips against yours filled the room.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, basically melting in his arms. It was like a domino effect, taking him down with you. He released deep inside of you, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he groaned your name. 

Something deep was released inside in this moment, too, more emotionally than any sexual release. He knew in this moment he couldn’t not have you again. 

You unwrapped your legs from his hips, the two of you slowly separating with a whimper. 

Aaron held you against him, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to catch your breath. His hands remained on your waist, his grip firm but gentle, as if he couldn’t bear to let go just yet.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of what you’d just done hung in the air, but so did the undeniable connection that had brought you to this point.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and rough as his fingers brushed lightly against your side.

You nodded, your lips curving into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”

Aaron exhaled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he closed his eyes. For now, in this moment, everything else could wait. For now, there was only you.

The intensity between you had cooled slightly, replaced now by a quiet tenderness that neither of you knew how to navigate. Reaching down, he pulled his boxers, pants and belt back up, leaving them still undone.

The silence was thick, and as Aaron stepped back, his gaze flicked to the disheveled state of both of you. He ran a hand through his hair, his breathing still uneven as the realization hit him like a jolt.

“We didn’t...” he started, his voice low and gravelly. “We didn’t use protection.”

Your lips parted, and for a moment, you didn’t respond. Then, with a softness that caught him off guard, you said, “I know.”

Aaron frowned, confusion furrowing his brow. “And you’re... with Jeff.”

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out, needing to understand. He watched as you turned away.

“We haven’t had sex,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron froze, the weight of your words sinking in slowly. “What?”

You turned to face him, your expression vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to seeing. “I couldn’t,” you said, meeting his eyes. “I couldn’t bring myself to... be with him. He’s—” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “He’s been an accessory. Something to keep people from asking questions.”

Aaron stared at you, his mind racing. Jeff’s smug comments in the locker room, the way he’d hovered near you at the party—it had all been an act, a performance. You hadn’t been with him. You’d been pulling him along to keep up appearances, just like you’d said.

“I thought...” he began, but his words faltered. He took a breath, running a hand down his face. “You’re with him, and I’m with Beth. Or at least I thought I was.”

You studied him, your eyes searching his face. “Have you?” you asked, the question hesitant but pointed.

Aaron shook his head, his voice quieter now. “No. I haven’t been able to.” His lips pressed into a thin line as he met your gaze. “She’s not... she’s not you.”

For a moment, the weight of that truth hung between you, unspoken but undeniable. Neither of you moved, the air between you thick with something that felt too fragile to name.

Eventually, Aaron stepped forward, his hand brushing against yours before gently taking it in his. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You followed him without a word, the quiet between you more comfortable now, though still heavy with everything unsaid. In the dim light of the small bathroom, Aaron found a clean towel, dampening it with warm water before turning back to you.

He worked in silence, his movements careful and deliberate as he wiped away the remnants of your shared passion. His touch was tender, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

When it was your turn, you took another face cloth, your hands steady but your expression unreadable. You dabbed at his face, his neck, his chest, your fingers lingering just a little too long as if memorizing the feel of him.

Neither of you spoke, the quiet filled only with the soft sound of water and the unspoken tension that neither of you knew how to address. Aaron watched you, his chest tightening as he saw the flicker of vulnerability in your eyes, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as you concentrated on your task.

He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. So he let the moment stretch, allowing the silence to say what neither of you could.

When you were finished, you folded the towel and set it aside, your hands brushing his one last time before you stepped back. Aaron caught your wrist gently, his touch lingering just long enough for you to meet his gaze.

But still, neither of you spoke.

Instead, you turned away, pulling your robe tighter around you as Aaron let his hand fall to his side. The weight of everything you’d shared pressed heavily on both of you and for now, neither of you had the courage to face what came next.

Aaron stood in the quiet of your bedroom, his hands resting on his hips as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. The events of the night weighed heavily on him—what they meant, what they would lead to—but before he could sink too deeply into his own mind, you reappeared.

Your silk robe was gone, replaced by his button-up shirt, which hung loosely on your frame, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. You looked both effortless and intimate, like you belonged in it.

“I missed this,” you said softly, your voice breaking through his thoughts. You smoothed your hands over the fabric, as though savoring the feel of it. “I missed the smell of you. I missed you. Everything about you.”

The words hit Aaron like a punch to the chest, and he exhaled slowly, his throat tightening. He knew the feeling all too well. He had missed you, too—more than he could admit, more than he had allowed himself to feel until now.

You took his hand, your fingers curling around his as you gently tugged him toward the bed. Aaron followed, the quiet intimacy of the moment grounding him even as his heart raced. Removing his dresspants, folding them, and placing them on a chair nearby. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, his body taut with hesitation, but you didn’t let him linger there. You climbed onto the mattress, settling in on your side and motioning for him to join you.

Aaron hesitated for a moment, then slid under the covers, lying on his side to face you. The moonlight spilled through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, silver glow. It cast delicate shadows across your face, highlighting the vulnerability in your expression as you looked at him.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched between you, filled with the weight of everything unspoken. Aaron’s gaze traced the lines of your face, committing every detail to memory—the curve of your cheek, the softness of your lips, the way your eyes held his with an intensity that made his chest ache.

“Love me,” you whispered suddenly, your voice trembling but insistent. Your fingers brushed lightly against his jaw, your touch hesitant but desperate. “Please, Aaron. Love me.”

The vulnerability in your voice, the way you said the words like they were both a demand and a plea, sent a wave of emotion crashing over him. This was almost uncharacteristic for you. Your presence never demanded attention, yet here you were, asking him to love you. Aaron’s heart twisted painfully, and he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You don’t have to ask me to do that,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I already do.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his as if trying to find the truth in his words. But there was no doubt, no hesitation in his gaze. He loved you—he always had, even when he couldn’t say it, even when it felt impossible.

“But we can’t,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “You know that. If we do this, we risk everything—our jobs, the team, the work we’ve both sacrificed so much for.”

“I don’t care,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears shining in your eyes. “I don’t care about any of that, Aaron. I just care about you.”

Aaron closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he struggled to reconcile the conflicting emotions tearing through him. He hated how complicated this was, how the world seemed determined to keep the two of you apart.

“I hate it, too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hate how complicated this is, how much we have to give up just to be together. But I can’t lose you. I can’t risk losing everything that makes you... you.”

Your hand cupped his face, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek as you leaned closer. “Then don’t,” you said, your voice soft but resolute. “Don’t lose me. We’ll figure it out. We have to.”

Aaron exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes closed. The thought of giving you up, of walking away from this, was unbearable. And yet, the thought of losing everything you had worked so hard for was just as devastating.

“I’d give it all up,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “The job, the team—all of it. I’d give it up to have you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of his words settling over you. He had reached a point where he couldn’t even get to with Haley--ready to put the job and whatever else behind him. Then, slowly, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his in a kiss so soft it felt like a promise.

Aaron kissed you back, his hands cradling your face as he poured everything he couldn’t say into the connection. And as the two of you lay there in the quiet, the moonlight casting its gentle glow over the room, Aaron realized that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid of what came next.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room as Aaron woke to the warmth of your body next to his. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of forgetting everything outside this space. But the weight of reality settled quickly, and he knew there were choices to be made—choices that couldn’t wait.

You stirred beside him, your head turning slightly on the pillow as your eyes fluttered open. When you looked at him, there was a quiet understanding in your gaze, as though you’d already been thinking about what needed to happen next.

The day was spent in quiet, focused conversation. You sat together at the kitchen table, steaming cups of coffee in front of you, as you laid out the possibilities. Aaron admired your methodical approach, the way you analyzed every angle every consequence, even as he felt the heaviness of the discussion pressing down on him.

“What if we went to the team first?” you suggested your voice steady but laced with uncertainty. “If they’re on our side—if they don’t have any reservations—it might give us the leverage we need when we talk to the Director again.”

Aaron considered your words carefully, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “It’s risky,” he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. “But it might be the only way to prove that this won’t affect the team’s dynamic. If they can support us, it could make a difference.”

You nodded, your hands wrapped around your mug as you leaned back in your chair. “And if the Director still refuses?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with determination. “Then we don’t give him a choice. We go in together and tell him it’s either this—or we both walk.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was a shared understanding of the enormity of what you were discussing. Neither of you had ever walked away from anything lightly, but the thought of giving each other up again was unbearable.

Later, as the day stretched on, the two of you made the decisions you’d been avoiding for weeks. Beth deserved the truth, as did Jeff, no matter how difficult those conversations would be.

Aaron made the visit to Beth first. She was tinged with confusion at his sudden need to talk. He kept his words measured and respectful, explaining that he couldn’t give her what she deserved—that his heart had always belonged to someone else. Beth was hurt but graceful, her acceptance tinged with sadness.

When he returned to the your house later on after also attending to fatherly duties with Jack, you were finishing your call with Jeff. Your expression was unreadable, but the way you let out a soft sigh as you set your phone down spoke volumes. “He didn’t take it well,” you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing the edge of your mug. “But I couldn’t keep leading him on. It wasn’t fair.”

Aaron placed a hand over yours, his touch grounding and steady. “We did what we had to,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “Now we move forward.”

That evening, as you sat together in the quiet, the weight of the day’s decisions settled over you both. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential challenges and risks, but for the first time, there was a glimmer of hope.

The two of you had a plan—a united front—and whatever came next, you knew you’d face it.

The BAU conference room felt smaller than usual as Aaron Hotchner stood to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. You were seated at the head of the table, your posture poised but your hands clasped tightly together—a rare sign of nervousness that only someone who knew you well, like Aaron, would notice.

The team filtered in one by one, their expressions curious but light. Emily had a cup of coffee in hand, Derek was chatting with JJ about some recent Quantico gossip, and Penelope trailed behind with a bright, questioning look. Reid sat toward the middle, already flipping through a notepad, and Rossi took his usual spot near the back, his eyes sharp as they scanned the room.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Derek asked, his grin playful as he pulled out a chair and settled in. “This doesn’t feel like our usual meeting vibe.”

You took a steadying breath, your gaze sweeping across the table before landing briefly on Aaron. He gave you a small nod, his expression calm but supportive.

“Thank you all for coming,” you began, your voice steady despite the undercurrent of tension in the room. “I know this isn’t our usual meeting. Aaron and I asked you here because we need to discuss something important—something personal that affects the team.”

The lighthearted chatter died down instantly, replaced by a palpable curiosity and concern.

You continued, your hands tightening slightly around each other as you spoke. “Over the past few months, Aaron and I have realized that we want to pursue a personal relationship. I know this might come as a surprise—or even a concern—to some of you, given our roles and the nature of our work.”

Aaron watched as the team processed your words, their expressions a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and, in some cases, quiet understanding.

You straightened, your tone firm but earnest. “We’ve thought this through carefully. We understand the gravity of this decision, not just for ourselves but for all of you. This team is a family. It’s been my honor to work with each of you, and I don’t take lightly the idea of doing anything that could disrupt that dynamic.”

Aaron stepped forward then, his voice calm and measured as he added, “That’s why we wanted to be upfront with all of you. We respect your opinions, and we’re here to listen if any of you have reservations or concerns.”

There was a beat of silence before Emily leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a thoughtful look. “So let me get this straight,” she said, her voice tinged with dry amusement. “The two of you want to be together, but the higher-ups don’t approve?”

You nodded, your gaze steady. “Correct. The Director has made it clear that our relationship is considered inappropriate given our positions. He gave us two options: end it or find roles outside the team.”

JJ frowned, her concern evident. “And what are you planning to do?”

Aaron glanced at you, and you gave a slight nod before he spoke. “We’ve decided to pursue the relationship despite those orders. But we’re not going into this without a plan. We believe the best course of action is to go to the Director with the support of this team. If we can demonstrate that our relationship won’t compromise our work or the dynamic here, it may give us the leverage we need.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Reid asked quietly, his brow furrowed in thought.

You hesitated, and Aaron stepped in. “If the Director won’t budge, we’re prepared to leave. Together.”

That admission hung heavy in the air, and Aaron could feel the weight of the team’s reactions pressing down on him.

Derek leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he let out a low whistle. “Man, that’s a big gamble. But you’ve always been a risk-taker, Hotch.”

Emily smirked faintly, her tone more teasing than judgmental. “Never would’ve pegged you for a rule-breaker, though.”

Penelope, wide-eyed and fidgeting with her bracelets, finally spoke up. “So… does this mean we’re, like, the deciding vote? Because, no pressure, but this feels like a really big deal!”

You smiled faintly, the tension in your posture easing slightly. “It is a big deal, Penelope. But we trust you. All of you. That’s why we wanted to have this conversation first.”

Rossi, who had been quietly observing, finally leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “I’ve seen a lot of things in this job. Relationships, breakups, people falling apart under pressure. But I’ve never doubted the professionalism or dedication of either of you. And I don’t see that changing now.”

Aaron felt a flicker of gratitude as Rossi’s words hung in the air, setting the tone for the rest of the discussion.

One by one, the team voiced their thoughts. JJ expressed some concern about how this might look to the brass but ultimately supported you both, trusting your judgment. Reid, after asking a few logistical questions, nodded thoughtfully and said he believed the two of you could handle it. Penelope gave an impassioned speech about love conquering all, which drew chuckles around the table, and Emily and Derek exchanged a look before both offering their backing with only a bit of playful ribbing.

By the end of the discussion, Aaron felt a weight lift from his chest. The team’s support wasn’t just a relief—it was a validation of the respect and trust you had built with each of them over the years.

You stood, your hands resting lightly on the table as you addressed them one last time. “Thank you. Truly. This means everything to us. And I promise, no matter what happens, the integrity of this team will always come first.”

Aaron stepped beside you, his gaze sweeping over the team with quiet gratitude. “We’ll take this to the Director together. And whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

As the team began to disperse, Derek clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “Never thought I’d see the day, Hotch. You breaking rules for love? Guess there’s hope for all of us.”

Aaron chuckled softly, but as he turned to look at you, his expression softened. This wasn’t just about breaking rules—it was about finally choosing the person who made it all worthwhile.

Aaron Hotchner stood in the hallway outside the Director’s office, his hands in his pockets and his gaze steady. The weight of what they were about to do hung heavily between you, but he felt none of the apprehension he might have expected. Instead, he felt a strange calm bolstered by the resolve that radiated from you as you stood beside him.

You turned to him, your expression set but your eyes soft. You had dressed sharply for the meeting, your tailored suit immaculate, projecting the authority you carried so effortlessly. Still, there was something in the way your fingers brushed against his as you reached for him that made his chest tighten.

“You ready for this?” you asked, your voice low but steady.

Aaron looked at you, taking in the determined set of your jaw and the quiet strength in your posture. “With you? Always.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, and for a moment, the tension between you softened. You stepped closer, your hand resting lightly on his chest as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was both grounding and electrifying.

“Let’s do this,” you murmured against his mouth, and he nodded, his hands lingering briefly on your waist before you pulled away.

When you entered the Director’s office together, the atmosphere shifted. The room was large and imposing, the walls lined with awards and photos that told the story of the Bureau’s successes. The Director sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he gestured for you to sit.

Aaron stayed standing beside you as you took the lead, your voice calm and authoritative as you began. “Thank you for meeting with us, sir. We wanted to address the situation between Agent Hotchner and myself directly.”

The Director leaned back in his chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him. “I’m listening.”

Aaron watched as you laid out your case with precision and confidence, detailing how the two of you had handled your relationship with professionalism, how you had sought the team’s support, and how they had expressed their trust in your ability to maintain the integrity of the BAU.

“We understand your concerns, and we don’t take this lightly,” you said, your gaze steady on the Director. “But we also know the value we bring to the Bureau, both individually and as a team. We’re here to ask for your trust, just as we’ve earned the trust of the people we lead.”

Aaron stepped in then, his voice steady but firm. “We’ve always put the mission of the BAU first, and that won’t change. But if this is a line you believe we’ve crossed, we’re prepared to accept the consequences. Both of us.”

The Director’s gaze sharpened at that, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you both. “You’re telling me you’re willing to walk away? Both of you?”

“Yes,” you said simply, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “We believe in what we’ve built here, but we won’t compromise our integrity—or the team’s—by pretending this relationship doesn’t exist.”

The room was silent for a long moment, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Aaron could feel the tension coiled in his chest, but he didn’t waver. He stood beside you, unflinching, as the Director considered their ultimatum.

Finally, the Director let out a slow breath; his fingers steepled under his chin. “This is highly irregular. You both know that. The Bureau doesn’t operate on personal exceptions.”

You nodded, your posture unyielding. “We understand that, sir. But losing both of us would be a significant blow to the BAU, especially given our track record and the current demands on the unit.”

The Director’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re asking for a lot.”

Aaron stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “And we’re offering a solution. Put us on a review period. Watch us closely. If there are any issues—any compromises to the integrity of the BAU—you’ll have our resignations. No questions asked.”

The Director’s gaze flicked between the two of you, his expression inscrutable. After what felt like an eternity, he leaned back in his chair and exhaled sharply. “Fine. A review period. But understand this: you’ll both be under intense scrutiny. Any sign that this relationship is affecting the team or your work, and it ends. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you said immediately, your voice steady.

Aaron nodded. “Crystal.”

When the two of you left the office, the tension in the hallway was palpable, but it quickly gave way to a quiet sense of victory. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and for the first time that day, you allowed yourself a small, relieved smile.

“That went better than expected,” you said, your voice light with a mix of relief and determination.

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours as you walked. “I’d say we make a pretty good team.”

You stopped then, turning to face him fully. The moonlight streaming through the hallway windows cast a soft glow over your face, and Aaron felt his chest tighten at the sight of you—strong, confident, and absolutely unshakable.

“With you?” you said, echoing his earlier words. “We can do anything.”

Aaron smiled, his hand finding yours and giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. And as the two of you walked away from the Director’s office, united in purpose and resolve, he knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

Days later, the grand estate was already alive with warmth and light as Aaron Hotchner guided you up the stone steps to Rossi’s front door. The crisp New Year’s Eve air bit at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth he felt when he glanced at you, wrapped in a deep burgundy coat that highlighted the glow in your cheeks.

“Rossi doesn’t do anything halfway,” Aaron remarked quietly, his lips curving into a faint smile as you reached the top step.

“You say that like you’re surprised,” you teased, your eyes sparkling as you met his gaze.

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand finding the small of your back as the door swung open, revealing Rossi himself. Dressed in a sharp suit, his expression was one of genuine delight as he welcomed you both with open arms.

“Ah, my two favorite rule-breakers,” Rossi said with a grin, stepping aside to let you in. “Come in, come in. There’s champagne waiting, and plenty of people to charm.”

The party was every bit as grand as Aaron had expected. Rossi’s expansive living room was filled with colleagues, friends, and family, all dressed in their finest. A jazz quartet played softly in the corner, their music weaving seamlessly through the low hum of conversation.

Aaron scanned the room instinctively, cataloging familiar faces—Emily and JJ chatting near the bar, Penelope gesturing animatedly to Reid, and Derek leaning against a nearby column, his easy grin drawing a small crowd of admirers.

But his focus always returned to you.

You were by his side, your coat now replaced by an elegant black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, the neckline just daring enough to make his chest tighten. You smiled at someone who greeted you, your laugh soft but genuine, and Aaron couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you commanded the room.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him as you handed him a glass of champagne.

He took it with a small smile, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “I’d say that depends entirely on you.”

Your lips quirked into a faint smirk, and for a moment, the noise of the room faded, leaving only the quiet connection between the two of you.

As the evening wore on, Aaron found himself drawn to you again and again, his gaze seeking you out even when you were across the room. You had a way of grounding him, even in the chaos of a room full of people, and he felt a quiet thrill every time your eyes met his, a silent understanding passing between you.

When the two of you found yourselves alone on Rossi’s terrace, the night sky stretched out above you, Aaron couldn’t help but steal a moment. The cold air bit at his skin, but the warmth of your presence was enough to chase it away.

“You look stunning tonight,” he said softly, his voice low as he leaned on the railing beside you.

You glanced at him, your smile softening into something more intimate. “You’re not so bad yourself, Agent Hotchner.”

The teasing tone in your voice made him chuckle, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity that made his chest ache in the best way.

The sound of the party spilling onto the terrace broke the moment, and the two of you turned to see Rossi stepping out, his hands raised theatrically.

“Two minutes to midnight, folks!” he called, his grin as wide as ever. “Let’s make it count!”

Aaron glanced at you, his heart pounding as he saw the faint blush on your cheeks. Without a word, he reached for your hand, pulling you gently closer.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm as the first sounds of the countdown began to echo from inside.

“Happy New Year,” you whispered back, your lips curling into a small, private smile as the world around you blurred.

And as the clock struck midnight and the room erupted in cheers, Aaron kissed you, his hand cradling your face as the noise and the cold and everything else faded away. It was just you and him, standing together at the start of something new, something strong.

Together, you could conquer anything.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[sirpotys]

Ian won't approach Emily in Aaron's presence.

[moonlightspencie]

Sleepover

Description: Hotch wants the reader, but doesn’t know how to tell her. Maybe a night in will be of some assistance.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: none (but this is full of domesticity, jealous!hotch, mutual pining, and so much fluffy fluff)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr. then it resided on ao3. now it’s back on tumblr. (fun fact: it’s my favorite hotch fic i’ve ever written and my second favorite story i’ve done of all the fandoms i’ve written for. hope ya like it still)

If there was one thing Agent Aaron Hotchner was not, it was unprofessional. But, oh. If there was ever a time he wanted badly to be unprofessional, it was this moment right now. Y/N stood next to him, leaning in close to whisper in his ear as they stood in the kitchenette, looking out into the bullpen.

“You look exhausted. You need to go get sleep.”

He glanced down at her. His face was so close he could almost feel her breath on him. It was everything in him to not lean in and—

“Hotch, seriously. You can’t even focus for more than a minute at a time,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine. It was just— a long case,” he finally managed.

She turned away, arms crossing. “You need rest. You beat yourself up more than anyone during this one.”

“I have a little boy at home to take care of before I can even think about sleep.”

She sighed, turning fully to face him. “Hotch.”

“Y/N,” he retorted.

“Fine. You know what?”

He turned towards her, arms crossing to mirror her.

“What?”

“I’m coming home with you.”

His heart stopped and face dropped. It took him a moment to process what she’d just said.

“Um,” he took a second to clear his throat, “I—Excuse me?”

She laughed, music to his ears. “That sounded so inappropriate. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m going to come watch Jack for you. You’re gonna get rest.”

“I’m your boss.” Hotch watched her face for a moment. “You don’t need to watch my son while I sleep.”

“You’re also my friend, and I’m offering my time, you’re not taking it. Besides, I’ve watched Jack a hundred times before.”

He only sighed, looking back over the bullpen, now nearly empty.

She turned again, leaning over. “You’re not gonna win this one.”

“Fine, but you need to get sleep at some point, too.” He looked back to her. “As soon as Jack is asleep, I want you to get rest yourself.”

“Will do, boss.” She smirked.

“Okay, go get your things, we’ll leave in a few minutes,” he said, watching her for a moment as she walked off.

She went to her desk, beginning to pack up what she needed, but not before Derek had to come over to stir things up.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, leaning against her desk on one arm. “Leaving so soon?”

“Soon?” She laughed. “We just had a hell of a case, I’m getting out of here.”

“Oh, man.”

He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest and sat against the desk.

Hotch walked towards his office, trying not to watch the pair talking. He tried to not pay attention how she smiled at him as he spoke, and how he always seemed to have the right words to say to get her to laugh.

“Why, what’s up?” She slung her bag over her shoulder.

“I was thinking about going to the bar. Wanted to know if a pretty lady wanted to tag along.”

Hotch threw his things in his bag quickly, trying to not think about Y/N talking to someone much younger… Childless… Not a widow. Someone he knew she’d be with more easily.

“Oh, so you only wanted me around for my looks, huh?”

He laughed, throwing his head back a little. “You’re worth a lot more than just that, sweetheart.”

“Aww, such a sweet boy,” she said, griping his shoulder. “I got some other plans for the night, though.”

“Oh yeah? Doing what?” He straightened up with a smirk.

“Ready?” Hotch asked, walking up behind her at the desk.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she responded, turning towards him.

Morgan’s face was stuck in a state of shock.

“Whoa, now hold on—”

“I’m going to watch Jack,” she said, cutting him off with a chuckle. “Don’t get too riled up, now.”

He smiled, almost laughing. “Alright. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Morgan,” Hotch said with a curt wave. Y/N followed his lead, and then they were on their way out.

“So,” Hotch started as they stepped out of the elevator and walked outside. “You and Morgan?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in shock. “What?”

They began walking to his car.

“Are you two… Because there are some forms you’d really need to sign if—”

“Hotch,” she stopped him, standing by the passenger side door as he waited by the drivers. “That is so not happening.”

“Okay, I just…” he trailed off with a shrug, opening the door as she did and getting in.

“He’s a flirt. There’s nothing going on between us.” She settled into the seat, buckling up. “Besides, I’m too busy trying to take care of you.”

She laughed and he couldn’t help himself but to join in. He pulled off, and started towards home.

“Thank you, by the way, for doing this,” he said, not daring to look at her with how nervous he suddenly felt about bringing her to his home.

“I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Jack is going to love this.” He chuckled, turning down his street. “He really looks up to you, you know? Thinks you’re hilarious.”

“Well, he’s not wrong. I am pretty funny.” She smiled. “I am, admittedly, a little sad I only get to hang out with him for a few hours, though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, pulling into the lot of the apartment complex.

“Yeah. He’s a great kid.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it for how childish it felt, he got butterflies this time when he turned to look at her. Before he could think about it too much, he turned the key and opened the door. She followed suit, walking behind him until they reached his door. He opened it for her, and she looked around.

“His aunt should be dropping him off here in a few minutes,” he said, closing and locking the door behind him. “If you’re hungry or need a drink, you’re free to get anything from the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” She smirked, watching him. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

“I will.”

He chuckled, feeling like a little kid with the way she spoke to him. Then he paused, considering something for a moment.

Apparently the moment was longer than he realized.

“You got something on your mind?” she asked.

“Would you like to stay here for the night? I have a guest room, and this way you won’t need to catch a ride home. I could just take you to work tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing down at her bag. “I don’t have anything to wear. I mean, I have my go bag at my desk that I could always use for an emergency, but for the night—”

“If you need something, I’m sure there’s something of mine you could…” He paused, realizing what he was saying. But before he could backtrack, she had to go and flash him a smile again.

“If that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.”

“I’m sorry if that sounded inappropriate, I—”

“Did you not hear me agree?” She laughed. “You worry too much, boss. Now go get dressed.”

He nodded, turning for his room. She walked over the couch in the living room, sitting down and leaning her head back. It wasn’t long before she heard a bedroom door open, and there stood the great Aaron Hotchner in an old t-shirt and baggy pajama pants.

“That’s a good look on you,” she said, looking up at him from where he sat.

He felt a blush creep onto his skin, and tried really hard not to think about it. He walked a little closer as she stood up, handing her a nearly folded pile of clothes.

“I brought you these. The shirt is extra baggy and comfortable, and hopefully the pants will fit well enough. They’re adjustable.”

“Thank you so much, this’ll be great.” She smiled up at him. “Room is down the hall? I’d like to get dressed and set my bag in there before Jack gets here.”

“Yes, right across from his room.”

“Okay, sounds great. Now, you go to bed. I’ll be here.”

He gave her a slight smile. “Right. Thank you, again.”

“You know it’s no problem. Now, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said, walking off.

She grabbed her bag and the clothes, walking off towards the guest room. She set her bag down near the door, closing it to dress. She stripped out of her work clothes, slipping on his t-shirt first. She took in a deep breath and smiled: It smelled like him. She finished pulling on the pajama pants and made them comfortable as needed.

She grabbed a makeup wipe out of her bag and wiped her face, calling it good for an unexpected night out. Then, she heard a knock at the door. She walked out, looking through the peephole to see Hotchner’s sister-in-law Jessica standing outside with Jack. Y/N opened the door.

“Hey!”

“Y/N!” Jack squealed, throwing his arms around her. “What are you doing here?”

“Dad needed to get some rest, sweetheart. So, we get to hang out for the night,” she said, looking down at him with a hand rested on his back. “Thank you for bringing him.”

“Anything for my little man. It’s good to see you again,” she said with a smile, accepting a quick hug from Jack before he bolted off.

“You too, Jess. Have a great night.”

She waved a goodbye and was out the door. Y/N locked everything back up, and popped her head into Jack’s room.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hi!” he said, turning around from where he stood at his dresser. “I’m gonna get dressed for bed. Then can we watch a movie? I already ate at aunt Jess’s house.”

“Yeah, of course, little man.” She nodded. “Do you want to go in the living room or…”

Jack paused, giggling. “Why are you wearing dad’s clothes?”

“I’m staying the night, bud. I needed pajamas.”

“You are?” he asked, eyes wide. “Can we go watch the movie in your room?”

“Yeah! Why don’t you finish getting dressed and brush your teeth, and then you can come in, okay?”

“Okay!” he exclaimed, quickly grabbing his clothes.

She turned, walking across to hall and into the guest room. She pulled the covers back, crawling underneath and switching on the T.V., finding her way to Jack’s Netflix profile, smiling at some of the shows he’d been watching. She picked an old movie she loved as a kid. It wasn’t long before she heard a door open, and little footsteps whipping around the other side of the bed. He crawled up under her arm, pulling blankets up to cover him.

Jack was watching intently, the movie only half over, when the creaking of another door piqued their interest. Hotch’s head popped into view a second later.

“What are you doing up?” Y/N asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a shy smile, then turned to Jack. “How are you doing buddy?”

“Y/N said she’s staying over!”

“Yeah, she is.” He smiled, stepping inside the room. “How’s the movie?”

“I like it a lot. Come watch!” Jack said, patting the bed next to him.

“Buddy, I’m not sure that’s—”

“Please, dad?” he pleaded.

Hotch looked to Y/N, almost asking permission without saying a word. She nodded. He shuffled a little, hesitantly walking around the bed to Jack’s other side. He lowered himself on the bed, pulling the covers over his legs. Jack slipped out from under Y/N’s arm in favor of leaning on his dad’s shoulder. It wasn’t long before Jack was snoring, and as Y/N looked up to see if Hotch thought it was just as cute as she did, she noticed he’d fallen asleep, too. They looked so sweet sleeping there together that she couldn’t help but pull out her phone and take a picture. She set the phone on the nightstand, making herself more comfortable as she focused her attention back on the movie.

Early morning light filled the room when Hotch woke up. He glanced down to see his son cuddle up against him and smiled. He was still fast asleep. Then, he looked up. Y/N laid asleep, her body curled up on her side, facing him and effectively caging Jack between them. Her breath came soft and even, and he admired how she looked in his clothes as he saw her in the light for the first time. She was so close, and he longed to get closer, but couldn’t think on it long before her eyes started fluttering open.

“Hey,” she greeted, voice soft with sleep, and a tired smile gracing her face.

“Hey,” he said back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here.”

She chuckled, rubbing her eyes. “No, it’s fine. I think he was happy to have you here.”

Hotch smiled, looking down at his son. He was out like a light.

Y/N leaned over, gently kissing Jack’s forehead before slowly and quietly getting out of bed. Hotch watched her, heart aching at how much he wished all of his mornings could start this same way. He shifted out of the grip of his son as she stretched out at the end of the bed, leaving the room with her.

“It’s still early,” he said, walking to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

She trailed behind, taking a seat at the counter.

“That depends. Are you gonna make me breakfast if I am?”

“If you’d like.”

He smirked at her, and she smiled back.

“Tell you what, you work on the food, I’ll get coffee started,” she said, getting up and walking towards the counter.

He wordlessly agreed, pulling out some boxed pancake mix and stovetop sausage links. She removed the old coffee filter from the machine and set in a new one, filling it up with grounds. Hotch mixed up the batter quickly, heating up a pan.

The coffee pot filled, and pancakes were formed. Y/N poured two cups, preparing one to her liking and one to Hotch’s. Then, footsteps came shuffling into the room.

“Morning, sunshine,” Y/N said to Jack, smiling at him. “You want some juice?”

He nodded sleepily and climbed up onto a chair at the counter. She poured him some orange juice and set the cup down in front of him. He took a sip, watching his dad finishing up breakfast.

“Is that pancakes?” Jack asked, trying to peek around to see the pans.

“It sure is,” Hotch replied, throwing some pancakes on a plate and pouring out a few more.

Y/N set down the two coffee mugs on the counter, and took her place next to Hotch to move the sausage links around in the other pan.

“Almost done?” she asked him without looking up.

He moved the rest of the pancakes to the plate.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, glancing over and turning off both burners.

Hotch grabbed three plates, setting them down next to her so she could split up the sausage links. As soon as she was done, Hotch set to putting a few pancakes on each plate, and Y/N grabbed butter and syrup out of the fridge. He prepared Jack’s for him and set the plate in front of him with a fork. He then waited for Y/N to start the working on her own before he prepared his. She took a seat first, leaving a seat in the middle for Hotch. They ate quietly, sharing a few words when Jack wanted to talk about what he got to do at school the day before, and what he was looking forward to for the rest of the week.

“Hey,” Y/N, nudging Hotch’s arm as she pushed her plate away from her. “Could we get to the office a little early? I’m gonna have to get dressed there since my go bag is there and all.”

“Of course.” He nodded, sipping at the last of his coffee. He then turned to Jack. “Can you go get dressed to go to school, please?”

“Yeah,” he said, hopping off the stool and running off towards his room.

“I think I’m gonna put on my stuff from yesterday till we get there,” Y/N said, sliding off of her stool. “Not sure walking into the office in your pajamas would be a great look.”

“Maybe not the most professional outfit,” he agreed, laughing a little as he walked around the counter, putting dishes in the sink for later. “For the record, I think you look beautiful.”

She paused, feeling heat rise to her cheeks and butterflies in her stomach.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, arms crossing over her chest. “Looks better on you, though.”

And with that, she left to go change. Hotch waited in the kitchen for a moment, almost in shock, before heading off to his room to get ready for the day.

It wasn’t long before they were both showered and ready to go, Jack practically running out the door when his aunt arrived to take him to school. Hotch and Y/N drove to work in a comfortable silence, only the sound of the radio playing low. They arrived at the BAU, and went straight inside. Hotch went to his office, and Y/N was reaching for her duffel bag when the glass doors opened.

She looked up, not expecting anyone else to be there so early.

“Hey, what are you doing here? We don’t start for another half hour,” she inquired.

“Just needed to get some work done early. But I could ask you the same thing.” Derek smiled at her, then glanced at what she was wearing. “Hold on, aren’t those your clothes from yesterday?”

He inched closer, a slight smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I was just about to go change.” She held up her go bag.

“Mhm.” He crossed his arms. “What happened to just looking after Jack for a while? You decide you were finally gonna get after—”

“Derek!” she interrupted, laughing. “No! I just stayed the night with Jack in the guest room.”

He raised a brow. “And that’s all? Baby girl I know you’ve had a little crush on Hotch since you walked in here.”

She bit her cheek, looking away for a moment. “You’re nothing but trouble, Morgan.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

He stepped closer.

“Okay, fine.” She huffed out a sigh and lowered her voice. “We had breakfast this morning, with Jack.”

“And?”

She paused. “He also slept with me and Jack, but it was an accident. He didn’t mean to fall asleep there. We didn’t even touch one another, it was totally platonic.”

“Well, I am sure Hotch wouldn’t be sneaking into bed with me if I was watching his kid.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s totally not into me. You know how he is with work policy, and besides he is way out of my league.”

“You need to think a little higher of yourself.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She laughed again. “Now, out of my way so I can get dressed. I don’t need any more questions from the rest of the team.”

“Alright.” He stepped back holding up his hands.

“And Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Do not tell anybody.”

She pointed a finger in his direction as she spoke. He only chuckled, taking a seat at his desk.

She went to the bathroom, changing out of her old clothes and throwing on some new ones suitable for work at the office. She put on a little makeup, threw on some deodorant, and called it good. She stepped out to a slightly more full bullpen, only a couple more people had arrived. She shoved her go bag under her desk, and walked over to the kitchenette table where Derek, Hotch, and Emily were talking.

“How’s it going, guys?” she asked, taking the seat next to Emily, across from Morgan and Hotch.

“Talking about yesterday’s case. The daughter of the last victim made it safely to her grandparents’ house,” Emily said, sipping at a mug of coffee.

“That’s awesome. I’m glad she had them to go to,” she said, leaning forward on the table.

“You need coffee?” Emily asked, looking to Y/N.

“Oh, no thanks. I got my share this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” Derek said, holding back a smile.

“Morgan.” Y/N glared at him.

Hotch caught her eye for a moment afterwards, questioning. She slightly shook her head in amusement.

“What happened?” Emily asked, a curious smile on her face looking between Y/N and Derek.

“Nothing, he just doesn’t understand boundaries,” she said with a pointed finger. “Trying to blow things way out of proportion as always.”

This time she glanced at Hotch first, rolling her eyes a little. He smirked, looking down at his hands.

Emily watched the little interaction with interest.

“Does it have something to do with these two?” she inquired, looking back to Derek.

Y/N and Hotch spoke over each other.

“Nothing happened,” Y/N muttered.

“What?” Hotch questioned.

Derek looked to Hotch. “Can we go talk?”

Hotch furrowed his brow. “May I ask what about?”

“It’s nothing. It’ll just take a couple minutes.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up and nodding a quick goodbye to Emily and Y/N.

Derek followed after, throwing a devious look Y/N’s way.

Emily leaned over, speaking more quietly. “Something I should know about you and Hotch?”

“No,” she chuckled. “Derek is just… Himself.”

“Something had to have happened.” Emily turned in her chair, and made Y/N face her. “Spill.”

“I went to watch Jack last night so Hotch could get some rest. We had breakfast this morning with Jack, and he accidentally fell asleep next to Jack and I while we were watching a movie.” She sighed. “I told Derek, and now he’s freaking out about it like something happened.”

“Y/N. You slept at his house.”

“To watch his kid.”

“Wait, you said he fell asleep next to you and Jack.” A smile crept on her face. “Was that on a couch or in a bed?”

“Emily,” she groaned.

“Y/N!” Her eyes went wide. “How can you still think he’s not interested in you?”

“He’s not.”

“You’re both blind.”

Hotch led Derek to his office, only leaving the door a little cracked.

“You wanted to talk?” he asked, leaning against his desk. Derek stood in front of him.

“Yeah. About you and Y/N.”

“Morgan.”

“Hotch, I know you don’t want to admit it, but I know you’re into that girl.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “She told me about last night and this morning.”

“She was watching Jack. Nothing more.” Hotch shook his head. “This isn’t an appropriate conversation for work.”

“Work doesn’t start for another ten minutes.”

Hotch only stared.

“Look, I just think you should ask her out.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?” Derek let his arms drop to rest on his hips, tilting his head.

“I’m her boss,” he replied, straightening up.

“But what is really the harm in trying?”

“She’s—” he started, and then paused, shaking his head.

“She’s what? Amazing? Gorgeous? Smart?”

“She wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. So, it doesn’t matter anyways,” Hotch said, glancing down. “We start the day in 5.”

“Great, that’s plenty of time.” Derek paused a second. “Why would you think she’s not into you?”

“I’m— I have a child, and I’m a widow. She doesn’t need all of that on her plate. Plus, she’s young. She’d be better off with somebody your age,” he said, looking up again to catch Derek’s eye.

“Man, you are so blind.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head.

The day started as usual. The team had a briefing, and then went to work at their desks for a while. Today was going to be a slower day, and everyone seemed to be thankful they could get home at the end of the day. At lunch, Y/N noticed Derek and Emily talking quietly: she thought it was awfully suspicious.

“Hey, you two,” she called out, walking over to Emily’s desk. “Why are you being so quiet, it’s weird.”

Derek glanced up. “Nothing.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, turning to Emily in question.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

“You two are bad liars.” Then, she had an idea. “Hey, Reid.”

His head popped up, looking to her. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been sitting here next to them, what are they talking about?”

He looked lost, glancing around. “I—Uh… I have no clue.”

“Now, see, you I believe,” she laughed, ruffling his hair as she went past.

He frowned, quickly smoothing it back out. She headed off towards Hotch’s office instead, trying to ignore the whispers that has started back up.

She knocked quietly on the open door.

“Hey, you busy?”

She popped her head in to see him eating a sandwich at his desk.

He shook his head, swallowing a bite. “No, come in.”

She closed the door and went to sit at the chair by his desk.

“Derek has been weird all day. What did you guys talk about earlier? I can’t get an answer to save my life.”

His eyes went wide.

“What?” she questioned, noticing Hotch going more on-edge.

“Uh, it was— It was nothing. Just a work thing.”

“You know, you’re a really bad liar, too.”

He chuckled, looking away. “I just don’t think this is the right time to talk.”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

He glanced up at her, looking her in the eyes, searching for an easy answer.

“It was just— It was about last night. And this morning.”

She groaned. “Great. I knew I shouldn’t have told him anything.”

Hotch just sighed, looking at her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d say anything,” she offered as an apology.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just that…” He let out a slow breath. “He brought up something that I think I want to talk to you about. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

“Okay, what is it?” she questioned, straightening up in her chair.

“He, uh, brought up everything from last night and this morning. And he brought up how that’s not something that I would normally do. Or something you would normally do.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to make you uncomf—”

“No, it wasn’t that. It’s just,” he paused, watching her for a second. “I need to know if you feel the same way about me that I feel about you.”

Her heart was racing and heat rose to her face. She was breathless.

“W-what?”

“I’m so sorry, I know this is inappropriate, but…”

“What are you asking?”

“I just need to know how you feel. About me.”

He looked at her, almost pleading for the answer he deeply wanted.

“I’m— I think you’re amazing. I think you’re a wonderful father, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way you do,” she began in a ramble. “I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’re so out of my league, but after talking to Derek this morning, and Emily, I just… I don’t know. I want to hope.”

Hotch furrowed his brow, and Y/N took in a breath, ready for rejection.

“You think I’m out of your league?”

“I mean… Yeah?” She tilted her head. “You’re really incredible.”

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Y/N, for profilers I don’t think we’ve been very good at reading one another,” he said quietly. “I thought I was the last person you’d ever be interested in.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m a widow, I’m older than you, I have a son…”

“A son that I love. I’d do anything for that kid.”

“I know.”

He smiled again, watching her. She couldn’t help but to smile back.

“As for the other stuff, I couldn’t care less. You’re so much more than that.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she continued to smile at him. “We really are pretty dumb, huh?”

“Very, apparently,” he agreed with a nod.

She checked the time. “Lunch break is almost over. I better go.”

He nodded again. “Yeah. Talk more later?”

“Of course.”

She waved a goodbye, walking towards the door. With one hand on the handle, she felt something grip her arm and spin her around. She was met with Hotch’s lips on hers, a kiss that took her breath away. They broke apart after a minute, both smiling like giddy teenagers.

“When I tell you that’s all I could think about doing this morning…” she began.

“Me too,” he agreed, looking into her eyes as his hand stroked her cheek. “Especially when I got to wake up to you in my clothes. It was killing me.”

She giggled, leaning in for one more kiss. It was slower this time, more gentle. She backed away afterwards, just enough to be able to speak against his lips.

“I think maybe we should thank Derek and Emily.”

“And let them feel like they won?”

“Good point.”

He let her go to get back to the bullpen, but as she attempted to turn the handle of the door, she was knocked back into his chest. Of course.

“You’re welcome,” Derek said with a smile after assessing what must have just happened.

“You don’t get credit for this,” Y/N laughed.

“Mhm. But it’s totally on me,” he said, raising a brow. He started walking back out, but not before… “Don’t you two take too long in there.”

FULL MASTERLIST

[show-your-fangs]

lil request of some jealous hotch maybe👉🏻👈🏻 i’m kinda picturing moments aaron getting all jealous and taking the matter in his own hands and teaching reader a lesson🫣😫

this is so fucking good, and coincidentally will be chapter 28 of moments 👀 (it involves a toy, a bed, and a few hours)

so instead please enjoy secret relationship hotch becoming jealous of his baby being hit on by some dude at a bar while the team is out, and then proceeding to finger her under the table

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Words: 1.8k

CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.

Tags/warnings: established secret relationship, jealous!hotch, possessiveness, pet names (baby, good girl), sir kink, groping, teasing, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionist kink, public sex, aaron basically fingers you in a booth in a bar.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Aaron had never been more thankful for the low light of Shaw’s, thankful that the shadows that lingered all around them obscuring his hot, red ears from the agents around him. He wasn’t embarrassed by any means, no, he was livid. 

They were all staring and snickering about you, leaning over the bar as you waited for the drinks they’d all made you go get just so that you’d be forced to talk to the cute guy that had been making eyes at you all night. 

When you’d told them that you hadn’t noticed, they all scoffed and rolled their eyes, telling you that was the reason you were still single. But none of them knew, they couldn’t have, that the reason why you hadn’t seen him staring was because you only cared about one man’s eyes on you – your boss's.

He was rendered completely useless, unable to do anything about him, unable to leap to his feet, stalk across the bar and make him stop talking to you, before swiftly dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you silly until the only thing you could think about was his cock. 

He knew you weren’t doing it maliciously. There wasn’t a single bad bone in your body. It wasn’t your fault that he found you attractive, wasn’t your fault that Emily was determined to get you laid, wasn’t your fault that you were making him so unbelievably jealous that he couldn’t think straight. 

He almost let out a sigh of relief when the bartender slid five drinks on the counter in front of you and you skillfully grabbed all of them in your hands before quickly making your way back to their table. 

“So?” Emily asked the second you put the drinks down, everyone reaching out to grab their glass and the scoop of your flirting.

You shook your head. “Eh, not for me.”

You slid in next to Aaron, uncharacteristically so, and yet it didn’t seem anyone noticed, still too focused on you to notice how Aaron’s body had relaxed beside you. 

“That’s not for you?” Emily shockingly pointed back at the blonde guy at the bar who was now engrossed in conversation with another beautiful woman. 

“Nope,” you simply stated, not giving her anything to continue prying. She scoffed then, unbelieving. 

“Can we go dance now?” Penelope whined again and Morgan immediately began pushing Emily out of the booth so they could get out. 

You took a sip of your drink as you watched them scurry towards the other side of the bar, hand in hand, but not before they dragged Emily and JJ along for the ride. It was just the six of you now, Spencer having left earlier in the night and Rossi not even entertaining the possibility of getting wasted with you on a perfectly fine Friday night. 

“Have fun,” you joked, Emily poking her tongue out at you and you returned the gesture. “Get her to relax a little and leave me alone, JJ!”

Aaron took a swing of the cold beer he’d been nursing since you got here an hour ago, trying to play it as cool as he could, disinterest being what would maintain your relationship private, until you were finally alone.  

He set the glass back down on the table before his hand came down on your thigh, slapping it slightly, the coldness of his hand mixing with the sting on his action. Your gaze snapped to his, shocked, scared, ashamed, while his remained dark, glossy, enraged.

He was jealous, so unbelievably jealous he couldn’t even hide it. Your breathing picked up, your heart practically rattling against your chest, your mouth going dry with anticipation.

“Just out of curiosity,” he whispered, slowly running his hand up towards your heat. “What is your type?”

You slumped back in your seat, back pressed tightly against the plush cushions of the booth, acutely aware of where you were and the fact that your closest friends were dancing just behind you. 

Thankfully you were hidden away, obscured, but there were still a lot of people around, a lot of bodies that could turn to you at any moment. 

“I asked you a question, baby,” he snapped, grip tightening unbelievably close to where you needed him. 

“You,” you swallowed thickly. “You, sir.”

The pockets of haziness, of blurred lines and dark corners were finally working to his advantage as he draped your left leg over his lap, opening you up under the table to gain easier access. 

You couldn’t help but dart your eyes around the room once more, desperate to make sure that no one could see you like this.

“Don’t look at them, look at me,” he commanded and you swiftly obeyed, turning your hazy eyes back on his, the fire burning in them almost mesmerizing, holding you hostage. His hand slid off your leg, swiftly cupping your crotch tightly. “This belongs to me,” he squeezed. “You belong to me,” your eyes were glossy with tears now. “No one gets to touch you, ever, no one gets to flirt with you, no one gets to so much as look at you, do I make myself clear?”

You whimpered pathetically, nodding your head feverishly, and yet it only made him squeeze harder, bordering on painful. Your brows furrowed, confusion at his continued roughness making a single tear fall down your cheek.  

“Apparently I wasn’t clear enough,” he spat, his fingers skillfully pulling your panties to the side. His cold fingers were immediately met with wet warmth, your clit practically on fire as he began to tease it, never touching it long enough for you to feel anything other than frustration.

“No, sir, please,” you sobbed, your hand wrapping around his wrist, but instead of trying to force him off you, you tried to get him to touch you where you wanted him.

“No?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re not mine?”

His movements stilled then and yet you continued to grind yourself against his palm, against his fingers, against him. Whatever shame, whatever fears you had about getting caught, about someone seeing him touch you seemed to have evaporated as the desire to finally come undone took over.

“Such a greedy girl,” he groaned in your ear. “Even when you’ve been bad and I’m trying to punish you, you still have one thing on your mind.”

His other arm wrapped around your waist, his hand tightly gripping your left hip to pin you back down to the seat and keep you there, unable to move yourself where you desperately needed.

It was like a spell lifted then, your face immediately flushing crimson as you were reminded of where you were and just how exposed you truly were, even in the low light. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, face buried into his shirt in shame. 

Your shame only spurred him on, his movements picking up once more, his fingers running along the entirety of your slit, collecting your slick, making sure to never touch your entrance or clit.

“Next time a guy comes up to you, what are you going to say?” he asked, bitter, condescending, mean. 

You couldn’t breathe much less think about what you wanted to answer, too concerned by trying to act as normal as possible. 

He landed a slap against your clit then, perfectly timed with the music around you, the instrument solo drowning out the sharp sound. You moaned, quickly biting into his suit jacket to further muffle the lewd noises spilling out your mouth. 

He gave you a second to allow the shock to sharpen your senses, his fingers returning to their previous movements casually as he scanned the room, making sure you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourselves. 

“Next time a guy comes up to me,” you managed through ragged breaths, bravely lifting your head so your gaze could meet his. “I’ll tell him I’m not interested.”

“Next time some guy comes up to you,” he seethed in your ear, low and terrifying. “You’re going to tell them your boyfriend doesn’t like to share,” he emphasized his words by finally sinking his fingers into you, coaxing a whimper from your throat. “And they should probably leave you alone before he comes back.”

He curled his fingers upwards, hooking them against the spot deep inside you that always made you come undone in seconds.

“Yes, sir,” you smiled brightly, the fact that he’d called himself your boyfriend fully processing through your fucked out brain. 

“Good girl,” and with that he let loose, his fingers thrashing inside you, not even building up to his big finale by sliding them in and out of you first. 

You held his stare, your mouth opening for silent moans, for restrained whimpers, for jagged breathing. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop as the song your teammates had all been dancing too was quickly coming to a close. 

Your hands wrapped around his shirt, bunching it up and wrinkling it. That’s how he knew you were close. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing fast circles over it. Your walls began to clench around him, your hips began to sink themselves farther into his hand. 

“Cum, baby,” he whispered into your ear, soft yet commanding.

It all came at you too quickly, the tension in your body snapping sharply and out of nowhere. Wetness dripped out of you and onto his hand as your body shook against his steady frame. His grip around your waist tightened slightly, bringing your body against him to help keep you stable.

He looked back at his subordinates still twirling around to the final chorus of the song, distracted enough for him to chance it. He leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss to your temple, slowly retracting his fingers from you as he reached over to grab a napkin. 

Even in the low light, in the darkness, he could see his hand glisten with your slick and a proud smirk enveloped his lips. You were still curled against him as he did his best to clean you up, to get rid of any evidence of what the two of you had just done. 

He bunched the napkins up, swiftly pocketing them before he set you back down on the seat, a respectable distance away from him, and wiped your face clean of your runny mascara. Almost as if he’d timed it perfectly, four bodies approached your table. 

“Are you okay, sweetness?” Morgan asked you as they returned to the table, definitely noticing your flushed face.

You nodded, not daring to make eye contact as your heart continued to race, the aftershock of your orgasm still rocking through you.

“I think she’s had too much to drink,” Aaron told him, concerned softness lacing his words, like a boss taking care of his employees. “I’m gonna take her home.”

He didn’t even have to prompt you to follow before you were sliding off the booth, your legs barely keeping you up. He followed quickly after you, hooking his arm around your back before you could collapse, leaving your untouched drink on the table in front of them. 

idk what it is about these two but they really like going at it in public

tags: @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner, @criminalskies, @xladyxdreamer

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Day One, One Day [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@hazelwoodhandmadeuk) Center (@milla984) Right (@xjackxv)

Prompt: The reader is called to join the BAU from their team to help them solve a string of kidnappings and murders in a high school. To say the reader's first day and the case was eventful was an understatement, and Aaron can’t help but be drawn to the new face, even though he shouldn’t be. 

Pairing: Aaron x genderneutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns 

Category: angst/comfort 

Word Count: 15K

Content Warnings:  kidnapping, mention of smothering, teen death (nothing explicit [three victims]), unwanted attention, imprisonment, mention of the foster care system, mention of abuse (not specified [reader]), tight space, possibility of being shot [Hotch], death by gun (unsub), language, bruises, mention of snuff films and porn [not explicit]. If I missed any, please let me know 

A/N: Hi loves! Here is another fic based on the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins January/February Writing Challenge. The prompt was to describe the character’s first day at the BAU. This fic came about because of the reader being flustered while meeting Aaron for the first time. And then the jealous!hotch got added which is an absolute favorite trope of mine. I had fun navigating the ins and outs of this fic, and I hope you like it too. It's another long one, so grab a cup of tea/coffee/whatever you like and settle in. If you do enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your weekend and thanks for reading.  Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

_y/n_  your name 

_y/l/n_ = your last name 

_________ = the nearest FBI field office to you. 

y/e/c_ = your eye color (aka brown-eyed, green-eyed, etc.)

_c/t_ = coffee of tea 

_c/s_ = cream or sugar (if you take neither in your tea or coffee, just ignore this one) 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

Aaron had been CC’s on an email from JJ, as he drove toward the normal coffee shop that he stopped at before the office. He was slightly annoyed. The email indicated that the new agent. Agent _y/l/n_ was running late. If there was anything that Hotch didn’t like, it was tardiness. He hardly accepted it from his team, let alone a new agent just joining the BAU. While Aaron moved his car forward at the green light, _y/n_ was angrily saying, at their car, “Just start gosh darn it!” _y/n_ wasn’t one to let anger get to them, but today was a big day for them, and they needed their car to start five minutes ago. It didn’t help that it was so cold outside that _y/n_ felt like their fingers were freezing off. They had taken off their gloves to try and fiddle around with their engine. Even though _y/n_ was by no means a mechanic, they had hoped that a YouTube video and the willpower to try restarting their car would be enough to get it going. Unfortunately, _y/n_’s self-reliance wasn’t working out in their favor. Just as _y/n_ was going to call an Uber or Lyft to take them where they needed to go, a strong voice called out, “Hey. Is everything alright?” _y/n_ looked up at the tall stranger. He was dressed appropriately for the weather in a puffer jacket, gloves, a scarf that obscured some of his face, and a grey hat. Although the man was well-layered, he seemed put together. His outfit, unlike many _y/n_, had seen in the thirty minutes of hoping their car would cooperate, was put together. It looked expensive. _y/n_ would normally be weary of strangers. They’d seen enough bad things happen to people who seemed helpful at first but turned out to be monsters later. However, the seriousness in this man’s deep-set eyes and demeanor had _y/n_ reconsider in this rare case ._y/n_ normally liked to be independent, but their lack of car knowledge and need to get moving stat had them reply to the man’s question, “Not really. My car won’t start, and I need to get going. I was about to call a Lyft actually.” The tall, _y/n_ estimated, middle-aged man, stepped forward and said, “Mind if I look under the hood for a second?” _y/n_ stepped back from the infernal machine and said, “Knock yourself out. I can’t figure it out.” With a determined look, the man stepped forward and leaned down a bit to see if there was any issue with the car. 

The first thing he noticed was that heat was radiating off the engine even in the freezing weather. Of course, engines were hot, but not this hot. Aaron from a few close calls in his youth, had a good idea what the issue was.” He turned his head to the person, just as he was about to ask them if they’d replaced their coolant recently, recognized them as the last-minute agent he and JJ had selected yesterday afternoon for the latest case. He hadn’t realized it was them before because agent _y/n_ of the Crimes Against Children Unit was wearing a thick coat and their face was flushed from the cold. It was clear that _y/n_ hadn’t realized who he was yet either. It was so rare for Aaron to come across someone else in the FBI who didn’t know who he was, even if it was just for a minute or so. Hotch couldn’t help but notice how tense and anxious _y/n_ appeared to be. Aaron had been very hesitant to add a new agent so abruptly, but given the fact that five teenagers had gone missing from a public school in Texas, it seemed prudent to have someone who worked well with children onboard for the case.

Having to interview teenagers took a whole other set of skills than dealing with adults. JJ and Garcia did a fast but thorough scan of the possible agents that would fit the bill. The best fit for an agent that wasn’t actively on a case had been _y/n_. Hotch reluctantly signed off on it for JJ. Now that _y/n_ was standing in front of him, he decided to perform an informal test of their personality. Once _y/n_ recognized who he was, they would change. People always changed around him. He often found they became more closed off. Aaron stood straight and asked in a neutral tone, “You said you need to get going? Something happening this morning for you?” _y/n_ let out a measured breath and said, “Well it’s supposed to. This rental car kind of threw a wrench in everything though. I already sent an email explaining the situation to the people I’m working with, but I haven’t gotten a response yet. I hope they’ll understand, but I don’t want to hold anyone up. No matter what this is on me” Aaron nodded at _y/n_’s clear discretion. He asked, like he didn’t know already, “Is it a new job? What is it you do for work exactly that makes you need to email these people?” _y/n_ looked over at him. There was a flash of something in their eyes, but _y/n_ remained cool and said, “Not a new job exactly, more like a new team.” _y/n_ didn’t mention anything about the nature of their work, which Aaron appreciated. Given _y/n_’s attitude and choice of responses, Aaron let _y/n_ know exactly who he was by saying, “Well, I think I can help you. Maybe not with the car unless you’ve got some coolant back there. But I can give you a ride to work.” _y/n_ took a step back at the odd statement. This man seemed so normal, but again, seeming like anything didn’t mean much in their line of work. _y/n_ asked with caution, “Pardon me?” _y/n_ was ready to run or scream if this went bad. Now _y/n_ wished they’d had their gun on them and not in the glove box of the car. Hotch noticed the split-second change in demeanor with Agent _y/n_ taking on a defensive stance, even if it was masked as calmness. Aaron couldn’t help but applaud the instance change. It showed they were quick. Hotch clarified by saying, “I can drive you to work because my name is Aaron, Hotchner.” He flashed his badge to reassure them. Once _y/n_ looked at the badge and looked Agent Hotchner in the face, their eyes grew wide with awe. _y/n_ wanted to hit their head on the palm of their hand with how dumb they had been for not noticing. Agent Hotchner didn’t seem like the person to be easily forgotten. y/n_ composed themself and quickly said, “I am so sorry Agent Hotchner. I didn’t mean to hold you up, nor did I expect to meet you before our planned debrief this morning.” Hotch raised a hand. He was still slightly amused by the whole situation. However, he didn’t let that show as he replied, “It’s alright. You just killed two birds with one stone. I’ve met you now, and I can get us both to Quantico without any delays, but if we want to get there promptly, we should go now. I’ll give you a minute to get your things.” Aaron knew the traffic would get terrible if they didn’t leave soon. _y/n_ nodded and quickly pulled their go bag from the back trunk. They then grabbed their case files and gun from the front glove compartment. Even though _y/n_ wasn’t a part of the BAU, they often joined other teams than their own on cases that needed a CACU agent’s skill set. Given that fact, they already knew how to pack a go bag and get moving quickly. In under a minute, _y/n_ clicked the lock on their car and followed Hotch toward his car in the lot. 

As they started driving, _y/n_ reflected on the whirlwind of yesterday. They had just finished a case with their team in Kentucky. Their team had been in the office late, trying to finish up their report as thoroughly as possible. The Trafficking case had been difficult and dealt with lots of parties, so _y/n_wanted to give themself time to fill out the forms accurately but with concision. That task had taken longer than _y/n_ had expected. _y/n_ had rubbed their dry eyes when the ping of their email sounded. _y/n_ turned to their work computer and a message marked urgent was in their inbox from their supervisor. A twinge of panic hit _y/n_. They rarely interacted with their supervisor Most of the time, meetings, instructions, or the rare reprimand came from their Unit Chief, Agent Smith. With hesitation, _y/n_ clicked the email afraid that they’d made some mistake or something else._y/n_’s eyes grew wider and wider as _y/n_  read the contents of the email. It read: 

To: y/n_cacu@fbi.gov 

From: JessicaPola@fbi.gov 

CC: JeffinerJareaubau@fbi.gov, AaronHotchnerbau@fbi.gov, DrakeSmithcacu@fbi.gov 

Subject: Transfer Request 

Good morning, agent _y/l/n_. We have an urgent request for you. The Media Liaison for the Behavioral Analysis Unit based in Quantico has requested your presence to help with the team's current case. You are requested to come as quickly as you can. You have been selected due to your team's case status, and your intimate knowledge of crimes against children. For more details about this choice, please contact Jennifer Jareau [CC’d]. For issues with travel and expenses, please contact the Travel Resource Office. I have already contacted your Unit Chief, and let Agent Smith know of this temporary shift of teams. Be safe, and good luck. 

Supervisor of the ________ Field Office, Jssica Pola. 

_y/n_ didn’t know that to think for a moment. To be joining the famous BAU team on a case felt otherworldly. It didn’t seem like a thing that could ever happen to them. One, because they were a relatively new agent, and two, the BAU was too important to need someone like them to help on a case. But _y/n__ practical side kicked in quickly. There would be time to think later. Now they needed to work. _y/n_ quickly emailed Drake and then spent more time emailing the BAU’s liaison about the details of the case. Only a few minutes after _y/n_ had sent that email, Agent Jareua replied with a couple of attachments including details on the current case and the BAU team. _y/n_ quickly finished booking their red-eye flight to Virginia at 1:00 a.m. before thanking the agent and noting that they would be in the Quantico office in the morning. _y/n_ had to quickly pack up and go home to get things for their absence. Once this was done, _y/n_ moved to the airport. They tried to relax, but the prospect of getting to work with the BAU kept them up. The team was legendary. And that was justified by the sheer amount of high-profile arrests the BAU made. _y/n_ ended up looking at the folder with the team’s information to refresh their memory of who was currently on the team. _y/n_ had met Agent Morgan and Agent Reid while they were a N.A.T., but the mercurial and stern Unit Chief had been gone on paternity leave while they were finishing up their training. But _y/n_ didn’t need to see Aaron Hotchner to know who he was. Apart from his team being praised constantly, his leadership after Gideon stepped down from the role of Unit Chief was unmatched. As soon as _y/n_ opened the file on the plane, they felt the exhaustion come on like a wave. _y/n_ closed the file and put away their phone, leaning into the tiredness that overwhelmed them. y/n_ would take the sleep now because there wasn’t going to be much later. When they landed in Virginia, it was 5:00 a.m. and an hour's drive to the Quantico field office. _y/n_ chose to rent a car and not spend a fortune of the FBI’s money on getting a ride share. That turned out to be a mistake, as _y/n_ nearly got to the office. _y/n_ had pulled into the parking lot of an unassuming coffee shop. They needed the caffeine for what was to come. When _y/n_ had returned to the car, it would not start. There was no getting the engine to rev to life. Thus, why she was in the passenger seat of Agent Hotchner’s car. _y/n_ didn’t try and give themself too much grief about not recognizing the man in the driver’s seat. They reminded themself that they’d never seen him in person before and that they hadn’t fully looked at the team folder Agent Jareua had sent them. 

Aaron could sense that _y/n_ was thinking. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, we might as well get the debrief done now instead of waiting to get to the office. That way the team can jump right in once we arrive.” _y/n_ nodded. They noticed the shift in Aaron’s attitude. A shift from one of apparent amusement to one of professionalism. Here was Aaron Hotchner _y/n_ who had expected to meet in the office. Hotch kept his eyes on the road, and said, “You’ve probably heard all of this before, but we take these things very seriously at the BAU. First, we work as a team and a unit. Keeping ideas to yourself doesn’t solve the issue. If you have an idea I recommend you share it with everyone. Second, you run things by me or someone on the team before you do them. Third, nobody gets over-involved with the witnesses or families. Fourth, we integrated with law enforcement and didn’t overstep. Fifth and final note, the actions of anyone on this team, permanent or temporary reflect on the FBI as a whole. I don’t tolerate bad behavior or ethics. Do you understand?” _y/n_ nodded. Here _y/n_ saw the dedicated leader of the BAU. _y/n_ understood that a man in Agent Hotchner’s position had to be firm, strong, and have rules, especially for young agents who just get added to a team that was well-oiled and worked well as what seemed like a machine. _y/n_ spoke up and said, “I understand Agent Hotchner.” They wanted to add, “I won’t let you down,” but from the reputation the BAU had, maybe they would. _y/n_ didn’t want to dwell on it too much. They didn’t have to, as Hotch added in a voice with a hint of warmth, “And, if you have any questions, you can ask me, or anyone on the team. Things move fast in the BAU, and it’s fine if you need clarity.” _y/n_ nodded and replied, “Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” _y/n_ reflected on the hot-then-cold nature of the man beside them. _y/n_ realized that perhaps that was why he was respected. Agent Hotchner was as stern as he needed to be, but underneath that facade, he was a caring man. Even if he tried to hide it. He made it part of his job to hide it. _y/n_ felt oddly warmed by the idea, but _y/n_ waasn’t so naive to believe this assumption. They’d need to see Aaron with the team to confirm their suspicion about his character. After all, he had been profiling for over half their life, _y/n_ wasn’t going to trust their judgment on a skill Aaron Hotchner had perfected. 

Hotch looked at _y/n_ and commented, “You’re team does good work. Difficult work.” Aaron wasn’t exaggerating. He couldn’t imagine having to work on crimes dealing with children in every case. To him, it was the most disheartening thing in the world. He was jaded enough seeing the killers he did. Having to do that with children specifically put his stomach in knots. He assumed it was because he was a father. When Jack came home with a runny nose he was instantly on high alert. Aaron took a moment to wonder if many of the agents in the Crimes Against Children Unit had children. He knew Agent Smith was married, but was unsure if the man had children. For some reason, Aaron turned his face to _y/n_, who was silently running their thumb over the pads of their other fingers in a gesture that might be nervousness. Internally Aaron thought, “They seem too young to have children.” His eyes glanced at _y/n_’s left hand. There wasn’t a ring there. Hotch snapped his eyes back to the road, not sure why he’d taken that internal tangent. He reminded himself of the no profiling agents rule, but when a new agent joined the team, even if it was just for a case, it was hard not to. That was why he did debriefs with new Agents. He did them firmly so he could get a natural read on their reactions. He did this to introduce himself to the agents and set the strict guidelines he asked his team to follow. Even with that plan in place, Aaron still found it hard to not try and read agents. He gave a small sigh and shifted his attention back to work, as they pulled into the bureau parking lot. Aaron took his reserved spot on the bottom floor of the parking garage. 

_y/n_ and Aaron grabbed their things from the car, and _y/n_ said, “Thank you for the ride, Agent Hotchner.” Aaron nodded and said, “You’re welcome.” The unlikely pair moved inside and Aaron was greeted, and greeted by many important Unit Cheifs. _y/n_ recognized many of them and had to act cool as they entered the building. It was a nice space. Clean and bigger than _y/n_’s field office. _y/n_ had to make sure they kept their face neutral and did not look like a kid in a candy store. This was a privilege, not a present. Once through security, Aaron led _y/n_ up to the BAU. As they rode up the elevator, many famous agents entered or left the metal box, _y/n_ continued to realize just how big a privilege this was. In their mind, _y/n_ swore to do their best while working with the BAU. To learn and grow from this experience. Even though _y/n_ felt inexperienced for this role, it was still a chance to gain new skills and learn how the most famous unit in the FBI worked. From their brief interaction so far, Aaron Hotchner seemed like a big part of that answer. Once they were on the BAU floor, they walked into the bullpen. _y/n_ noticed Agents Morgan and Reid right away. There seemed to be an electric energy in the air. Even with that being the case, there was a familiarity in the room as well. The way Agent Morgan was leaning on Agent Reid’s desk, and a stunning brown-haired woman, who _y/n_ assumed was Agent Prentiss, was standing nearby laughing at whatever Dr. Reid had just said. That kind of levity didn’t happen on their team. Lost in their thoughts,_y/n_ startled slightly as Hotchner called them saying, “Agent _y/l/n_.” _y/n_ perked up and realized that the Supervisory Special Agent had moved to the short staircase leading up to the upper level of the floor. _y/n_ snapped back to themself and quickly closed the gap between them. At the top of the stairs, they were met with a blond woman who stepped out of an office door saying, “Hotch, did you get my email about agent _y/l/n_?” Aaron nodded and said, “I did. Agent _y/l/n_ is here now.” JJ’s eyes widened as Hotch stepped aside and she saw _y/n_. The Media Liason looked over at Aaron with questions in her eyes, but he shot her the “It’s a long story look.” JJ gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment and instead of speaking to Aaron, stepped forward and extended a hand toward _y/n_. _y/n_ took the offered hand as the woman said, “Good morning, Agent _yl//n_. I’m Jennifer Jareau, media liaison to the BAU team. We spoke yesterday over email.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jareua.” Aaron cut in for a second with a comment directed at JJ saying, “Let’s meet in conference in ten minutes.” JJ nodded and turned her attention back to _y/n_ saying, “Well now that you’re here, let me give you a quick tour. Sorry there isn’t time for you to get comfortable, but things move fast on this team.” _y/n_ nodded and followed as JJ showed her the break room, restrooms, a spare desk as well as a giving very brief history of the BAU team. At the end of the tour, JJ took _y/n_ to the conference room. Aaron was already there. An extra chair had been added to the table. JJ said, “You can sit at the end there. The team will be here in a minute.” _y/n_ nodded and took a seat. Aaron’s eyes briefly flashed to theirs. _y/n_ pulled the folder in front of them open and immediately realized that it was the folder JJ had sent last night. Even though _y/n_ hadn’t had much time to read over the file on the team, they had thoroughly read the case notes so far. The details were unfortunately familiar. That dull sickening feeling had washed over _y/n_ as they had processed the information and started taking notes. 

The sound of the door opening pulled _y/n_ from their thoughts. The rest of the team, plus Penelope, traipsed in the room. They all stopped momentarily, as they realized someone new was there. Hotch called them all to sit down, and he stood at the front of the room with JJ. He spoke in his normal, professional voice. Aaron said, “Everyone, this is Agent _y/n_, _y/l/n__ from the Crimes Against Children Unit out of _________.” The team looked at them and _y/n_ raised a tentative hand and waived. Everyone responded, and Rossi and Penelope specifically said, “Hi” and “Hello.” When Aaron cleared his throat, everyone looked back at him. He continued, “You’ll understand why I’ve asked Agent _y/n_ here in a moment.” JJ used the clicker to change the slide. Five teenagers' photos were displayed. JJ said, “Two days ago, five children in Dearborn, Texas, ranging from the age of fifteen to seventeen, went missing. All one day apart. All of the parents made a fuss, but one family did. The incredibly rapid disappearance of a group of children was shocking. The media is all over it, and many are panicked.” Hotch stepped forward, and JJ clicked on the next slide. Some graphics and information were on the slide, and Aaron said, “Two of the five children were found drowned in a nearby lake the following day. However, the mortician ascertained that the victims were dead before being dumped. They believe that the victims were smothered within hours of each other. One of the children, Kaden Morris, appeared to be beaten, but the other victim, Victoria Cross, had no signs of abuse. The next morning, a third body was found. Eli Perry is the oldest of the children. With Eli, there were defensive wounds and the same manner of death. None of the children had been sexually abused. The thing is that all of the victims, those that are deceased and the two that are possibly still alive have in common is that all of them go to the same high school. Also, they are all children in the foster system. The fact that there are two large overlapping factors is unique. Even with these things tying the victims together, the police in Dearborn haven’t gotten any leads despite a desperate plea from the foster parents and the police for information. So, we were called in to figure out what’s happening and try and get to the victims before anyone else is killed or taken.” The room was silent for a second, and Aaron could feel the tenseness in the room. With everything happening so quickly, along with the intricacies of the information involved, Aaron said, “It’s a long flight to Texas, so let’s save reading over the files from the jet. Wheels up in thirty.” 

Between the debrief and boarding the jet, _y/n_ was greeted by the team. Again they had to contain their excitement, as they got to shake Derek and Rossi’s hands, along with meeting Emily, Spencer, and Garcia. Once _y/n_ had shaken Deek’s hand, they said, “Agent Morgan…” Before they could say anything else, Derek said, “It’s just Morgan. It’s nice to meet you too.” The pleasantries only lasted a few minutes as everyone grabbed their bags and got ready for the jet. _y/n_ quickly called the rental company and explained how the car had died and where it was. They were assured that the car would get picked up or towed and that the rental company would be in contact once they had more information. On the jet, _y/n_ found a place near the side of the main few rows. Once the plane had taken off, the team took a few minutes to read over the case file and current information before the ideas started flowing. Ideas ranging from the unsub to the victims were varied. Things like the possibility that the victims may have tried to run away, or that the unsub was a peer. _y/n_ wasn’t sure about either of the assertions and said, “If the victims were trying to run away wouldn’t the unsub keep moving on? Why drop the three bodies off at the same place? They could have possibly crossed multiple state lines by now. Why stick around and do it again.” Rossi nodded and said, “_y/l/n_’s right. Also if the unsub has multiple victims, then they have to have a place to keep them. A home, or someplace where they can isolate themselves without being noticed. A trucker or good samaritan who offers to give a kid a ride doesn’t have the sort of space on the road. Spencer also noted that the rate of killers that are peers was so low that it was unlike, though not impossible. Reid stated, “Psychopathy or anger issues in adolescents don’t normally come to a head until their early twenties. So it’s unlikely that the unsub is another teen. Also, it takes a lot of force and desire to smother someone. Unless we’re speaking of a very large teenager, it’s unlikely they’d have the strength or willpower to follow through with one, let alone two killings. As the team, plus _y/n_, kept bouncing ideas off of each other Aaron listened and observed. Even though Agent _y/l/n_ was new and temporary, they seemed to blend well with the team. Unlike some more unfortunate temp transfers. _y/n_ was offering helpful information about the experiences children go through as well as statistics about the foster process. Information, that apart from Reid, the team didn’t know. _y/n_ had a deep wealth of knowledge about the system and how it worked for and against the kids in it. _y/n_ also didn’t butt in on conversations. Agent _y/n_ seemed to have picked up on the rhythm of the team’s conversation and added their thoughts at a helpful time. Each time _y/n_ spoke up, Aaron found his eyes in that direction. He told himself that he was just looking because _y/n_’s calm, steady voice was new, and he couldn’t help himself. That might have been part of it, but there was a certain draw to the younger agent that Aaron couldn’t seem to refuse. It had happened before he’d even known they were an agent in the parking lot of the coffee shop. Hotch let out a sigh and moved his gaze elsewhere. There wasn’t time to get distracted. Not now. And given the fact that _y/n_ was on another team and that he was a senior agent, there wouldn’t ever be an occasion to think about it further. The latest thought wasn’t even a conscious one. Just something Aaron’s subconscious stopped from sending to the forefront of Aaron’s mind. 

While Aaron was trying not to look at _y/n_ too much, the _y/e/c_ed agent was having the same issues. As exciting as it was to be next to Agent Rossi and Agent Reid, _y/n_ couldn’t help but look at Agent Hotchner. They were comforted by Hotch’s stern demeanor. The way he kept composted, and most of all his intensity. The way the man focused on things meant all of his attention was on the case. There was no wavering or distraction. Just the thing in front of him. _y/n_ got that from Drake too, but their Unit Chief was younger than Aaron by five years or so and hadn’t quite gotten to the point where he was that focused yet. Drake is a great team leader, just not quite Aaron Hotchner. _y/n_ averted their eyes as Agent Hotchner seemed to turn his head in their direction. The plane ride was long, and after two hours, _y/n_ got up to make a cup of _t/c_. At the Keurig as _y/n_ was preparing the hot drink, Emily stepped out of the bathroom, running her hands on her slacks. The woman smiled at _y/n_ and asked, “So, how are you liking it so far?” _y/n_ offered back a small smile and said, “It’s very interesting. I’m learning so much. I think I’ve heard more theory in the three hours I’ve been on this team than the twenty weeks I did in Virginia.” Emily nodded and said, “I understand. I felt the same way you did when I joined the team. Sometimes the best way to learn is to just do the thing, but that’s hard in a job like the FBI. We can’t exactly have unqualified agents on the field.” _y/n_ nodded, stirring in _c/s_ into their styrofoam cup. _y/n_ bit their lower lip for a second before acknowledging their hesitation, saying, “Honestly I’m not sure why I got picked to join y’all on this case. There are senior agents who could have been called.” Emily pondered the statement and replied, “I can’t tell you for sure _y/n_ some of it may be that more senior agents need to be around if a case on your team comes up.” Prentiss realized that she just essentially said that _y/n_ was a junior agent. But Emily added, “But these choices are well thought out. Of the pool of applicants, you were the best fit based on your performance and the cases you’ve completed. Temporary transfers to the BUA aren’t just a guessing game. JJ and Hotch picked you for our skills. You never have to question that.” Em paused for a second and added, “And for my part, you’ve fit well with the team so far. Some folks are far too shy, starstruck, or intent on making an impression. You haven’t done that.” 

_y/n_ smiled softly and said, “Thanks, Agent Prentiss.” Em smiled and replied, “It’s just Emily. And no need to thank me.” With that, Emily slipped past _y/n_ and back to her seat. _y/n_ felt a rush pass through them. They were both flattered at the compliment and a bit concerned that Emily had felt the need to reassure them. _y/n_ didn’t want to seem desperate or in need of reassurance. With a sigh _y/n_ moved back to their seat, more determined than ever to be an asset and not a weight to the team. As the jet continued its journey to Texas, _y/n_ listened and learned as the team worked every angle possible. When the plane landed West of Houston, the team rallied and got ready for the case ahead. 

The BAU was met by local law enforcement, and they piled into the SUVs and made it to the Dearborn police station. Once there, Aaron made quick introductions and then asked for a space to have the team work on building a profile. Once the slightly more private space was provided, Aaron said, for _y/n_’s sake only, “Let’s gather some evidence before we start building. We’ll split into teams. Myself, Agent _y/l/n_, and Reid will go to the school. Rossi and Derek, you take the dumpsite and then go to the hospital. Lastly, JJ and Prentiss, see if you can get in contact with the victims' families. Give them a preliminary interview. Any details they can recall will be valuable.” Everyone nodded and moved to their respective roles. _y/n_ moved into the backseat of the SUV while Aaron and Spencer sat in the front seats. Hotch looked in the rearview mirror and said, “Agent _y/l/n_when we’ve made contact with the school administration I’d like you to give an address to the students if the principal will let you. You have more experience in this field than either Reid or I, and I assume the student population knows more than they might be letting on.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “Of course, Sir.” _y/n_ was relieved to be helpful and be able to contribute in some way to something that they were used to dealing with -- the younger population.

Once the trio arrived at the High School, they parked and moved to the front office. After flashing all of their badges, the group was led to the main office. The Vice Principal, Stevenson, and the principal, Jackson, met the team with appreciation. Hotch introduced everyone and the principal said, “Let’s speak in a more private space.” The agents moved into a smaller, closed-off room with the senior staff of the public high school. Principal Jackson, who was in a wheelchair said, “Agent Hotchnerwe need help. Half of the parents are calling for the school to close for a week. The abductions have stirred everyone up, no thanks to the media circus.” Hotch nodded and said, “We can understand your frustration, Principal Jackson. We hope to be as unobtrusive as possible. However, if we could hold an assembly in the afternoon, we think we could glean a lot of information from the student population. Often students know of events that they might not even know about.” Jackson nodded reassuringly and said, “Anything you think can help. Agent Hotchner, I’ll indulge anything. I just want the rest of our students home safe. This school has a significant amount of students who are dealing with difficult situations, either with parents, poverty, drugs, or crime. This leaves many of our students in the foster system. I lead a support group on Fridays during lunch to try and help them as much as possible. Keeping a school like this up with a good ranking is hard when no one seems to care about us or our students.” Hotch started tapping his forearm. He realized that the man was steering the conversation away from the missing kids and that Jackson was rambling. Spencer caught onto this too, and when the principal paused, Reid said, “Well you’re certainly involved with your students. I’m sure they appreciate that. Now could you give us more details on the students that were killed and those that are still missing?” _y/n_ noticed how excited and happy Jackson got when he got praise which was an odd reaction given the terrible circumstances. Agent _y/l/n_ turned their gaze to Hotch to see if he noticed it too. Aaron’s face was set in a frown, and his features were tight. He didn’t look overly enthused by the man sitting in front of them. After a half-hour of rambling about how wonderful, kind, and resilient the missing and dead students were, Aaron couldn’t take it anymore, thanked the Principal, and led _y/n_ and Reid away to a private room to make a plan. It was clear that they all felt the Principal’s reactions and emotions were odd, but no one addressed that right now as they might be overheard. Instead, Aaron said, “Agent _y/n_ I want you to give the address this afternoon, given this is your area of expertise. Reid, until the assembly I want you to look through the files of the missing and deceased students and see if there are even more connections between them. I’m going to go and speak to the teachers who had those students and see if they can add insight. With the tasks assigned, everyone started their work until the assembly. 

An hour later, the whole school assembled in the auditorium. Aaron chose not to stand on the stage, as he didn’t want any of the students to feel intimated or pressured in any way. He realized he could give off a solemn attitude that didn’t always fit well with adolescents. And standing where he was, he could watch for any major reactions in the audience. Aaron listened as the principal spoke about the fact that school was still planned for tomorrow because the board of regents still hadn’t met for an emergency meeting, but “We’re trying to as soon as possible. To our faculty and students, thank you for your calm and respectful response. We have two FBI agents here to give you a little talk.” The man motioned for Spencer and _y/n_ to step forward. _y/n_ stepped up to the mic and said, “Thank you, Principle Jackson. As Principal.Jackson said, my name is _y/n_, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid, and we’re both members of the FBI. We’re here to try and find out what happened to your classmates and friends. At times like this, it can be a very painful and scary thing. Even if you don’t know the missing students. It’s okay to have big emotions around what’s happening. Please know that there are people who care about you. If you ever feel unsafe or need someone to talk to, you can speak to a teacher or counselor. You aren’t wasting space or time. Your feelings are valid. Now, if you’re someone who knows Kaden, Victoria, Eli, Baker, or Shyann, we’d like to ask you some questions. You won’t get in any sort of trouble for speaking to us. We actually think that you might know something that we don’t. So if you’re one of those people, before you get dismissed today, please talk to a teacher. Thank you.” _y/n_ gave a little wave, and they and Spencer moved off the stage toward Hotch. As Jackson gave the release for the teachers and students back to the classroom, Spencer quietly asked, “Anyone stand out in the crowd?” Aaron nodded no and said, “No one that I noticed. The kids seem genuinely scared though. And the faculty too.” Hotch’s eyes flushed from Reid’s to _y/n_’s, and he said, “Good job with the announcement. You described the situation with the weight it deserved without putting anyone in a panic. Hopefully, some of the victim’s friends will be willing to speak with us after school.” As the trio waited for the final bell to toll, Aaron called the other BAU teams to see what progress they’d made. Rossi and Derek had found some pink insulation flakes where bodies had been dumped which proved the teens had been kept in a house or business. As Hotch was talking, _y/n_ said to Spencer, “Because these kids are all in the foster system, do you think the unsub is trying to save them somehow? The system’s not perfect and a lot of bad things can happen to those kids.” Reid nodded and said, “It’s a good point. We might try looking at caregivers like nurses or counselors. People who might know that abuse was happening at home.” A short while after this conversation, the bell rang. Only a small group of seven teens came to see the agents. Jackson had three classrooms set up for each agent to use. For the next two hours, each agent would speak to a kid and ask them questions about how they knew the victims, any behavior change, or anything odd. Hotch took special note that the first victim had started to withdraw from the football team which had been his life most of high school. Large shifts in behavior or interest could mean something significant. Aaron made a note to speak to the football coach as soon as possible. 

Eventually, there were only three students left. _y/n_ finished their last conversation first, and once the student had gone, wandered into the hall. _y/n_’s eyes were fatigued, and they closed them and stretched. A semi-familiar voice saying, “Any luck from the kids?” from behind _y/n_ had them snap around. Principal Jackson was approaching them. _y/n_ sighed internally. Jackson gave them the creeps. Also, _y/n_ couldn’t talk about what the children had said to them. _y/n_ quickly fixed their face of annoyance and just said obliquely, “Oh, you know, we were just chatting.” Jackson pressed further and said, “Oh come on, you can tell me. If anything, I should know as their principle.” _y/n_ looked away from the man’s gaze for a moment, his lingered. After a micro-second, _y/n_ looked at the Principal again and said, “We were just talking. But I’d like to hear more about that support group you run. That sounds like a very kind and beneficial thing you do in your scant free time.” _y/n_ said this as a tactic. They remembered how animated Jackson got before while talking about himself, and they needed to throw him off the interview thing. _y/n_’s plan worked like a charm. The man thanked them profusely for noticing his “good deed” and jumped into what he did, and how he helped these struggling students. As the man talked for what felt like an eternity, _y/n_ noticed the man’s eyes lower to a place that made _y/n_ highly uncomfortable. _y/n_ looked around the empty halls. They wished there were other people around. However, Jackson had suspended all before and after school activity and let the teachers head home directly after contract hours to be with their families during this stressful time.

_y/n_ hoped Hotch or Reid would come out soon. They had an idea that if either man joined them, Jackson would stop ogling them while lauding his service. _y/n_ felt that the man in front of them wasn’t fully acclimated to social situations which was odd given his job. Jackson was and had acted like a teenager with a total need for validation. This was proved correct as the man bizarrely said, “You see me in ways others don’t Agent _y/n_. Can I give you my number?” _y/n_ jaw dropped at the audacity of such a question. It was also at this very moment that Aaron stepped out of his classroom. He heard the comment and instantly looked over at _y/n_. Hotch, unfortunately, misconstrued the situation, as _y/n_’s back was to him and he couldn’t see they were shocked, and they put off face. Nor how they shook their head no as the man slipped his number into their palm. It didn’t help that Aaron was tired and stressed about the rapid taking and dumping of the teenagers. Also, his odd feelings toward _y/n_ in the parking lot, jet, and even as they were standing around in the auditorium were coming up again. The issue was that Aaron didn’t want to have to think about the feeling. In his head, the feeling didn’t exist, but now that they were twisting into disappointment at a clear breaking of boundaries annoyed him even further. Hotch called out to the principal to ask about the football coach to distract himself from the growing disappointment he felt. It didn’t help _y/n_ was too shocked to move which Aaron read as reluctance to look at him which would mean they had something to hide. Although none of this was true, _y/n_ was embarrassed and their face felt warm from the ludicrous ask by Principal Jackson. When Aaron was done with his question with Jackson, he called _y/n_’s name. It was harsh with a hint of bitterness underneath it. When _y/n_ turned and walked toward him, they slipped the number in their pocket. Aaron thought for sure he saw hesitation in their face, and he grit his teeth. The small amount of admiration that someone so young who had joined the team and seemed to do well with it up to now felt crushed for Aaron because they were possibly flirting with someone involved in the case. He thought he had a better read on people, and _y/n_ was now baffling him. Aaron would have said something about how inappropriate their actions were, except Spencer left his room and at that point, they should head back to the station to regroup. In a clipped tone, Hotch said, “Let’s go and catch up with everyone.” 

As Spencer and _y/n_ followed behind Aaron, they could both sense he was angry but neither understood why. Spencer shot _y/n_ an inquisitive look, but they just shrugged their shoulders as bewildered as Reid was at the change in Agent Hotchner. In the car, Spencer tried to cut the tension by talking about the case and those they’d talked to. Reid said, “I was surprised that there were so few people that showed up to talk to us. There didn’t even seem to be people there who just wanted attention.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I’m not actually. Given the information we knew about the victims, they all seemed like wallflowers. Given that, plus the fact that foster kids move around often, face a hard life, and have a probability of trauma in their past, they might find it hard to make friends or put down roots at school or home.” Hotch, who was wearing his sunglasses to mask his emotions shot _y/n_ a look from the rearview window. _y/n_ met his gaze and again felt that he was disappointed in them. _y/n_ tried not to fidget as they continued driving on the busy road. Aaron put his eyes back on the street and felt confused again. Now _y/n_ was acting like an intelligent well-seasoned agent with their head on straight. Not someone who would take a number from someone possibly under investigation. He realized as a few minutes had passed, that he’d only caught a snapshot of the conversation, and he wasn’t getting their side of the story. However, that didn’t mean that he didn’t have to ask them about it which he wasn’t looking forward to. The tension lingered in the car even as they all talked about what they’d learned and how odd Principal Jackson was. At the man’s name, _y/n_ cringed. Aaron stated to everyone, “Jackson just started the support group this semester, so it seems like he could want to be involved in some way. Involving himself in the scene and the victims like most unsubs do.” The desire to go back to the scene of the crime and watch the suffering of those being impacted was a need for most of them. After this, Spencer added the theory that the unsub might see themselves as saving the victims from a bad situation and trying to offer them something better in their eyes.” _y/n_ added, “If that’s the case,  the victims have to know this person well. To trust them, and once they realize what’s happening they panic? Try to leave which the unsub wouldn’t like.” The conversation kept going until they all reached the station. 

Inside, the trio was greeted by the rest of the team. Before anyone had the chance to share, Aaron said, “Agent _y/l/n_, I need to speak to you alone for a moment.” Those words had the team quiet instantly. If Hotch called you into a space alone it wasn’t good unless you were Haley before the divorce. _y/n_ couldn’t stand the silence, even for a moment and softly said, “Sir.” Aaron walked to the empty, windowless file room, opened the door, and let _y/n_ go in before him. Once the door was shut in the small, stuffy room, Aaron turned and he said bluntly, without preface, “Were you flirting with Principal Jackson at the school.” Hotch sounded stern and disappointed and _y/n_’s eyes went wide. They weren’t sure how he’d read that uncomfortable situation iso incorrectly. _y/n_ wanted to clarify that that was not what had happened and said, “No, Sir. I would never do that on a case.” _y/n_ didn’t add that they hardly ever did it off a case either. Hotch still looked unconvinced and asked, “Then why do you have his number in your pocket right now? Why were you so flustered when you turned around?” Aaron could feel that unexplored emotion bubble up in him again, and he said those questions with more bite than he intended. _y/n_ took a visible step back from him, and they looked slightly hurt. Hotch looked at the ground for a second realizing he’d been too harsh. He dropped his arms from his chest and tried to appear more relaxed. He looked back at _y/n_ and said, “I’m sorry that I said that like I was accusing you and not asking you, _y/n_. This case is messing with my head. Would you please give me the context of what happened?” Aaron watched as _y/n_ relaxed a little and then opened up about the man’s bizarre and downright threatening behavior. Hotch felt bad once he’d heard the full story and said, “I’m sorry, _y/n_. For acting how I did and that you were put in that situation. Even if Jackson isn’t the unsub, he certainly is strange.” Hotch’s comment and the tone he used while saying it had _y/n_ let out a chuckle that made Aaron feel warm in the chest. He couldn’t help but give a ghost of a smile that things seemed smoothed over. As _y/n_ looked at Aaron they said, “Thank you for listening to me, Agent Hotchner. For letting me clarify.” Hotch felt an internal tug on his ribs in the center of his chest before saying, “Don’t mention it, and you can call me Hotch. Now let’s get back to the team.” Hotch turned to the door and missed that _y/n_ was flustered again, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a pleasant way. As both agents emerged from the room, the team looked over to them. Hotch’s soft, “I’ll make sure you’re not alone with him in the future” had _y/n_ nod.

That scene, and Aaron’s soft, almost protective tone, told the BAU that whatever issue had brought the two into the files room had been resolved. Everyone let out a silent sigh of relief. As much as the drama was interesting, it was never helpful on a case. Once the duo was back, the team jumped into the day. Everyone got caught up with all the details. The major updates were that JJ got a press briefing out and set up a better tip hotline with Garcia ready to tap and trace in a few seconds if a useful call came in. Rossi and Derek’s find of the insulation. Emily and JJ noted that all of the families seemed appropriately worried and concerned about what had happened and there didn’t seem to be any indication of abuse at the families' homes. Then there was the odd behavior of Jackson, but it was too early to assume that he was the unsub. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t bear looking into it. From the information the team gathered, they made the basic profile that the person was likely a white male in their mid-thirties or early forties with the possibility of it being a woman. The unsub had to own or rent enough space to keep at least two teenagers at a time. They likely had a savior complex and experienced trauma in their childhood. They were strong enough to kill a high school football player who fought back. It was also likely that the unsub was trying to keep track of what the police, and now the BAU were doing to keep one step ahead of them. This was the profile that Aaron gave the police. He didn’t tell the officers that the unsub was not good at what they were doing. They might be strong, but they made mistakes. The impulsivity of killing two people in one day and dumping them at the same spot was reckless. Also, the insulation was something a more experienced kidnapper would get rid of. The team hoped that the unsub would mess up enough to leave a big enough clue behind to be found. The teams paced and worked and profiled and took unhelpful tips from the hotline. And after another two hours, Aaron called it for the night. It was 12:30 a.m. and he knew having the team even partially rested would give them a good start in the morning. 

The Comfort Inn and Suits was not far from the police department, and the tiredness hit the team like a brick. Aaron, Rossi, and Derek drove everyone to the motel where they had to call an attendant to check them in. There weren't rooms near each other at the motel, so everyone went their own way to sleep or keep working. _y/n_ got to their room and set down their things. As they changed into more comfortable clothes to keep working and look at the case from their area of knowledge. As _y/n_ took off _y/f/c_ blazer, Jackson’s number fell out of their pocket. _y/n_ felt embarrassed all over again which kind of pissed them off. There were so many other things to be angry and upset about. The victims, the families, everyone worried sick, and here they were feeling flustered because of some man. _y/n_ shook their head to clear it. They needed a boost and the vending maching in the lobby called them for something sweet and salty. _y/n_ got up, slipped on shoes, and moved downstairs. As _y/n_ was paying for a soda and bag of chips a familiar voice asked, “You holding up okay, kid?” _y/n_ looked over to possibly the most famous member of the BAU and honestly said, “Agent Rossi. I don’t know. I think I could be doing more. I feel like my head’s all over the place. More than usual.” The thud of the soda can and chips at the buttom of the machine made _y/n_ stop talking. They realized they were oversharing to the most important man in the FBI. Dave didn’t mind, and he responded, “I can imagine why. You’re on a new team with all new dynamics ot figure out on a difficult and emotionally draining case. My mother, bless her soul, she always told me, ‘Everyone has a day one, one day.’ And from what I can see, you’re doing very well on your day one on the BAU.” _y/n_’s eyes widened at being told that after the days events. They couldn’t stop themself from saying, “But I made Agent Hotchern upset.” Dave waived a hand and said, “Lot’s of things make Aaron upset even though he’ll hever admit it. And he’s clearly not upset at you anymore. Give yourself some slack kid, and an hour of sleep if you can.” Rossi half turned indicating the conversation was coming to a close and _y/n_ finished it by saying, “Thank you, Agent Rossi.” Dave nodded and walked to the front door to get something he forgot in the car while _y/n_ took their snacks up to their room for a few more hours of thinking. 

In his room, Aaron had taken off his tie and suit jacket. He also undid the top two buttons his his shirt. As he sat at the desk and switched the lamp on, his mind momentarily flashed to the encounter with y/n_ in the file room. He couldn’t get his anger or the way they’d stepped away from him out of his mind. Aaron knew there were more important things to think about, but he knew his mind couldn’t be fully on the case if there was conflict or tension on the team. Tension he had started. He replayed the memory again in his head to pinpoint what the issue was so he could move on from it. He had over reacted. He knew that. Aaron didn’t like that _y/n_ had moved away from him with a tiny flicker of fear on their face. Like he might do something to them. Provoking that response from a fellow agent was unacceptable to him. He didn’t know _y/n_’s personal background well. He’d only read up on their case work and the remarks made in their most recent reports. He didn’t have time to learn more about _y/n_  than that before addeding them to the team. After all, that wasn’t his job. If it was anyone’s job, it was _y/n_’s Unit Chief. But the interaction this afternoon had Aaron thinking that _y/n_ had some painful experiences in their past. Then again, most FBI agents did, but Hotch rarely saw such a visceral representation of that. Another thing that bothered him was _y/n_’s response to his apology. Their small voice saying, “Thank you for listening, Agent Hotchner. For letting me clarify.” All that statement could mean was that someone hadn’t listened to them before. And Aaron knew that was how bad things kept happening. That was why questioning victims was so important. Hotch made a plan to apologize to _y/n_ again in the morning, and he felt for now, he’d have to leave it at that. It might never be the right place or time to ask _y/n_ anything more about their reactions. They were a temporary agent, and his feelings for them, whatever they were would never be fulfilled or reciprocated. With that in mind, Aaron jumped back into the case work. 

The next morning, at five a.m., the worst happened. Another body was found, this time in a differnt location, a popular park, and another teen had been taken. The town was in even more of a panic even though the victims were very specificly targeted. The Education Secretary of Texas, Mike Morrath, had to step in and override the district and close all schools for the remainder of the week. With that being the case, Hotch had the team split up. He and Derek would take the latest scene of the dumpsite while Rossi and _y/n_ would head to the school and see if there were any clues there as the latest victim, Tim Groff, had been one of the students Spencer had interviewed yesterday. JJ and Emily were going to speak to the new victims foster family as well as the partents of the deceased. Everyone moved effienctly and as soon as _y/n_ got to the school, they asked to see the security footage which _y/n_ asked Garcia to analyze. Particularly footage of the parking lot and front door where cameras were trained. One thing Aaron, _y/n_, and Spencer had found out yesterday in the interviews was that all of the victims so far had their own cars or got picked up from school. None took the bus. So the teens were either taken from home, which seemed unlikely given how concerned the parents were, or school. School was the likely answer. If they had been taken from the high school grounds, _y/n_ hoped that the tech genius could help. _y/n_ had found out about Garcia’s amazing abilities online and with a computer on the flight too Texas when she’d crunched massive amounts of date, given to her by Spencer at a mile-a-minute, in minutes. To say _y/n_ had been impressed was an understatement. After _y/n_ had sent the hours of footage from the school systems to Garcia, they approached Spencer who was interviewing Jackson for any possible leads. Jackson was much like he had been yesterday. As the interview wrapped up, Jackson turned to _y/n_ and said, “Agent _y/n_ may I have your card or something in case I need to speak to one of you if I think of something new during the day?” _y/n_ frowned and replied in a restrained tone, “Agent Hotchner gave you his card yesterday,” in an attempt to rebuff any inappropriate behavior on the Principal's part. Reid caught onto their play and quickly pulled out one of his FBI cards with his name, email and work phone and said, “Here, have mine.” Jackson frowned and took it with a snap before looking at _y/n_ and said, “I’d feel better if I had everyone’s number. In case I can’t reach one of you fine folks.” _y/n_ sighed and handed their card over. Not because they wanted to, but to shut the childish man up, and so they and Spencer could keep looking for things out of order at while speaking to other faculty members. Once the duo were out of earshot, Reid asked, “What was that all about?” _y/n_ sighed, shrugged, and said, “I wish I could tell you, Reid, And that wasn’t even the worst of it, but that conversation can wait till later.” Spencer nodded and they moved down the hallway a little faster. Spencer did note that the principal had been highly agitated that school had been cancelled which was shocking to him given the fact that school appeared to be the most dangerous place for the students. _y/n_ agreed. None of his made sense. 

Everything and everyone got thrown off the rails, however -- even Penelope's analysis of the school footage -- when an anonymous tip came in from someone saying they were the killer and had the rest of the victims. This sent each member of the team rushing to the address that Garcia had picked up from the trap and trace. It was not what the team expected given the information they knew about the profile. The address led to an apartment complex and not an isolated home. The team surrounded the unit. With a hand signal, Derek, and Aaron broke into the unit, and the team plus police followed. Inside the dimly lit bed room, Derek found a twenty-year-old man with bad teeth playing some videogame with a headset on. It was almost comically easy it was for Morgan to tackle him to the ground. The man shouted in protest and said, “What the hell, I didn’t actually do anything. What the fuck man.” Derek pulled the man named Gerret, to his feet placing cuffs around his bony wrists saying, “Well I don’t know if you know if or not, but taking responsibility for a crime, even if you didn’t do it and interfering with a federal invesitagation is a federal offense. So say good by to Call of Duty and get ready to spend some time with some real criminals behind bars.” Morgan got the un-unsub out of the house and into a police cruiser. Even thought it was very, very unlikely that the man was responsible, the team did a quick scan of the apartment. Reid sent Garret’s IP to Penelope who was quick to confirm that the man was as serial troll who had swatting charges, doxing attempts, and one successful bomb threat to the public library in town. Outside, Aaron was talking to an officer and started to grow frustrated with the lack of leads even though all the information seemed right in front of them. He thought back to the principal and just how odd he was. Deep down, even though he might not have the reason to yet, Hotch felt that Jackson was the man behind all of this. Hotch wondered if the facade of strangeness was a way to get others to think him incompetent of such a crime. _y/n_ who had looked at the contents of Garret’s room stepped out for a breath of air. Hotch motioned them over and asked, “Anything in his room?” _y/n_ replied, “He had what looked like possible snuff films and hours of violent porn, but I don’t know what you expect from an edgelord that makes it into adulthood.” He’s not our guy and never has been. He’s certainly not a good guy, but not ours. 

After that two hour distraction, the team got back to the precinct. Everyone was annoyed and one edge. Especially Aaron. He paced and stated, “What it is we’re missing. We should have everything. What’s missing?” Hearing this, Rossi said, “Mayby we do have everything we need.” Hotch looked over at him unasumed and said, “What do you mean by that, Dave?” Rossi replied, “Now that we have someone in custody, we can play them off the unsub. Sure, Garret’s a nobody, but the unsub doesn’t know that. Hold a press conference and say we got the guy. That he killed the victims because he thought it was fun. It gave him a rush. If the unsub has a savior complex, he’ll have to call and correct us. He won’t be able to help himself.” Hotch nodded. It was a good plan and direct contact with the unsub might give them the final push they needed. Aaron got the filmed segment set up with JJ and the local television stations. It would take place inside the precinct's front room and they’d flash a mugshot of Garret on the TV screen to make sure the unsub saw how wrong the BAU had gotten it. They would run the segment on prime time at seven p.m. when the station had the most viewership. As the team prepared there was a tense anticipation. _y/n_ paced and got a text on their phone. _y/n_ pulled it out and it was from Jackson. They sighed not having time for his nonsense. They clicked off and silenced their phone, as they watched JJ film the press release saying, “I’m happy to announce that with the help of the Dearborn Police Force and the FBI’s involvement, we have been able to apprehend the man behind the abduction and killing of three Dearborn High School Students. Now the location of the still missed students is unknown, so an intense search is being conducted at and near the perpetrator's apartment. The man behind these killings is Garret Gripe. The FBI was able to get a full confession from the man who said he did it because he hated kids and couldn’t stand it when he found them living a better life than his own. The main takeaways are that this community is finally safe again thanks to the hard and tireless work of the police. 

The cameras stopped rolling and Rossi moved toward JJ saying, “Great job. If this doesn’t get the unsub angry, I’m not sure what will.” JJ gave a small smile and replied, “I only hope it works. KSAT10 said that it will be a half hour before it airs. They need to make sure the audio is clear.” Aaron nodded at JJ. The plan did work. It worked to a T because twenty minutes after the press briefing aired, the tip line got a call. Aaron set Garcia up for the trap and trace and then picked up the line and put it on speaker. A muffled voice on the other end of the line shouted, “You think a child, a child could do what I do? A punk ass kid would hurt them! You’re all idiots. ALL OF YOU! You didn’t catch anyone and I’m going to keep taking, them forever.” The person on the other end of the line had yelled so much that he had to take a few deep breaths. Hotch looked over at Spencer who was on the line with Penelope. Reid held up five fingers to indicate five seconds more. Hotch didn’t want the unsub to hang up in a rage and said, “Why do you need to take them? What is it that you’re keeping them safe from?” The muffled voice said, “You’re the smartest man in the room Agent Hotchner, why don’t you figure it out? Or Dr. Reid, or Agent _y/n_? You’d like to, but you can’t, can you? You’re just as stupid as everyone else.” With that the line went dead. The specific call out for himself, Spencer, and _y/n_ upped Aaron’s suspicion about Jackson. Spencer took off the headphones and put Penelope on speaker as Hotch asked, “Did you get it, Garcia?” There was mad clicking of keys and then she said, “Yes. Just in time.” Hotch nodded and said, “We need the address, Garcia.” Some how the typing sound increased and Penelope said, “And the address is… 527 Humphry Drive. It’s a big house and lot. Owned by… one… Van Jackson.” Hotch stood and ordered the team to move out which they all did quickly running to the SUV’s.  

The Sherrif and five cop cars followed behind them as the team sped onto the road. On the radio, the Sherrif said, “You really think Van’s our guy? How can he take out kids when he’s disabled?” _y/n_, who was in Aaron’s car clicked the radio and said, “He gets in with them. Get’s to know them and make them trust him. Get into his car even.” Hotch nodded and asked, “What’s his story? Who is Van Jackson?” The Sherrif replied, “It’s can’t possibly be Van. Everyone one loves Van.” Impatient, Hotch said, “Yes everyone loves him, but who is he?” The Sheriff sobered and said, “Well he’s a bit of a local hero. He was born and raised here. Had a trouble childhood but made it out through a sports scholarship for football. He made it to the semi-pro’s joining the Capitol City Bison team in Austin as a linebacker. He made a good bit of money. He went into education and came back here. A year ago he got into a mountain bike accident and broke his back. It was really tragic.” Hotch could only think the tragedy was the dead chidren, but he didn’t voice that. Instead he shifted his thoughts to those who were still alive a possible trapped in the unsubs home. Aaron radioed the team and said, “Remember, there are still possible victims inside. Jackson might try and use them, so don’t shoot unless you have a clear shot. If not, don’t shoot. Use the profile. He need attention, feed into that.” The other two cars rogered that and soon after with a screeching halt, they arrived at the large, and fancy house. 

The house seemed quiet, with all the lights off and no sound coming from inside. However, the Principal’s car was parked out front, and the team took a stealth approach. Hotch indicated for Spencer and Emily to search outside. The rest of the team slipped into the home after breaking down the door as quietly as possible. He motioned for Rossi and Derek to take the upstairs and attic, and that he and _y/n_ would take the downstairs. All throughout out the house there were accessibility ramps for anyplace there were stairs. There was even a lift to get to second story of the house. This all matched up with the fact that Jackson was in a wheelchair. In the living room it was all quiet until there was a soft sob from somewhere either in the walls or close by. _y/n_ and Hotch froze. _y/n_ had good hearing and pointed toward the bookcase which is where they thought they had heard the sound come from. Aaron approached the shelf and looked it over in the dark of the room. As the felt along the side of the shelf he felt a gap and then a hing. Hotch motioned a swinging door, and _y/n_ moved behind him. They would have called for back up, but the sound would give them away. Hotch pulled out his side-arm along.  _y/n_ did the same. They both kept them pointed at the ground. Aaron pulled at the side of the shelf and it swung open silently. There was a light on at the bottom of some steep stairs. The steps were so steep in fact that they couldn’t see to the floor beneath. Without much choice, Aaron and _y/n_moved down the steps with Aaron in the lead. At the bottom of the stairs was a very small room and at the end, standing up in what seemed liked a modified crawl space, was Jackson and the latest teen to be take. The man had a gun to the teens had and tears were streaming down their eyes. Jackson said softly, “Do anything rash and he dies. And not a pretty death.” Aaron and _y/n_ nodded and they both dropped their weapons on the ground. They both noticed the pink insulation on the wall. Johnson turned his gaze to Agent _y/n_ and said, “Back up the stairs and close the door and then come back down. Keep your hands on your head at all times or I’ll kill him  and Agent Hotchner.” _y/n_ looked at Hotch and he gave them a slight nod. _y/n_ slowly and deliberately moved up the stairs, There was a button to close the door, and _y/n_ pressed it with their elbow. As the door closed, _y/n_ felt for a moment like they were being placed in a tomb. With the door closed, the sound of their breaths could be heard, showing just how soundproof the space was. _y/n_ turned around and then walked back down the stairs. 

When _y/n_ was next to Aaron, Jackson moved forward with the teenager. When the intimidating man reached the guns on the floor, he bent down with a bead still on the high schooler. He took Aaron’s gun and then pointed it at the Unit Chief, pushing the student aside. Jackson’s anger was building, as his nostrils flared. Hotch took a reassuring tone as he said, “You don’t have to do this.” Jackson’s face reddened, stepped forward, putting the gun an inch from AAron’s face. With such a deadly weapon so close to his head, Hotch managed to keep his cool. This fact bothered Jackson and he said, “Still the tough guy. Well, let’s see how tough you are with your brains on the walls.” This statement gave _y/n_ an in and they said, “You can’t do that Mr. Jackson. Van.” The man turned his furious gaze from Aaron to them and said, “I don’t think a whore who doesn’t text me back deserves a word, but tell me why not because I’m killing you next.” _y/n_ swallowed, and Hotch realized that his life was in _y/n_’s hands. _y/n_ tried to take all their training, everything they’d learned on their team and with the BAU, and went on instinct saying, “Because there are children in the room. Because you saved them from violence and you want to help them, and if you blow Agent Hotchner’s head off in front of them, what would that do to them then? What damage would they incur?” _y/n_ could see a tiny moment of hesitation in Jackson’s eyes, but he tightened the grip on Hotch’s gun anyway. _y/n_ took another breath and said, “You saved them and gave them a better life with a parent that loved them. Why throw that all away for this?” The instant Jackson hesitated the second time. Hotch pushed the gun up to the ceiling and Jackson fired hitting the light. The room went dark and the teenagers screamed. _y/n_ took out their phone. They could hear grunts and punches landing, but mostly it was the high schooler’s screaming. When _y/n_ managed to use their phone light to find their gun and shine the light at the writhing mass on the floor, it was too difficult to tell who was who. The sound of gunfire had _y/n_ cringe and hope beyond hope that it had been Jackson who got shot. For a second there was just heavy breathing in the blankness before _y/n_ asked, “Hotch?” The reply of “Yeah,” almost made _y/n_’s knees weak. But just for a second. They then quickly ran up the stairs, opened the door, and shouted for help. 

The next three hours passed by more normally than _y/n_ would have imaged for such a dramatic ending to the case. That was because they were doing what they did best, comforting those who had been taken. Even in shock _y/n_ provided what comfort they could, getting blankets and water. _y/n_ then intercepted the set of foster parents and told them what to expect, and how to act to best be reunited with their kids. And Aaron watched as the coroners placed a sheet over Jackson. He’d know the shot was clean because he’d pinned the man to the wall with nothing between Van's body, and he was glad that it had been in the dark because the aftermath hadn’t been pretty. The teenagers were escorted out of the room by _y/n_ before light had been restored to the room. And somehow, as if time warped around them, the team was back in the jet at around 4 a.m. headed to Virginia. Even though everyone should have been exhausted, there was still energy on the plane as so many aspects of the case still didn’t seem to match up. They all wanted some closure. The discussion started when Derek said, “So why fake the disability? Why choose to be in a wheelchair for over a year? Did he have Munchenson’s syndrome or something?” Emily replied, “He would have faked more illnesses than that if he had Munchenson’s. I think it was because he was a complete egomaniac. He couldn’t stand to not have the attention be on him.” Spencer added to this line of thought, saying, “More than an egomaniac, he probably had histrionic personality disorder. He not only felt like he needed to be the center of attention, to him he had to be the center of attention.” Hotch who was sporting a few bruises to the face, nodded and said, “He couldn’t keep playing football forever and just being generous and well like in town wasn’t doing to for him anymore, so he facked the back injury and everyone believed him. But then that grew old and his aspirations got bigger. He needed something new. He must have seen something in the first victim and thought that he could save them. Be a hero.” Morgan was still a bit hesitant to believe such a thing and said, “But does that happen? I mean, it did, but what’s the precedent?” _y/n_ now spoke and said, “Sherri Papini for one. She faked her own kidnapping with the help of an ex-boyfriend. She was a pathological liar and felt she deserved the attention.” JJ asked the next question to _y/n_ and the liason said, “_y/n_,” they were all on first name bases now except _y/n_ still called Aaron, Hotch, and Rossi, Rossi, “Why did you think to bring up violence when you were trapped down there. How did you know that would stop Jackson?” Everyone’s eyes turned to _y/n_ and they felt a bit uncomfortable under the gaze of the whole team. _y/n_ didn’t want to fully admit that it was a guess on their part, but ended up being honest, saying, “I wasn’t fully sure it would work. But a comment the Sherrif made about Jackson having a hard upbringing made me think it might stop him enough to think. Violence doesn’t always have to be physical either it was the broadest term I could think of instead of abuse. I think that when Jackson is under stress he becomes emotionally stunted somewhere in his past. Somewhere painful. That’s why he acted so strangely while we were around. So I tried to use an easy concept like a child might.” The team processed the information and nodded. Dave said, “Well whatever the cause was, you did good, kid. We’ll never know the whole truth, but at least the town is free from his reign of terror.”

Everyone agreed and then soon after the tiredness came now that they’d talked it out. So people grabbed blankets and sleep masks and soon the cabin was mostly quiet. Only _y/n_ Aaron and Rossi were still up. _y/n_ was sitting on a chair on the far side of the jet looking out the window. Aaron could see they were deep in thought, a slightly troubled look on their face. He moved closer, and once he sat across from _y/n_, he said, “What’s on your mind, _y/n_?” They turned their head toward Aaron and said, “That town is never going to be the same again. Those children in Jackson’s Friday group, or those who survived, I don’t know what’s going to happen to them.” Hotch nodded but didn’t say anything. He could tell that _y/n_ would say more, and after a few seconds, _y/n_ added softly, “Jackson really thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was saving those kids. It’s hard for me to reconcile when someone’s good intentions cause so much harm.” With the last sentence, Aaaron saw _y/n_’s eyes slip away from his and to the side. To some point on the jet’s wall. Hotch could tell with that sentence and _y/n_’a avoidant gaze that they weren’t just thinking of Jackson anymore. They had that look of going back into painful memories of one’s own. Again, the fact that Aaron didn’t know what had happened to _y/n_ in their youth ate at him, so he softly yet firmly said, “They were still wrong. He was still wrong. Good intentions don’t make a thing good. In time, people may come to understand that.” _y/n_ had turned their head back to look at him, and Aaron saw the tears welling in their eyes. _y/n_ said, “I hope so.” Hotch nodded, pulled a tissue from his pocket at handed it over to _y/n_. _y/n_ took it and rubbed it under their eyes catching the falling saline droplets that threatened to mar their face. Hotch shifted forward ever so slightly in his chair. He felt the tug and emotion in his chest again as he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” He wondered now if _y/n_’s Unit Chief had ever asked them this. Had noticed the pain lingering under the surface of _y/n_’s skin. _y/n_ thought about it and shook their head no. They weren’t quite ready to have that conversation. They did say, however, not even sure why, “Maybe some other time?” Again, Aaron nodded. He briefly looked around the cabin and suggested, “Maybe you should try and rest? There’s still a few hours until we get back.” _y/n_ nodded and slumped over in the chair saying, “Thanks, Hotch,” as their head landed on the armrest. 

Aaron moved to the back of the jet and made a cup of coffee before moving back next to Dave. He was still upset that he hadn’t figured it out sooner. Couldn’t have saved the last victim when the unsub had been right in front of him the same day. Rossi had watched the whole interaction with Hotch and _y/n_ and found it highly interesting. Aaron was not always so gentle. Hotch had been acting a bit strangely the whole case around Agent _y/n_. Rossi had a feeling he knew what was going on, but was going to wait for the right time to say anything about it. As Hotch sat across from Dave in the small space, he couldn’t keep his despairing thoughts to himself as he said, “How did it get so bad? I was pretty sure I knew it was him. And I think _y/n_ knew it was Jackson too, but I got angry and someone else died, and he was right there?” Rossi could see that Aaron could talk this way, in circles, for hours if left undisturbed. So Aaron’s friend laid out the facts as clearly as possible. Dave remembered that Aaron had once been a young agent too as he said, “Aaron, we had no right to search Jackson's house until we got the call. You might have just thought he was a weird man. There are lots of weird people who don’t turn out to be killers. And, the Sheriff said they had all had a meeting at Jackson’s house three days before we got there and no one saw any kids or heard anything. They had no clue the people they were looking for were under their feet. Plus we were almost working with two personalities. Not Dissociative Identity Disorder or anything, but there was the egomaniac and the child. The child in Jackson was disorganized and needy, and you don’t expect that from a grown man. It was a weird case. Plus we had a new agent in the mix.” When he spoke about _y/n_, Rossi looked at Aaron and gave him that look. Hotch rolled his eyes and said, “Dave, please, not this again.” Rossi shook his head and said, “It’s been a year since Haley left, Hotch. You’re allowed to look at someone attractive.” Aaron scoffed and said, “Dave _y/n_’s not even a part of the team. Once they get to Virginia, they’ll go back to the _______ field office. It’s not that I don’t find myself attracted to them, but that I can’t. I just can’t.” Rossi shook his head and just said, “Aaron, at some point you’re going to have to give yourself grace. Not just on the case, but about how you feel too. You’re only human after all.” The conversation ended there and the jet continued its silent journey home. 

The team took the rest of the day off, and _y/n_ got a motel. They would need to finish their forms and turn them into Hotch before returning to their team. The following day, _y/n_ got a temp desk which only reminded them that this thing, being on the BAU, was temporary. Even though the case had been very stressful, _y/n_ was already thinking about how they would miss this team and all that they’d learned at the BAU. As it turned out, despite all the hype and fame that the team received, they were still just agents. The best agents, but they acted like people and that had only added respect for the team in _y/n_’s eyes. At the end of a long day of writing, _y/n_ moved to Aaron’s office. _y/n_ knocked, then entered the lamp-lit space. Hotch’s dark eyes found theirs, and they both felt something between them. _y/n_ quickly averted their gaze and moved toward the desk. _y/n_ had looked away when the feeling started, not because it wasn’t enjoyable, but because it was, and _y/n_ was sure there probably wasn’t supposed to be feelings. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “Are you finished with your file?” _y/n_ looked at him again and extended the manilla envelope, saying, “Yes, Sir.” Hotch extended a hand and took the folder from theirs. Aaron said deliberately, thinking of what Rossi, and had said, “You did a good job on this case, _y/n_. If another case mostly involving children should come up and you’re available, I’ll ask for you again.” From Hotch, this was high praise, and _y/n_’s eyes widened. They responded, “Thank you, Sir. It would be an honor. I understand why this team is held in such high regard. Thank you for having me.” Aaron nodded and asked, “When’s your flight back?” _y/n_ looked at the clock on the wall and said, “Eight p.m. I should probably go straight to the airport. I checked out of my motel this morning.” Aaron nodded and said jokingly, “Please tell me you’re not taking another rental?” That made _y/n_ laugh. It was bright and happy, and it warmed Aaron to hear. _y/n_ shook their head no and replied, “Not this time. I’ll call an Uber or something.” Hotch frowned slightly and looked at his watch. It was already five and the traffic would be awful this time of the evening. Not only would it take over an hour to get to the airport, but it would cost an arm and a leg as well. Aaron said, “I can drop you off. It will be quicker and it won’t be a hundred dollars down the drain.” _y/n_ raised a brow in surprise and said, “Are you sure?” Aaron nodded, and as he stood he became even more sure as he said, “Yeah. I’m sure.” When Hotch held the door open for _y/n_ they looked at him while walking out. This time _y/n_ didn’t turn their eyes away from him as a ghost of a smile formed on Aaron’s face. In the car, they both felt very differently than the last time they’d driven together. That had been out of need, this was something else. As _y/n_ sat, they considered how somewhere in the future they would be back helping the BAU again, and the feelings they both had for each other, whatever they were to become when they met Aaron again, well, only time could tell.

______________________________________________________________

Tag List: @geminitapestry @criminalskies

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[greg-montgomery]

rewatching 9x5 is not for the weak

[ladycaramelswirl]

Hi Hotch readers, holding you hostage for a vote again.

I added an original character to add a jealous Hotch scene in a Hotch x reader series and now the backstory is so long 🫠 (but I promise it makes the whole story better, it’s just that one chapter is very reader + OC centric)

(I’m so sorry for the tags, I know this isn’t what you’re looking for when you search them 😭😭. I just don’t know how else to reach the people who read them)

update: fuckkkkk skwiwhsv just spent hours writing a whole plot just to realise at the very end that I have a better idea? And the plot is totally unnecessary? I hate it here 😭

[thisgirlisonfayeeer]

BABE WAKE UP, NEW TG PICS DROPPED

(📸 Thomas Gibson's Instagram)

[alachii]

just as we joppin, i’m screamin and cryin we scryin

[bau-drabbles]

WE NEED THE JEALOUSY SMUT WIRH HOTCH PLEASE ON GOD 🫠😩😮‍💨💗💗

aaron hottie smut won obvs 😌🤞 so don't worry bae, it'll be posted v soon! i just gotta edit it and add a few things. i can't promise it'll be good but at least i tried :") 🤍

[lavenderspence]

jealous hotch is a sight to see, but adorable when a little clueless

hii dollface, would u write smtg abt hotch being jealous?

like he's trying to hide it from making the team notices when he saw some officer flirting with r?

no pressure in writing, lovey. change it however u want or ignore it if u dont feel like writing it (i completely understands u 🤍)

my love this has lived in my brain so relentlessly <3 i hope you love it!!!! thank you for requesting!! wc: 1.7k

It is incredibly easy to like her.

She’s charismatic in a way that’s almost universally appealing, and he’s memorized the shape of her wide grin. She smiles with her whole face, and Aaron hasn’t really spent too much time trying to make people smile. He’s had success in some ways, but when she smiles at him there’s something in his chest that burns in achingly lovely way. 

At first, he had assumed her kindness was a way to win him over. In her first week, she had noticed there was a rip in his tie (which he’s not sure how could even happen) and she’d whipped out a pocket sewing kit, repairing it. 

He tries not to think about the fact that she’s beautiful. She is, though, in spirit and in appearance. He’s an expert in controlled presentation, but to some extent she must know that’s he’s fond of her. 

When they’d first met (which he can still picture in his minds’ eye- her oversized sweater tucked into her tailored pants, the purple lipstick adorning her beautiful smile) he’d tried to keep his distance. It’s easy to romanticize her, and being her friend felt a little impossible when seeing her as more felt so inevitable.

This plan did not go well, and Aaron had officially tossed it when one day, the babysitter for Jack fell through when he was halfway around the world. She’d picked him up from school and tended to him, and Aaron had come home to a blanket fort on his kitchen floor, and a happy little boy who wanted her to come over every day. 

So it's a little hard to ignore how much he adores her. 

She doesn’t normally want to come out to the scene and they usually don’t require it, but they’re going out to a place she spent most of her twenties, and she knew people in the local PD, so Aaron had asked her to come. 

She’d done so without complaint, although he knows she doesn’t sleep well on the jet. No one knows where the nicer pillows and blankets came from, and Aaron would prefer it that way. 

Anyway. 

The bullpen of this department is chaotic and a certain caretaking is living at the edge of Aaron’s consciousness, a protective desire to keep her from the loudness and violence that she’s typically protected from. 

He’s still thinking this, when he hears her voice over the chaotic hum of the department. 

“Oh my god, Logan!”

Her voice is joyful, and when Aaron turns to see who she’s looking at, it’s an agent. He can tell that he’s not a police officer for many reasons- the fact that he’s got a long, shaggy haircut and a 5 o clock shadow and a leather jacket on his shoulders. The local police would be too strict, and he must be some kind of different authority to be allowed to be here.

He hears the stranger call her name back, and they hug. 

It’s a quick thing, but imbued with deep fondness. Aaron’s not sure he’s ever hugged her for more than a second- just a congratulations when his commendation came in. She’d smelled like roses. 

Now, she’s hugging Logan. 

“Hotch,” she says, a smile still in her voice, “This is Logan! We went to graduate school together. He’s brilliant, I can’t believe he’s down here.”

Her voice is seeped in admiration, and Aaron feels an ugly amount of what can only be described as jealousy. 

“Great to meet you. You’re the unit chief, yeah?”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he offers the man a curt nod, “Have you met the team?”

He goes through the motions of introducing him to the team- he greets Reid with a warm smile and tells him that he’s read his papers. Logan compliments Emily’s shirt, and Morgan’s watch. 

He’s incredibly charismatic.

Is Aaron charismatic? He doesn’t think so. His team, who probably adore him as much as anyone could, still note that he can be harsh, prickly. He never smiles, he knows. He lacks expressiveness. Logan is all fluid movement and easy conversation, and when he takes the jacket off, Aaron sees a great deal of tattoos on his forearm, his sweater sleeves slid up. 

He’d smile for her. 

What should be a good thing, but hurts- Logan is an excellent consultant profiler. He’s thoughtful and helpful and she has an easy rapport with him. Aaron- he’s so bad at talking to women. 

She makes Aaron feel like he’s good at it though. When they drive together, the conversation is easy and feels nice. It’s like sunbathing, basking in the light of her attention and intention. 

With the help of the man that Aaron has decided he hates, the case is finished up quickly. 

He can’t shake the thought they’ve probably dated. It’s not his business- this crush, although this word feels inadequate for the intensity of the way she makes him feel. It’s a private thing he’s never going to act on- he’s older and her superior, and besides- 9 stab wounds and a lifetime worth of issues is a million times less appealing than someone like Logan. Young, exuberant probably not too afraid to ask for what he wants.

“Drink tonight?” Logan asks the team, and a chorus of yes’s and please’s echo through the emptying bullpen. 

“Raincheck,” she says to Logan, “I’ll see you next time I’m in town, yeah?” She beams at him, hugging him in a quick-but-too-long-for-Aaron’s-taste motion, and the string in Aaron’s chest that feels like it’s been pulled all week threatens to pull him under.

After everyone files out, she offers to help him fill out paperwork in his office. It’s just like her, so kind and sweet. Spending her free time filling out reports to make his workload go easier.

About a half hour of amenable silence passes, before Aaron chooses to speak.

“So, you and Logan.”

“He’s great, right?”

Regrettably, Aaron agrees.

“He seems very kind.”

“Yeah, he and his fiancee are really fun. They travel all over, kite-board and do tons of adventure stuff, he’s pretty awesome.”

A moment passes.

It’s like a balloon losing air, the feeling of relief taking the place of panic.

“I thought you two were romantically involved.” He doesn’t know how to verbalize things casually. If he lets it up, he might do something dangerous like tell her that he wants to be someone who romances her, wants to be the person who kisses her after dates and holds an umbrella over her head when she’s caught in the rain. He wants to be what she comes homes to, and it’s a confession living in the back of his throat, threatening to escape at every moment. 

She sucks in a harsh breath, and he wonders if it’s a misstep to have told her- it’s not a confession, really. It sounds like one though- why would he care? What makes it his business?

“Not that that’s relevant to me,” he stammers, “You’re free to engage with whoever you’d like-“

“I know, Hotch.” She doesn’t grace him with his first name, but her voice is fond and warm, her doe eyes meeting his. He likes it, he decides. 

“I’m not seeing him,” she continues, her body shifting to face him, “I think he’s a little…casual for me.”

He thinks of Logan’s leather jacket and unshaven face, rugged appearance and compares it to how he presents himself- clean cut and sharp lines, his suits tailed to fit him like a glove. 

“You prefer something a little more…dignified?” He hears himself say with more confidence then he feels- her implication is clear, but he wonders if he’s mishearing it. 

She tips her head back and he hears her lovely laugh ring through the air like something sacred, and he waits to hear her response. 

“I don’t know, I just know that I’ve been liking this guy for a while,” she muses, looking down at her fingernails, “But he hasn’t seemed to pick up on any of my hints.”

On one of his braver days, he’d told her that he liked that purple lipstick. He hasn’t seen her without it since. She’d always been so kind to everyone that it was hard to notice when her treatment towards him was special, but he thinks it might be. How quick she offers to help with Jack- gives away a Saturday evening to spend with him, even though she sees too much of his face at work.

Her friend from grad school offered to get drinks, and she’s here, telling him what she looks for in a guy.

He tries to be logical about the whole thing, but it’s a bit hard- she’s funny and warm and Aaron loves being around her- loves her company enough to maybe ask for more of it. 

“If this ‘guy’ did like you,” he murmurs, intentionally not meeting her gaze, the precision of which is boring a hole into the side of his head, “How would he go about that?”

He’s not sure what the point of being coy is now, but he can’t seem to stop. He does look down to her and meet her eyes. 

“I think I’d probably corner him,” she says breathlessly. They’re quite close together, now. He wonders if she likes his aftershave. She tugs a hundred through her hair, a nervous but incredibly attractive gesture, “Y’know, if everyone we worked with went to get drinks, and it was just us. If he was amenable to that.”

“If he was amenable to that.”

A rush of emotion licks up his spine- it’s fun, flirting with her. The creep of warmth on her cheek, how her fingers are brushing hers. 

“I think he might be.”

Purple lipstick, rose perfume mixing with the scent of expensive aftershave- he thinks he might be able to kiss her, now. He’s never been good at knowing when to take the jump, but this is something he can do. He can let her know that he wants it. 

She reads him well enough, it turns out, and she kisses him. It’s a surprise and he is so rusty at this and yet- his hand stand on the small of her back, pulling her in and he can feel her lovely smile against him. She’s warm and joyful and she’d kissed him, and all he could do was lean in-

“I think he might be too.” She says, significantly less color on her lips, and more on his, he imagines.

She doesn’t have to wonder, though. When Aaron kisses her again, he decides- he will make her incredibly certain of his affections. 

[sirpotys]

García: Emily is so beautiful and perfect.

Hotch: Yeah, She is

García: I want to kiss her, I'm going to kiss her.

Hotch: No, you will not. You won't kiss Emily

García: What, why not? You're being homophobic boss.

Hotch: I'm not homophobic, you can't kiss Emily for the simple reason that she's my girlfriend.

García: ...Oh, Well, I'm not a jealous girl.

Hotch: García!

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Aaron Fic Poll

Photo credit @pennyspearl

Hey all! I have a small question for you. So I have had an idea for a hurt!aaron fic for some time, however, last night I had a new idea of golfer!aaron and it has been playing through my head for some time. They both sound like such fun to write and they are very different vibes. Therefore I thought I'd throw it to you to decide. The hurt!aaron has an independent!strong!reader. And the golfer!aaron fic has jealous!aaron and smart!reader.

Please vote below. The poll will be up for twenty-four hours. Feel free to share if you like and thank you for helping me out. I hope you have a great start to your week - Love Levi ❤️

Tag list: (🩷) @tgskitten @geminitapestry @silk-spun @alicewonderao3

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Want to send in a request? Please check out this post, CM Request Post (linked)

[greg-montgomery]

me when i read a fic or post that’s clearly ‘reader x [a bau member that’s not hotch]’ and aaron interacts with reader but it’s casual and platonic: why isn’t he in love with me

[luveline]

𝗕𝗢𝗠𝗕𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗨 ᥫ᭡ 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗜𝗗

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗ Spencer thinks you’re a total bombshell —confident, high maintenance, and so, so pretty. you find yourself similarly obsessed with your dorky, handsome genius.

you meet Spencer and call him beautiful you witness Spencer and Lila Archer you make Spencer jealous you hold Spencer’s hand after his abduction you come for a teasing visit your drunken flirting almost kills him you invite a struggling Spencer over for dinner your motorcycle jacket winds Spencer you and Spencer share a room in Alaska Spencer comforts you after a hard case Spencer gets his boyband haircut Spencer stands you up you take Spencer’s hand when he’s distracted you comfort Spencer on the brink of tears you’re jealous of Spencer and a girl at the bar Spencer reassures you that he likes your flirting Spencer loses his mind over your dress it’s Spencer’s fault when you get hurt Spencer tends to a bad wound you assure Spencer he’s your type you’re hurt by a rude police officer Spencer realises you really truly like him Spencer tortures you, for once don’t think I don’t like you you and Spencer have your first kiss Spencer calms you down when you’re nervous you and Spencer miss you first date Spencer sees you undone for the first time you freak out after being held hostage you’re obsessed with Spencer and his glasses Spencer takes care of you when you’re sick Derek catches you at Spencer’s apartment Spencer calls you a pet name for the first time you and Spencer are interrupted good luck Emily catches you and Spencer in a heated kiss you drunk brag about your new boyfriend you’re secure in your relationship you get your period Spencer likes that you’re high maintenance you get very hurt in the field Spencer watches over your recovery you have your first big fight, you can’t sleep Spencer allots time for your morning kisses you take the leap and ask the big question Spencer returns from prison Spencer struggles to adjust after prison you and Spencer talk about JJ

you comfort Spencer after Maeve

you find out that you’re pregnant together you show Spencer your new necklace you tell the team that you’re pregnant Hotch gives Spencer some paternal advice pregnant!you feel like you’re not yourself you have an angry hormonal meltdown pregnant!you falls down Hotch checks in on pregnant!you and Spencer your daughter is just like you, Spencer loves it Amy video calls you on a case Spencer is wrapped around Amy’s little finger Spencer and Amy take care of sick!you you and Amy visit Spencer in prison

[kimstills]

blame

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader, platonic!spencer x reader summary: in which your close relationship with spencer makes aaron wonder if there’s something going on between you and the young doctor. content warnings: mentions of kidnappings, torture, child abuse (typical cm case stuff), insecurities, age gap, and haley, jealous!aaron (hb is DOWN BAD), he kind of acts like a prick in the middle of this? but it’s v brief and he apologizes!! hints of autistic!spence, angst if u squint but mostly fluff, miscommunication, technically idiots to lovers but hotch is the only idiot <3 word count: 5.1k (this was NOT supposed to be this long omfg) a/n: this was inspired by a dream i had where i was besties w reid and everyone thought i liked him until i had to blurt out that i was into older men… enjoy!!

If looks could kill, Aaron was sure Spencer would be dead by now.

It was contradicting, in a way. How he thought of Spencer like the son that had come before his actual son, yet he was staring at him like a predator stalking their next victim.

You were standing next to the young genius, shoulders brushing against shoulders as you went back and forth with the geographical profile the two of you had been assigned to work on, something Aaron was really regretting having done.

The team had been called in to assist with a case in Portland, Maine, involving an abductor-type unsub. One who would stalk his victims and learn their routines before kidnapping them, torturing them for two to three days before disposing of them in forests and parks all throughout the city.

You and Reid were both tied when it came to your skills with geographical profiles, one of the many things that had blossomed your relationship with him. But with the way the unsub was beginning to rapidly devolve, the rush to develop said profile and figure out his next move had forced Aaron to assign you two together.

Deep down he knew that it had to be done for the sake of the case and all its victims, and that it was the best decision to make as leader of the team.

But, still, he couldn’t help the jealousy that was bubbling from within him, his gaze completely focused on the way you giggled and smiled, endeared, while watching Reid struggle to tape the map one of the sheriffs had supplied you with to a spare whiteboard in the office the team had been given to work in.

He hadn’t even noticed when JJ walked up to him, the blonde hair and white button up she was wearing apparently not enough to break him out of his trance until—

“Hotch.”

Aaron snaps his head towards her, blinking in bewilderment, “Sorry, what?”

JJ stares at him with a look of both concern and amusement, a smile tugging at her lips. Her hand is raised expectantly and her eyes flicker towards the case file in his hands.

He looks down at it, brows furrowing when he finally sees the death grip he was holding the paper with. It’s slightly crumpled from where his thumb had rested, the pages wrinkled.

He clears his throat, trying to soothe out the file as subtly and smoothly as he can before handing it to JJ, “Sorry,” he grumbled.

The blonde chuckles softly, taking it from him and doing her own best to bend it back into place. She begins to flip through the pages, though she can’t help but follow Aaron’s gaze back to you and Spencer.

You had finally gotten up to help him in taping up the map, taking it from his hands and effortlessly doing so before turning around and giving him a cheeky smile.

JJ turns her attention back to him, biting back a smug smile when she sees her boss practically glaring daggers at the two of you, “I assume you’re trying to figure them out, too?” She asks, looking down at the file.

Aaron blinks, this time slowly turning his head to gaze down at her, “What do you mean?”

Her eyes widen at the realization of what she just had insinuated about her co-workers to her boss. She shrugs coolly, trying to play it off, “Nothing. They’re just really close is all,” she gives him a tight-lipped smile before quickly walking away, leaving Aaron more confused than before.

He feels his fingers twitch by his side when he glances back at you. It’s cheesy, the way his heart skips a beat when you tuck the strands of hair that had made itself to the front of your face behind your ears. His hardened features soften at the sight of you laughing at something Reid’s said, something he’s sure only the two of you understand.

Aaron’s not sure what it was that had gotten him to stick out for you like a sore thumb or how his sudden infatuation with watching and admiring you and your every move had happened.

All he could recall was that it happened, and it had happened too fast for him to begin realizing how you had begun to overcome his every thought and consume him with feelings he hadn’t felt since Haley’s passing and his marriage with her.

A part of him had told himself that he wasn’t to blame; not only were you one of the best agents he had ever worked with, but you were the loveliest and wholesome of humans.

You had your rough days, everyone on the team understandably did, yet you never failed to meet people with kindness and patience, something else that Aaron wasn’t used to receiving when it came to his co-workers. And, as much as they loved him and he loved them, even his team members were prone to calling him ‘cold’ and ‘stoic.’

While you, on the other hand would always meet him with fond, bright smiles and greetings, never once avoiding his gaze or running the opposite direction as to ‘not get in his way’ like others did.

You were like the sun peeking out of the clouds after a dark and tremendous storm, shining on him with such warmth.

So, in the end, he couldn’t really help himself from falling for you. Or for even feeling childishly jealous when you were shining your warmth onto others.

Especially with someone who apparently the rest of the team suspected you of dating.

Perhaps he couldn’t blame Spencer for falling for you, too.

Everyone meant well, and Aaron knew he was also victim to cutting him off when the boy rambled, but you were the only one who truly listened to him. Who would interrupt him gently during urgent matters and let him continue after they were solved, and never made him feel inadequate.

He doesn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before now that JJ has mentioned it—too blindsided with his own feelings for you—but he begins to wonder, though, if there actually is something more between the two of you.

He likes to think that he begins playing close attention to your mannerism, body language, and shared interactions the two of you have throughout the entirety of the case because he has to. Now that it's been brought to his attention that two of his subordinates might be in a relationship, it's his job as Unit Chief to keep tabs.

So, he watches, when the whole team is sitting in the rectangular table, debriefing with one another and sharing ideas all whilst munching on take out food.

"So, we obviously know that the significance of the victim's being dumped in nature spots is important to this guy," Morgan explains, motioning his hand around the air as he goes on, "but could it be that he kidnaps and keeps his victims in similar spots, just somewhere more secluded?"

"Spencer and I were thinking that that could be a possibility," you say, stealing a fry off of said boy's take out plate, "Maybe he doesn't live in these same places, but he could be taking them to a hidden spot somewhere in the forests, something possibly hidden by debris, wood, or anything makeshift."

Spencer doesn't even blink as you continue to steal more neglected food off his plate, continuing to sort through pictures. Aaron could see Emily and Derek give each other a knowing, smug look through his peripheral.

He manages to swallow, the tip of his middle finger and thumb tapping against one another, "What else have you two come up with regarding the geographical profile?"

"Well, besides where he himself could be living or where he could keep his victims, the whole profile is scattered," Spencer answers this time, sliding the plate towards you as he sets down a picture of each victim with the name of the forests and parks they were found in written underneath. "The first two victims were dumped in a forest, the third in a park, and the fourth in another forest.."

As he goes on, you take advantage to continue eating, the way in which he had just let you eat off his plate despite his known phobia of germs not going unnoticed by everyone else.

If that one wasn't a sign, Aaron didn't know what else was.

*

With the geographical profile being all over the place, Aaron decides on pulling you away from the task the following day, instead pairing you up with him to check out the crime scene of the most recent victim.

He doesn't know if it's the leader in him doing so, pulling you away from your original project he had tasked you to do, or if it's just the mix of both curiosity and jealousy that continues to gnaw at him.

He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. Yet he couldn't help the way his heart churned when you hold his hand for a second longer than necessary after he helps you climb up the small, but frosty hill.

"Thanks," you mumble sweetly, your shoulders brushing against him as you walk past him and towards the await detectives.

Aaron trails behind you, trying to calm his beating heart as the lead detective on the case walks you both towards the victim's body.

"This is the second victim that's been dumped in a park," you start, squatting down to inspect the cuts and bruises on the woman's face. "These sites are obviously more public than the forests, yet he still leaves them in more secluded spots, away from general view."

"Well, we ruled out that he can't feel any remorse or sympathy," Aaron adds while he looks around the now closed off park. "He holds and tortures these women for hours."

You stand from your spot, placing your hands on your hips as you look around the park. Aaron recognizes the face you make as your 'thinking' face, your eyes squinted and your nose scrunched.

"What is it?" He asks, trying to meet your wandering gaze.

“Reid and I were talking about the possibility of the unsub dumping his victims in the same places where half—if not all—of his childhood abuse took place,” you miss the way his breath hitches in his throat and the way his shoulders sag slightly, continuing. “We know that he has to be a local here from Portland—probably raised around these same areas—and that he was abused severely as a child.”

Aaron tries his best to nod as nonchalantly as possible, “Something from his childhood obviously triggered him for him to start abducting and inflict the same pain on the victims before leaving them in similar places where he could have been left as a child after being abused.”

“Exactly,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “We were theorizing around that idea for a while but weren’t too sure if the abuse could play such a huge part on his M.O.”

At the mentions of you and Reid again, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

Not only was he a grown man, but he was also your boss. And you were his subordinate, someone he should never had feelings for in the first place and someone he shouldn’t be feeling possessive over as if anything was to truly ever happen between you.

At first he had thought that Spencer wasn’t to blame for having the same feelings Aaron so strongly harbored for you. But, maybe, you weren’t the one to blame.

For falling for someone more your age, for someone you worked and paired so well with, for someone nobody else made such a grand effort to understand the way you did.

Not only was he a grown man and your boss, but he was also double your age, a single father, and a widower.

Swallowing harshly, he pulls out his phone from his suit’s inner pocket, “I’ll have Garcia check out any reported speculations of childhood abuse in these areas and see if she can narrow down our list,” He turns, using his height to his advantage and speeding off, leaving you completely behind.

You frown, rushing to catch up to him. You halt when you come to the same frosty hill he had helped you climb up and open your mouth to call for his help, but close it back up when you see he’s already made it back to the SUV and is climbing inside.

When you finally climb inside the car after successfully managing to climb down the hill without busting your ass, he’s talking with Garcia.

You wait patiently as he drives, the phone on speaker as he gives out quick orders that your friend rushes to catch up with. You try to take the chance of speaking up once he hangs up with her, but he’s quickly dialing for Rossi afterwards.

You’re quiet throughout the ride back to the precinct, the sudden change in mood too heavy for you to gather the courage to make any sort of conversation. Once parked in front of the building, he gets out right away, slamming the door while you’re barely unblocking your seatbelt.

You make a beeline to the conference room where you find Reid, no longer paying any mind on trying to find Aaron any longer.

Spencer jumps when you hurriedly slam the door behind you, eyes filling with worry when you lean against the wood and stare at the floor pensively, “You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” you mumble, pushing yourself off the door and taking a seat across from him. “I just got back from the latest crime scene with Hotch and he started acting so weird after I told him about our theory of the unsub’s dumping pattern.”

“Weird how?”

You move to speak, but hesitate when you realize that going into detail about how cold your boss suddenly acted towards you after being used to receiving such kind—some might say preferable—treatment would make your friend speculate things he, of all people, did not need to speculate.

You shake your head, “Nothing. He’s probably just stressed or tired,” you drop your forehead onto the table’s cold wood, your arms stretched out in front of you. “I know I am.”

A beat of silence passes before you hear a creak and the feeling of a finger press against your index. You bite back a laugh, looking up to find Spencer leaning forward in his own seat to do a ‘finger touch,’ something you had come up with for him after realizing how persistent his germophobia was, even with the people he loved the most.

You smile at him, leaning your head on one of your forearms and pressing your finger into his.

From outside the glass-windowed office, Aaron watches you both, a solemn look on his face.

*

The case is finally closed once you and Spencer’s theory is proven right, the unsub securely put away and the green light to go home given at last. But with the late night icy weather too dangerous for the jet to take off, Aaron orders for everyone to instead turn in for the night at the hotel and head out first thing tomorrow morning instead.

He gives a silent thanks to no one in particular when he finds out it's his turn to have a room all for himself, the rotation always being cheated by Dave, Derek, or Emily that he always forgets who's next.

Shockingly enough, he's ready to turn in for the night, not even sparing an extra glance to any of the files he had brought with him as he prepares for bed. He's just about to sit down when a knock comes from behind his door, echoing throughout his room.

He lets out a quiet groan but stands nonetheless, rubbing tiredly at his face before swinging the door open. His first instinct is to snap at whoever's behind, but that's before his eyes cast over you.

You're fiddling with your fingers, dressed in your pajamas that consists of an off-the-shoulder shirt that dips low enough to show off your collarbone and the very top of your chest, your bra strap in the middle.

And, despite the chilly weather outside, you were wearing shorts. A pair of cotton shorts that peek out from underneath the shirt you were wearing and leave little to the imagination—more so, Aaron’s imagination.

Truth be told, he's seen you in a lot less. Your usual team outing outfits consisted of tank tops, baby tees, shorts, and slightly more revealing clothes.

But this, seeing you in what you would normally sleep in, sends him into a completely different spiral.

You cringe and immediately panic at the thought of having woken him up, "Sorry, were you already asleep?" you ask, taking a tentative step back.

Aaron blinks and clears his throat, the pads of his thumb and middle finger once again tapping against one another, "No," He lies. "I was barely getting ready."

Your shoulders drop and the panic dissipates as a small smile replaces it, “Oh, okay,” you bring your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels, “I just wanted to talk to you. If that’s alright?”

Aaron’s brows furrow though he immediately steps to the side to allow you in, a soft ‘of course’ following.

He takes in the way you hesitantly step in, back facing him and arms still intertwined behind your back.

You’re being respectful, probably hoping that you’re not overstepping with whatever it is that you want to talk about. And though you always are, he can’t tell if you’re nervous, worried, or filled with insomnia that you just couldn’t sleep.

“Is everything alright?” He finally asks when you don’t make a move to sit down anywhere, his hands slightly ajar to his side like he’s ready to reach out and touch you.

God, how he wishes he could touch you.

You clear your throat and turn around, “Actually, I was just coming to ask you the same thing,”

The harsh lines on Aaron’s face deepen when you take a seat on the edge of the bed, glancing beside you as a signal for him to join you.

He swallows as he does so, careful not to sit too close and award you space. His eyes flicker back up at you when he hears your breath hitch.

Seconds of silence pass before you shuffle closer to him, bringing your body forward so that you were staring at him directly.

“Are you… feeling okay?”

Aaron freezes, his movements completely stilling at your question. His mind begins to race with all the possibilities of what could have brought on your question when it clicks.

How he had concurred that you and him were completely different and could never be a possibility, and how he immediately decided that acting cold towards you would shun out the feelings he’s felt for so long now.

Another clear of his throat, he replies, “I’m fine.”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a look that shows that you know he’s not telling the truth.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, this time more firmly. “I don’t mean to overstep, but you’ve been acting rather…strange ever since you and I got back from the fifth victim’s crime scene.”

Aaron cringes at how your expression turns into a sad one, quickly masking it with one of concern afterwards.

He sighs. He supposes that if there’s a possibility that you and Spencer are dating, now’s the time to ask you about it.

He makes a show of staring directly at you in the same way he does when he’s in his ‘boss mode,’ trying to study your face before he asks the question, “Is there something I should know about you and Spencer?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting.

You’re taken aback, quite literally flinching as if you had been struck. It takes you a few seconds to take in what he’s just asked you, and you shake your head almost as if it wasn’t real.

“I’m sorry?”

The desperation gnaws at him once more, and he’s not sure which side of him wants to find out the answer.

“Are you and Spencer dating?” he asks again, voice somehow unwaveringly calm as he punctuates each word clearly.

Your mouth opens in shock, letting out a sound that’s half a scoff half a broken laugh. You look around the room in utter bewilderment.

“What correlation does my relationship with Spencer have with what I asked you?” You can’t tell if you’re angry or just confused, but you stand from the bed and stare down at him.

Aaron follows your lead, “I never noticed it before until the rest of the team pointed it out, but you two are close. Close in such a way that—” He swallows, “—as your boss, I have to ask.”

Before the rest of the team pointed it out. Of course.

You fully scoff this time, “As my boss, you should know that Spencer and I have always been close,” you concur.

“Then why can’t you look at me?”

Despite your heart hammering in your chest, you force yourself to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“You’re not looking at me, you’re getting defensive, and you’re practically avoiding the question,” he says, his own gaze practically boring into you.

“Hotch—”

“You’re deflecting by saying that I should know that you two have always been close, and while I do know that, you’re still not answering my question.”

It feels cruel of him to press you for answers like this, knowing that there was an easier way to do it.

“Reid and I are not dating!” you do your best to not shout it at him in fears of waking the rest of the team up, fists balled at your sides.

“Then why are you so nervous?” he asks, taking a step closer to you. “Why can’t you still look at me?”

“Because it’s you that I like!”

You slap your hands over your mouth immediately and the room falls silent.

Aaron blinks. Once, twice, three times.

You liked him?

You lower your hands, nervously brushing your hair behind your ears as you look around the room in a state of panic, “I-I’m just going to go,” you mumble and immediately rush towards the door.

Aaron stands the for a second, too frozen to do or say anything before his own panic settles in brazenly. His body moves before he has time to register what he's doing and what he'll do when he reaches you.

He wraps an arm around your forearm just as you open the door, halting you from stepping outside, "Y/N, wait,"

"Hotch, please," you're quick to try and release yourself from his grasp, yanking your arm towards yourself in what results as a poor attempt. "Just ignore what I said."

"I can't do that," he dips his head to try and get you to look at him but you simply avoid your gaze even more than your originally had, your cheeks flushed.

"Hotch, let me go!" you whisper-shout, once more fighting his grip. “I’m already embarrassed enough, I don’t need you chastising me anymore.”

“I’m not chastising you, Y/N,” Aaron’s sure he sounds as desperate as you probably feel, but he can’t find it in himself to let you go and ruin his one chance of bringing his feelings to the light. Even if it went against everything he had been telling himself earlier that week.

“Do you not think it’s possible for me to feel the same way?”

Your head snaps towards him, your movements suddenly rigid at his question, “W-What?”

You’re sure that, if your heart hadn’t raptured beforehand, it certainly will now.

Aaron takes you letting your guard down as the chance to bring a hand to your waist and pull you back into the room, shutting the door and thanking that nobody else from the team had emerged from the commotion.

“What do you mean by that?” you’re quick to ask, staring up at him with curious, yet hopeful eyes.

He lowers his head as to avoid your gaze this time, letting out a deep breath. Everything he wanted to do now went against everything he had told himself the day before, when he ridiculed himself for ever thinking that you would like someone such as him or that something could ever happen between you two.

“Hotch,” your voice is firm and you allow yourself to take a step closer to him. You need him to look at you, to give you some sort of clue that he didn’t just say what he said to play you, to get you to re-enter the room just so he could profile you even more. “What do you mean by that?”

Repeating your question doesn’t help him and it certainly doesn’t help the way his heart hammers in his chest, a sound so loud that he’s sure you can hear it from how close you’re standing.

“You like me?” you whisper, dipping your head to try and meet his eyes. How ironic that just a couple of seconds ago you were trying to avoid it.

Aaron shrugs, finally looking up, “How could I not?”

His boyish, yet vulnerable expression makes your breath hitch.

“I said that I had to know if there was something between you and Reid as your boss, but it was just because I was jealous,” he shakes his head, trying his best to suppress an all but amused smile. “It was immature of me, really.”

You shake your head, trying to collect both your own thoughts and everything he was telling you. He had been jealous?

“So, is that you acted that way after I told you about our theory in the park?”

The way in which he left you behind in both the park and in the parking lot of the precinct hits him like a brick, cringing at his actions, "I realized then, when you were talking about what you had both come up with, how compatible you two are. How it would make more sense for you to like someone more suited for you. I'm sorry for how I acted,"

Your heart breaks at hearing his confession, of how he, the same man you practically fell head over heels for after your first meeting, could think that he was unworthy of your attention. If you were being honest, you hadn't been hurt by the way he had acted earlier in the day, only confused as to why.

"Hotch--" you stop yourself. You take another step closer, closing the space between the both of you more and more. "Aaron,"

He snaps his head up at your usage of his first name, the way you said it so gently and naturally getting all his attention.

"I've liked you ever since I first met you," you confess. "I'll admit I was too intimidated by you to fully register what I was feeling, but the more I got to know you, the harder I began to fall. And I fell really hard," you let out a laugh, trying to ignore just how much you were putting on the line right now and how self-conscious you felt with his eyes boring into you.

"You've been with the BAU for three years," Aaron's voice is barely above a breathless murmur and he's sure you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't standing so close. "That's how long you've liked me for?"

You nod, lips pursed, "I never said anything because I thought you would never see me that way, let alone reciprocate my feelings. If I'm telling the truth, I wouldn't have said anything if it weren't for you pressing me into telling you that I was dating Reid."

Aaron smirks despite the warmth he feels on his cheeks, shrugging his shoulders and letting out a soft laugh, "Well, then I'm glad I ended up asking. Who knows how many more years we would've gone like this if I hadn't."

You both laugh, subconsciously curling towards each other when you both double over and bring yourselves even closer than before.

You stare up at him with a warm expression before casting your eyes downwards. You lift your hand to linger above his, the pads of your fingers brushing against the hairs on the back of his palm, "So, what happens now?"

Without breaking eye contact, he takes your hand in his while the other reaches for your waist once more. You let out a small yelp when he pulls you even closer, your bodies now touching and radiating the warmth you both thought you’d never be able to feel from one another.

The next few seconds are filled with bliss when he lowers his head to press his lips against yours. You’re immediately weak, letting go off his hand to place both on his shoulders as to support yourself.

The other now free hand of his comes to rest on your other hip, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts ever so possessively. A whimper escapes from your mouth and Aaron takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, doing so with so much fervor and passion that it leaves you feeling dizzy even with your eyes closed.

Aaron is relentless even after you pull away to catch your breath, the act of kissing you now something he’s inevitably hooked on. He presses kisses all over your face, from your cheek to your chin to your jaw, then all the way down to your neck.

“You know,” you cough out, flushed from the attention, “I told you how long I’ve liked you, but you didn’t tell me how long you’ve liked me.”

Aaron smiles into your skin, immediately recalling when he first realized his own feelings for you. He lifts his head to press a sweet kiss to your lips, eliciting a hum from you.

“I can tell you all the details over either a nice dinner tomorrow evening after we land,” he says, another kiss to your lips. He turns your bodies around so that his back was to bed, the mattress dipping under his weight when he sits. “Or you can spend the night here and we can stay up all night talking about it.”

His voice is sultry, and the way in which he grabs at your hips to get you to straddle him makes you flush.

“Are you already trying to seduce me?” you ask, mock offense in your tone though you happily take your guided seat on his lap, both knees on each side of his thighs.

Aaron hums this time, brushing your hair back to begin kissing at your neck again, “Can you blame me?”

He already knows your answer, he’s sure. He knows you can’t, because he can’t, either.