#kiwriteswords

[kiwriteswords]

THE WAY YOU WRITE HOTCH IS ASDFGHJKL, and it makes me wanna scream because I love him so much lol. Can I request "Using pet names" drabble prompt with shy!reader? <3

Hi!! Thank you!!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I had so much fun writing this one! I hope you enjoy!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 2k

Rating: Everyone

TW: None!

I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

It’s you who lets a pet name slip out the first time. 

The warm, aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you and Aaron Hotchner sat across from each other at your favorite corner café. It wasn’t often that the two of you found time for a peaceful moment away from the intensity of the BAU, but today, you both managed to sneak out for a late lunch. The soft hum of conversation around you created a cozy atmosphere, making you feel more relaxed than usual.

You sipped your cappuccino, smiling softly as you watched Aaron flip through the menu. He had a slight furrow in his brow, clearly debating over what to order, which made you smile. The rare moments where he looked just like any other person—calm, laid back, and not buried under mountains of paperwork or the weight of cases—made you appreciate these quiet times even more.

“What are you thinking?” you asked, tilting your head as you glanced over the options yourself. “The sandwich you always get?”

Aaron looked up from the menu, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. “Am I that predictable?”

“Maybe a little,” you teased, feeling more comfortable in the easy, casual environment.

He chuckled, setting the menu down. “I suppose I do tend to stick to what I know. What about you?”

You shrugged, staring down at the menu, though you had already decided. “Probably the soup. It’s always good here.”

Aaron nodded, and as you both settled on your orders, the conversation flowed easily. It always did with him, despite the butterflies you couldn’t help but feel when you were around him. Even though you were naturally shy, there was something about Hotch that always made you feel at ease, even if his quiet intensity sometimes made your heart race.

After the waitress took your order and left, you leaned back in your chair, watching the way Aaron absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the table. It was one of his subtle habits that you had grown to notice. It was like he always had to be doing something—thinking, analyzing—even in the most relaxed moments. But now, there was a softness in his expression that made you feel warm inside.

“I’m glad we could get out today,” you said quietly, smiling. “It’s nice to just… take a break with you.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice just as gentle when he replied, “I’m glad too. We don’t get to do this nearly enough.”

Your heart fluttered at the way he said it, like these moments meant just as much to him as they did to you. There was a calmness in his presence that you’d come to cherish. You felt safe, cared for, even in the little things, like how he always made sure your coffee was topped up before getting his own or how he positioned himself in a way that made you feel like the world could disappear for a while.

Before you could think, the words slipped out: “You’re sweet, you know that, babe?”

The second the word left your lips, you froze. Your eyes widened slightly, and your hand came up to cover your mouth in surprise. You hadn’t meant to say it—not “babe.” It wasn’t a word you had ever used with him before, and certainly not in public. It just slipped out, so naturally, as if it had been sitting there, waiting to make its debut.

You braced yourself for his reaction, your cheeks already turning pink from embarrassment, but when you looked up, you were met with a look of pure amusement on Aaron’s face.

“Babe?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow as a slow, teasing smile spread across his lips. His voice was filled with warmth and playfulness. “Did I just hear that right?”

You felt your face heat up, but you weren’t exactly embarrassed, just a little flustered by how easily the word had slipped. “I, uh… I didn’t mean—well, I did, but…”

Aaron chuckled, leaning forward slightly, his eyes dancing with amusement. “No need to backtrack now,” he teased. “I have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hide the shy smile threatening to spill out. “I guess it just… slipped out.”

“Slipped out, huh?” He rested his chin in his hand, watching you with that signature smirk of his. “I think I like it.”

“Really?” You blinked, surprised by his reaction.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “It’s got a nice ring to it. But I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to be the one to start with the pet names.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, I guess there’s a first for everything.”

Aaron’s gaze softened as he reached across the table and gently placed his hand over yours. His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t need to be so shy about it,” he said, his voice gentle. “I think it’s cute.”

Your blush deepened at his words, but this time, you didn’t shy away. “I’m not shy… just cautious,” you said, feeling more playful than usual.

He chuckled again, the sound deep and soothing. “Well, I’d like to hear it again sometime… babe.” He teased further. 

The way he said the word sent a wave of warmth through you, and you found yourself grinning, unable to contain it any longer. “I think I can manage that.”

The teasing smile never left his face as he held your gaze. “Good, because I think you’re stuck with it now.”

You laughed, feeling more comfortable and at ease than ever. “And what about you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to start calling me pet names too?”

Aaron’s expression softened as he considered it for a moment, then leaned in a little closer. “I think I can manage that,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. “How about ‘sweetheart’? Or maybe ‘honey’? I’ve got a few in mind.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, unable to hide the smile spreading across your face. “I guess I can live with that.”

“Good,” he said with a satisfied smile, giving your hand one more gentle squeeze. “Because I plan on using them a lot.”

It wasn’t soon after that, that Aaron began using them more regularly. Something about hearing him say these endearing names still managed to put butterflies in your stomach.

Tonight, the BAU office was quiet. The bustling activity of the day had finally settled down, and most of the team had left for the night. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, the soft glow of his desk lamp illuminating the pile of paperwork he still needed to get through. His focus wavered as he heard a familiar soft knock at his door.

“Come in,” his deep voice called, calm yet commanding, as always.

You peeked your head in, offering a small, shy smile as your eyes met his. You had been working late as well, trying to tie up loose ends from the case you’d just closed. But it wasn’t the case that brought you to his office. It was him.

“Hi,” you said softly, stepping inside and closing the door gently behind you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Aaron replied, a warmth spreading through his tone that he only ever used with you. It was one of those things that made your heart flutter, even after all this time together. “What are you still doing here?”

You shrugged, walking over to him as you wrung your hands nervously. You never quite got used to how he looked at you, that mixture of care and admiration, like you were the only person in the world when he set his eyes on you.

“I just... wanted to see you before I left,” you murmured, standing in front of his desk. “And I figured you’d still be here working.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a small smile as he leaned back in his chair, his hand extending toward you. “C’mere, honey.”

You took his hand, your heart speeding up at the simple touch, and he gently pulled you into his lap. You blushed, settling into the familiar warmth of his embrace as his arms wrapped securely around you. The door was closed, and you were alone with him—one of the rare moments when you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing or the walls he kept up as the BAU’s stoic leader.

“You work too hard,” you whispered softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You need to rest.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You’re always looking after me, aren’t you?”

“I try,” you giggled, your shyness melting away a little in his presence. “Someone has to.”

His thumb stroked gently along your arm, and he kissed the top of your head again, this time lingering just a bit longer. “My sweet girl,” he whispered against your hair, his voice low and affectionate.

The pet name--your favorite pet name--sent a rush of warmth through you, making you hide your face against his neck as your cheeks burned. Aaron chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” he said quietly, his hand lifting to cup your cheek. “I told you I planned on using these names a lot,” There was a comfortable pause,  “How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. Even after everything you’d been through together—the cases, the danger, the long nights—he always found a way to make you feel like you were the most important thing in his world.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you admitted shyly, your fingers tracing small patterns on his chest. “You’ve always been there for me, Hotch.”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his fingers lifting your chin so that you were looking into his warm brown eyes. “What did I tell you about that? Call me Aaron when we’re like this.”

“Aaron,” you corrected with a small smile, loving how his name sounded on your lips in these moments.

“That’s better,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against yours. “My sweet girl.”

You melted into the kiss, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders as you felt the familiar comfort and safety of being in his arms. Aaron’s kiss was soft and gentle, his way of showing you how much he cared without words. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with sincerity.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied without hesitation, the words leaving his lips easily now after everything you’d been through together. “Always.”

You smiled against his lips as he kissed you once more, longer this time, savoring the peaceful moment between you. There were no worries here, no cases or paperwork—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other and the sweet nothings that passed between you.

In his arms, you felt like you were home. And with him calling you all those sweet names, you knew this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Tag List

[kiwriteswords]

Hi!! Can I request “Discussions of kinks that they're embarrassed/self-conscious of” for the drabble prompts with shy reader? 🩷

Hi!! Thank you!!! Hope you enjoy this short drabble!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 600

Rating: Mature

TW: Sexual themes, NSFW, 18+

In the Quiet

The low hum of the apartment settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustling of sheets and your own shallow breathing. You were nestled against Hotch, his steady presence always grounding, but tonight, there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air.

Your fingers toyed nervously with the edge of the blanket, heart racing in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you’d ever trusted anyone—but this? This was different. It was intimate in a way that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Hotch noticed, of course. He always did. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer against him as he murmured softly, “You’ve been quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, uncertainty swirling in your mind. It wasn’t something you had ever really talked about before—not with anyone—and the thought of voicing it out loud felt impossibly daunting.

“I just… I’ve been thinking about something,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hotch’s hand gently traced circles on your back, his calm presence urging you to continue without pressuring you. “What is it, sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything.”

His words, laced with warmth and understanding, gave you the courage to take a shaky breath. You turned in his arms slightly, not quite meeting his eyes as you spoke. “There’s something I’ve been too embarrassed to talk about... something I like but I—I'm kind of self-conscious about it.”

You felt Hotch shift, his attention fully on you now, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said gently. “I promise, whatever it is, we’ll talk through it together.”

You hesitated for a moment longer before finally blurting out, “It’s just—there are things I like, things I… fantasize about, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m weird.”

Hotch’s thumb grazed over your hand, silently urging you to continue, but he didn’t push. His patience was something you’d always admired.

Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed, “I like it when things are… a little rougher. But I don’t know how to say that without feeling… ashamed, I guess?”

There was a pause, but instead of the awkward silence you feared, Hotch’s hand stilled against your back, grounding you. When he spoke, his voice was soft, full of understanding. “You don’t need to feel ashamed, not with me. Everyone has different desires. If that’s something you want, we can talk about it.”

Your cheeks burned, but you felt a flicker of relief that he wasn’t judging you. “I just didn’t want you to think differently of me,” you admitted, the words sounding so small compared to the weight they carried.

Hotch gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes met his. His gaze was soft but serious, full of reassurance. “I’ll never think differently of you. What you like, what you want—that’s important to me too.”

The weight on your chest eased slightly, the vulnerability you felt starting to melt away under his steady gaze. ��I just didn’t want to disappoint you,” you murmured.

Hotch’s lips quirked up in a small, reassuring smile. “You could never disappoint me. We’ll go at your pace, and we’ll figure it out together. You’re safe with me.”

You felt your heart swell, the anxiety ebbing away as his arms tightened around you. You had been so afraid of being misunderstood, but Hotch—ever patient, ever understanding—had made it feel okay. More than okay.

“Thank you,” you whispered, snuggling back into his chest, feeling the warmth of his acceptance wash over you.

His lips brushed your temple gently as he whispered, “Always.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[kiwriteswords]

hi! i love your hotch x shy!reader fics! and i was wondering if you could make an angsty fic about the reader n hotch like shy! reader made a mistake during a case and hotch is very protective over her? (like they get into an argument) and please a happy ending! thank you!

Hi!! Thank you!!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope this was what you were looking for!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 800

Rating: Everyone

TW: Canon-typical themes

The Weight of Mistakes

The air in the conference room felt stifling as the BAU team gathered around the table. They were mid-case, and things were tense, to say the least. The unsub was proving difficult to track, and time was slipping away. You had made a critical mistake — one that had cost the team precious hours. It had been a small oversight, but in a case like this, small mistakes were magnified tenfold.

You kept your eyes on the file in front of you, heart pounding, barely able to focus as Hotch gave his final instructions before sending the team out again. Your nerves were frayed, and you could feel the weight of his disappointment looming over you. Hotch was protective, fiercely so, but he was also firm when it came to the job.

As the meeting ended, you hurried out, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But you barely made it to the hallway before you heard his voice.

"Y/N, my office. Now."

You swallowed hard, nodding and following him. The walk to his office felt like an eternity, your stomach churning with anxiety. Once inside, Hotch closed the door softly, which somehow made it worse.

He stood by his desk, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "What happened today?"

Your voice was small, barely a whisper. "I—I didn't double-check the data, and I misread the location."

"That mistake nearly cost us a witness," Hotch said, his voice tight. "You know how important it is to be thorough."

The weight of his words felt like a punch to the gut. You nodded, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. You hated how small and insignificant you felt in moments like this. "I'm sorry," you murmured, barely able to meet his gaze. "I—I didn't mean to—"

"Y/N," Hotch interrupted, his tone softer now, but still firm. "You can't be this careless. Not in the field, not when lives are at stake."

You flinched, his words cutting deeper than you’d expected. You knew he was right, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Your insecurities swelled, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

"I’m sorry I’m not like the rest of you," you said, voice trembling. "I’m not as confident, or experienced, or… or perfect."

Hotch’s eyes softened, and he took a step toward you, his voice low. "Nobody's asking you to be perfect."

"But I keep messing up," you said, finally meeting his gaze. "And you... you’re always watching me, waiting for me to fail, and I hate it."

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, there was only silence between you. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped closer, closing the distance. "I’m not waiting for you to fail. I’m watching because I care. Because I know how much you push yourself."

You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be. And I see that. But today… today scared me. You could have been hurt."

It clicked then. The protectiveness in his tone, the frustration, the way he hovered when you were in the field — it wasn’t about your abilities. It was about him caring. A lot.

Your breath hitched. "I—I just don’t want to disappoint you."

Hotch's expression softened even more as he reached out, gently cupping your chin, lifting your gaze to his. "Y/N, you don’t disappoint me. Not ever. But you have to trust yourself. You’re part of this team for a reason."

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from shame or guilt. They were from relief, from the overwhelming sense that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as inadequate as you thought.

Hotch’s thumb brushed your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender. "You made a mistake. We all do. But it’s how you move forward that matters."

You nodded, the tension slowly unraveling from your chest. "I’ll do better," you whispered.

"I know you will," he said, his voice low, almost soothing. Then, after a beat, he added, "But I’m still going to watch over you. I can’t help it."

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time that day, you felt lighter. "I think I can live with that."

Hotch’s lips quirked up in a rare smile of his own, and before you knew it, he pulled you into a hug. It was brief but comforting, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

As you pulled away, he looked down at you, his expression soft but serious. "Just… don’t ever think you have to be perfect. You’re enough, Y/N. Always have been."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for the first time in a long while, you believed them. With Hotch at your side, you knew you’d be okay — mistakes and all.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[kiwriteswords]

May I please request “Discussing things that set themselves up to be hurt and trusting that the other won't take advantage of it” with Hotch and a female reader who has issues with trust and intimacy?

Hi!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope you enjoy!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 1k

Rating: Everyone

TW: Canon typical themes, trust issues

A Leap of Trust

The BAU had wrapped up a long, draining case that left everyone emotionally spent. As the team packed up their things to head home, you found yourself lagging behind, lingering in the conference room. You didn’t quite feel ready to leave yet. It was easier to bury yourself in work than to face the quiet of your apartment, the silence that would force you to think—about everything.

You heard the door open behind you. "Y/N," Hotch's deep voice carried through the room, soft and careful. "You okay?"

You turned, managing a small smile. "Yeah, just catching my breath."

Aaron's brow furrowed slightly, a look of concern passing over his features. "This case was hard," he said, stepping closer. "You don't have to hold everything inside, you know. I'm here."

You sighed, knowing that he meant well. But trust, for you, was not something that came easily. It hadn’t for a long time. Your past was full of people who had promised to be there for you and then left when things got complicated, leaving you to pick up the pieces. You weren’t sure how to explain that to Hotch, not without sounding broken.

"I know you're here," you replied softly, eyes on the file in front of you, tracing the edge with your fingertips. "But it's not that simple, Aaron."

He didn’t push you. Hotch had always been patient with you, but you could tell that he was waiting for you to let him in. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to; you did. But that made it scarier. Trusting him meant handing over pieces of yourself that no one had seen in years, and trusting that he wouldn't break them.

He took another step, standing beside you now. His hand rested gently on the back of your chair, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel his presence. You could always feel him.

"What is it that's holding you back?" His voice was quiet, understanding. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/N."

The vulnerability in his words caught you off guard. It was like he knew you were struggling, and not just with the case. You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. If you didn’t say something now, you'd only keep pushing him away. And maybe, just maybe, you were tired of doing that.

You shifted in your seat, finally meeting his eyes. "I'm… I'm scared," you admitted, the words coming out barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of letting someone in, of trusting that they won't hurt me. Every time I’ve trusted someone in the past, they’ve taken advantage of it. And I can't…" You paused, struggling to find the words. "I can’t go through that again."

Hotch's expression softened, and he moved to sit beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand why you would feel that way," he said, his voice steady, grounding. "And I won’t pretend to know everything you've been through. But what I can tell you is that trust is never a guarantee that things won’t hurt. It’s a leap of faith."

You felt your chest tighten at the thought. "But what if I get hurt again?"

"Then you tell me," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "And I promise you, I will never take advantage of that trust. I’ve seen what it looks like when people use that against others, and I won't let that happen to you. Not with me."

His words made you feel seen, really seen. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to believe him, to believe that he wouldn't hurt you. It was terrifying, and yet something inside you whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was different.

"I want to believe you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You can," Hotch replied, his hand slowly reaching for yours. He paused, giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t. You let his fingers lace with yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. "I know it’s not easy for you. And I know this is a risk. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N."

You looked down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about the physical touch—it was about the trust that came with it. The trust you were giving him, even if it was in small doses.

"I don’t know how to do this," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. "I've never been good at… trusting people. At letting someone in."

Hotch's thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand. "Then we take it slow. We figure it out together. And if you need space, or if you feel like it's too much, you tell me. We’ll move at your pace."

The way he said it—so calm, so assured—made you feel like maybe you could trust him, that he really wouldn't hurt you. He wasn’t asking for more than you could give, and that meant more to you than he would ever know.

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Okay," you said, your voice steadying. "Okay, we take it slow."

Hotch smiled then—just a small, barely-there curve of his lips—but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Thank you for trusting me."

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to pull away. Instead, you held on just a little tighter, a little longer, feeling his warmth settle into the cracks of your guarded heart.

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[kiwriteswords]

hotchhotchhotch! it's like you write him extra hot - like sriracha hot - bc he's sososo perfect in your writing! can i request the "saying "i love you" for the first time" with shy!reader?

Hi!! Thank you so much!!! This one turned out to be a little longer than a drabble! Hope you like it!!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Summary: In the high-stakes world of the BAU, you and Aaron Hotchner have shared a quiet, unspoken connection that began as something casual, a way to find comfort amid the chaos. But when a routine case leaves you critically injured, Hotch is forced to confront the depth of his feelings. As he anxiously waits by your side, fearing the worst, Hotch realizes that losing you would break him in ways he never expected.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Technically safe for work, but hints at an intimate relationship.

TW: Canon typical violence, hints at intimacy, angst

The Fear of Falling

You didn’t expect to get shot.

You were trained for it, prepared to face the worst every day, but no one really expects it. You were in the thick of it, chasing down a suspect with Hotch, when it all went wrong. One minute, you had your eyes on him, and the next, pain exploded through your side.

The world blurred around you as you hit the ground, blood seeping into your clothes, your hands, the dirt beneath you. Voices came through muffled, far-off. It wasn’t until Hotch’s voice cut through the haze that reality started to set back in.

The bullet tore through your side, the pain immediate and searing, but in the chaos of the moment, you didn’t have time to process it. Everything around you was a blur—Hotch’s voice barking orders into his radio, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the sound of footsteps pounding the ground around you.

But one thing was clear: Hotch never left your side.

That had always been his way—quiet, steady, dependable. From the beginning, when whatever this was between you had started, Hotch had been there. It hadn’t been some whirlwind romance, no grand gestures or confessions of love. Instead, it was late nights spent together after a long day in the field, where the lines between work and something more blurred. You’d sit close on the jet, your knees brushing under the table as you discussed case files, or spend hours in quiet conversation that had nothing to do with the cases you worked on but everything to do with understanding each other.

The "fling"—as you had quietly labeled it in your head—started as something small, something easy to dismiss. It had begun in the most unexpected way, during a night at a bar after a tough case. The team had gone home, but you and Hotch had stayed, finding some kind of strange comfort in the shared silence over a couple of drinks. It had been weeks of tension, the unspoken attraction between you simmering beneath the surface, and that night, it finally broke. A lingering glance. A brush of fingers. Then, without thinking, you had leaned in, and so had he.

It was never meant to be serious. Neither of you had said as much, but the understanding was there. Hotch had his demons, and you had yours. He was your superior. The weight of those unspoken boundaries hung between you, even as you’d find yourself alone together, the rest of the world falling away for brief moments. Kisses stolen in the shadows of hotel rooms when the team wasn’t looking. Conversations that lasted too long, with gazes that lingered just a bit more than they should have.

You had agreed to keep things casual. Nothing more than companionship in the midst of the chaos of your lives. Neither of you had the space for something deeper, something permanent. Or at least, that’s what you told yourselves. But as the months went on, the way Hotch looked at you began to shift. You noticed the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way he checked on you after a particularly rough case, or how he lingered at your side just a little longer than necessary.

And somewhere along the way, you had begun to care about him more than you should have. You tried to push it down, to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. But the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to pretend--the more painful it became to pretend. The quiet moments, the subtle touches, the way he said your name—it all added up to something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

“Stay with me.” He was beside you, his hands pressing against your wound, voice stern but shaking. His brows furrowed, eyes fixed on your injury, but his jaw clenched with something much deeper than concern. You could see it, even in your pain-addled state.

“I’m—” You tried to speak, but it was hard to get the words out. You were used to being quiet, used to keeping your thoughts to yourself. That never seemed to be a problem when you were with Hotch. Silence had become a part of the strange rhythm you had with him, this unspoken understanding between two people who couldn’t find the right words but always seemed to know.

Now, though, you felt the need to fill that silence, to say something, anything.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “you’re going to be okay.”

The grip of his hands tightened, and in a rare moment, his walls seemed to crack. He wasn’t just your boss here. He wasn’t the stern, unflinching leader of the BAU. He was Aaron—someone who had been carrying something for a while, someone who hadn’t yet spoken all the things he needed to say. Someone you cared about more than you ever let on.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wincing as a fresh wave of pain surged through you. You weren’t sure why you apologized—maybe for being hurt, maybe for all the times you’d kept quiet when you wanted to say more, or maybe for all the times you felt like you were asking too much of him, even when you hadn’t asked for anything at all.

“Why would you apologize?” His voice was tight, but there was a gentleness in it that you’d rarely heard. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do.”

Hotch rode with you in the ambulance, his hand gripping yours, his jaw clenched tight as he stared down at you, concern and fear etched into every hard line of his face. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the way he was barely keeping it together for your sake. Aaron Hotchner was always the one in control, always the one to keep a level head when everything else was falling apart. But right now, it felt like that control was slipping.

As the paramedics worked on you, you could hear the urgency in their voices. The blood loss, the need to stabilize you—it was all happening too fast for you to grasp. The only constant was Hotch’s presence, his voice grounding you, telling you to hold on.

By the time you reached the hospital, the world was fading in and out. The last thing you saw before you were wheeled into surgery was Hotch standing there, his eyes locked on yours, as if he was afraid to let you go.

Hours passed. Hotch didn’t move from the waiting room.

The sterile hospital air seemed suffocating, the hum of fluorescent lights above adding to the unbearable stillness. Time felt warped—minutes dragged into hours, each second stretching endlessly as he waited. His mind was stuck on one thing: you.

Reid was the first to arrive, his face pale as he walked into the waiting room. He wasn’t good with hospitals, and Hotch knew it. His hands fidgeted with the strap of his bag as he approached. “Hotch,” he said softly, “how is she?”

Hotch didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes fixed on the swinging doors down the hall, the ones that led to the surgical ward. “She’s still in there.”

Reid sat down beside him, the silence between them heavy. Hotch could feel the younger man glancing at him occasionally, probably wanting to say more, but holding back. Reid wasn’t someone who pushed when others needed space. But even his quiet presence wasn’t enough to pierce the fog of worry clouding Hotch’s mind. After a few minutes, Reid left, muttering something about needing to call Garcia for an update.

Hotch barely registered it.

Morgan came next, his energy a stark contrast to the stillness that had settled over the room. He strode in, his expression serious but determined. “How’s she doing, man?”

Hotch shook his head, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “They haven’t told me anything yet.”

Morgan sat across from him, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “She’s tough. She’s gonna pull through.”

Hotch nodded, but the movement felt mechanical. Empty. His mind was spinning with worst-case scenarios, a constant replay of the moment you went down. The blood. The way your body crumpled. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the memory. He could still feel the warmth of your blood on his hands as he tried to stop the bleeding.

“She’ll make it,” Morgan added quietly, his voice softer now. He was trying to comfort Hotch, trying to be there in the way he always was for the team. But Hotch didn’t have it in him to respond. He barely acknowledged the weight of Morgan’s words before he stood abruptly, pacing to the window.

He stared outside, seeing nothing but the reflection of the waiting room. His reflection. And behind it, Morgan, looking at him with quiet concern. But Morgan didn’t say anything else. After a few minutes, he got up, clapped Hotch on the shoulder, and left, probably to update the rest of the team.

Rossi arrived last. The older man walked in with the calm, steady air that he always carried, but even he couldn’t mask the worry etched into his features. He had been doing this job longer than any of them, and Hotch knew he had seen more than his share of teammates in the hospital. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“How’re you holding up?” Rossi asked, standing beside Hotch by the window.

Hotch didn’t answer right away. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers clenched into tight fists. He stared out at the city below, his jaw working as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I’m fine,” he finally muttered, his voice tight.

Rossi didn’t buy it, of course. “You’re not fine, Aaron. None of us are when someone we care about is lying on an operating table.”

Hotch flinched at that. Care. The word hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. He knew what Rossi was implying—what everyone had probably suspected for a while now. But this wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now.

“I should’ve been faster,” Hotch muttered, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

Rossi shook his head. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. So does she.”

Hotch clenched his fists tighter, the anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “She’s in there because of me. If I’d been quicker, more careful...”

“She’s in there because it’s the job. You did everything you could.” Rossi’s voice was firm, but it didn’t soothe the guilt gnawing at Hotch’s insides.

The silence stretched between them, and Rossi eventually gave him a small nod before heading out. He knew better than to push Hotch when he was like this. And Hotch knew that, deep down, Rossi was right. But that didn’t change the fact that you were in surgery, and he was standing here, helpless.

The minutes dragged on. He glanced at the clock. Then at the doors. His mind was racing—picturing every possible outcome, every scenario, from best to worst. He had never felt more useless in his life. Out in the field, he knew what to do. There was always a plan, always a course of action. But here? Here, he was just waiting.

And Hotch wasn’t someone who did well with waiting.

He leaned against the window, his hand rubbing his face as exhaustion tugged at him. The pressure in his chest was unbearable. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not after everything you’d been through together—every quiet moment, every glance that spoke louder than words. He had never said it, never admitted how deeply he cared for you. Not to you, not to himself. But now... now he didn’t have a choice.

He loved you.

And if he lost you, he wasn’t sure how he would put himself back together again.

He paced the waiting room some more, his hands running through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to lose it. But the image of you lying there, bleeding, the sound of your voice barely above a whisper, haunted him. He could still feel your hand slipping from his grasp as they took you into the operating room.

“Hotch,” Emily said softly, placing a hand on his arm to stop him mid-pace. “She’s strong. She’s going to make it.”

He nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak. What could he say? That he wasn’t strong enough for this? That, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was falling apart?

When he finally sat down, it was with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this unhinged, this terrified of losing someone.--Not since Haley.

But you weren’t Haley. You were different.

Haley had been the love of his life—the mother of his child, the person who had seen him through some of his darkest moments. But his love for her had been rooted in something that had bloomed long before the BAU took over his life, before the job hardened him, before the tragedies that followed had changed him. Haley had seen him as a younger man, unburdened by the weight of the world. And even after everything, she had always held a place in his heart.

But you... you were different.

You had become a part of his life without him even realizing it, quietly slipping into the spaces Haley had left behind. At first, he had resisted it. After Haley, he had sworn that he wouldn’t let himself feel that deeply for someone again. The loss had been too great, too painful. He had told himself that he didn’t have time for it, that he didn’t deserve it. His job demanded too much, and he had already paid the price once.

But then there had been you.

Your presence had been subtle, almost imperceptible at first. There were the late-night debriefs after a long case, the quiet conversations in the jet, the moments of silence that somehow felt more comfortable than words. You never pushed, never demanded more than he was willing to give. You didn’t need to. You just were—steady, present, a constant in his life that had become more and more important without him even realizing it.

And now, sitting here, waiting for news on whether you’d pull through, he knew there was no going back. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t push away what had been building between you.

Because somewhere along the way, you had become more than just another colleague, more than just another person he cared about. He wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe it was during a quiet evening when you had shared a rare laugh, or maybe it was when you had listened to him without judgment after a particularly brutal case. Or maybe it had been a thousand little moments that had piled up until he couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny it now.

He was in love with you.

It wasn’t something he had planned, or something he had even wanted at first. But it had crept up on him, slowly and surely, until the thought of losing you terrified him more than he had ever been willing to admit.

He had tried to keep his distance, to keep things professional. After all, what business did a man like him have getting involved with someone like you? He was too old, too broken. You deserved someone who wasn’t carrying the kind of baggage he did. But every time he was near you, every time you smiled or laughed, or even just sat quietly with him in comfortable silence, it chipped away at the walls he had so carefully built.

And if something happened to you—if he lost you now—he wasn’t sure he could survive it.

It had been so easy to fall for you. Too easy.

Now, he was terrified that he’d never get the chance to tell you.

When you finally woke up, groggy from the anesthesia, the first thing you noticed was the stiffness in your side. The second was the sound of steady breathing beside you.

Turning your head slowly, you saw him. Hotch was sitting in the chair next to your bed, looking far more disheveled than you’d ever seen him. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable. He hadn’t left.

“Hotch?” you murmured, your voice weak, but the relief of seeing him made your heart ache.

His head snapped up, and the relief that washed over his face was palpable. He stood immediately, leaning over you, his hand resting gently on your arm. “You’re awake,” he said softly, and you could hear the unspoken worry in his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admitted, trying to give him a small smile, though the heaviness in your chest made it hard. You had been lucky, but the fact that it had come to this—lying in a hospital bed after being shot—felt like a wake-up call.

The bubbling of feelings in your chest out-ached the pain from the bullet. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t pretend that your feelings for him didn’t run deeper than you ever intended. And you couldn’t ask him to risk his heart again, not after everything he had been through.

“I think...” you started, your throat dry, “I think we should stop whatever this is.”

Hotch blinked, the words seeming to hit him like a physical blow. “What?” he asked, his voice low, like he hadn’t quite heard you correctly.

“I just—” You paused, unsure of how to explain the storm of emotions inside you. “I’ve caught feelings, Hotch. And I don’t think that’s fair. Not to you, not to me. It’s... too much.”

His face hardened, but not in anger. It was the mask he wore when he was trying to keep himself in check, to not let his emotions spill out.

“I don’t want to make things harder for you,” you continued, your heart aching with each word. “I don’t want to ask for more than you can give. I know you’ve already been through enough.”

“You think you’re asking too much of me?” His voice was quiet but firm, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “You’re the one who just got shot, and you think you’re the problem here?”

You tried to sit up, but the pain made you wince, and he was immediately by your side, his hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, the tears threatening to spill over now. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did, and now I don’t know what to do because I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, suffocating. You expected him to walk away, to tell you that this was why he had always kept his distance, why he hadn’t let things get too deep. But instead, he surprised you.

“I love you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, his words hanging in the air between you. You weren’t sure you had heard him right.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while,” he continued, his voice rough, as if it hurt him to admit it. “I just... I didn’t think I could ask that of you. I’m not... I’m not the man I used to be, and I thought you deserved more than someone like me. Someone who’s been through what I have.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re everything to me, Hotch. I don’t care about the rest.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand reached for yours, his grip firm but gentle, and the weight of everything unsaid between you seemed to settle. 

“You scared the hell out of me today,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And I realized I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.”

The tears came then, and you didn’t try to stop them. You had been holding back for so long, afraid of what it would mean to let yourself feel this way, to let yourself fall for him. But now, it didn’t matter. He was here. You were both here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “And neither are you.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[kiwriteswords]

Hi can you write about reader is Derek sister and her and Hotch are dating and one day reader comes to visit Derek at work not realizing that Derek and Hotch knows each other or even work together and it comes out the her and Hotch is dating and Derek gives Hotch the big brother talk and Hotch propose to reader

A/N: Sure thing! Hope you enjoy it!

Birthday Revelations

Tags: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader (Who happens to be Derek's Sister!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags: Fluff, Birthdays, Big Brother!Derek, Non-BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader

The day started like any other at the BAU. Aaron Hotchner was buried in paperwork, managing the endless stream of cases and reports that came with the job. His relationship with you had been a welcome reprieve from the darkness of his work, a source of light that he had long been without. It was still new, but it felt natural.

He had gotten used to seeing you after hours or on weekends, sharing quiet moments over dinner or a glass of wine. You weren’t part of his world in law enforcement, and that was something he appreciated about you. It made the time he spent with you feel like an escape. Things were still new, but he felt something growing within him that he had not felt in a very long time. 

The bullpen was bustling as usual, with agents moving in and out, working on cases, and trying to catch a breather in between. Hotch didn’t pay much attention until he heard the sound of laughter—Derek Morgan’s laughter. 

That wasn’t unusual, but it was louder than normal today. Hotch knew it was Derek’s birthday today and assumed the rest of the crew was celebrating him, he figured he would join.

Walking out of his office, Hotch noticed Derek standing by his desk, grinning ear to ear, but soon realized the rest of the team was absent. Then, he saw you.

You were holding a small cake and smiling up at Derek, laughing as you exchanged a few words. For a moment, Hotch’s brain tried to make sense of it. He blinked, trying to piece together what was happening. What were you doing here?

Morgan turned and clapped a hand on your shoulder. "You didn’t have to do this, Y/N. I know you're busy, but I appreciate it," he said, still beaming.

You shrugged, a playful smile on your face. "Oh, please. Like I’d miss my big brother’s birthday."

Hotch froze, feeling the pieces click into place in his head. Big brother? His stomach did a slow roll, and he blinked again, trying to process the information. Derek Morgan was your brother. How did I not know this?

It suddenly all made sense—the way you carried yourself, that spark of protectiveness you had when you talked about your family, and even how familiar Derek’s mannerisms were when you were laughing together. Hotch’s world tilted slightly as the realization sank in.

You, his Y/N, were Derek Morgan’s sister.

Derek must have sensed something because, as if on cue, his eyes flickered over to Hotch, and for the first time, he seemed to notice the look of stunned realization on his boss’s face.

The grin on Derek’s face slowly faded, his eyes narrowing in curiosity, then widening in disbelief as he glanced between you and Hotch. It only took him a second to connect the dots.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Derek muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Hotch to catch. Then he gave you a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. "Wait...Hotch is the guy you’ve been seeing?” 

You blinked, oblivious to the gravity of the situation. "What? Me and—oh, God." You turned, noticing Hotch’s stunned expression for the first time. Your mouth dropped open as you realized what was happening. "Oh my God. You didn’t know?" 

"No," Derek interjected before Hotch could respond, shaking his head. "Clearly not." He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking back up at Hotch. "Hotch, you’re dating my sister?" 

You put down the cake and glanced between the two men, eyes wide. "You didn’t know we were related?"

Hotch cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "You have different last names. I had no idea," he admitted, his usual calm demeanor cracking just a bit under the sudden weight of the situation. He had faced down killers and hostage situations without flinching, but this—this was something else entirely.

Derek just stared at him for a moment longer before letting out a short, incredulous laugh. "Well, happy birthday to me," he muttered, shaking his head. "You’ve got some explaining to do, Hotch."

You bit your lip, clearly caught between amusement and embarrassment. "Derek, come on, it’s not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?" Derek’s eyes widened, but there was a playful glint in them. "Y/N, you’re dating my boss. That’s a pretty big deal."

Hotch, finally regaining some of his composure, stepped forward. "Derek, I didn’t know. I would’ve told you if I had realized—"

Derek held up a hand, cutting him off. "Hold up. You really didn’t know?"

Hotch shook his head. "No, I didn’t. Not until just now."

Derek let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Man, you’ve got guts. But I’ll tell you right now, Hotch—you hurt her,” Derek raises his finger to Hotch, pointing,  “and boss or not, you’re gonna have to answer to me."

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Derek, come on. This isn’t necessary."

But Hotch, in his usual calm and measured way, simply nodded. "I understand. And I don’t intend to hurt her. I’m serious about Y/N. She means a lot to me."

Derek’s expression softened a bit, dropping his hand that was pointed at Hotch, though he was still sizing him up. "Yeah, well, you better be. She’s my little sister, and she’s been through enough. I’m just saying—if you mess this up, you’re not gonna like what happens."

"I won’t," Hotch said firmly, meeting Derek’s eyes. There was no hesitation in his voice. He knew what he felt for you, and now that he understood the full weight of it, he was even more certain. "I’m not going anywhere."

You glanced up at Hotch, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you heard the conviction in his voice. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and Hotch squeezed back, the two of you sharing a silent understanding.

Derek watched the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out another exasperated sigh. "Alright, alright. I guess I’ll have to get used to this."

You grinned, stepping up to your brother and hugging him with one arm, "You know you love me, big brother."

Derek huffed, but he hugged you back. "Yeah, yeah. Just remember, Hotch, I’m watching you."

Hotch chuckled softly, nodding in acknowledgment. "Understood."

As the tension in the room slowly faded, there was laughter, a few surprised looks as the BAU team piled into the room, and a lot of teasing as Derek finally cut into the cake, all while keeping a wary eye on Hotch.

But amidst the joking and laughter, Hotch caught your eye again, and in that brief moment, he knew—no matter what, he was ready to stand by you. Even with your brother watching his every move.

[kiwriteswords]

I Promise You This

Chapter One: All That Emptiness Knows Just Where I Live

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: I originally posted this story back in 2021, but for a multitude of reasons, I stepped away from the fandom and removed it. Now, in 2024, I’ve decided to return and revisit this fic with a fresh perspective. I’m currently in the process of rewriting the entire 45-chapter story, adding new depth, and refining the plot. As I re-upload the chapters, I will be including trigger warnings (TWs) for sensitive content. However, if I miss something, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Your comments, shares, and likes/kudos are incredibly encouraging and motivate me to keep working on this rewrite, as well as inspire new content. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy the updated version of this story!— Ki

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

You stare out the jet’s window, your eyes tracing the clouds below. Sleep eludes you, and the quiet conversation among your team members fades into the background. Music hums softly in your ears, a barely audible escape. You know the odds—three missing children—and yet your mind feels curiously empty.

Laughter breaks through your thoughts. You glance over and see Morgan teasing Reid, as usual. The whole team joins in, and even Hotch chuckles. If he’s laughing, whatever Reid said must have been good.

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Isolation is familiar to you—whether you're buried in a book or lost in your music, you’ve always found comfort in keeping a certain distance. It’s not about not fitting in, at least not entirely. The team welcomed you when you joined. They accepted you. But you’ve never quite let yourself feel like you belong.

Only in your twenties, you’ve already lived more life than most people twice your age. A childhood overshadowed by responsibilities that shouldn’t have been yours, and a turbulent adolescence marked by health problems that kept you in and out of hospitals. You were the kid who missed weeks of school but somehow still pulled straight A’s. The one who didn’t go to prom, didn’t have a high school sweetheart, and definitely didn’t have a tight-knit group of friends.

Then there was him. The boy who promised you the world but only gave you heartache. The one who made you feel small, unworthy, broken—both with his words and his hands. The one who convinced you to stay, even when every fiber of your being screamed to leave. You did leave, eventually, but not without scars, some of which never quite healed.

No one on the team knows any of this. To them, you’re just Y/N, the youngest, least experienced profiler in the BAU. A fast learner, sure. Someone who pulls her weight in the field. But you’ve made sure your past is buried deep, nowhere near your file. Only Spencer ever asked why your academic timeline was a little... unconventional. You gave him the same story you’ve told everyone else: You took time to travel.

The truth? You finished undergrad earlier than most, and jumped into grad school while working at a local field office. It was around that time the BAU reached out, and suddenly, your life was moving at a pace you could barely keep up with. Your health remained an ongoing battle, but that was nobody’s business. You’ve never let it slow you down, and you’re not about to start now.

Therapy helped. It gave you the tools to face your past and, more importantly, to reclaim your future. Joining the BAU felt like a step in the right direction—a chance to put your trauma to use, to give your pain purpose. And if you keep your distance from the team, it’s not because you don’t trust them. It’s because trusting people still feels like a risk.

The jet dips, signaling the approach to Phoenix. Your body tenses involuntarily. You haven’t been back here in years, not since... him. You’re not sure how you’ll react once your feet touch the ground again.

"What are you listening to?" Hotch’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You jump, startled by his sudden appearance across from you. He watches you with that quiet intensity, and for a moment, you wonder how long he’s been sitting there.

"Nothing important," you murmur, pausing the music and slipping your headphones out.

Hotch’s gaze lingers, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s not that he’s unkind—far from it. But there’s something about his presence, his authority, that makes you second-guess yourself.

"You seemed deep in thought," he notes, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just zoning out," you reply with a shrug. "Long flight."

He nods but doesn’t push. Hotch is observant, more so than the others. He’s noticed the way you isolate yourself on these flights, how you always seem a little more on edge than you let on. But he hasn’t asked, not yet. You’re grateful for that.

"What were you all laughing about earlier?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

"Reid’s latest hairstyle," Hotch replies with a smirk. "Morgan’s convinced he’s trying out for a boy band."

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. "He does have that early 2000s look going for him."

"Maybe next week he’ll try the ‘classic detective’ look," Hotch says, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

For a moment, the tension eases. You almost forget where you’re headed.

"Have you gone over the case file?" Hotch asks, his tone shifting back to business.

"Yeah," you nod, glancing back out the window. The familiar skyline of Phoenix looms closer. You take a deep breath. "I haven’t been here in a long time."

"Family here?" he asks casually, clearly not realizing the weight of the question.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I just... used to live nearby for a while."

It’s technically the truth. But the memories attached to this city are ones you’d rather not revisit.

Before Hotch can respond, Morgan sticks his neck out from across the aisle. "You lived in Phoenix? How did I not know that?"

"It was a long time ago," you say, deflecting with a practiced ease.

Morgan grins and steers the conversation back to the case, but Hotch lingers for a moment longer, watching you. There’s something about you that doesn’t quite add up, something just out of reach. He’s known you for a year, yet you’re still a puzzle he hasn’t managed to solve. And maybe that’s why he keeps trying.

As the jet touches down, you pull your bag over your shoulder and follow the team out, doing your best to leave the past behind. But Hotch’s eyes stay on you, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if someone might be able to see through your walls after all.

[kiwriteswords]

Hi! "Having sex for the first time" + Cute and Shy Female!Reader and Aaron Hotchner, please? thank you, have a lovely day!!! 🥹💗

Hi!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope you enjoy this little snippet!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Word Count: 500

Rating: Mature; 18+

TW: Implied first time

A Gentle Beginning

Aaron Hotchner was known for his intensity. In the field, his focus never wavered, every decision sharp and decisive. But here, in the quiet warmth of his bedroom, that intensity softened, replaced with something infinitely more tender. You lay beside him, your breath uneven, heart pounding beneath your chest as the weight of this moment pressed between you.

He had been patient, waiting for you to feel comfortable. Never pushing, always reading you with the same quiet perceptiveness he used on the job. Tonight felt different, though—the air between you thick with anticipation neither of you had addressed out loud but was felt in every lingering touch.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low, just above a whisper, the kind of tone he only used when it was just the two of you. His hand brushed your cheek, fingers warm as they traced the curve of your jaw.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze, your cheeks burning. There was no denying the flutter of nervousness in your stomach, but the desire to be close to him, to truly feel him, was stronger.

He shifted closer, his chest brushing against yours as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, slow and patient. It was always like this with Aaron—intentional, deliberate, like he wanted to memorize the shape of you with every movement.

Your fingers trembled slightly as they slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, exploring the solid plane of his chest. Aaron inhaled sharply at the contact, his eyes darkening with a desire he’d been holding back for your sake.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. His breath fanned across your lips, and your heart ached with how gentle he was being. "We’ll take it slow... as slow as you need."

"I just..." you swallowed, the words stuck in your throat. You weren’t used to being so vulnerable, especially not with him. But Aaron had this way of making you feel safe, like he’d protect every fragile part of you if you let him. "I want to be good for you."

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. His eyes were soft, the rough edges of his features softened in the moonlight filtering through the window. "You're perfect. Don’t ever think you have to be anything more than what you already are. Just… let me take care of you."

His words melted the last of your hesitation. You nodded again, this time more confidently, and Aaron’s lips met yours once more, deeper this time. His kiss carried a promise—slow, steady, and filled with unspoken love.

Hope you enjoyed :) xx

[kiwriteswords]

May I please request “Changing to a joint bank account” with Hotch and a wealthy female reader? Your blog is awesome 😎

Hi!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope you enjoy this little snippet!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Word Count: 600

Rating: Everyone

TW: finances, money

Balances of Trust

The sleek, modern interior of the bank felt oddly impersonal, considering the significance of the moment. Aaron sat beside you, his calm demeanor giving little away, but you could feel the weight of the decision in the steady grip he had on your hand.

The bank officer, a woman with square glasses, smiled as she flipped through the paperwork. "Once we merge both of your accounts, you'll have joint access to all funds. Does that sound alright?"

You nodded, glancing at Aaron. His eyes met yours, reassuring and warm. "That's fine," he said, his voice steady, as it always was.

It was a big step. Years of building your career, managing investments, family trusts, and now, you were joining accounts with Aaron. The man who lived so simply, with his tidy, understated home, had never seemed concerned with material wealth. Other than his immaculate suits, you'd never have pegged him for someone with much in terms of financial standing.

Yet, as the bank officer started typing away, the numbers on the screen in front of you told a different story. Your brows furrowed slightly as you took a closer look. Aaron's accounts were... substantial. Not just substantial—significant.

You leaned over to get a better look, eyes scanning the details. “Aaron…” you began slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I didn’t realize you had this much.”

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the edges of his lips. “What did you think? That I was broke?”

You blinked, trying to reconcile the image of him at home with Jack, living minimally, with the sheer wealth on display. “No, not broke, but… this? I guess I just didn’t expect—”

“That I’d be your financial equal?” His tone was light, but his eyes held that familiar, serious look he gave you when he was being honest.

You shook your head, feeling a little sheepish. “Well, I mean… you don’t exactly live like you have this much.”

He gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug. “I’ve never been one for extravagance. I have Jack to think about, and I like things simple.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh. Of course, that was so him. No flashy cars or huge houses, just a man who quietly built a secure future for himself and his son. It was part of what made you love him—he never needed to show off.

"Well," you teased, nudging his knee under the table, "that explains the suits."

His lips twitched into a grin. "I do like a good suit."

The bank officer glanced up, oblivious to the exchange, and handed you the final papers to sign. After both your signatures were inked, Aaron squeezed your hand, his thumb running gently over your knuckles.

As you both stood to leave, the sunlight streaming through the bank’s doors, you couldn’t help but marvel at how little you’d known about this part of him. “You really never stop surprising me, you know that?”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple as you walked side by side. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

You nodded, leaning into him as you reached the door. “It’s a very good thing. Just… let’s make a deal not to blow it all on takeout, alright?”

He laughed, his voice warm and deep. “Deal.”

“I’m glad we did this,” you said, glancing up at him.

He looked at you with that same quiet intensity that always made you feel safe. “So am I.”

Hope you enjoyed! xx

[kiwriteswords]

Hi!! Can I request “Getting undressed in front of each other” for the drabble prompts with shy reader? 💞

Hi!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope you enjoy this little snippet; I took it in a different direction than what I typically would have done, which would usually just be smut, but I figured a little angst wouldn't hurt!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 1.1k

Rating: Mature for potential intimate themes and violence

TW: Canon typical themes, canon typical violence, angst, undressing, intimacy

Exposed

The room was suffocating, dimly lit, and oppressive, with the air thick between you and Hotch. You had been caught—captured by Lyle Kendrick, the sadistic unsub who had lured the team into a trap. Now, the two of you stood side by side, vulnerable and at the mercy of his twisted game.

Kendrick’s voice crackled over the speaker, dripping with amusement. “On the table, you’ll find something special to wear. Change into them—now.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking to the table in the corner, where two absurd outfits lay waiting. The sight of them made your stomach churn—a frilly, pastel dress for you and a stiff military-style uniform for Hotch. You could feel Kendrick watching, waiting for the inevitable discomfort that was about to unfold.

Your heart pounded as you stood there, frozen, unsure how to even begin. The thought of undressing in front of Hotch—of him seeing you in such a vulnerable state—was overwhelming. You had always been shy, always careful to keep your distance, even though you’d harbored feelings for him for so long. The unspoken tension had been there, simmering between you for months, but this wasn’t how you imagined it would go. Not like this. Never like this.

Beside you, Hotch’s body was rigid, his jaw clenched as he took in the situation. His dark eyes flicked to the camera in the corner, calculating, but there was a tightness to his expression that betrayed his own discomfort. You knew him well enough to see it—the same tension you felt, mirrored in his eyes.

“Y/N,” his voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, low and gentle. “We have to do this. Just… focus on me.”

You nodded, though your hands were trembling. The thought of him watching you, of seeing you undress, sent a flush of heat to your face. This wasn’t the way you wanted him to see you like this for the first time. In your quiet moments of stolen glances and lingering touches, you’d imagined what it might be like if things ever crossed that line between you. But now? This was too much.

You forced yourself to move, your hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, but your eyes stayed locked on the floor, unable to look at him. You didn’t want to see the expression on his face, didn’t want to see the discomfort or tension in his eyes. Yet, there was something inside you that felt drawn to him, something that made your heart race in a way that terrified you.

Hotch didn’t move at first, standing still as he watched you hesitate. His gaze was heavy, and you could feel it, even without looking. Slowly, he began to undress as well, pulling off his shirt with deliberate care, his movements measured and controlled.

You couldn’t help it. Despite your shyness, despite the circumstances, your eyes flickered up—just for a second. The sight of Hotch, his strong chest and broad shoulders illuminated by the dim light, sent a shiver through you. He was so composed, so in control, yet there was a vulnerability to him now that you had never seen before. The way his muscles tensed as he pulled on the stiff military jacket made your breath hitch, and you quickly looked away, your face burning.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You had imagined something softer, something intimate. A moment where the two of you would finally give in to the feelings you’d both been dancing around for so long. But now, you were being forced into a situation where every unspoken emotion was laid bare for Kendrick to see, to exploit.

You slipped out of your clothes with shaking hands, feeling exposed in more ways than one. The frilly dress felt like a mockery, clinging to you in all the wrong places, but worse than that was the knowledge that Hotch had watched you. Had seen you undress. A part of you wanted to hide, to shield yourself from his gaze, but it was impossible.

Hotch’s voice was soft when he spoke again. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, the embarrassment and tension almost too much to bear. But when you finally lifted your eyes to his, the world around you seemed to fade for a moment. His gaze was intense, filled with something deeper than just concern. He was trying to stay composed, trying to protect you in any way he could, but you could see it—the same tension, the same unspoken feelings that you had buried inside yourself.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to happen,” Hotch said quietly, his voice barely audible over the thudding of your heart.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was thinking it too. He hadn’t wanted this moment, this exposure, to happen like this either.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Kendrick’s voice slithered through the speaker, mocking. “Oh, this is good. You’re both so predictable.”

You flinched, feeling the weight of Kendrick’s words. He had been watching you, analyzing every glance, every moment between you and Hotch. And now he was using it, twisting it.

“I knew there was something there,” Kendrick continued, his voice smug. “You can’t hide it, no matter how hard you try. The way you watch each other—Agent Hotchner, the way you stand just a little too close to her, like you’re always trying to protect her. And Agent Y/L/N, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you blush whenever he speaks to you.”

Your face burned, your chest tightening with a mixture of shame and frustration. He was right. Kendrick had seen everything—the feelings you thought you’d kept hidden, now laid bare for him to toy with.

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but his gaze remained locked on you, filled with quiet resolve. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, his voice low and firm. “He doesn’t know us. He doesn’t know what we’ve been through.”

But Kendrick wasn’t done. “You two are just… fascinating. So composed, so professional. And yet here you are, stripping down for each other, all those feelings laid bare. I wonder—what else are you hiding?”

Your heart was pounding, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Hotch. He stepped closer, his hand brushing yours in the briefest, most delicate touch—a touch meant to anchor you, to remind you that, no matter what, you weren’t alone.

“We’re getting out of this,” Hotch whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination. “Together.”

You nodded, drawing strength from him. Kendrick could push, could exploit every emotion you had tried to hide, but it didn’t matter. You had Hotch by your side, and somehow, even in this moment of forced vulnerability, that was enough.

Hope you enjoyed! xx

[kiwriteswords]

I Promise You This

Chapter Two: Calls of Guilt Thrown at Me

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: Thanks for the wonderful feedback on the re-write of chapter one! I have received many requests for a taglist, which I originally had for the story back in 2021, but I have updated that as well, and that can be found here.

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

The Arizona heat was suffocating, even from the safety of the jet. You stepped off, walking side-by-side with Morgan. Years on the job had taught you how to collect yourself and how to compartmentalize the grief. That part had gotten easier with time. The pain, the heaviness of it, would only come when you were alone. Never before.

Rossi and Hotch were the last to disembark. Hotch, as always, took the time to thank the pilot. It was a quiet gesture, but Hotch had always made it clear that everyone mattered, even those behind the scenes.

"You ever wonder when she's going to break?" Rossi's voice was low, a passing observation aimed at Hotch.

"Who?" Hotch’s brow furrowed as he looked at Rossi, caught off guard by the question.

"Y/N." Rossi’s tone carried the weight of experience. "She's only in her twenties, and she's been through enough cases to break anyone. She went from a college classroom to working brutal cases with us. Yet, she hasn't cracked. Not once." He shook his head. “We all have our moments, but her? She’s been thrown into the deep end and hasn’t come up for air.”

Hotch remained silent, taking in the comment. He couldn’t deny that he’d noticed too. The way you held yourself together in the worst of times, the same way he did. But there was something else he didn’t admit to Rossi. He didn’t just notice it—he was concerned.

"She's strong," Hotch replied finally, his voice steady. "She’s proven her skills in the field. What she does off the clock isn’t my concern as long as she can do her job."

Rossi nodded but said nothing more. There was no point in pushing Hotch on a topic he clearly didn’t want to explore.

The drive to the local police department was filled with the usual briefing. The case involved three missing children, all under the age of nine. There was one lead so far, pointing to a possible husband-and-wife duo. The profile suggested the man was dominant, likely controlling the submissive woman. The connection between the children? Local sports. All three were active in the K-12 youth leagues.

Garcia’s voice crackled through the speakerphone as she relayed her findings. “There was a coach—Cliff Hall—recently fired from the youth soccer league. His neighbors reported multiple noise complaints, mostly shouting and what they suspected was violent behavior. Cliff toward his wife, Melinda. No reports of violence from her, though.”

"Do you have the address for the neighbor who reported this?" Morgan asked, pulling the phone closer.

"Yessiree! Laura and William Read, 38 Breeze Road. Two kids, too, just in case you’re wondering."

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan replied, his tone light despite the grim circumstances.

"Garcia, look for any family members or triggers that might’ve set Cliff off recently," Hotch added, brows furrowed in thought.

“On it, boss!” Garcia chirped, her optimism never wavering, even in the darkest cases.

Hotch assigned the team their tasks: Morgan and JJ to the Read family’s home, Rossi and Reid to the youth sports center to dig deeper into Cliff’s dismissal. Then, unexpectedly, he turned to you.

“Y/N, you’re with me. We’ll talk to the parents.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the change in routine. Usually, JJ handled these delicate conversations with grieving families. But you nodded, keeping your surprise hidden. “Of course, sir.”

As you gathered your files, you couldn’t shake the question. Why had he chosen you this time? Your curiosity got the better of you as you followed Hotch to the door. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking... why me? JJ’s usually the one who handles these kinds of cases."

Hotch paused, his tall frame towering over you. His dark eyes softened slightly as he looked down at you. “Y/N, you have a unique ability to balance compassion with professionalism. These parents are hanging by a thread. They need someone who can handle that. And I trust you can.”

You nodded, taken aback by the rare compliment. Hotch wasn’t one to hand out praise easily, and it left you feeling the weight of the responsibility he was placing on your shoulders.

“I won’t let you down,” you said, squaring your shoulders.

He gave a brief nod. “I know you won’t.”

The interviews were grueling. The parents, as expected, were devastated. They confirmed the connection between their children and Cliff Hall, the soccer coach. The moment that stuck with you was when the father of one of the missing children revealed a heartbreaking detail: Cliff’s own son had died of a terminal illness earlier in the year. A potential stressor.

Hotch stepped out of the room, taking a phone call while you continued the interview. You absorbed the father’s words, feeling the pieces fall into place. When Hotch returned, his expression confirmed he had received the same news.

“Cliff’s son passed away earlier this year. The timing fits,” you said, glancing at Hotch.

“Yes. We need to wrap this up and regroup,” Hotch replied, his tone tight.

Garcia and the team worked tirelessly to track down the Halls, leading to Melinda’s arrest. The woman now sat in the interrogation room, her face bruised but wearing a smug expression that made your blood boil.

Hotch and Emily stood next to you, discussing their plan to go in for a good-cop, bad-cop routine. You exhaled a shaky breath, something tugging at you as you watched Melinda through the one-way glass.

“I want to talk to her,” you said suddenly, your voice steady but firm.

Both agents turned to you, surprise flickering in their eyes. You weren’t known for interrogations, but Hotch seemed to recognize something in your tone. He gave a brief nod. “If you think you’re ready, go ahead.”

You met his gaze. “I’m ready.”

As you walked into the room, Melinda barely looked up. She scoffed at the sight of you, clearly unimpressed by your smaller frame. “They sent the rookie in, huh?” she sneered.

You ignored her comment, circling the table. “When’s enough, enough, Melinda?” Your voice was low, controlled.

Melinda shifted, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again.

“I know what it’s like to be behind the hand of a man who controls you,” you said, your tone sharp. “I was like you once. But I got out before more heartache turned me into a monster.”

The smugness on Melinda’s face faltered. She wasn’t expecting this.

“I know what it feels like to think the only person who will ever touch you, the only person who will ever want you, is the one who hurts you the most,” you continued, voice unwavering. “But you let it get this far. And now, children are suffering because of it.”

From behind the glass, Hotch watched, his brows furrowed. Emily glanced up at him, surprised.

“Did you know about this?” she asked quietly.

Hotch shook his head, his eyes still fixed on you. “No.”

You walked out of the interrogation room, emotionally drained but victorious. You had gotten the information needed to find Cliff, and the children were rescued, unharmed.

As you packed up your things at the police station, you hoped no one would ask about what you revealed during the interrogation. You didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t something you ever thought you’d have to explain on the job.

But of course, Hotch had questions. You noticed him standing over you as you zipped up your bag.

“Agent Y/L/N, a word?” His tone was calm but authoritative.

You followed him into an empty office, wondering what this was about.

Hotch shut the door and turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “I don’t condone my agents lying to get the job done.”

You stared at him, disbelief and anger bubbling up inside you. “Excuse me?”

“That story you told Melinda—you lied. That could’ve cost us credibility.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “You think I lied?” Your voice was ice cold. “I didn’t lie, Hotch. Everything I told her was the truth.”

Hotch’s expression shifted, realization dawning on him. “There’s nothing in your file about this—”

“Because it doesn’t belong in my file,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Just because there’s no documentation doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And I used it to get through to her, to save those kids. If you have a problem with that, then that’s on you.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before walking out, leaving him standing there, stunned.

Hotch stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of his mistake. He hadn’t considered the possibility that someone as strong as you could’ve endured something like that. And now, he felt not only guilty but angry—angry that someone had ever hurt you in such a way.

Stupid, he thought to himself. Stupid.

He heard the door to the station slam shut, and he knew it was you. Balling his fists, he let out a shaky breath, feeling something tug at him, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Tag List: @jencole214 @indiatuck @eg-dr3amer3 @crispy-croke @esposadomd @genevieve-blr @mdanon027

[kiwriteswords]

ssa-ki99>>champagnehotchie>>daisyjonesthe6>>kiwriteswords

It’s time for a new chapter, all! Thank you to all of my CM friends/followers. I hope you stay and see what I have in store for this fandom, but if not, you will be missed!