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sarcasm-and-stiles · 4 months ago

Text

This cured my depression

TEN'S A GOOD NUMBER

Aaron Hotchner x psychiatrist!reader

Sypnosis: After Aaron's traumatizing encounter with Peter Lewis, he's sent to you, but who knew a profiler is the worst patient you'll ever have? Warning: enemies to lovers— ish(?) angst. a dash of fluff. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. went ballistic— it's lengthy, so pace yourself. A/N: loosely follows Mr. Scratch timeline for three seasons.

Monday, May 4, 8:34 AM

Aaron Hotchner sits across from you.

He studies you in every detail like he's about to take an exam, and you're the topic.

The weight of your scribbles—light, almost featherlike. Ink leaves a soft trail of words, a map of your thoughts, your perception of him.

The speed of your hand. Swift and elegant. Each movement portrays a scene in a movie. As if they're telling a quiet story, your story he is yet to unravel.

The way you deprive him of eye contact.

What are you hiding?

Why can't you look him in the eye?

The occasional nod to remind him that you're listening—not like anything's coming out from his end.

In conclusion, just about everything you do, really.

To Aaron, you're a cheat sheet. His way back to the field, to work—the part of his life that cannot be halted despite the need for a break.

"Your hand is heavier," Aaron vaguely goads.

You silently stare at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts to spill out of his mouth.

"Usually, you write like you're afraid to puncture the paper, but just right now, your strikes are deeper. Your grip on your pen is also tighter. Am I annoying you?"

Creative.

You think to yourself as he rakes his eyes down the canvas of your face, blank and land of nothing but mirroring eyes.

Although you prefer Aaron's comment about your new lipstick and how it makes your skin glow—something about your prospect of finding a lover—fifteen minutes into your session. You didn't peg him as a man who knows his lipstick shades, but you stand corrected as he says coral with the utmost confidence for a man who wears his tie like a choker.

Aaron does it all the time. Every five minutes, he says one thing he's noticed about you and then proceeds to zip his mouth, denying you details about him like you're some hired criminal paid to torture the King's hidden fortune out of him.

And as per your entertainment, you'd do something out of your character to throw him off. If you can laugh at his gullibility, you would.

His goal is to intimidate you. Pressure you. Make you tick like every other serial killer he's encountered. Because he'd really rather be across an unsub than you. Aaron would rather be the one to ask questions and not you. In his eyes, you're no better than a small-town detective ignorantly interrogating a serial killer for a cheap gas station robbery, unaware of the skeletons in his closet.

At this moment, Aaron ponders why he agreed to meet with you once a week only to sit in almost absolute silence for about an hour, then go about his day like he hadn't just wasted minutes of his—and your—life.

It's always the same.

He arrives, flaunts his profiling skills for an accumulated total of twelve minutes, and then sits across you like a rock for the remaining forty minutes.

Aaron could've talked more, but...

He despises you.

Well, not you, per se. He despises the profession, and you just happen to choose it as your career. Nonetheless, Aaron generalizes and includes you on his list.

He finds it unnecessary and a waste of one's valuable time. Presenting a series of well-thought-out facts that he's sure Spencer Reid will enjoy. A list of reasons why talking to a psychiatrist isn't as helpful as people perceive it to be.

Aaron spits the words 'family' and 'friends' for the sake of ease and comfort as if he doesn't flinch at the words 'your father' and his face hasn't been frozen into a permanent stern. Because why talk to someone who doesn't know you when there are people who know you best? He lies through his teeth. He lies to himself.

Then, there's you.

You don't know him enough to trust his lies.

"Profiling me won't get you cleared," you state out of the blue. "This is our seventh session, and you haven't said anything." You add, finally lifting your gaze.

Aaron feels taken aback. He'd never encountered a shrink with such pride at their job—they managed to infuriate him. You infuriate him.

Now that you've granted him the wish—your eyes meeting his—it's having an effect on him instead. One that he wishes he didn't feel creep under his skin, stimulating the anxiety he's worked hard to ignore.

Still, Aaron squares his shoulder, "Nothing is wrong with me," He claims like he's not feeling the pit of his stomach churn with every word. "I'm only here for the formalities." He says.

"Ahh," You deadpan, pulling your eyes down on your clipboard. Hushed scribbles echo in the room. "Is that what you told, Dr. Briar? Or Dr. McCormick? Stiles doesn't seem to remember you at all—"

"They deemed me fit to go back to work, which you don't seem to realize." Aaron cuts you off. He doesn't notice the slight lilt of his voice. How a vein peeked on his forehead as he furrows his brows.

You have an effect on him, and Aaron's in strong denial.

"How?" You lean a bit, propping against your lap. It's the first time he's ever let himself tear out of his 'I don't break' shell. You consider it a crumb of a breakthrough and a laughable stain on your pride.

Challenging his stability—you raise your brows—makes him tick.

A faux frown draws on your face—patronizing, "Did you play a staring contest, and they lost against you?" You notice the little twitch of his eye masked as a blink.

It's a little unprofessional to provoke your patient, but you do, anyway.

This one's been particularly adamant about manipulating you into permitting him back to work like you were born yesterday. You think it hilarious how smug he's been for the past six sessions. It is as if you didn't spend almost half of your life devoted to the study of behavior. Like you hadn't figured out his plans from the get-go.

Profilers. They catch a criminal out of idea of sorts, and they think they can read everyone. It makes you want to laugh while pointing at him.

Aaron stares at you with his usual stoic expression, intimidating eyes filled with unforeseen horrors, and a straight mouth that's no use in your four walls.

He decides then that he hates you with a passion.

You feel a vibration on your wrist, "Would you look at that? Your time's up, Hotchner." You withdraw, straightening your back as you scribble yet another word Aaron is curious to know.

If he only knew you're not really writing anything new about the nature of his mental state or anything legible at all, you imagine Aaron exploding like a stack of case files blown by harsh wind.

But can he blame you when he's given you nothing to write?

"Agent Hotchner," He corrects with gritted teeth. Aaron's jaw clenches as he pierces his gaze through you. His hands intertwined with each other as if he's preventing himself from clawing at you.

You smile at him, "In this room, you're just Aaron Hotchner. A patient. A case." You know the specific word will piss him off, much less the motherly tone you paired it with.

A tactic. Unlike him, you don't need a team of agents to get a rise out of a culprit. The bare idea of you, a stranger who has access to his life on a piece of paper, is enough a stimuli to get an individual aiming at your neck.

"So, between you and me, I think you should start talking if you ever want to fly to wherever city your team wanders in. The longer you take, the less progress we make, and the less progress you make, the more possible that the bureau will assign a new psychiatrist for you." You say nonchalantly, letting his anger lead him right into your trap.

The words float like small fire specks of dust, both dazzling and dangerous to the eyes. Getting assigned to a new psychiatrist is like getting an easy case directly handed to Aaron. However, it also means he'll have to restart his psych evaluation process, and he knows firsthand how time-consuming that is.

"But, then again, who knows? Maybe the next fella will let you slide like the others did. Or you'll have to attend a series of sessions again for a lengthy psych evaluation. I've got friends too, you know? They might do me a favor and make your life more… difficult." You're bluffing. In no way, shape, or form will you jeopardize his health, even if Aaron's the most stubborn patient you have ever met in your lifetime.

His nose flares as he stands up. You know that he's done and murdered you in his mind at the way he's glaring at you with invisible daggers, but you play it well and act blameless.

Aaron marches out of your office with blazing hatred. You watch as he dulls every vicinity he's stepped into like death taking a stroll. A part of you is apologetic to his colleagues. They'll be having one hell of a day.

Retreating back inside your office, you plop on your chair behind your desk as a heavy sigh escapes your lips.

You stare at Aaron Hotchner's patient chart.

"What am I going to do with you?" You ask rhetorically in the air.

Aaron Hotchner is—for you at least—a special case. A case so intricate you had to be careful how you'd tread the water, wary of its fragile ripples.

When Aaron's chart landed on your desk, you immediately knew that he'd be toilsome. He'd make it his goal to skip the talk and jump back onto another case. The same routine he did with his old therapists and psychologist, anyone that was able to write a note and say he's fine when he's really not—never have been for a long time.

You already had enough patients on your plate, but you just couldn't say no to your favorite Italian patient; you only had one. You're the best bureau-mandated psychiatrist. His words, not yours.

Then, again, you never fail to mentally brag about how easily you read Aaron just from his chart, his image, and the first step he took to get inside your office. You read him like an open toddler's book, a piece of cake.

During the first session, you learn how badly Aaron's last case had affected him. The intonation of his voice. The way he'd shake his hand, your hand. His scorn. His fiddling fingers.

It's amazing how he's managed to divert his anger towards you instead of the man who traumatized him.

Melodic ringing snaps you out of your trance.

Aaron Hotchner might just get what he wants.

Sunday, May 10, 11:51 PM

A sniffle tickles your nose as you lay flat on the carpet floor of your apartment.

Your face stings from tear stains, and you muse how horrid you must look after your makeup runs dry. Your chunky heels were still on. In a minute or two, you expect one of your feet to cramp.

The day has been hostile towards you.

The mind, which used to be an oasis of positive thoughts, has gone draught. Sleep begins to blur your vision, and you don't hesitate to let it take over.

Until a bombarding knock jolts you up.

"I'm here! I'm here! Calm down!" You shout as you swing the door open. A familiar man stands in front of you with a dour face. Your eyebrows narrow tightly, "Mr. Hotchner—"

"What did you write?!" Aaron badgers as he storms inside your apartment like he owns the place. He pivots on the balls of his feet once he's reached your living room, glowering at you with scalding fury. "I was relieved to know that you released me from your care and looked forward to my clearance. So, tell me why a random therapist called me this morning to confirm an appointment I didn't even know I had. What did you write on my report that I have to go through this again for the second time? Is dealing with your sick games not enough? I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm straight in the head to go back in the field. I aced the psych evaluation questions. Your sessions are the problem. You're the problem." His ears, face, and neck are burning red. If he's a cartoon character, you imagine he'd be steaming with smoke by now.

Quite surprised; you're standing speechless. You're watching Aaron like he's a crazy old hag yapping about the Revolutionary War and how she hates not having the power to shoot every redcoat for the sake of rage.

You head towards your sofa, taking a seat.

Aaron examines you in confusion, furrowing his brows.

After a moment, you look at him expectantly. "Don't be shy, Mr. Hotchner. By any means—" you nod towards the armchair across you, glancing back and forth between him and the empty space "—continue with your thoughts. You already started. Might as well let it all out."

He only clenches his hands inside his pockets as he bores holes into your head.

What a sad little man.

You scoff in your mind.

You lean against the back of the sofa, tilting your head to meet dagger-like brown eyes aiming at you. "No? Suit yourself, then." You shrug, feeling the soft cushions under your palms.

"Let me remind you that I'm a federal agent, and I can make your life a living hell if I want to." He threatens, glaring at you as if the twitch of his eye is enough to make you combust into thin air.

But all you see is a child on a tantrum, deprived of getting what he wants.

"Answer my question. What. Did. You. Write?" He growls.

Silence coats the two of you.

His heavy breathing fills the deafening air. Your nonchalance fuels his hatred more than ever and the sentiment is beginning to emit from both ends. It takes a lot out of you to think of multiple ways to sprinkle some salty sense onto him without stinging his wounds.

One thing you learned well enough in time is how good Aaron is when pushing someone's buttons. A perk of his prosecutor days and seasoned by his bureau career.

He's just troubled.

He's just in denial of his own pain.

You chant the words in your head—uncertain of its purpose. Detachment ironically detaches from your senses like old velcro.

"You're not the first agent in my office, Mr. Hotchner. And frankly, you should be thanking me for taking you in. Unlike your old therapists, I actually read through your chart and took the time to understand you to the best of my ability. I cared—" Shocked as he is, your eyes subtly widen.

Before you can continue Aaron speaks over you, "I do not care about your pity. What I wanted was for you to do your damn job and clear me back to work. But that's just little to no pay for a shrink, isn't it? You need messed up people to stay messed up so they can continue knocking on your door." A clear hint of a demeaning smirk flashes across his face.

The sheer irreverence makes you dizzy. The calm snaps, banishing kindness and composure out the window. And rage knocks on your door.

"That's the problem. You don't care. You don't care about yourself." Your tone is sharp—stern.

You knew. You knew from the moment his file thudded on your wooden desk. The moment SSA David Rossi charmed his way to get your favor. You know that Aaron Hotchner does what he believes is right. Not because the unit chief title has gotten in his head. No. Not the slightest. But because he only cares about his values and people.

And you're neither.

It's not you to hold grudges. So, you had it down and set before you accepted Rossi's request. You had it tattooed in your mind that no matter how sharp-tongued and insensitive the man before you might be, he's still just a man under the weight of the world's greatest horrors.

You cannot break. You're not allowed to break.

Pieces of you shatter at the realization that some patients under your care inevitably slip away from your fingers. How your promised oath to do no harm did nothing—not enough to stop the monsters that haunt the world. Not enough to stop you, Aaron's psychiatrist, from dumping your own frustration onto him the same way he's currently doing to you.

But you're not Aaron's psychiatrist today. You're not anything today. You're not on the clock. And no one except Aaron—to your demise—will ever witness such an ugly sight. If ever he shuts up about his dilemma, that is.

"I did my job exactly as I should." You declare, licking the bottom of your lips. Damned the Hippocratic Oath. You wonder if the healing gods will forgive you.

You really shouldn't say the words that are about to leave your mouth, but you've been taking whatever hostility he's got for the last two months; the capacity has reached its limit. A little bit of harshness wouldn't hurt, would it?

"When are you going to admit that the reason you can't sleep at night is not because of all the serial killers you claim I prevent you from catching?" You finally stand. You are a few inches shorter, yet you have never felt taller than you do right now.

You grit your teeth as you move closer to Aaron, almost a breath away, tiptoeing. "When will you admit that the mighty SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief, doesn't blink, not once, because he's afraid he'd become the very thing he promised to put away." You raise your brows, challenging him.

Aaron's face morphs into bewilderment and perturbation. His brows are sewn shut. His jawline pops out as he grinds his teeth.

Resentment. Fury. Vexation. Chagrin.

All Aaron felt was anger.

Antagonized.

A walking tower of pure acrimony, finger-pointing towards the innocent.

"Don't you dare compare me to those— I'm anything but." He towers over you, losing his words through the stream of lividity flooding all over his senses.

"Do you really believe that?"

Aaron studies your face. It's different. It's raw and maimed. A squeeze of guilt whispers, but he shoves it quickly.

"What did you write?" He asks once more, earning a scoff out of you.

You step back, staring straight into his glare. Crossed arms tight against your chest. Brows rest over your deadpan eyes.

"While SSA Aaron Hotchner is proficient at his skills and rather placid in physically and mentally challenging situations, I strongly recommend further evaluation in psychotherapy as his emotional capacity is at its limits. The stress accumulated from the job itself has given him little to no time to allow himself the indulgence to properly process certain impacts of the stimulus he encounters on the job. Will update after further observation. Is what I wrote… so far."

You pause.

"Aaron Hotchner is an insufferable, pompous idiot who's afraid of nothing but himself. He is incapable of stepping off his pedestal and refuses to cooperate while complaining about the consequences he himself caused. He has been through enormous trauma. It will be torture to try and help him cope properly. I do not want him in my care as he is a danger to his own progress, and I don't want any part of it. Is what I wanted to write."

Silence.

For him to reflect.

For you to breathe.

Aaron's frozen before you. A pale statue bleached under the moon's harsh reality. Words that used to be superficial insecurities float in the wind of truth, forming into a cage he's sentenced for life.

Your fuse still runs—a long time coming from two months of his deliberate disrespect. The silence annoys you, so you break it. "Excuse my hostility. No one's invaded my privacy and barged into my household at such an unreasonable hour before." The impassive smile on your lips can haunt anyone.

Maybe you've gone too far.

Maybe it's evil to say such blunt things to someone fragile.

But Aaron started the countdown. He lit the fuse. Now, you're exploding right before his eyes, reaping what he sowed. And he's forced to eat up all the debris.

His eyes twitch, scanning your face for any sign of bluff, any sign of fallacy. Any sign that he successfully pissed you off and your words were nothing but overwhelmed impulse.

"I—" he closes his mouth, then agape. Any sign. Aaron will take anything besides the forthright expression on your face. He inhales, "I'm sorry." The sound dies before it can roll off his tongue.

It's like watching a bully shrink into the tiniest man who's ever lived.

Okay, maybe you were a little bit brutal.

You gulp as guilt creeps along your veins, wishing that someone out there would just do you both a favor and snipe you out before the embarrassment settles.

Drawing in a gentle breath, you take another step back from Aaron with a delicate voice, "You're not starting a new evaluation, but you're not done either. I transferred you under someone else's care because of personal reasons. My life doesn't revolve around you, Mr. Hotchner. So, if you have nothing else to say, go home." Your eyes drift to the vast selection of objects in your living room to diffuse the growing pity you can't help but harbor.

Only then does Aaron discern his impulsivity. Internally arguing with himself as he allows himself to look at you. One thing he's never done since the moment he met you with screwed brows and unwavering bias. His gaze instantly softens like a thick fog around him finally dissipates. Like he's achieved a clearer vision.

The first thing he notices is the state of your face. The dry mascara that drew faded stripes down your cheeks. Your puffy eyes are now faint pink, but he recalls them being red when he arrived.

Then Aaron brings his attention to your black dress. It's a simple formal, mesh midi dress, but he admits how it elegantly fits you. But he doesn't say it aloud because there's only one reason why you'd wear such an article of depressing clothing.

As if your words and his own realizations aren't enough, he gets a glimpse of the clock on your wall that reads 12:03 AM.

His blood suddenly stops flowing—skin clammy and pale. Aaron's lightheaded from guilt and penitence.

Without another word, you lead him towards the door, swinging it open. The past 24 hours already drained you, and Aaron just about made it fifty times worse. All you wanted was to get a shuteye.

Aaron swallows the shame and makes his way out. Before he leaves, though, he turns to face you once more. Genuine curiosity pinches his brows.

"Why didn't you just clear me out like the others did if I was such a difficult case?" The word tastes bitter in his mouth. What used to be a desired flavor turned rotten on his palette.

He asks with utter softness, leaving you skeptical to respond.

"Same reason why you kept attending my sessions even though you clearly hated it." You slightly close the door, only leaving enough space for the two of you to see each other.

He looks at you like the answer's all over your face but written in some foreign language he's not familiar with. Aaron barely opens his mouth when you answer the question in his mind.

"You needed a place where you can just be."

The door shuts.

Friday, June 19, 11:02 PM

"I didn't know where to go."

You pore at Aaron Hotchner with nothing but a flimsy robe to prevent his imagination from going rampant—and dirty.

It's eleven in the evening. It's been one month since you last saw him. It's been a month since he barged into your apartment like an entitled brat. It's been a month since you let your emotions take over. It's been a month since the two of you revealed parts of yourselves either of you don't dare think of.

A month and no contact.

You didn't wonder; just hoped and prayed that Aaron finally finds it in him to let go of the emotional turmoil that's torturing the soul out of his body.

Sighing, you step aside and let him in, closing the door behind you like it's normal to stop by one's ex-psychiatrist's apartment in the middle of the night without prior notice and, most importantly, without meter to run the minutes he's inconveniencing you.

Aaron walks in, and the heavy humidity of arousal immediately hits him.

Oh.

Well...

If he had something to say, Aaron kept his mouth shut. He is at fault for driving straight to your place like he's your bestest friend. So, he doesn't mention it, ignoring the fact that you're barely clothed.

Besides, after your last interaction with him, Aaron's certain he didn't have any prerogative in how you'd like to spend your Friday evening.

"Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Your steps are light behind him—feet nimbly grazing the wooden floor.

He turns to face you but quickly averts his gaze to avoid the glistening sight of your thighs. "Thank you..." He does his best to sound normal, choking in between syllables.

Aaron begins to regret his decision. Though, not enough to leave your place.

You disappear in the corner of the hallway. Allowing Aaron to finally release the breath he didn't know he was holding.

With you out of sight, his mind deliberately wanders...

What were you doing?

Aaron shakes his head vigorously like a worm under a storm of salt. The thought is undiscovered—untouched territory, forbidden to be exact. Should he form such thoughts, he'll do it somewhere else or rather about someone else.

Just as he caters to the sudden dizziness caused by his action, a man, half-dressed, walks past him, cursing under his breath and buttoning his shirt. Aaron's eyes widen a little, keeping his stoic face.

Oh, that's what you were doing.

Ick—as Aaron would like to call your visitor—had brown and curly, unruly hair. He was tall and definitely had a face, which, Aaron assumes, is nothing like the one he envisioned you're attracted to.

Somehow not a pleasant discovery compared to what he attempted to imagine—you, alone.

Ick looks at Aaron with a scoff echoing out of his throat, "Oh, what a surprise! She's a slut." He states smugly.

"Or she just wants someone better." The words spill out without hesitation, fired on sight. Aaron doesn't know where the boldness came from as he leans against the seat with a cocky smirk on his face. Definitely no more perplexed than the uncertainty of anger boiling inside of him. He glares at the man either way.

The man scoffs again before leaving with a couple more insults that Aaron thinks he's lucky to whisper, or your visitor would've left your apartment in an ambulance.

Ick slams the door, shaking the vase on the accent chest by the entrance.

Where did that come from?

He's questionably not as big of a hater as he was before, but Aaron can't determine the motivation that made him act the way he just did with a person who has business with you, which he should have no interest in.

Moments later, you come back, fully clothed, in an oversized hoodie and a pair of wide-leg linen pants. Comfy and a 180 contrast on how you dress at work, plus the garments you had on minutes ago.

You make a beeline to your kitchen, "Water or scotch?" You holler out, opening cabinets with a creek on their hinges.

The question is rhetorical. You place a glass with brown liquid glinting under the warm ambient light on the coffee table in front of Aaron, then plop on the armchair across from him, catering your own glass.

He stares between you and the glass while you kiss yours, never breaking your gaze. You hum in delight, making a popping sound with your lips.

Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it, falling into a cycle like a fish underwater. How should he explain himself? How does one explain why they're bothering their ex-psychiatrist past working hours? After making a scene a month ago? He swallows the thick void in his throat.

"Don't talk, just drink. Sit here for an hour. Then, go home." You say, opening up a book that's been sitting on the table since he arrived.

Aaron feels a surge of relief. He reaches for the drink and lets the smoky taste trail down his throat without hesitation. He wouldn't have guessed you as a fan of scotch—or anything not clear or fruity. This is the first he's seen you without some sort of filter he can't read through, and the observation prints you under a new light.

The silence comforts him. The occasional scrape of paper against paper with each flip of a page provides him reassurance. The company he finds within your presence gives him solace.

You let him be. Asked no questions, reading in peace like he was just any other friend who needed company.

He does as you said. Indulging in the hour of tranquility and stillness. His nerves tame. And he forgets why he went to you in the first place.

Why did he go to you?

Of all people. Of all the friends he brags about. The family he cherishes. His feet dragged—drove him to you.

The onerous unit chief chose to wander to your front door, sipping scotch as he enjoyed the silence and absence of others' guilting worry and constant craving to make him feel better when all he wanted was peace and letting the ache pass in gradual acceptance.

By the end of the hour, you call him a cab with the instructions for him to pick up his car the next day.

Aaron slept effortlessly that night.

Saturday, October 24, 9:24 PM

Aaron expected some sort of rejection or for you to slam the door close, or worse, ignore him as soon as you see his face through the peephole.

One can only tolerate a couple of unannounced visits from an insufferable ex-patient, right? He's surprised you haven't called the cops on him.

He skims your face for any sign of irritation or annoyance as soon as you reveal yourself behind your door, standing next to it to give him way. Aaron saw nothing but impatience.

You knit your brows, slightly tilting your head at his frozen build outside the frame of your door. "Well? Are you stuck or something? Get in, Hotchner—" You turn before you can even finish talking, disappearing down the small entryway.

He turns deaf for a moment. Your voice rings in his ears as if a bomb had just popped the only working drum he had left.

Hotchner.

Agent.

Mister—

Just Hotchner.

One simple change, and the light above your head suddenly looks brighter.

Like he's found something good. Something he can say he knows. Something he can trust(?)

"Don't forget to take your shoes off and shut the door!" You holler from the living room—unfazed.

Aaron flinches, snapping out of his trance. He wonders where you'd gone to, furrowing his brows, and yet enters your apartment with the permission you'd given him. He closes the door, pivoting on the soles of his dress shoes as he tentatively takes them off per your instructions.

He emerges back in your peripheral while you stare at the screen on your laptop, blue-filtered glasses back on. Your fingers hammer on the keys, soft sighs slipping past your lips every once in a while.

You glance at Aaron when his figure stays at the corner of your eye, cupping a coffee mug between your hands. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like. Are you hungry? I don't usually eat dinner, so I have nothing ready to eat, but I can whip something up." You blow over the surface of caffeine, and steam wafts on the tip of your nose.

"No—" He shakes his head, scoffing in confusion, "I'm sorry—"

"Apology accepted," You muffle into the mug.

Aaron's brows connect tighter, and his forehead creases. He looks at you like he's under an illusion, a hypnotic dream he can't quite distinguish.

"Hold on," He hoists his hand up as if to pause a scene in the movie. "I'm very confused. What is going on? Why are you being… casual and nice?"

"You say it like I'm incapable of human decency." Your back makes contact with the cushion of your sofa, pulling your legs close to your chest while one hand holds the handle of your mug. You roll your eyes when Aaron only stares at you, "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"

Aaron shakes his head.

"Problem solved, then?" Confusion is still fresh on his blank face. You mentally smack your forehead. "There are patients who lack temporal sense, but turning them away when they clearly need immediate tending to would be a form of negligence on my part. So, feel at home." You theatrically stretch your arms, offering every corner of your space as his own.

"But I'm not your patient anymore. I've been back on duty for weeks." Aaron informs. Although he finds a place for his go bag on your floor.

If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he's about to stay for a sleepover—coming to your apartment late at night.

You wrinkle your nose, "Okay?" You look around as if someone else is in the room with you two. "Is that why you went here? You wanted to brag?"

Three months.

Aaron's been back to his usual routine for the past three months. And it's been four since he drank scotch on the very couch you're comfortably in.

A chuckle.

The sound tickles your ears, filling you with unexpected pride.

"No," Aaron shakes his head as the chuckle resonates through his chest. "I… I don't really know why I came here, if I'm being honest." He swallows air.

You nod, setting your laptop back on your lap. "Like I said, you're free to feel at home. Scotch is in the third cupboard. Coffee's in the pot. I've got some stuff to take care of, so help yourself." Your eyes are already fixed on the screen, hands jumping from one key to the other.

With your permission, Aaron ventures into your kitchen. Neat. Clean. Cozy. He somehow imagines you cooking as a hobby.

He settles for coffee. Asking you from the kitchen island if you'd like a refill—which you took without a thought, hoisting your cup up—and taking out a couple of his files to get a head start on his paperwork. He wasn't allowed to bring them outside the bureau's building, but it didn't matter at the moment.

Your apartment becomes a haven.

Aaron, for the first time in years, feels comfortable to slouch. He had no collection of when and how, but turns out he'd changed into a quarter-zip and one of his pajamas tucked in his go bag through the hours.

The two of you silently took care of your own thing until 1 AM strikes, and a yawn pulls you back into the earth.

You turn your head towards the kitchen to find Aaron scribbling over your kitchen island. He's sipping coffee—a fresh batch he made not long ago.

Stretching, you make your way past him. After placing the mug into the sink, you lean against it, crossing your arms as you stare at him. "Ten."

"What's that?" Aaron halts on his seat, lifting his head to look at you.

"I'm granting you ten visits," You announce.

"And that means?.."

Your face deadpans, and he does well at stifling a smile. "You can come here whenever you want—need, but only for ten free visits. It doesn't matter if it's late, too early, or unreasonable. I'm allowing you to knock on my door whenever you need. Any more than that, you have to attend my sessions in my office, where I get paid."

"What's the catch?" Aaron entwines his eyebrows, straightening his back as he props on the edge of the counter.

"No catch. Just one condition," You shift your weight on your other leg, "Don't come empty-handed. Food, drink, things, a person, anything. Bring something." Your brows hang on your forehead, anticipating any type of response.

Aaron weighs his choices. Calculated every possible outcome and benefit. He meets your eyes again. Index and thumb rubbing the growing stubble on his chin.

"Ten's a good number," He says as he nods.

Wednesday, March 2, 7:31 PM

Eleven months pass by in the blink of an eye.

It's the seventh time Aaron showed up without warning, and by this point in whatever acquaintance you two had, you aren't fazed or surprised anymore.

The fourth time he knocked on your door, he was carrying a hefty price of whiskey. An odd reason for a psychiatrist and a former patient to bond with, but you had no qualms about sipping neat whiskey that night.

At first, he stayed for an hour. Then, an hour turned into three. One time, a case hit too deep, and three became seven, but that only happened once—all you remember was a Wednesday night.

"Are you okay?"

Gentle sighs escape shivering lips. Tears pooling deep inside sockets.

One sharp sniff breaks it all.

You sob under Aaron's worried eyes as your grip on the knob almost snaps it off the door.

His brows twists and he reflexively yanks you by the back of your head into his chest, bringing you out of your apartment and into the complex's hallway.

"What happened?" He carefully inquires while he rests his chin atop your head.

You're a mess in his arms. Uncontrollable whimpers muffled in his soaked chest.

Aaron suggested that you two step inside for more privacy and heat, but he didn't complain when you two stayed frozen in the end of winter evening.

When it stops. The suffocating ache. You lightly push yourself off him, wiping the leftover tears off your cheeks—half of it already dampened his shirt.

Fifty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.

You cried to the point of dehydration.

"Sorry," you mutter, eyes down. "We should go inside if we don't want to catch hypothermia." You sniffle.

"Oh, we don't want that," Aaron attempts to joke, closely observing whether you'd react to it.

You didn't.

He closes the door behind him, following your figure as you practically drag yourself to your unofficial designated spot on the sofa.

"I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear this from, but would you like to talk about it?" He bites his inner cheek.

Nothing.

You only mold yourself into a ball.

Aaron hesitates whether to stay or leave you alone. It's true that you said he's welcome anytime, but you're definitely in no condition to entertain his own problems when you can't even look him in the eye the way you would, no matter how insufferable he is.

But he can't just leave you by yourself either. Nothing is stopping him, but he's not cold-blooded enough.

"It's not easy," Aaron fractures out of his trance at the sound of your small voice. You look at him with a tight-lipped smile. "This job, I mean."

You inhale a sharp breath, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. "I can be hopeful, positive, supportive… Everything to prove that a better life is possible, but at the end of the day, it's not my choice." You wryly chuckle. "It's the patient's. It's your decision to want to feel better. To want to change. To want to live—" You choke, and the tears flow once more.

"It's not about me, but I can't help feeling like a failure." Sobs spill off your lips, gasping for air. "I was supposed to make everything better. I was supposed to heal everyone and save everyone from whatever monster was hurting them. She said she's never felt so much better. She said it's the first time she felt so peaceful for years, Hotchner. She said she was looking forward to our next session. But she just… I didn't—" You gulp—struggling. "I didn't catch it. I didn't catch her lie. And hours later, I get a call from her mother telling me she— she died." Your hands shakily clasp your mouth to push the sobs back, but you fail.

Aaron doesn't know what to say.

But he knows what to feel.

He knows it well.

The guilt. The shame of never living up to your own promise. The pain of losing someone you swore to keep safe.

Then, it hits him like a wrecking ball.

How difficult of a patient was he before?

Has he ever made you cry before?

It's a stretch that you'd ever shed a tear over his stubbornness, but Aaron hopes you never did.

Because he's never seen anyone care so much despite getting all the hate. Despite taking all the blame. You stood your ground and became other people's foundation. You became their comfort.

You became the only thing that gave him serenity.

With the little time he's known you—a total of 43 genuine friendly hours—Aaron can testify in heaven that they had mistakenly dropped you into the earth. And he's never felt blessed to have someone like you. Never felt lucky enough to find someone with who he could feel broken as much as he could but never needed to save face.

So, he's heartbroken for you. And guilty that more than half of the time you'd known him, he made your passion a miserable experience.

And also guilty of developing feelings for you.

Saturday, August 13, 4:16 PM

"I'm not playing favorites, but your tech analyst definitely deserves better than being cooped up in the bureau's building." You say, plopping on the sofa with a soft bounce and a squeak from the coil spring.

Aaron hands you a glass of bourbon while sipping his own. Eyes fixated on the board on your coffee table. "I have no other choice. It's the only way to keep her safe. Unless you're willing to adopt her, I don't want to hear it." He chuckles, connecting his brows at the sight of your winning streak.

You two are playing Scrabble. It was Monopoly twenty minutes ago, but along the lines, you learned how butt-hurt a six-foot and two-inch man can get. Not an enlightening experience. It would have been two stars if you had to rate it.

So, you switched to Scrabble.

And Aaron is losing again.

Boy, were you so entertained.

He just came back from a fairly short case from Los Angeles. The case is not heavy or mentally draining—according to Aaron, but Jack's at a two-day sleepover, and Aaron has no idea how to spend the rest of his day—turning down Derek Morgan's and David Rossi's invitation to grab a drink at O'Keefe's with you in mind.

Aaron leans on the back of his seat. You don't know when your reclining armchair became his designated seat, but you noticed how lax he is in it and didn't question it further.

Months and months of relaxing stillness in your home—only ever full of bizarre surprises and irresistible joy whenever Aaron knocks at your door. With no means of communication or ever seeing each other at either workplace, Aaron's visits are welcomed but never fully anticipated. Thrilling.

Spelling the word 'loser' on the board with triple points, you bite the tissue inside your lower lip. "Maybe you can play Scrabble with her. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and win." You grin smugly at him.

Aaron gapes at you with a mixture of disbelief and merriment. He looks down on the flat entertainment, then back to you as he blinks. "You're cheating." He declares, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

A hearty laugh Aaron's never heard before roars out of you, and it's melodic to his ears. The meringue light spills through the forgotten open blinds of your window, painting your face with a dreamy filter. Aaron feels dizzy at the sight.

Your smile is contagious, and out of nowhere, his heart starts to pick up as if he'd caught whatever illness your radiant lips had by only staring at it. The loose hair over your forehead frames your face differently—different good. Like you'd been glowing, and the watts in your core mysteriously increased, so you're as bright as the sun and as warm as its light.

"You're just a sore loser. Suck it up, Hotchner." You shake with mirth, casually running dainty fingers along the curve of your ear.

"Aaron," He blurts too fast, too soon—too late to take back.

With a nonchalant shrug, you rephrase, "Suck. It. Up. Aaron." Much more emphasis and friskiness.

You tease him more about his lack of greatness in board games compared to his undeniable talent in every case the BAU encountered. But Aaron's already dazed by your lips calling his name.

Without either of you realizing it, 4 PM became AM.

Talk about abusing one's privileges. Aaron's moderately good at that. You conclude he's simply a strutting opportunist.

After the longest winning streak you've ever had in your life, you and Aaron decided to take a much-needed break and fell into silent reading—or, in your case, grooming your schedule for the next five months.

Midnight strikes along the grumble of Aaron's stomach. You two were too quiet. It echoed all over your apartment. Both of you fell into an obstreperous fit of laughter for another hour, stopping for a minute in between only to laugh some more as soon as you met each other's eyes.

Now, it's four in the morning. You're busy munching on Chinese takeout from a 24-hour restaurant Aaron called in. He claims he has handsome privilege courtesy of the owner, which you mockingly laughed at, to his dismay.

"I'm still terrified." He blurts.

The case must've been very difficult, then. He lied yesterday. However, at this point in your friendship, you expect him to do so, even if it's obvious.

You'd long given up on coaxing Aaron to talk about the case that brought him to your office. Or any other cases that got him knocking on your door at the most unreasonable hour. You thought that the best you could offer him was the comfort that no matter how beaten up he looked, you'd ask no questions and let him sort his boggled mind until he was ready to talk about it.

Looks like tonight's the moment. It only took more than a year, so it is not a big deal—to either of you, at least.

He looks at you when you remain quiet, silently asking for your permission. You nod, and he continues, "What Peter Lewis did to me was terrorizing. I always wonder whether I'm making the right decision or sending my agents straight to their deaths. I second guess. I'm scared that a part of him is still in my head, driving me to make a fatal mistake." Aaron starts playing with his food, poking an orange chicken with his chopsticks.

The memory brings a tangy taste to his tongue, and Aaron can't help but cringe. It's the first time he's ever talked about Peter Lewis. Granted, Aaron spoke about the event numerous times but never about how it made him feel. Never how it broke him.

Is it weird to say you're a little proud of Aaron?

Of course, you don't tell him that. Not out loud. You know he knows you're proud of him. And that's enough said.

With a few audible chews—caused by a carrot bit stuck between your teeth—that somehow doesn't piss Aaron off, you swallow the food and draw your lips into a thin line. You place the chopsticks on the side, wiping the rim of your mouth.

You know he's watching you. Anticipatingly waiting for a response for anything other than the silence he's accustomed to.

"Breathe," You gently instruct, clear enough for him to hear but not too loud for Aaron to jump in shock.

And he does.

His shoulder blades rise and fall into a soft rhythm. Aaron was holding his breath, and you knew. Of course, you knew.

"Do you know the purpose of defense mechanisms?" You quiz him, earning a nod from Aaron, and yet no following answer. "You were already mad at me even before we met. And for what? Nothing concrete, I'm sure."

Aaron was about to object, but you raised your hand to stop him, "I'm not trying to attack you. All I'm saying is that rather than being in denial, you displaced your frustration on someone else less threatening—me."

Silence.

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm not done, shush!" You close your fist to mute him, cutting him off.

Aaron subtly rolls his eyes. He started doing so on his fifth visit when Aaron brought Jack and a few video games.

He told you that Jack's heard about your interest in a couple of games and wanted to play with you, but you know damn well Aaron bought the game for himself. Nonetheless, you entertained them by teaming up with Jack and obliterating Aaron. He vowed never to play against you ever again, at least not to your face.

"I would never know the pain and suffering that you went through. And somehow, even with that fact, a part of your life was in the palm of my hand. You had no control, but I did. So, instead of understanding the why, you hated the wrong who. And it's okay."

You take a sip from your straw, and a bubbly sensation fills you. Your tongue glides over your lips as you lean against the counter. "In short, for a man who's been through a lot, you know how to cope." A shrug ends your sentence, grabbing another bite of chow mein on your plate.

"Yeah, right," Aaron scoffs. The sincerity in your voice sparks something in him. It's giddy and tempting. But he can't possibly show the smile that's itching to spread his lips.

But his nonchalance may have triggered something in you because Aaron doesn't expect your next move. His neck felt like a snapped glow stick after you manually turned his head to face you—grabbing him by the space between his neck and chin. Aaron widens his eyes in the process.

"Listen here, you stubborn poopy head." You start, forehead creasing.

Aaron badly wanted to poke fun at your poor, intimidating skills, but he realized you didn't need any pointers just by the glare in your eyes.

"Peter Lewis got to your head, but that doesn't mean you were weak to let him. Yes, you fought through the influence of the drug heroically. Yes, you saved your agents and, most importantly, yourself. But it's still okay to be scared. It's okay that you feel broken. Who says broken things aren't great?"

It might be the sleep deprivation that's hitting Aaron, but he's very much enjoying your little fuse. How your words meant nothing like how you sound.

"That silver watch of yours—" you glance at his wrist "—has been broken for years, but I bet if you pawn it, it'll be more valuable than me. Antiques are expensive because they have unique histories. They survived beaten up, scratched, damaged, but still as beautiful as ever."

You're rambling, explaining more than you need to. Felt obligated to drill in his mind that despite the bad things, Aaron remains good. You're uncertain—clueless—as to why you felt the need to prove his praiseworthy, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself rather than him.

"From my observation, you're a sharper profiler despite all the things you went through. A part of you suffered and died in that house and many houses before. Of course, you'll be broken. You're a human being, Aaron. Act like one for Pete's sake!"

"I don't know whether you're being nice or mean." He chuckles with a mischievous grin, marveling at the way your eyes narrow as you look at him.

"I liked you better when you didn't talk." You tut, rolling your eyes.

For a moment, your senses heighten, and the simple brush of his hand against the skin over your wrist, as he takes your hold off him, sends billions of electricity throughout your body.

Aaron smiles—genuinely. "Thank you," He says softly, clearing his throat. His hand is still tight around your wrist. "You simply could've slammed the door the first time I knocked, but you always let me in. I appreciate you tolerating me."

You laugh, retracting your hands off his skin before you melt in his grasp. "I did not let you in the first time. You barged in like I'm some fugitive." You fix your posture on the stool beneath you, looking away.

His chuckle wakes the butterflies in your stomach, and you shove them right back down by stuffing your mouth with food.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the time, "Y-you better go home and change before your son wonders why his father smells like Chinese food for Sunday brunch. Jack's a big fan of good 'ole syrupy pancakes, there's a good one by the bureau's building. Better hurry up and pick him up." It's amazing how much you almost choked and stuttered as you spoke, hoping that Aaron wouldn't question the way your demeanor changed.

Aaron takes one last bite before towering next to you, "Let me clean up. It's the least I can do for imposing half of your weekend." He insists, swiping the styrofoam off your hands.

"Glad you got manners," You nod approvingly, earning another chuckle from him, making sure you gave him enough space to move around without brushing any part of your body, or you wouldn't know what the brewing feeling in your chest would make you do.

You mindlessly peer at Aaron's broad shoulders and dark hair that looks so soft you wonder if it'll melt with your touch. You blink, catching yourself mid-swoon.

After a few minutes, Aaron bids you goodbye and you wish him well, asking to relay a short message to Jack.

"I think you're only nice to me because of Jack," He jokes, pivoting on the heel of his shoes to get one last glimpse of you.

You give him a tight smile, raising your brows as you shrug.

One visit left.

Thursday, May 5, 12:51 PM

The news said Mr. Scratch escaped prison. Peter Lewis is out and about, no doubt, planning serious harm against Aaron. You turn the TV off. The image shrinks into a small diamond spark 'til it leaves a dark screen.

Ninety-eight beats per minute are your normal, but you surmise it's about a hundred and twelve at the moment as your mind anxiously ruminates your not-so-favorite-unofficial patient's well-being.

You glance at your phone, debating whether to give him a call, but even if you gain the guts to do so, you don't have his number. Who knew that refusing personal contacts would backfire? Aaron can knock anytime, you said. It doesn't matter whether he texts or calls before, you said.

Now, you have no means of contacting him, and you refuse to resort to his ways—going through his file like he went through yours.

It's a shitty feeling.

You keep your fingers as far away from your mouth as possible, afraid you'll bite your nails to its quick. If Aaron was with you, he'd say something annoyingly witty about how your anxiety's too easy to read, and you'd be bantering back a remark about his tells that not many notice but sure slightly pisses him off that you know him like the back of your hand.

Eyes dart in the direction of your entryway, waiting for any distinctive sound only Aaron makes whenever he closes the door like a teenager coming home past curfew.

"This is driving me crazy!" You ruffle your own hair, rubbing your face in frustration.

Tempted to wait outside your door for Aaron to arrive, in need of a company. A once-in-a-lifetime bone-crushing hug, given by yours truly. Or open up the 1997 Old Forester bourbon on top of your shelf that Aaron's been eyeing for a year.

You need to know if he's okay. You need to see that he's okay. Physically, mentally, and emotionally okay.

No one ever knocked.

Friday, November 18, 2:33 PM

"Aren't you curious?"

You look at Rossi, "About?" Your eyebrows pinch together. You backtrack the entire session in your mind, trying to remember if there is anything you are supposed to be curious about.

There's none.

Rossi turns to face you, a hand emerging out of his pocket. "You're not curious where he's been? I've known him for years, and I've never been more curious about his whereabouts 'til now." The hand waves around as each syllable flows, and slices the air every emphasis he makes like a conductor of his emotions.

He usually talks with his hand whenever he's emotionally troubled, attempting to make a point to himself, justifying that his feelings are reasonable.

David Rossi has been your patient for years; you can write any and everything about him into a best-selling book.

"You said it yourself, Dave," You shrugged with your arms. "You've known him for years. He and I saw each other a couple of times during our physician-patient interaction. Any interaction we had after is just the two of us drowning in silence."

Aaron never knocked that day.

He hasn't redeemed his last visit for the past five months. While it isn't the longest time he's never stopped by, you're bitter about it.

You couldn't sleep for a week after Peter Lewis escaped prison. You were afraid that Aaron's name would flash across any type of screen or mark a headline on every article and newspaper. You had to take anxiety medication to stop your body from trembling whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.

It was hell.

The utter hopelessness and lack of courage teared you apart. The strangeness. The nonexistence. You don't reckon a conversation with Aaron that involves you and him. Only you or him or whatever depressing topic comes up. You're not even sure if you had actual conversations. Always wallowing in silence while sipping either scotch or coffee.

But you two had a deal. No catch. Not even feelings. Developing one for Aaron did not cross your mind when you granted him the power to bother you at any running time.

All of it is to say you wish you had known Aaron's last visit was, in fact, the last.

Rossi squints, "You're telling me the quietness you shared didn't matter? That his company didn't benefit you the same way it did for him?" He stands tall, pleased with his words.

It did.

Of course, it did.

And you loved every second of it.

Even if you realize it too late.

But you won't say that to Rossi. Or to anyone ever.

A sigh drops your shoulders. You give him a blank stare, letting his question hover for a moment. "What do you want me to say?" You continue packing up your things on your desk, breaking eye contact.

If you knew David Rossi like the back of your hand, David Rossi knew you like every family of the victims he managed to save.

Worried.

Heartbroken.

Hurt.

Aaron never told Rossi about any interactions with you after he was released from your care. It's information Rossi's only ever heard a confirmation from you. But he knew it from the moment Aaron came to work after his first session with you and couldn't seem to get the specific idea of you out of his head.

"We're doing everything we can to catch Peter Lewis. Aaron will be back, I promise."

Pause.

You fight your every single sense to remain composed. Hearing Aaron's name instantly made you crumble. The sound of it hitting your chest with such force you had to bite the tissue behind your closed lip. You badly wanted—needed to cry and throw a tantrum.

The inner ends of your brows lift up as you nod, "Good for you... and for him. I'll see you in two weeks, Dave." You dismiss, walking around your desk to push him out of your office.

"Wait, wait! Just listen!" You retract your hands off his back and let him face you. "He's okay. He and Jack are safe somewhere I, unfortunately, don't know." He tries to meet your gaze—successful. "But! But that's a good thing. Not knowing where he is while in protective custody is good. Safe. I just thought you'd want to know."

You nod, "Certainly a good information, Dave. But not really necessary." Your tongue subtly swipes the bottom of your lips. "Aa—Agent Hotchner was a patient. Anything outside of that is not my business." Liar.

Rossi tucks his mouth into a thin line, nodding. "See you in two weeks, kid."

Tuesday, March 27, 6:12 PM

It's a nice Spring.

Your hair dances like the breeze is music as you trudge back to your apartment against the rush hour sidewalk traffic.

A year and a half.

You moved to a different place since then.

Moved on— from something that never existed, but really, your old complex just ran out of business.

You couldn't possibly move on, even if you wanted to.

"Good evening, Mrs. Willows," You smile at the old lady as she steps on the base of the stairs.

Mrs. Willows was old, close to ninety. And she's the best landlady you've ever met.

She smiles back, "Oh, just in time!" She waddles towards you, scraping the soles of her flats against the creaky floorboards.

"Did you need anything, Mrs—"

The old lady doesn't let you finish when she yanks you back up the stairs. Confusion fills you, but if you are being honest, you're more amazed by her speed. You didn't know it was possible for her to have that much energy.

"There's this handsome boy knocking at your door earlier. So, I let him in."

You dig your feet on one of the steps, halting her. "Mrs. Willows, you let a stranger in my house?" Your brows knit.

She looks at you, "Well, I figured it's one of your patients." She shrugs.

"I wasn't expecting any home visit today." You announce, peeking at the top of the stairs. "And I would've been home if there was…"

You excuse yourself, cautiously walking towards your door. The floor plan is different from your old apartment. But everything still felt the same.

The anxiety of a random stranger going through your place left you rushing to the living room. You don't exactly let any random patient inside your home. It's usually the profilers that seem to have a liking to you that lucked the privilege to visit your home at any given time.

"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to set an appointment at the clinic—" you abruptly stop, blinking.

Aaron Hotchner.

He's sat on the armchair, only lifting his gaze after he'd closed the book you were reading before you decided to step out to run some errands.

He is wearing a navy blue quarter zip sweater and a white shirt, peeking from under. It's paired with loose-fitting gray casual pants. Like his closet had an upset stomach and threw up all over him.

The bags under his eyes are almost invisible. It used to be a tint of greenish purple. A proof of his late nights and stressful days. He's caught up with sleep for a while now.

His hair, a little longer than you're accustomed to, somehow made him look young and boyish. Probably why Mrs. Willows referred to him as a boy.

It's quite an image. Not one you'd expect to see upon opening your front door, but you mentally admit liking it.

He looks refreshing and well-rested.

"I heard you started your own practice?" He didn't mean to form it as a question, tongue-tied by nervousness. He flashes an awkward, subtle smile, dipping his hands into his pockets.

Your lashes flutter like butterflies gliding through the soft wind of Spring, except you're struggling to go against the breeze, winded by the city pollution.

"H-have you eaten?" You ask, snapping out of your trance as you head to the kitchen. Great. A question for a question. You're as nervous as he is, and you don't feel the need to hide it, though you aren't inclined to admit it.

He chuckles, and it still makes you melt after a year of trying to remember how it sounds, "That's your first question? Not 'What are you doing here?' or 'How did you find me?'" He follows you to the kitchen, it's a lot smaller than the one at your old place but you had a dinner table now, which still feels like an upgrade.

You turn and face him, leaning against the counter, "I'll just charge the entire team on their next visit. But I have a feeling David's the culprit." You blurt, earning raised brows from Aaron. "Oh? They didn't tell you? Your team unofficially designated me as their psychiatrist. I guess they also kept an important information from you." You twist on your feet to focus on the produce you carefully picked in hopes someone would join you for dinner.

But you didn't expect Aaron to be that person.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No!" You almost stumble as you spin back to face him. "I'm in no position to be mad. If a patient doesn't need my services, then I have no say." You lick the lower of your lip, biting it as soon as your tongue glides past. Heat pooling in the back of your eyes.

Aaron steps closer, "I didn't mean to—"

"I told you I'm not mad."

"You're really going to lie to an FBI profiler?"

"Former," You correct him, sniffing as you fight the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Your head's tilted up, almost facing the ceiling. Anger and frustration hammer into your chest.

He rolls his eyes, trying to catch yours. "Former, right." He parrots with a little more sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything... I needed to make sure Jack's safe." He softly speaks, making sure you understand every syllable.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, blinking and letting a tear fall in the process. "You don't have to apologize for protecting your son. I'm not evil, Hotchner. I'll do the same thing for my family. I'm completely indifferent about your disappearance, and i-it's allergy season. I'm fine." You wipe the tear stain off your face.

"I missed hearing you say my name like it's a foul word." Aaron smiles so brightly you thought you were dead and some divine was just using his image to guide you across.

"Seriously? That's what you took from it?" You shake your head, turning your back to him once more. "I feel bad for Jack now that you're a full-time father."

Aaron laughs, and by definition. "Oh, he's had enough of me." His eyebrows jump on his forehead, drifting his eyes aside as if he's replaying every instance Jack's complained to him.

You laugh, too. A full hearty laugh that seems to source from the casualty between the two of you despite the irritation you felt.

It's still the same. The ease. The effortless flow and connection despite anxious nerves. It felt like talking to an old friend you've known longer than you are alive.

You nibble on your lips, "So? You're off protective custody, or do I have to call you Brad?" You quiz airily, back still facing him to hide any form of amusement that's forming on your facial features.

"Brad?" He scoffs, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. He sounds about offended as if you'd disrespected his entire bloodline.

"Yeah, you look like a Brad to me." You remember a story from the women in the BAU. One that they happily shared one evening at Rossi's before they all begged to be added to your list of patients once you start your private practice.

Aaron lets out another scoff. "No, I'm just Aaron. Aaron to everyone. Aaron to you." He grumbles something under his breath that you don't hear, but a clear indication of his disapproval regarding the name.

You stifle a giggle, "Well, just Aaron. Consider yourself lucky that I got a free slot. I would've been with a patient by now." You state.

"Am I really just a patient to you?" Aaron inquires from behind you. He attentively observes for any subtle movement or expression in your voice. There's a longing look in his eyes that you aren't aware of. A frown drops his lips as he adds, "I at least thought we were friends."

"Mm," You hum a chuckle, "More like my stalker. But sure, we'll go with yours... friends—"

He spins you by the waist, and you're not sure if your initial thought of dreaming is ending anytime soon as your body tenses under his hold.

A small yelp squeaks out of you, hands flying behind you on the counter as if to hold yourself up from your wobbly feet. And you're certain both of you can hear the loud pulse on your carotid.

"Hotchner, what the hell?!" You chastise, pulling back, but to no avail. Caged and pinned by his strength, and you're too baffled to react accordingly.

"I'd like to redeem my tenth visit." Aaron smiles from ear to ear. You never thought it possible for a stern-faced man to ever grin this wide. To ever be this bright and bubbly.

Aaron keeps the two of you that way for a few minutes. His face is a few inches from yours. You can hear him calculating in his head.

Only the busy street outside and one of your neighbor's loud TV fills the silence.

"Your pupils are dilated." Aaron grins mischievously. He further scans your face, the same way he did when he used to be your patient, reading you like it's his job to know every micro-movement and expression you make.

Your eyes widen, "Stop—" Your voice barely comes out, breath hitching halfway through your throat. "—profiling me." The space between you and his body feels suffocatingly good. It's making you dizzy.

"Usually, you're composed, but you can barely look me in the eyes." His hands remain on your hips, and every twitch of it makes you stiff like a statue. "Am I making you nervous?" He quips wittily.

Like a switch, your heart rate steadies, and his image becomes clear.

It's Aaron Hotchner.

Just Aaron, he said.

Warmth surges through your veins. You stare at the grin on his face.

Your head tilts, and you blink excruciatingly slow. "Are you trying to ask me out, Hotchner?" You mirror the trail of his eyes like a map.

Aaron beams like he'd won the lottery. Sending you impulsive thoughts such as kissing the smile off his face.

It's tempting and nauseating.

And if he doesn't stop, you just might.

"Ten."

Your eyebrows merge in confusion, "What?"

"Ten dates," He breathes as he looks you in the eye. "Let me take you out on ten dates. Then you can decide if I'm just one of your many stubborn patients or if I can be more. Let me make it up to you in ten dates. Please." He implores, hopeful, or rather knowing that you'd say yes.

And he'd be right.

All you want at that moment is to say yes.

But teasing him won't hurt, at least not you.

"And what's in it for me?" You try your best not to smile as you taunt him.

Aaron rolls his eyes, but his grin tugs the corner of his lips up. "You get unlimited access to me?"

"Wow, that's... very compelling." And you burst out laughing, folding on your stomach as you lean against his chest. You inhale, "Sorry, I expected better negotiation. Uh, any catch?" You say between chuckles.

He shakes his head, "Just one condition," He's chuckling now, too. Not immune from your contagious giggles. "I spend most of my days with you. Even if it's just sitting in silence. I want it to be with you." He lets go of one of your hips and tucks a strand behind your ear.

The giggles die down a bit, gazing at him with reverie. You nod after a few seconds, squeezing his arms. You lift yourself, tiptoeing, closing the gap.

You leave a quick, soft peck on his lips, smiling as you get back on your feet.

Aaron smiles, and you're as ecstatic as he is.

Another nod fills your chest with utter joy as you breathe in euphoria.

"Ten's a good number."

#ssa aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x yn #Aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds

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juniperskye · 2 months ago

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Take A Seat.

A lil Blurb - Based on the following request: Please Aaron Hotchner x BAU! fem reader smut? like they are just lazily making out on the couch and things get hot? (Reader rides Hotch like her live depends on it and Hotch clingy for dear life while she does it)

Hotch x Fem Reader

Word count: 607

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, SMUT, porn with no plot. Let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Aaron had just returned from a two-week long case, and you were feeling pretty needy. Jack had been spending the night with his aunt and you had never been more grateful for that fact. The second Aaron had walked through the door you had pounced on him.

That was nearly thirty minutes ago now. His go bag, shoes, and suit jacket long forgotten in the entryway.

Now, Aaron was sat on the couch with you straddling his lap. Your shirt had been tossed over somewhere near the coffee table and the buttons on Aarons had been pulled open in a heated frenzy.

He was sucking deep purple marks into the skin where your neck and shoulder met while you grind your hips down into his lap. A moan slipped past your lips as Aaron nipped at your skin. His gaze lifted to meet your own and if you looked anything like he did…you were both completely wrecked. Hair tousled, lips swollen, pupils dilated and dark with lust, desperate. You knew what he needed and even more so, you knew he was going to give into your desires before anything else. That’s the thing about Aaron…he was a giver.

“I need you.” You gasped as Aarons lips pressed into the top of your barely covered breasts.

“You have me sweetheart. Take whatever you need.” He mumbled, pulling the lace of your bra down to expose your peaked nipple.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips when his teeth grazed over the sensitive nub. With shaking hands, you moved to pull at his belt, trying to free his achingly hard cock. It had been straining against his slacks, pressing hot against your core for the better half of the last half hour.

Aaron tapped your thigh, signaling you to stand momentarily to allow you both to rid yourself of the remaining clothing you had on. After a moment of tender hands assisting one another to undress, you made your way back to your previous positions.

As you lower yourself back into Aaron’s lap, he guides his cock into your waiting entrance.

“God your cock feels so good.” You groan into Aaron’s ear.

“That’s it baby. Take what you need.” Aaron praises as you find your rhythm.

The room was hot, salacious sounds of skin slapping against skin the only audio in the room. Your hands were white knuckled, holding the back of the couch as you bounced up and down on Aaron’s cock. His hands gripping your hips, supporting your movements. While his face pressed to your skin, moving from your neck to your breasts as you moved against him.

The sounds escaping both you and Aaron were pornographic, loud and uncontrolled as you both neared peak.

“Aaron baby I’m close!” You gasped.

“Cum for me sweet girl, let it go.” He instructed.

After a few more thrusts, you felt the band snap, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. All the while Aaron is now guiding your hips, chasing his own release. His hands wrapped around you in a bruising grip while his lips attach to your skin.

Sweat was cast over your skin, your hands were holding onto Aaron’s shoulders, you’re thankful for his grip on you as you are sure you’d have collapsed by now. His continued ministrations have sent another wave of pleasure to wash over you and the convulsions of your pussy finally sending him over the edge.

Aaron painted your walls with a grunt of pleasure, and as his breathing settled, he placed a sweet kiss against your lips.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“I missed you too sweetheart.”

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zvdvdlvr · 1 month ago

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savior complex + Aaron Hotchner

“Hey, baby! So sorry I’m late, I got caught up at work,” you say with an overly saccharine tone.

Aaron looks up from his phone as you approach him, eyeing you skeptically. He opens his mouth, but closes it when you shake your head ‘no’ frantically.

Quietly, you rush out, “I’m so sorry. There’s been a man following me from the last four blocks and I don’t want to go home. Please just act like you know me until he goes away.”

Without raising an eyebrow, Aaron’s eyes dart up and he sees the person you’re talking about. A man dressed in all black, eyes intently on you. “Don’t apologize, honey, I know how busy you get. Up for dinner?” Aaron wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. He hopes he isn’t overstepping boundaries. “Just follow me,” he says quietly, leading you further down the sidewalk. “When we get to the bookstore up there, go inside. If he’s still following us I can take care of him.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Thank you. I’m so sorry to ruin your night.”

Aaron hears the truthfulness in your voice and he looks down at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes. “You didn’t ruin my night. I’m just glad it’s me who helped you instead of some other weird guy,” he says lamely.

You side-eye him. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

Aaron pulls his wallet from his pocket with ease. “Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner with the FBI,” he tells you. He watches you scan his ID with wide eyes until he turn to the street with the bookstore. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that the man wasn’t there. “He’s gone,” he informs you.

However, you stay in Aaron’s grasp. Despite knowing the threat is gone, you choose to stay in this hot FBI man’s arm. You know you’re fooling yourself but you just wanted to imagine- for a couple more moments- that you do have a hot FBI boyfriend that escorts you to mundane places like the bookstore and calls you honey and protects you from all the bad guys.

“Is there any way I can say thank you without saying it?” You ask with a nervous chuckle when he leads you to front of the building.

Aaron watches you for a moment before checking his watch and scratching his head. “If you’re offering, I could eat- but don’t feel compelled. It’s really no proble-“

“Agent Hotchner, it’s really no problem. Where do you want to go?”

“Call me Aaron,” he smiles. “And… I could go for some burgers.”

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irndad · 10 months ago

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won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man.

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one.

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk.

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership.

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you.

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself.

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning.

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks.

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection.

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone.

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation.

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically.

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this.

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting.

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride.

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth.

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips.

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic.

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?)

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pedroscowgirl · 2 months ago

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Filling the void

aaron hotchner x afab!reader

Warnings!: smut minors DNI

summary: After tucking in jack, you realised how badly you wanted a baby with Aaron

Wc: 3.7k

Heavy on the breeding kink!!, p in v (wrap it up tho), creampie, lactation kink kinda (?), dirty talk, age gap (later seasons aaron, reader is in her twenties) lmk if i forgot something!

a/n: i orginally was not planning on posting an aaron fic today but I'm ovulating rn and i just need this man to breed me. That's it. Also I can't find a gif of later seasons aaron smiling so😭

You heard the front door creak open just as you pulled Jack’s bedroom door closed behind you. The soft click of the latch was a quiet reward after successfully getting him to bed. Aaron’s return brought a wave of relief; his presence always grounded the house, making everything feel more complete. You saw him standing at the entrance, pulling off his suit jacket with practiced ease, his hair slightly mussed from a long day of work.

“Is he already asleep?” Aaron asked, glancing toward Jack’s door as he set his bag down by the entryway and hung his jacket over the back of a chair.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Not yet. Go say goodnight before he drifts off,” you suggested, knowing Jack would want that last moment with his dad.

Aaron’s face softened at your words. He closed the distance between you and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours with a familiar, tender kiss that sent warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re the best,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away and heading down the hallway to Jack’s room.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the love and contentment settle around you like a warm blanket. This was home. Jack was tucked in, Aaron was back, and everything felt just as it should. You made your way to the living room, slipping into your comfortable loungewear. The cozy clothes were a contrast to the busy day you’d had, a signal that it was finally time to relax.

As you sank into the plush cushions of the couch, you could hear Aaron’s soft voice coming from Jack’s room. He always had that gentle, soothing tone when he talked to his son, even after the most stressful days. It was one of the many things you loved about him—the way he could switch from FBI Unit Chief to loving father in the span of a breath.

Soon, Aaron returned, the familiar creak of the floorboards under his feet signaling his approach. He had changed into his pajamas—flannel pants and a plain white T-shirt that hugged his strong frame. His hair was still slightly tousled, and there was a tired but peaceful expression on his face as he walked into the living room and sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders without a word. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

The soft glow of the television illuminated the room, but neither of you paid much attention to it. The comfort of being near each other, after another day of navigating the complexities of life, was enough. You absently traced patterns on Aaron’s arm with your fingertips, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his skin. His hand squeezed your shoulder gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

Minutes passed like this, quiet and content, the peace between you a testament to how strong your relationship had become. It was in these small moments, tucked between the chaos of your everyday lives, that you truly felt how much you loved him. And Jack. And the life the three of you were building.

But tonight, your heart was full of more than just love for what you already had. It was full of a new kind of hope, a desire that had been quietly growing in you for some time now. You lifted your head from Aaron’s shoulder and shifted slightly, turning to face him. Then, in one fluid motion, you straddled his lap, your knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips.

Aaron’s eyes widened, surprise flashing across his face as his hands instinctively found your waist. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What are you doing?” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity as his eyes searched yours.

You smiled back, your fingers trailing up his chest before resting on his shoulders. “You know I really love Jack,” you whispered, leaning in close, your noses almost brushing.

Aaron’s expression softened immediately, his gaze warm as he looked up at you. “Yes, I know you do,” he said softly. “And he loves you.” His eyes searched yours, a hint of emotion flickering beneath his words. “And so do I,” he added, his voice low and sincere.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss, his hands sliding up from your waist to your back, pulling you closer against him. The familiar sensation of his touch sent warmth flooding through you, but tonight, your thoughts were on something more, something deeper.

As the kiss broke, you leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered the words that had been on your heart for some time now. “I want a baby Aaron.”

For a moment, everything stilled. His hands froze on your back, his breath catching in his throat. You pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face, to see the way his expression shifted from surprise to something that mirrored the emotions swirling in your own chest.

“A baby?” Aaron repeated softly, as if he needed to make sure he heard you correctly.

You nodded, your fingers brushing through his dark hair. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady, but your heart racing. “I love you, Aaron. I love Jack. And I want to grow our family. I want to have a baby with you. Please make me pregnant.”

His eyes softened, but behind that softness was something else, a shadow of hesitation. He swallowed hard, his hands resting on your hips, keeping you steady in his lap. His brow furrowed slightly, and you could tell he was thinking, his mind racing through all the things he hadn’t said yet.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m scared, to be honest.”

You blinked, pulling back just enough to see his face more clearly. “Scared?” you asked softly, your hands still resting on his chest. “Why?”

Aaron let out a long breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s just… with my job, everything I see, the risks I face every day… I’m not sure I can handle bringing another child into that world. Jack is already a huge part of my life, and he’s growing up. But starting over… it’s a lot. And…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I’m not exactly getting any younger. I already feel old some days.”

Your heart ached a little at the vulnerability in his words. He rarely let down his guard like this, and hearing his worries laid bare reminded you just how deeply he cared about the people in his life. But you also knew that this hesitation came from a place of fear—fear of the unknown, of losing control, of risking more when he already had so much to protect.

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “Aaron,” you whispered, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his ear. “I get that you’re scared. I understand. But I also know you. And I know how much love you have to give. You’re an amazing father to Jack… and you’d be just as amazing with another baby.”

His grip on your hips tightened a little as your words washed over him, but you could still sense the doubt lingering in his mind.

You smiled softly, letting your fingers trace along the back of his neck. “And besides,” you added with a playful glint in your eye, “I’d look so good pregnant with your baby.”

Aaron’s eyes widened slightly as you shifted again in his lap, your body pressing more firmly against him. The playful grin on your face made heat rise in his cheeks, and you could feel the subtle reaction from his body beneath you—the growing bulge between his legs. He inhaled sharply, his hands moving to steady you, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a small smile despite himself.

“Hmm,” he groaned softly, leaning his head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “Your hormones are just talking,” he murmured, trying to play it off, but you could see the way his resolve was beginning to melt under your touch.

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sudden interruption broke the moment for a split second, and you glanced down at the screen, seeing the notification flash. It was a reminder to take your birth control.

Aaron’s chuckle broke the silence. He raised an eyebrow, his hand resting on your thigh now. “Ah, look at that. It’s a sign we shouldn’t do it,” he said, half-serious but with a teasing edge to his voice.

You met his gaze and without a second thought, you tossed your phone across the room, hearing it land with a soft thud on the carpet. “Or maybe,” you whispered, leaning down so that your lips were just inches from his, “it’s a sign that I should stop taking birth control.”

Aaron’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with the weight of your words. His hands froze again on your hips, his mind clearly racing as he tried to process what you were saying. “Stop taking…?” he began, but you cut him off with a seductive smile.

“Wouldn’t it be fun?” you whispered against his lips, your voice sultry. “Just to try for a baby anytime we can. No more holding back. Just us… trying, whenever we feel like it and keeping your cum inside of me for as long as I can.”

You rolled your hips ever so slightly, feeling his reaction underneath you. Aaron groaned, his head falling back against the couch again, eyes closed as he tried to hold onto the last threads of his self-control.

“Please, Aaron,” you continued, your voice a soft plea as your lips grazed his neck. “I want this. I want you. And I know you want it too…”

His hands tightened on your waist, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts as he struggled to maintain his resolve. You could feel the conflict in him, his logical, cautious side battling with the desire you were stirring up with each movement of your body against his.

He opened his eyes, looking up at you with a mixture of hesitation and raw emotion. “This is a huge decision,” he said, his voice thick. “Are you really sure about this? About us… having a baby?”

You smiled softly, cupping his face in your hands as you leaned down to kiss him, your lips gentle but full of promise. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whispered against his lips.

Aaron’s resolve finally broke. With a groan, he pulled you closer, his lips crashing into yours with a sudden intensity that made your heart race. His hands roamed over your back, your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you. The tension that had been building between you both finally released, and in that moment, you knew that he was ready-ready to take this leap with you, ready to start this new chapter of your lives.

As you straddled Aaron’s lap, the heat between you became unbearable, the tension of the moment thick in the air. His eyes, dark with desire, roamed over your body. Slowly, he lifted your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. The cool air hit your exposed chest, and immediately, your nipples hardened, betraying how sensitive you were to his touch. His gaze locked on them with raw hunger.

Without a second’s hesitation, Aaron’s mouth found your breast, his lips closing around your sensitive skin as he began to kiss and suck, his tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made you whimper. His hand came up to cup your other breast, squeezing gently as his mouth worked its magic, driving you wild.

“Fuck, it’d be so sexy if these were full of milk,” he murmured, the sudden filthy talk catching you off guard. His voice, so deep and seductive, sent another wave of arousal straight through you. The idea of being pregnant with his baby, your body changing for him, made your heart race and your body tremble with need.

You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second, your body aching for him. “Fuck, Aaron, please,” you gasped, your voice breathy and desperate. “Just fuck me.”

He pulled back from your chest, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Oh, you’re so impatient,” he whispered, his tone laced with playful arrogance.

Unable to wait any longer, you leaned in, crashing your lips against his in a hungry kiss. As you kissed him, you ground your hips harder against his, feeling the bulge beneath you grow even more. Aaron groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tightly, but he wasn’t giving in just yet. His control, his teasing, only made you want him more.

Without warning, he grabbed your thighs and stood up from the couch, holding you against him as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to make too much noise as he carried you down the hallway toward your shared bedroom, being mindful of Jack sleeping in the next room. You could feel Aaron’s heart pounding against your chest, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours, and every step made your anticipation grow.

As soon as he pushed open the door to your bedroom, he laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes dark with need as he hovered over you. His hands moved quickly, tugging off your pants and underwear in one swift motion. You shivered at the feeling of being exposed to him, your body aching for him to touch you. He wasted no time in pulling off his own pants, revealing his already hard, leaking cock. The sight of it made your mouth water, your eyes glued to the way it pulsed, ready for you.

Aaron caught the way you were staring, and a wicked smile curved his lips. “Be patient,” he teased, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “There’s going to be a lot of this inside you soon.”

And then, without warning, he pushed himself inside you in one smooth motion. The sudden stretch made you cry out, your back arching off the bed as your fingers gripped the bedsheets tightly. He filled you completely, his cock so thick and hard inside you that it made your entire body shudder.

Aaron groaned as he bottomed out, his head falling to your shoulder as he took a moment to savour the feeling of being inside you. “God, you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

He started to move, slow at first, each thrust deep and purposeful, hitting all the right spots inside you. You could feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your body responded to his every movement, your hips rising to meet his as you moaned his name, lost in the feeling of him inside you.

There were kisses, soft and sweet, shared between moans and gasps for air. His lips found yours, then your neck, then your chest again, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His hands roamed your body, fingers exploring every inch of skin he could reach, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Just when you felt yourself on the brink of release, Aaron pulled out, leaving you gasping from the sudden emptiness. You whimpered in protest, your body aching for him to fill you again, but he wasn’t done yet.

He grabbed your legs, lifting them and placing them over his shoulders, angling your hips just right. When he thrust back inside you, the new position made him hit deeper, harder, a spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving red marks as you clung to him, your moans filling the room.

Aaron’s head fell back, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the sensation of being buried so deep inside you. You could feel him twitching, the tension building in his body, and you knew he was close. “Please,” you moaned, your voice shaky with need. “Please make me pregnant, Daddy. Just use me whenever you want.”

Your words sent him over the edge. His hips snapped forward, his thrusts becoming erratic, harder, faster. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “I’m going to get you pregnant. Everyone will know that you begged for my cum and that I gave it to you.”

With one final, deep thrust, you both came together, your body convulsing as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your entire body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Aaron followed right after, groaning deeply as he emptied himself inside you, filling you with his release. You could feel him pulsing, twitching inside you as he rode out his orgasm, his hips still moving as he pushed himself deeper.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies still locked together.

As the waves of pleasure finally began to subside, you collapsed onto the bed beside Aaron, your breathing still heavy, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close to his side, and you nestled into his warmth, feeling the afterglow of everything that had just happened between you.

Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as you both slowly came down from the high. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets as you shifted to get comfortable.

You let out a soft chuckle, still catching your breath. “I guess I’ll have to throw my birth control away,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest.

Aaron’s deep laugh rumbled through him, the sound making you smile. “Yeah, you should do that,” he replied, his voice still husky from everything you’d shared.

You grinned, but as the moment settled around you, the weight of what you were discussing—the enormity of the decision—began to creep into your mind. You lifted your head slightly, looking up at him. The soft light in the room highlighted the contours of his face, the small lines around his eyes that came from years of both stress and joy, and the way his lips curved into that subtle smile he reserved just for you.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice a little more serious now, “are you really sure about this, Aaron? I mean, I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” You paused, your heart racing a little, unsure of what he might say next. The desire for a baby was real, but so was the reality of what it would mean for both of you.

Aaron turned his head slightly, his eyes soft as they met yours. He reached up, gently cupping your cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing across your skin in a tender, reassuring gesture.

“Sweetheart,” he began, his voice steady and filled with that signature calmness that always made you feel safe, “I’m an old man. I’ve been around long enough to know what I want, and I can make my own decisions.” He gave you a teasing smile, but there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “And I want this with you. I’m not going to lie—it’s a big deal, and I’ve thought about it. But seeing you with Jack, seeing how much you love him… I know you’ll be an amazing mom. And I want to share that with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest as you held his gaze. You leaned into his touch, feeling the truth in everything he was saying. He wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear; he truly meant it.

“And,” he added, his voice dropping into that playful, husky tone again, “I really love the process of making the baby.”

You laughed softly, the tension in the air dissolving as his teasing words brought a smile to your lips. “Oh, I can tell,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him softly.

Aaron kissed you back, his lips slow and gentle against yours, the tenderness of the moment wrapping around both of you like a warm blanket. When you pulled away, you could still feel the smile lingering on his lips.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out naturally, effortlessly. They felt like the most honest thing you’d ever said.

“I love you, too,” Aaron whispered back, his voice filled with the weight of all the unspoken promises between you.

You both shifted under the covers, settling into each other’s arms as the exhaustion from the night finally caught up with you. His hand rested on your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin as you drifted closer to sleep. The soft rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a comfortable, peaceful state, and the warmth of his body next to yours made you feel like you were exactly where you belonged.

Just before sleep claimed you, you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll figure this out together,” he whispered, his words barely audible but full of meaning.

You smiled against his chest, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. And as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement for the future. The possibilities felt endless, and with Aaron beside you, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it with love, strength, and the kind of partnership that only deepened with time.

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hoe4hotchner · 3 months ago

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hi! can i request a hotch fic with shy!reader? like the reader has been in the BAU for a while and is known to be quiet and they start trying to open more to the team (specifically hotch) and the reader jokingly keeps calling hotch “oldman” or “grandpa” and like they get rlly close and the team wonders if their dating or not? thank you!! :))

Old man | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader CW: Fluff, Alcohol consumption somewhere in the middle, one kiss. WC: 1.3k

Working at the BAU had been a whirlwind for you. You’d joined the team a little over a year ago, but even after all this time, you still found yourself feeling quiet and reserved around your colleagues. While they were all kind and welcoming, it wasn’t easy for you to open up, especially when everyone else seemed so close-knit. You were known as the team’s quiet one - efficient and hardworking, but not particularly outspoken.

Your interactions with Hotch, however, had started to shift things. At first, you admired him from afar, his calm and composed demeanor had made you both nervous and intrigued. He was older, wiser, and had an air of authority that made you hesitate to speak up. But slowly, something began to change.

It started with small things. Hotch would catch your eye during meetings, offering a slight nod or a barely-there smile when you shared an idea. You noticed how he’d linger after team briefings, giving you subtle encouragement in his own way, telling you that your insights were valuable. It was these small moments that made you feel more comfortable, and a little braver around him.

Then, one day after a particularly grueling case, you found yourself standing by the coffee machine with Hotch. You were both exhausted, the silence between you comforting. You took a sip of your coffee and glanced at him, noticing how the lines around his eyes seemed a little deeper, the exhaustion written on his face.

“You alright… old man?” you teased quietly, barely looking up from your cup as you spoke.

For a moment, you weren’t sure how he’d take it, but when you glanced up, Hotch was smiling - an actual, soft smile that made something in your chest flutter.

“Old man?” he repeated, with an amused arch of his brow.

You shrugged, suppressing a grin. “You’ve been at this a lot longer than the rest of us, I mean except for Rossi,” you said, feeling a surge of bravery. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Hotch chuckled, a sound you rarely heard from him. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, his voice warm. “Though I don’t feel that old.”

It was a small exchange, but it opened the floodgates. After that, the teasing became a regular occurrence. You’d throw in a playful “old man” here and there, and Hotch would respond with a dry comment about your youth and energy. The team noticed, of course they did. Morgan would give you side glances, smirking whenever you slipped the nickname into conversation, while JJ and Emily exchanged looks with each other.

The banter became a way for you to feel more at ease, not just with Hotch but with the whole team. But there was something special about the way you and Hotch interacted, a certain closeness that wasn’t there with anyone else. He’d seek you out in quieter moments, asking how you were doing, offering advice on cases or just sharing a cup of coffee during the rare downtime. You started to open up more, sharing little pieces of yourself that you’d kept hidden for so long.

Then the team began to wonder. You could see it in the way they observed the two of you. During briefings, when Hotch would speak directly to you, his voice a little softer than usual, you’d catch Morgan’s raised eyebrows or Rossi’s grin. JJ had asked you once, out of the blue, if you were seeing anyone. When you’d said no, she’d hummed in response, her eyes darting briefly to Hotch’s office.

But you weren’t dating. At least, not in any official capacity. Sure, there were moments that felt like something more - like when Hotch would brush your hand as you passed files to each other or the way his gaze lingered on you a little longer than necessary when you were deep in thought. But neither of you had acknowledged it, not yet.

One evening after a case, the team had gone out for drinks. You were sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of wine, when Hotch slid into the seat beside you. You smiled at him, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, and leaned in slightly.

“Old man, out at a bar? Didn’t think you had it in you,” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his.

He chuckled softly, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. “I’m full of surprises,” he said, his voice was low.

You sipped your wine, feeling bolder than usual, perhaps from the alcohol, or maybe just because it was Hotch. “Guess I’ll have to stick around long enough to see them,” you replied, your tone playful but with a hint of something more.

Hotch turned his head slightly, his gaze catching yours. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’d like that.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse quickening as you stared at him. There it was again - that tension, the unspoken connection between the two of you that was growing stronger by the day. You smiled softly, the warmth in your chest spreading.

The team noticed. Over the next few weeks, the teasing from Morgan and Emily grew more frequent. “So… you and Hotch, huh?” Morgan had asked one afternoon when you were both working late.

You’d blushed furiously, stammering something about it just being a joke, that you and Hotch were just colleagues, but Morgan didn’t seem convinced. “Sure, whatever you say, kid,” he’d said with a wink, leaving you flustered.

But the truth was, even you weren’t sure anymore. You and Hotch had grown close - closer than you’d ever imagined when you first joined the BAU. He made you feel seen, appreciated, and more comfortable in your own skin. And as much as you teased him about the age gap, there was something about Hotch that made you feel safe, cherished.

One evening, after the rest of the team had gone home, you found yourself in Hotch’s office, helping him sort through case files. The room was quiet, the only sound was the rustling of papers and the occasional hum of the air conditioning. You’d just handed him a report when his fingers brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. Hotch's gaze softened, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “We’re not… you know, dating, are we?”

The question hung in the air momentarily, and you immediately regretted asking it. But then Hotch smiled a soft, almost tender smile that made your heart race.

“Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “But I wouldn’t mind if we were.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him, wide-eyed. He stepped closer, his fingers grazing your hand, and you felt the familiar warmth of his touch.

“Well… what are you waiting for, old man?” you teased, your voice shaking slightly with nervousness and excitement.

Hotch chuckled, leaning in just a little closer. “I guess I’ll just have to stop being so old-fashioned.”

And with that, he closed the gap between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It was gentle, sweet, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for. When he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you smiled, your heart pounding in your chest.

“So… we’re dating now?” you asked softly, your fingers curling around his.

He nodded, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “Looks like it.”

And from that moment on, the team didn’t have to wonder anymore.

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reidsworld · 5 months ago

Text

Unveiled Secrets

Summary: The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Jack and Haley do not exist in this, kissing, cuddling, allusions to sex, light teasing, use of Y/N, pet names (my love, baby), that’s it I think, lmk if I missed any! Oh and pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k

Mars speaks… hi my loves, I was motivated to write so I am using this to figure out my writing style a bit and how I want to format my works! I’ve been going through a bit of a Hotch phase lately so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

The BAU office was slowly quieting down as the day turned to dusk, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the desks. Aaron Hotchner, head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, stood in his office, the soft light of his desk lamp highlighting the stress lines that had deepened over the years. He checked his watch—almost time to go home. A rare, soft smile touched his lips, a sight reserved for only one person.

He closed the case file on his desk, slipping it neatly into his briefcase before reaching for his jacket. His phone buzzed just as he picked it up, and he glanced at the screen to see a text from you, Can’t wait to see you. Should I pick up dinner?

That smile of his deepened as he quickly typed a reply, I’ll pick it up on my way home. See you soon, my love.

He hadn’t planned on keeping his relationship with you a secret, nor did he have any grand strategy for revealing it. He assumed that given time, his team would figure it out on their own. After all, they were profilers—eventually, they would notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the unexplained absences, the slightly more relaxed demeanour after particularly stressful cases. He hadn’t intended to hide it forever, just until they pieced it together.

As he opened the door to his office, however, he nearly collided with Spencer Reid, who was walking by, engrossed in a file. Reid looked up, startled, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Sorry, Hotch! I didn’t see you there."

"It’s alright, Reid," Hotch replied, a calmness in his voice that belied the momentary flicker of surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t often caught off-guard, especially not in the safety of his own office.

Reid, however, had a habit of noticing things others missed. His eyes flickered to the phone still in Hotch’s hand, the screen just dimming from inactivity. Before Hotch could slip it into his pocket, Reid’s sharp eyes caught your name on the screen. His brow furrowed in confusion as he processed the information.

“Y/N, as in the academy’s Y/N?” Reid asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hotch froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Reid’s sharp mind to pick up on the anomaly. Reid’s brain worked at lightning speed, connecting dots that others might have missed. He knew Hotch was fiercely private, but this reaction was new.

“Goodnight Reid” Aaron replied, quickly, shutting down any further questioning that may have come from the young genius.

Reid blinked, taken aback, but his curiosity was now piqued. However, years of working with Hotch had taught him when to push and when to back off. “Have a good evening, Hotch.”

As Reid walked away, Hotch let out a slow breath. This wasn’t how he wanted the team to find out, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had always assumed it would be Reid who would notice first; the young profiler missed nothing. Still, he had hoped for a bit more time. But the cat was out of the bag now, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team found out.

The next morning, the BAU office was abuzz with more than the usual activity. Reid’s brief encounter with Hotch had set off a flurry of curiosity and speculation among the team. They were profilers, after all, and even the smallest clues could ignite their imaginations.

“I’m telling you, something’s definitely going on with Hotch,” Reid said as the team gathered in the bullpen before their morning briefing. He couldn't shake the image of your name on Hotch's phone from his mind.

JJ, trying to keep things under control, said, “Come on, guys, it could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin on his face. “Reid’s onto something. Hotch has been acting a bit differently lately. He’s not staying late like he used to.”

“And he’s been smiling more often,” Garcia added, her excitement barely contained. “The man’s practically glowing sometimes.”

Rossi, with a teasing tone, suggested, “Maybe he’s just getting better sleep. But I have to admit, there’s definitely something different.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Don’t you want to know? If Hotch is seeing someone, that’s huge!”

Rossi shrugged, still smirking. “Of course, I’m curious. But let’s give him some space. If he wants us to know, he’ll tell us. And if we’re lucky, we might even get to meet her.”

Prentiss grinned, "Do you think it’s serious? Like, she’s ‘the one’?”

“I think,” Rossi said thoughtfully, “if Aaron is keeping this under wraps, it’s because it’s important to him. He wouldn’t be so secretive if it wasn’t serious.”

Just then, Hotch entered the bullpen, and the conversation quickly shifted to a quieter, more focused buzz. The team members turned to their desks, but the air was charged with unspoken questions and speculative glances. Hotch, sensing the change in atmosphere, gave a brief nod before heading to his office.

As the day dragged on with paperwork and case briefings, the undercurrent of curiosity remained. The team exchanged looks, clearly eager to discuss Hotch’s secret, but they were careful to avoid bringing it up directly. The excitement about Hotch’s personal life was palpable, and everyone was waiting for the right moment to address the topic.

Later that evening, Aaron finally headed home after a long day. As he walked through the front door, he found you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, and a glass of wine in your hand. You looked up from the book you were reading, a smile spreading across your face when you saw him.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” you asked, setting the book aside as he walked over to you.

“Tiring,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And eventful. Reid saw a text from you last night.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no. What did he say?”

“He asked if it was from you,” Aaron said, sitting down beside you. “I shut him down, but I think I gave myself away. The team’s been acting strange all day.”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “So, they’re onto us?”

He nodded, slipping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “It was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be now.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner,” you said, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “They are profilers, after all.”

He smiled down at you, his expression softening. “I never planned on keeping it a secret forever. I just figured they’d figure it out on their own time.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked with a playful grin.

He sighed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder. “I suppose it’s time to tell them. They’re already curious, and I’d rather they hear it from me than through rumours.”

“You know they’ll be happy for you,” you said, squeezing his hand. “For us.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But there’s a part of me that’s nervous. I’ve always kept my personal life separate from work, but with you… it’s different.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. “We’ll do it together, then. When you’re ready.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, but a playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Right now, I want to do anything but think about the team,” his voice dropped to a low murmur.

You felt the heat of his words and smiled, leaning in closer. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered, as he nuzzled against you, his lips brushing yours with a grin.

A few days later, Rossi had decided to host a dinner party for the team. The team was eager to catch up and enjoy the evening. Aaron knew it was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the team as his girlfriend.

As the doorbell rang, Rossi answered the door to find Hotch standing beside you. As you both entered the living room, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as Hotch introduced you with a genuine smile.

“I’d like you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend,” Hotch said, his voice steady but warm.

The room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into excitement. Garcia’s face lit up with recognition and delight. “Oh my God! It’s Y/N! I knew it was someone! This is incredible!”

Morgan’s grin widened as he approached. “So, this is the elusive woman behind Hotch’s new smile! You’ve been keeping us in the dark for too long, Hotch.”

JJ smiled warmly as she extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Y/N, we’re really happy for both of you.”

Reid, ever the profiler, couldn’t resist asking, “How long have you two been together?”

Hotch laughed softly, putting an arm around you and smiling fondly. “Almost five months now. Y/N works as the unit chief for the BSU in the academy. I met her when she invited me to guest lecture.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew it! You two have that perfect power couple vibe. We have to plan another get-together so we can hang out more!”

Rossi, enjoying the moment, gave Hotch a friendly pat on the back. “Well, I guess this means you won’t be around for poker nights as often.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll still make time for poker nights, don’t worry.”

As the evening continued, the team enjoyed getting to know you better. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, light-hearted teasing, and genuine happiness for Hotch and you.

“So, when do we get to do this again?” Garcia asked eagerly.

Hotch smiled, feeling content. “Soon. We’ve been talking about having you all over for dinner. Now seems like the perfect time.”

As the team chatted and enjoyed the evening, Aaron felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Introducing you to his team had been a significant step, but their warmth and support made it all worthwhile. The thought of merging his work family with his personal life filled him with quiet joy.

As the party wound down and the team began to leave, Morgan gave Hotch a sly grin. “You know, Hotch, we’re happy for you, but don’t think we won’t give you a hard time about keeping this a secret for so long.”

Hotch chuckled, appreciating the camaraderie. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, the team said their goodbyes and headed home, their spirits high. Hotch followed them, feeling grateful for the support of his team and looking forward to the future with you.

Mars speaks... (again) Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Also, would anyone be interested if I wrote for other fandoms such as F1 and Marvel? Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

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rainydayathogwarts · 6 months ago

Text

The team discovers you're dating - Aaron Hotchner

d/n: daughter's name.. Summary: The team discovers you're dating because of Jack's freudian slip. (singlemom!bau!reader) 0.7k wc

Small trudging footsteps paired with loud squeals caught the attention of the agents in the bullpen, an apologetic SSA following after his son. Derek and Penelope raced to the young boy, Derek scooping him up the second he was close enough, beating his work wife by seconds. "I'm sorry guys, national holiday and our sitter cancelled." The team dismissed him, understanding of his protectiveness over his son. After seeing so many cases, there was no way he'd let a random person look after his son. "I'll take him down to the daycare in a second, but Jack here just wanted to say hello to someone first."

Derek exaggeratedly frowned, looking down at the blonde boy "Is uncle Derek not the person you were looking for Jacky boy?" Jack shook his head, loud giggles filling the bullpen, just as the glass door opened one more. "Sorry guys," You started, trying to flip strands of hair out of your face while balancing your coffee and keeping your bag on your shoulder. "I had to drop d/n at daycare, sitter cancelled." You gasped loudly when you spotted the small figure in Derek's arms, placing all your things on the closest desk as you opened your arms wide. Jack wiggled his legs in Derek's arms so he could be put down on the floor, a wide smile gracing his features. You crouched down on the floor, grinning at the boy, who yelled loudly "Mommy!" as he ran into your arms.

An eerie silence filled the bullpen as all conversation died down. You wrapped your arms around the boy, his words sinking into your teammates' heads. You lifted Jack up into the air with a clueless smile, standing tall enough so you could see all of your coworkers' facial expressions, when it hit you. Your eyes widened and you froze, past the point of collecting yourself or trying to brush off what Jack said as an accident.

"What did he just say?" You hear Penelope interrogate, looking back and forth between the profilers in the room, hoping to get an answer. As though sensing the change in atmosphere in the room, Jack lifted his head from the crook of your neck, looking up at your face. You moved your stance to balance him on your hip, using the other hand to pick up your to-go cup and take a long sip of your coffee. "You wanna try my coffee Jack?" You teased, breaking the silence between you and him, laughing as the boy pulled a face of disgust, remembering the time he smelt his dad's black coffee one morning when you were over with d/n.

"Yuck! ... Mommy, am I gonna see d/n?" He asks, swinging his legs happily. You're painfully aware of the eyes stuck on you and the boy, glancing up to look at Aaron, observing his reaction. He's smiling softly at you and his son, back turned to the other agents in the bullpen. He walks over to you just as you reply to Jack "She's in daycare right now! Do you want to go join her?" Jack nods excitedly, arms lifting up when his dad walks over, allowing him to take him from you. "Well since the cat's out of the bag." Aaron shrugs, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, walking out with Jack in his arms who giggles loudly "What cat daddy?"

With Jack finally facing away from you, you let all your emotions show up on your face: shock, confusion, and most importantly embarrassment to being exposed to your relentless team of close friends who will never stop the questions:

'How long?' 'Jack calls you mommy?' 'Don't you owe me money Morgan?'

You laugh at Spencer's comment, watching as Derek fishes his wallet out of his pocket, holding up a 20 dollar bill for Spencer to take. Rossi pushes himself off the desk behind him, where he faces Emily and the rest of the team. He sighs, shaking his head "For the record, I knew his whole time. And at least now you don't have to hide your ring, y/n." He states as he walks away. "You're married!?" Emily and JJ yell at the same time as Penny squeals loudly, running to hug you tightly. "Engaged!" You try saying over the noise. "Engaged not married!"

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sincerelybubbles · 14 days ago

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hi!! i love the shy!reader x hotch fics, but i was wondering if you could do a completely opposite dynamic? where it's like a super flirty and playful reader who's goal is to try to fluster and get a reaction out of hotch? <33 feel free to ignore !!

cannon typical violence, mentions of blood, hospitals. not my best but it's something!! ty for the request <3

"Any chance to get your hands on me," you say, breathless, as Hotch presses the fabric of his jacket into the wound at your side.

He ignores you, shouting for a medic.

"Nothing to say, handsome?" Leaning back on your elbows, you watch as Hotch focuses entirely on the injury. Anything to distract against the pain would be welcome but you'd be lying if you said you'd ever abandoned any opportunity to fluster the man in front of you.

"I have plenty to say to you," Hotch says, voice low, peering up at you from under furrowed eyebrows, "starting either with personal safety or inappropriate conduct at work."

"Inappropriate? So you have noticed the flirting." You're starting to fade, the telltale signs of an impending faint thrumming in your numb fingers.

"Okay, save your breath," Hotch implores, hands pressing harder on the wound, shouting for help again.

You're sure the paramedic's are on their way, you watched Morgan slam the unsub to the ground moments before, and you're certain enough in your safety to chuckle and send a wink to him, "ah, got other plans for how I can waste it later?"

It doesn't even make total sense but Hotch chuckles, exasperated, still. Slowly shaking his head, he lets out a slow breath. "You're more trouble than you're worth."

"We both know you don't mean that." Pounding head, flashing lights (ambulance, maybe?), ringing ears. Yeah, you're going to pass out. Before you succumb, though, you reach forward to pat Hotch's cheek. "You care too much to mean it. And hey, handsome?"

Hotch hums, eyes blurring in your sightline and refusing to come back into focus. "Don't freak out."

---------

"Morning, sunshine." Hotch is reading in the chair next to your hospital bed, case files resting on his knee. The pain on your side is incessant, constant and unignorable.

"Don't freak out?" Hotch asks slowly, shutting the folder without looking at you. "A proper warning that you're feeling like you're going to pass out would be appreciated."

"It's okay, handsome, I'm good." Hiding a wince, you sit yourself up. "See, I was right, though."

"About?" Hotch asks, finally looking up to watch you at your movement. You can tell that he sees your pain so you talk quickly to cover it.

"You care! About little ole me, how flattering."

"Of course I do. Do you want me to call the nurse?" You feel out of breath, cramps between your ribs, white hot pain settling.

"And interrupt our alone time? Never."

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" You're distracted, banter subpar, as you struggle to maintain even breath.

"Hiding your pain."

"I'm not?" You pitch your voice up, questioning, attempting to trip him up so that he forgets his original argument.

"You are. I know you better than that - you're usually better at this," he gestures between the two of you, setting his case file on the table beside him and leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees to get a better look at you.

"What're you talking about?"

"Come on," he sighs your name, shaking his head and frowning at you. "Let me call the nurse if it hurts, you should sleep more."

"Trying to get rid of me?" You ask, flashing the smile at him that you always use to disorient others. Wide, all teeth, wrinkled nose, distracting distracting distracting.

It usually works but Hotch looks past it, catching the way your eyebrows pinch in the center.

"I'm calling the nurse."

"Stop, no," you reach forward to snatch the remote before he can grab it. You don't want to sleep, you want to spend more time with him, you want to get out of this bed, you want to stop feeling helpless as soon as possible.

"Seriously?" Hotch asks, half standing, leaning over you now.

"Seriously. I'm good. Maybe you don't know me as well as you think." You're half teasing, hints of truth littered behind the words.

You feel that way, sometimes. You're always fast to hide behind a tease, a flirt, a well placed laugh. You're aware it's a defense mechanism - do your best to make them love you superficially, they can't see the dirtier parts of you and run. Fluster Hotch so he can't see your attraction to you and reject you quicker than you can catch hope.

Hotch raises an eyebrow, settling back in his seat. "You take two sugars in your tea unless people aren't watching, then you add a third. You always triple lock your car, too aware that it doesn't do any good - we've all seen how little it matters in the end. You sit next to Spencer when he sleeps on the plane to help him with his nightmares when he wakes up, you pack an extra banana for early mornings to give to Morgan - you actually hate them, you just pretend to help him. You're more than you give yourself credit for."

Blinking slowly, mind sluggish from pain medication, you watch Hotch, fully aware that maybe you've been watched more than you've realized.

Slowly, you pass him the remote, a silent omission of relenting.

Perhaps it won't be so bad to be seen.

#criminal minds #bubbs.writes #cm #x reader #criminal minds x reader #fluff #hotch #hotchner #Aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #Aaron x reader #aaron hotchner fic #Aaron hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine

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mariasont · 8 months ago

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Office Sleepover 3 - A.H

a/n: yeehaw this took me way longer than i thought but here she be

i feel like im so ass at writing smut so just bear with me yall

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part two here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, hungover reader, unwanted attention from some rando, awk as fuck reader, fingering, dirty talk, doing the dirty in the office, definitely illegal, definitely probably caught on cameras

wc: 4.2k

Everything hurt--your stomach churned, your head throbbed, and your eyes burned. You squeezed them shut, feeling your body tense against the stiff fabric of the pull-out couch. Fists curled tightly, you gradually let your eyelids part, casting a slow, sweeping glance around the room, trying to piece together what the hell happened.

Pain hammered around the inside of your head. You desperately needed a hefty dose of Advil--ten at least. As though your mind had materialized them, you rolled over to discover a bottle and a glass of water on the nightstand. You assumed you had JJ to thank, though the certainty of that was as fuzzy as your thoughts. Each effort to reconstruct last night's events was a stab to your already excruciating migraine.

You had all your clothes on, that was a plus considering your notorious history with wine and stripping. Stripping. Your hand slapped over your mouth, a floodgate of recollections bursting through--calling Hotch in a wine-induced haze, flashing your tits, asking him to stay.

You were in full-blown panic mode, the sudden urge to throw up clawing at your throat. The bed was empty, save for yourself, but you vividly remember Hotch laying down with you. This only left two possibilities: he left after you fell asleep or it had been a figment of your imagination. You were desperately hoping it was the latter.

But clearly, the universe had its own plan, because there he was, leaning against the door frame, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag that, by the smell of it, contained greasy food.

With a throat like sandpaper and sweaty palms, you met your boss's gaze. "Hotch," you croaked, pausing to swallow. "Um, good morning--or is it? My sleep schedule's always off after drinking. It feels bright in here, right? It's also kinda hot, is the AC working?"

You impulsively rose from the bed, a decision you instantly regretted as the room seemed to spin around you in protest.

"Sit down," he commanded, a firmness in his voice that brooked no opposition, and you promptly sat your ass back down, watching him with an expectant look.

You attempted to read his face, but it was a blank slate, making you that much more nervous. He must hate you, you figured, because you certainly hated yourself. Your boss had seen your nipples. A wave of heat washed over you, and you clenched your eyes shut, as if that could make this situation disappear.

"Here," he said, handing you the coffee and the bag, then gesturing to the Advil on the counter. "Take that, and I know you might not feel like eating, but it's necessary. The food and coffee will stabilize your blood sugar levels."

"Right, yeah, course," you nod, accepting the items with shaky hands, holding the cup with a grip that's a little too firm. "Listen, sir, I'm really sorry about last night. I promise I don't usually drink that much. I don't even know how I got that drunk, and I know I acted completely inappropriate towards you. If you need to file a complaint, I understand. Again, I'm just so sorry..."

You wanted to cry, but you held it back, knowing it would only make this whole situation worse. You deliberately avoided his eyes, focusing on anything but him while you absentmindedly toyed with the breakfast sandwich in your hands.

After a moment, he releases a soft sigh, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled beside you, his knee gently knocking yours.

"I'm aware this week's been tough on you. It's, uh, clear you weren't thinking straight, and I'm not about to make a formal issue out of a slip-up."

Your head dipped, as you tried to fend off the rising warmth in your face. "I don't think I can ever look you in the eyes again."

"That feels dramatic," he pointed out, a chuckle in his voice that made you glance his way. "Trust me, it's already forgotten."

That was a lie. He may have lacked Reid's eidetic abilities, but there was no possible, imaginative way that he would forget the image of you topless--it was imprinted in his memory. In fact, it had become the sole focus of his thoughts ever since. He silently thanked the gods that it was a Saturday, and he didn't have any pressing work issues.

"Somehow, that's not very comforting," you replied, a suppressed giggle breaking through as you met his gaze. "So, did you, um, end up staying over?"

Your cheeks glowed with a soft pink, hands unconsciously smoothing over your thighs--a nervous habit of yours he had quickly taken notice of. It emerged involuntarily when you faced tough cases, or when your computer took too long to start up, or even when the elevator made an unexpected noise.

"I did," he admitted, "You shouldn't have been alone."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were weirdly frustrated that you couldn't recall being the same bed as him, being able to feel his body against yours. You bet he was warm, and soft, and large against you.

"Thank you."

His phone went off. "Hotchner."

Your eyes followed his movements, noting the firm nods, watching as he stood, his expression hardening, jaw tightening, and hand coming to rest on his chin as he faced away from you.

The phone call was brief, and he quickly turned his attention back to you. "We've got a case."

And it was quite the case--three male victims, all in their forties. Each crime scene was close to Quantico, about twenty minutes, sparing the team any extensive travel. Though, after last night, you don't think you would have minded if they had been halfway across the country.

You were really banking on Hotch's ability to keep things professional, knowing full well that if Morgan caught wind of this, you'd be better off dead.

The team was huddled around the briefing table, absorbing Garcia's detailed rundown of the killings--they were violent to say the least--with heads bashed in and over twenty stab wounds per victim. Whoever was doing this was angry.

Hotch eventually split everyone up into tasks—Spencer and Morgan to the crime scenes, JJ and Emily interviewing the families, and Rossi was tasked with convening with the local police force. So, you know who that left at the office? You, Hotch, and Penelope. What a great group.

You avoided both of them, a pattern that had become all too familiar you had realized. Hunched over your desk, you were engrossed in sending Spencer images of your latest research on the town. True to form, he responded--Can you just fax that over to the police station?--because god forbid, he has to read it from his phone.

So, there you were, barely resisting the urge to slam your head into the fax machine. You wouldn't consider yourself technology impaired, but to say you were on friendly terms would be overstating it.

"Need help?"

"Oh, yes, please—," you began, but your voice trailed off as you noticed one of the guys from forensics hovering just a tad too close for comfort.

"They're always a bit stubborn," he noted, barely giving you space to breathe before his shoulder nudged against yours as he fiddled with the device, "just a slight...there we go."

The machine sprang into action, prompting you to step back and acknowledge his help with a nod. "Oh, thanks."

"Not a problem," he assured, stepping closer in the process, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he pointed out the correct button. "You see, it's all about timing," he added, his voice low and unnecessarily close, "these things can be so fussy, right?"

A subtle nod was your only response, hoping he'd take the hint that you weren't in the mood for small talk. The hangover clung stubbornly, and the whiff of his breath was a cruel taunt against the fragile peace you were maintaining over your stomach.

"So, do you find this kind of tech stuff challenging?" he asked, a little too casually. The question hung awkwardly in the air. You sought to put some distance between you, yet he matched your every move, keeping the space closed. "I mean, I'm pretty good with my hands, not just with machines honestly."

Ew.

You mustered a smile, though you were sure it was more of a grimace. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. "I usually manage," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.

He leaned closer, if that was possible, it was like the concept of personal space was foreign to him. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks, help you manage a little better?"

His words were light, but his proximity was anything but, almost suffocating.

Just as you were firmly about to tell him to shove it, a sharp voice beat you to it--probably for the best.

"That won't be necessary."

The forensics guy, whose name you still hadn't gotten, straightened, his smile faltering under the weight of Hotch's piercing, don't fuck with me, stare. A look usually saved for unsubs and incompetent officers, but now it singled out this man.

The same look remained on the poor guy as he directed his words to you, "why don't you join me? We need to go over some case details."

It really wasn't a question.

The man backed up instantly, mumbling something under his breath about just trying to help, but Hotch's glare followed him until he was well out of earshot.

Surprisingly, a similar sharpness was aimed at you as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'd appreciate it if you chose to flirt on your own time, not the Bureau's."

His words landed with the sting of an unexpected slap. You blinked, taken aback. "What? I wasn't--,"

But he didn't allow you time to finish. Instead, he pushed a water bottle in your hands, his eyes scrutinizing your face with such an intensity that you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Drink. You look pale."

"Gee, thanks," you grumbled, under your breath, more to yourself than him, as he wheeled around and headed briskly for the briefing room.

Your steps lagged slightly behind him, your forehead lined with a thoughtful frown. What was that about? The way he acted--the tightness that had formed around his mouth and the harshness in his words, it was so unlike him, well, at least for it to be directed at you.

The rest of the day unfolded just as you thought it would upon waking--like shit. Hotch kept his distance, his exchanges with you brief and to the point. Every time you tried to grab his attention, hoping to clarify things (why you felt the need you weren't sure), he was already looking else, focused on literally anything but you.

It was painfully evident that he was avoiding any personal conversation with you, a realization that bit deeper than anticipated.

The office slowly emptied, the case binding you and Hotch to the briefing room, the only sounds being the faint gentle tapping of your pen and the occasional snap of your hair tie.

It was late when you finally spoke. "Hotch, this says the victim had fibers under his nails that don't match anything from the suspect's home."

Hotch's gaze snapped up to yours. "Are you saying you think the forensics team missed that?"

You met his eyes squarely, cocking your head to the side at the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just pointing something out."

He bridged the space between you, his jaw set in a firm line. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks as the distance dwindled.

"I'm just saying I don't want you jumping to conclusions based on underdeveloped theories."

You met his eyes with a glare, your teeth grinding together in the process. "Underdeveloped? Is that how you see my contributions now?"

The space between you had now vanished, your heart racing, finger almost poking into his chest as you spoke.

Hotch settled back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, giving you a pointed look. "I didn't say that," he replied, his voice level, markedly different from your agitated one. "We just can't afford to investigate every insignificant detail."

"Every insignificant detail?" you scoffed, "these are leads, Hotch."

His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that made you want to wrap your hands around his throat, and not in the good way. "Maybe. However, we need to be sure before we pursue it."

Drawing in a controlled breath, you fought to stay calm, but he was making it very hard. The sensation was all too reminiscent of college, contending with the overconfident frat boys just to voice your thoughts. That comparison may have been a tad extreme--Hotch was far from being like those insufferable boys, but he was certainly pushing your limits right now.

"I am sure. Why aren't you listening."

"I am listening," he said, but his voice was distant. "I just... I just don't want to get sidetracked, that's all."

"Sidetracked? By what, exactly?"

"I'm just not sure you're all here right now."

You felt your cheeks warming with a tinge of shame, but you pushed back, fists clenched at your sides. "I'm here, Hotch. I'm focused."

"Because last night—,"

"Last night was a mistake, okay? I got it. I already apologized for that. But I'm not irresponsible, my focus is on this case."

A lengthy pause followed, his expression unreadable. "You're certain about that?"

"Yes, I'm certain," you snapped, moving towards him again. "And for the record, JJ said you were okay with us having a few drinks."

"I was," he admitted. "But I didn't think—,"

You didn't let him finish. "What, that I'd get wasted? That I'd do something stupid? I'm sorry I'm not perfect."

"Well, yeah."

"Screw you, Hotch."

You knew that was a mistake the minute his nostrils flared, his chest now a pressing force against yours.

Then, without warning, his lips crashed into yours. A muffled oomph of surprise left you, your hands hanging motionless at first, only to quickly melt, grasping at his jacket, pulling him into you.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, nor was it kind, but it was magic, exceeding anything you could have imagined, setting every fiber of you on fire. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that drew out a breathy sigh, arousal tingling through you, and your passion rose to meet his, equally hungry, equally desperate.

Your fantasies had never done him justice--kissing him was intoxicating, and now you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, realizing it was everything you never dared to hope for.

Drawing back just enough, his hands drew you closer, pressing against the dip of your back, his breath fusing with yours in a dizzying blend, making the air seem scarce.

Against the soft pressure of his lips, you murmured, "I wasn't flirting."

There's a pause as his eyes locked on yours, searching, questioning. Then, his hand settled at the side of your neck. "You better not have been."

Any witty comeback you had dissipated as his lips crashed against yours again, more urgently this time, his hands tracing every contour of your clothed body with an insatiable curiosity.

His grip tightened around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the briefing table's cold surface with a resounding thud, his palms then cradling your thighs. Documents and files fluttered beneath you, hopefully they weren't too important. His eyes, dark pools of brown, were meticulously scanning your face.

"You," he breathes out, his voice a low rumble laced with something you couldn't quite place, "have consumed my thoughts since the moment I discovered you on my couch." He inches closer, his breath scorching your cheek as his fingers waltzed a pattern up your thighs. "Do you understand that feeling? The intense frustration?"

You were rendered motionless, frozen in place, scared to even twitch and risk this all being a very realistic wet dream. This was Hotch, your boss, the man defined by his lack of outward emotion. To think that you--of all people--could have an effect on him was an overwhelming concept. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as he gently guided your legs apart, positioning himself between them.

"Y-Yeah, I know," you uttered unevenly, your thoughts scattering as your hands tentatively reached for his collar.

"So, you know what it's like, huh?"

Your nod was subtle, a flustered smile briefly lighting up your expressions.

"And?" he prompts, while his fingers explore the shape of your thighs, squeezing gently.

You squirm under his gaze, the intensity of it making your heart race inside your chest.

"And... it's annoying," you confess, puffing out a breath, trying sound annoyed, but the delicate blush dusting your nose gave you away, you were sure.

"Annoying?" Hotch repeats, his hand tenderly angling your face upward, his smile laced with a taunt. "Is that all?"

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's distracting," your voice was softer now, desire pooling in your belly as you grasp just how compromising of a position you were in.

"Distracting," he tsked, echoing you once again as he nodded solemnly, pulling your hips into his. Your mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Have I been the subject of your thoughts, then?"

Your head dipped in a nod, your fingers brushing against his firm chest, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Maybe a little, in a totally platonic boss-employee type of way."

"Oh yeah?"

You caught your lip between your teeth, considering your next words very carefully. "Well, maybe more than a little, and maybe more than just a boss."

"Oh, wow," his breath was a warm hover over your lips, hanging in the space between you. You ached for the tase of him again, rich with dark expresso and spiced cinnamon. It was a lovely combination. "Sounds serious."

You released a hushed giggle, a light note floating between you as your foreheads met. "It's not like I can help it."

"And why is that?"

"Because," you paused, wetting your lips in anticipation, "you're infuriatingly unforgettable, that's why."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

He was kissing you again. This time a little softer, unhurried, and the whole reason for your argument faded into nothingness. Although if insubordination led to this sweet consequence, it might just become a habit.

His lips traced a path down your throat, prompting your head to tilt back, baring the expanse of your skin to his exploration. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close. The world seemed distant, the sensation dreamlike, buoyed by the soft lull of a lust-induced haze.

Reason gave way to impulse; your hands lost in the softness of his hair, your back arching to his hands grasping at your ass, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

His hands hesitated, hovering as he reached for your top, his eyes holding yours. "Is this okay?"

You nodded, more eagerly than necessary, but that still wasn't good enough for him.

"I need a verbal yes or no."

Desperation clung to you, a needy sigh escaping you as you squirmed into his touch, his hands halting your restless movements. "Yes, please, Hotch."

"You were so eager to call me Aaron last night. Say it again."

"Aaron, please, I need you to touch me," your voice rang out, imbued with such sweetness making his length constrict against the fabric of his slacks.

His fingers deftly navigated to the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head with a fluid motion. Your bra was next, its clasp yielding effortlessly to his touch, your tits releasing with a gentle bounce, and he fought back a groan as his large hands enveloped them.

"Every bit as perfect as I remembered," he said, his fingers skillfully pulling and twisting at the nubs as you brought you forehead to meet his, a breathy gasp tumbling from your lips at the contact.

You arched your back into his heads as he let out a soft chuckle, loving the way your body reacting to him. Your eyes held a glazed-over look, lips parted ever so slightly, and you looked up at him expectantly in way that could surely kill him.

His hands moved slowly down your sides before brushing the sensitive skin under your waist band. You swallowed a gasp, moving your hips into his again, rolling yourself against his stiff erection.

His palms pressed against your hips. "Slow down. Let me take my time with you, yeah?"

You were at his discretion; he could ask you to jump into oncoming traffic right now and you'd probably say yes.

A nod was all you could manage as you fought the urge to move, every muscle tensed, waiting for him to make the first move, but god was it hard. You couldn't really believe this was happening, until the solid press of his thumb against your clit brought the moment into sharp focus.

"Aaron, god," you gasped, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your teeth found your bottom lip harshly, trying not to show him just how easily you could come apart right now.

"Is that good, honey?"

Honey. You could practically feel the arousal dripping your thighs as you nodded eagerly.

The pad of his thumb glided between your folds, gathering the slickness to continue his assault against your swollen clit. You buried your face deeper into his suit jacket, attempting to stifle the embarrassing sounds that you couldn't seem to contain.

A whine of protest filled the space between you as his hand slipped away from your pants. His eyes bore into you as he gathered the strands at the back of your neck, guiding your gaze to yours.

"None of that. Let me hear you gorgeous."

"Aaron, please, I need your fingers inside me, please."

You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you sounded, knew that if anyone else was in the office right now, you'd be so screwed, fired probably, but as his fingers dipped into your cunt those concerns dissolved quickly.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He was torturing you--his pace aggravatingly slow, working in and out of you as you tried to fight the overwhelming desire to slam your legs shut. It was so much, yet not enough. You ground yourself against his hands as his other hand clamped around your back, keeping you from falling back.

"That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers."

His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in a way that only seemed to spur you on, doing exactly as he ordered. His words felt foreign in your ears, before today you could never imagine him talking like this, so vulgarly.

"Aaron, I-I need—," you paused, your eyes falling to his pants, more specifically the hardened cock inside them.

"Yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you gasped as his fingers hit that one spot just right. Your head lolled back as you clutched at his collar, his arm behind you keeping you in place.

"Watch your mouth," he said, and for some reason that was enough to send you right over that never ending ledge, your stomach coiling, heat spreading under your skin, every part of you ached.

"Oh—, Aaron, I-I'm—," you were a blubbering mess, rocking without mercy against his fingers, his thumb brushing against your nub in a way that made you feel like you had met your maker.

"That's it, baby, go ahead."

That was enough for you, your walls clenching around his fingers, back arching into him and you swore for a minute you could see stars. He helped you ride out your high.

You were wholeheartedly convinced; this was heaven. You had died and gone to heaven and the first one to greet you was Hotch, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin in an attempt to bring you back down to Earth.

Just as you were about to reach for his pants, determined to feel him inside of you, his phone went off. Of fucking course. He shot you an apologetic look, the sound a wake-up call, pulling you both from the lust-fueled moment.

He moved back with a couple steps, offering nods and muted words to whoever was calling at 12 am. You were suddenly extremely aware of your appearance--topless and on the briefing table for crying out loud.

You attempted to stand, your legs betraying you with a wobble that had him instantly clasping your arm firmly, his attention flickering from the phone to the tremors in your stance. You gave him a small in return as if to say I'm fine.

You reached across the table, grabbing your shirt from its discarded state, not bothering with the bra as you dressed quickly. He cleared his throat, causing you to turn, just in time to see his phone disappear into his pocket.

"That was the Stafford police chief, there was another murder," he explained.

"Oh, right, okay, um..." you started, your brain racing into overdrive as you instinctively moved towards the door. "I just need to..."

Your movement was too quick, a dizzying spin that resulted in you tumbling into Hotch's solid frame. His reflexes were immediate, hands clasping onto you once again, preventing you from landing straight into him.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" he asked, brows knitting in a frown, "take a second."

"Yeah, um, yeah, I'm good," you managed to get out, even as heat suffused your face. "Just need to get changed, uh, can't imagine either of us want to the team to find me like this."

"Right."

He was still frowning, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss away the harsh lines of his forehead, but you were sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture.

You made a beeline for your office, the door's thud barely registering over pulsating rush in your ears. God, you were so screwed.

taglist: @chronicallybubbly @aremuslupinsimp @sky2nd @thisisdaisytrying @ryswritingrecord

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #hotch #hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner x bau reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #Spotify

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miley1442111 · 8 months ago

Text

fix it together- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :) thank you guys for all the love on the first part of this!!!!

please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!

summary: aaron said some horrible things. He's trying to fix it, right?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, happy ending :)

part 1- fix it.

Aaron

The last few weeks had been… tense. Going back to work was fine and we still acted like a couple, don’t get me wrong. Yet, everything felt disgustingly different. The gifts hadn’t been working. The dates hadn’t been working. Every second of my days were spent thinking over what I’d said on that horrible night. Did I ask for an annulment? What was I thinking? I love you more than anything, I want you forever. Since the first date I’d known you were my girl, my forever girl. Every night I’ve been trying to make it clear to you that I want you. That I think you’re a good mother. Even the nights you'd stayed at Penelope's.

After Jack's birthday, you'd gone to Penelope's for 3 nights, I only saw you during the day at work, and even then you didn't look at me, let alone speak to me. You came home because you missed Jack.

Since then, you’ve been distant, focusing on work, or Jack more often than not. So I decided something.

I made all the distractions go away. Jack went off to his cousin's house, and I pulled us out of work for a full week, much to Strauss’s annoyance. Only thing is that I hadn’t told you.

Well, this better work.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Honey?” I cleared my throat, still groggy from waking up a few minutes prior. You weren’t in bed, you’d recently stopped our regular 5 minutes of hazy cuddling as we both wake up. My third favourite part of the day. My second favourite being when you come to me at 2:07pm everyday at work and give me a kiss, my first favourite being the kiss and hug you give me at the end of the day, just after tucking Jack in. All three had stopped in recent weeks.

“Yeah?” You called from the bathroom, doing your regular morning routine.

“I called us out of work,” I yawned and heard your quickened footsteps, then you appeared in front of me. You looked so beautiful, as always. A random and oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. I started to sweat just thinking about it.

“What? Why?! We have people who need our help, we have cases-” You started rambling as I got up and cupped your face, kissing you.

“Because I need you. I need you to be you again,” I whispered against your lips, hoping this would work. “So we’re going to have a nice few days, yeah? Today we have your appointment and we’ll have another talk. Then we can just relax for the rest of the week.”

“The week?” you stressed and I rolled my eyes, kissing you again. Your lips were so perfect. You’d brushed your teeth, not that I mind your morning breath. Not that I mind anything about you.

“Please,” I was begging and I wasn’t even ashamed. “Please honey,” I wrapped my hands around your waist, trying to persuade you.

“Aaron-”

“Don’t call me Aaron,” You’d stopped calling me the usual ‘baby’ or ‘darling’, or my favourite ‘love’. “Please. I want to be normal again. I don’t want this distance, I adore you more than anything.”

I could tell you felt conflicted. I hurt you. I know I did.

“Aaron,” another stab to my heart. “Fine, we’ll take this week off, and we can… talk.”

“Thank you my love,” I smile, pressing kisses along your exposed collarbone. You chuckled. I’d missed your laughter. I’d missed you.

“Ok baby, come on, I need to shower,” you giggled against me and I could feel my heart mending. Baby. I couldn’t stop the grin on my lips. I let go of you, but not before kissing you again. My perfect wife.

“Can I join?” I smirked, and you scoffed.

“Don’t push your luck Hotchner,” You chuckled. This was it. This is what it used to be. Flirty, loving, and fun. Before I ruined everything.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

Forgiving Aaron was the easy part. Worrying if every parenting decision was the right one, was pure agony.

Is it wrong to say that like that? Should I have done this a different way? Was that right?

And your brain’s personal favourite:

What would Haley have done?

You were beating yourself up about it all for the past few weeks. You felt you had ruined Jack’s birthday with your own insecurities, since he’d asked if you were alright the day after.

Telling Jack you were pregnant was a highlight from the past few weeks. He was ecstatic to find out he’d be getting a little sibling. He already wanted to meet them and he understood that there would be times where either of you wouldn’t be able to play with him when his sibling arrived.

Aaron had been grovelling to the highest degree. Flowers once a week, date nights, house chores, taking paperwork from you so you don’t need to do it, getting any and all pregnancy cravings, and helping you deal with all your morning sickness and migraines.

It was maddening. You were going to go insane if you weren’t careful.

Yet, you felt like every second of every day was spent thinking about your parenting choices and just wondering if having another baby was even a good idea. Would your new child even like you? Would this ruin your relationship with Jack? What was going to happen when they grow up? Did Aaron really think your parenting is terrible?

Ok, so maybe you haven’t forgiven him just yet. Or at all.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You lay back in bed, a book in hand as Aaron pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. You stared at the words on the page, trying to make sense of them when your brain was so clouded. Your levels of anxiety had risen greatly, which you both knew was not good for your baby. Aaron had been trying to lift some of the stress off your shoulders with his constant doting, but you knew that the stress was Aaron. From the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep, you felt like you were putting up a show. Being the perfect wife, perfect (probably shitty, you thought anyway) mother, perfect agent. It was exhausting. You wanted to go back to before, back to when you didn’t have to pretend everything was alright.

You pushed him off you and lay on your side, a regular occurrence. Aaron felt dejected. He’d hurt you so badly, and he didn’t know what to do to fix it.

“Baby?” he spoke into the room.

“Yes Aaron?” You answered.

“Do you still love me?” He asked in a small voice. He felt raw and full of emotion. Honestly, he was terrified of the answer.

“Do I still love you?” You scoffed. “I think I should be the one asking that. You were the one mentioning getting an annulment.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that… I was just-” He tried but you shot out of bed, staring at him with an anger in your eyes he could only describe as animalistic.

“ 'You just' what Aaron? What?!” You squealed, all the emotions that you’d let build up, coming out at once. “I’ve been trying to be a good wife, to be a good mother for the past 4 fucking years Aaron. I have been that for you, I have been that for you and Jack, and I’m so happy to do it because I love the both of you more than anything! And all I ask in return is that you love and respect me! That is what you promised me on your wedding day! You didn’t fucking do that. You threw our marriage under the bus and compared me to your ex wife, the second you got slightly stressed. I’m sure Haley did a much better job than me Aaron, I’m sure she did! But I’m here Aaron. I love you. I love Jack. I have dedicated my life to the two of you, to our family! And now I feel like I’ve made a mistake in doing that, because the second you get overwhelmed, I’m in the first person that gets thrown under the bus?! To get reduced to nothing by you?! That’s not fucking fair Aaron, It’s not fair! And the worst part is that I fucking forgave you weeks ago, but I can’t forgive myself! I feel like such a shit mother every single day! I feel like I’m failing everyday, and that our baby will fucking hate me because it’ll somehow know that I’m the second choice! That it’ll know you’d rather be with someone who’s dead! So don’t come to me asking stupid fucking questions like that when you know the fucking answer Aaron. You don’t need to humiliate me more than you already have.”

You walked out of your shared bathroom, down the stairs into the living room, and sobbed your eyes out.

Aaron sat up in the bed, thankful that Jack wasn’t home today, but devastated by your words, and his actions. Why had he even brought up an annulment?

He couldn’t even begin to dissect the feelings he had when the bile in his throat suddenly came on and he had to run to the bathroom, and spill it into the toilet. Your words hit him like a knife, throwing his own words back in his face in the most disgusting way to do it, directed at you. You were an amazing mother, an amazing wife. And yet, you thought you were worthless. He had made you feel worthless. He felt terrible. He didn’t want Haley. Yes, he’d loved her for a long time, yes their divorce was heartbreaking. But he loved you now, and he didn’t ever want to take that for granted. He’d gotten two people who loved him unconditionally, two people who loved him enough to have a child with him, two people that would put themselves in harm’s way for him.

And he fucked it up. Twice.

He followed you downstairs, standing in the doorway as you sobbed into the couch cushions, then walked over and put a hand on your back. You didn’t push him off, that must be a good sign, right? He moved you to sit on his lap, your head in his shoulder as he calmed you down.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I was awful to you. I don’t want an annulment, I never want an annulment. I know it sounds bad but I was just so used to Haley hanging a divorce over my head for so long, it just came out. You are who I want, who I would choose, every single time. You are a good mother. You’re going to be a good mother. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. That I ever made you doubt me. I never want to hurt you like this again. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done, I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

You let out a half chuckle- half sob and pulled away. “Aaron, I need you to swear to me that you will never fucking bring up us breaking up again, unless you actually mean it.”

“I swear.”

“And I need you to promise me that you’ll work on stopping all the reactive bullshit we’ve been doing,” You sighed.

“I promise.”

“Then, I think we’ll be ok,” You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, settling your head back against his neck.

“So we’re ok again?” He asked hopefully.

“Not yet, no,” You stated and his hope vanished.

“Honey-”

“We will be, soon.”

He smiled again. You were his, always. Just as he was yours, always. Anything, you could get through.

Together.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

people that asked to be tagged: @michasia24 @pear-1206 @randomrosie01 @tonystankhere

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine

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mrs-weasley-reid · 5 months ago

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JULY REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! I wanted to try something out to provide my full and utter support to all the amazing writers I've come across in the form of monthly rec fics (starting this month). Join me in giving them love through comments and reblogs. It really is a joy to hear how you're doing as a writer. It makes up for all the angst we write lol

I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. And the number of fics will depend on how much I've read the entire month. Also, please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+, so MINORS should not be interacting in any way, especially when the authors themselves specify it.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a question unasked by @easy-there-leftovers ↳ SOOOO ADORABLE. I'm a workaholic craze gal, so it speaks to me on a silly level.

✿ missing the happy hormone by @lavenderspence ↳ I'm a sucker for Spencer fluff this month, what can I say? This fic Tina made had my waterworks going on for about a minute because it's so sweet

✿ desk duty by @reiderwriter ↳ All you have to know is the amount of evil laugh I made while reading this

✿ the theory of love by @ophelia-is-complex ↳ Genuine intimacy is quite a challenge to write, but THIS ONE, this one had me in a sappy mood

✿ like nothing matters by @cerisereids ↳ gagged and had to pause the reading so many times because HELLO— had me spiraling at work

✿ the devils disguise by @qlossytbh ↳ I said I sobbed a little bit, but I actually cried so much I ended up taking a nap and felt better afterward. It's all fluff, though, don't get me wrong. I'm just very dramatic when the red devil's on the clock

✿ not so funny by @reidmania ↳ Angsty, that made me wanna start a fight with some random twiggy tall guy. Sooooo good!

✿ cloaked in passions touch by @raekensluver ↳ If you don't like Spencer's hands, you're fucking lying to yourself!!!!!

✿ language of devotion by @gghostwriter ↳ I'm in love with reid, and this fic just had me stumbling back onto his lap like a good gal

✿ this req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ Sorry, I'm not sure what the title is, but it's so adorable and got me to go to work, so kind of a lifesaver tbh

✿ hallucinate by @gghostwriter ↳ Oooo, this one was so cute, hehe. Honestly, I lean towards Spencer fluff lately just because I've been too overstimulated with work this past month, so READ THIS ONE ITS CUTE

✿ it's golden, like daylight by @dudeitiskarev ↳ I actually felt like I was reader the entire time I read this. It's well-written and so adorable and something that should be framed in a museum

✿ much ado about nothing series by @incognit0slut ↳ binged it all morning, and I was whipped !!! It's ongoing, so if I have to wait, so does everybody else

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ choiceless hope series by @hotchfiles ↳ This series had me rolling over my bed on a Saturday. A lot of feelings getting played (mostly mine)

✦ beanstalk by @solardrop ↳ I kid you not; I was giggling like a weirdo when I read it. And that itself deserves the recommendation.

✦ too busy being yours by @hotchfiles ↳ Lari knows how to get a sick gal to giggle. I love bau!rossi!reader. I love Rossi as reader's dad, so I enjoyed it more than I thought I would

✦ ignorance by infatuation by @boneblushed ↳ Oh, this one was a nice snack while on my break at work. LOVED IT SO MUCH

✦ hungover by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi ↳ Mmmm, such a good read! Plus Jemily is there sooooo

✦ from across the bar by @hotchscoffeecup ↳ Evil laugh ensues. A nice cuppa of some good ole kinky stuff

✦ doomed by @hotchfiles ↳ guys, I stopped my car in the middle of driving home just to read it, so it's THAT good. Honestly, I strongly encourage everyone to read all of Lari's works! She's my writer crush, if none of you realized it by now

✦ a bunch of cuties in love by @lavenderspence ↳ hehehehehehe this definitely did not remind me of that one older guy I used to flirt with who had an adorable younger brother that I babysat🤭

✦ schrodinger's cat by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ angst on a Saturday morning is like taking a shot of soju before 11 am, and this one felt like it <3

how about you also comment your top 3 fave fics for this month to spread more love to our great writers?

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juniperskye · 3 months ago

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That’ll Show Them.

Based on the following ask: 🥰 yay!! Okay. (Deep breath), so the idea was basically either preschool or elementary school setting. Hotch being a sexy single dad has most of the single (and not!) Moms drooling over him. Y/N or Reader is a single mom, not one of those drooling but definitely sees that he's attractive. But her kid (girl or boy) happens to quickly become Jack's BFF and this causes natural interactions and conversations between her and Hotch over the next few weeks which makes the other moms salty and jealous, and she overhears them at one point speculating that she probably told her kid to befriend Jack just so she could get closer to Hotch. I didn't really think of an ending for it but just had an idea of a scene where she's trying to remain calm and unaffected while overhearing them talking about her and giving side eye. Maybe Hotch hears it too and comes to her defense? Or makes them even saltier by asking her out in front of them? 😈 @nyxwolph thank you for requesting this! I did adjust a little bit, so I hope you like it!!

Aaron Hotchner x Single Mom! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 3569

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some explicit language, reader is a single mom, mention of divorce, school moms being shitty, mention of Hotch’s ex father-in-law being ill, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than being shorter than hotch, reader is mentioned/implied to own a shop (no details), gay best friend, Hotch starts work at 8am (idk what the BAU hours are lmao) let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The moms were ruthless. You were barely three months into the school year and already you had been completely ostracized from the “mom group.” Part of you had assumed it was because the majority of these moms had all caught wind of your very public, messy divorce. The other part of you, however, knew that the main reason you’d been exiled was him.

Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner, as the other moms called him, had taken Ms. Jenson’s third grade class by storm. Meet the teacher night had been a frenzy of horny moms all praying their child ended up in the same class as Aaron’s son. There were hushed conversations and giggles, and hair flips all night long, you had felt bad for the teachers since their presentations had fallen second to the gossip travelling through the halls about the hot single dad.

“I heard he works for the FBI!”

“I heard he’s a widower. Could you even imagine?”

“Wow. He must be pretty amazing, a single dad and working for the FBI!”

“Can we be real for a moment and just admire how hot he is?”

“Did you see his hands?”

“Yes! Did you see his suit? I love a well-dressed man.”

They were vultures, every single one of them, and Aaron was their newest victim. He, of course, had been completely oblivious to the blatant flirting – he returned every advance they made with a kind smile or polite nod. And listen, you weren’t going to deny that Aaron was hot…you just weren’t trying to be like those other moms and gush about it at meet the teacher night.

Your being excluded by the class moms had only gotten worse since Jack and Millie had become friends. Millie had told you on the first day of school, that a boy had pushed her down on the playground, and before you could panic, she told you that a different boy…one named Jack…had helped her up. She said after that, they sat together at lunch and read aloud.

You could barely contain you excitement. Since the divorce, Millie had been having a tough time making friends – mainly because the moms told their kids to stay away. Your ex had been quite cozy with some of the moms at Millie’s last school and you had eventually found out he was sleeping with one of them. Once the divorce was finalized and you had full custody, you’d moved and that meant a new school for Millie.

Realistically that should’ve been the end of the drama, but it just so happens that the girl who your husband slept with…well her sister’s child was in the same class as Millie. He of course was the kid that pushed Millie down on the first day of school.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, their constant whispers…but it had you seething. This was an everyday occurrence now that you drove Jack home. The moms all waiting for dismissal engaging in hushed conversations about how desperate you must be.

“I bet she told her daughter to befriend his son.”

“What a sad way to get his attention.”

“Well, I mean, her ex did cheat…so she’s probably desperate.”

“She’s ridiculous if you ask me.”

This new development has begun exactly two weeks ago. Jack and Millie had been on their sixth playdate – this had been the first one Aaron had been able to host (due to work obvi) which had led to you staying and the two of you talking about how demanding his work schedule must be. He had told you it kept him pretty busy and that his sister-in-law had been extremely helpful, but with her father falling ill, she was growing increasingly busy.

“You know, I could drive Jack. If you’re comfortable with it.” You offered.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you!” Aaron panicked.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t ask…I’m offering. I already have to drive to the school to get Millie, I could grab Jack and the two of them could hang out until you are off work. And if your sister-in-law ever can’t watch him while you’re away, know that I am more than willing.” You punctuated with a kind smile.

“What if I take them to school, I don’t need to be at work until eight, and then you could pick them up? That way it is even. Obviously when I’m out of town, which wouldn’t necessarily be possible, but I could coordinate with Jess and…” Aaron was spiraling.

“Aaron. If you want to take them to school when you’re in town, that would be great. That would allow me the time I need in the shop before opening. When you are out of town, if Jack is staying with me, I will take them to and from school – if he’s with Jess, she doesn’t have to worry about Millie okay?” You suggested.

“You’re a godsend. You know that?” Aaron said, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah well, Jack has been an incredible friend to Millie, and I would love for them to spend more time together. Plus, the house has been so quiet and, I don’t know. It would be nice to have the kids there.” There was a slight cringe that was brought with the insinuation of your divorce.

“I appreciate it either way.” Aaron gently nudged your shoulder.

So, for the last two weeks, Aaron had been driving the kids to school and you had been picking them up. He shockingly had yet to be called on a case…but you knew it was only a matter of time.

Aaron was called away a few days later, he had let you know that Jess would be watching Jack. That had sent a tinge of pain right to your heart. In truth, you were attracted to Aaron, and the more time you spent with him, you were starting to fall for him. You tried not to focus too much on the fact that he’d sent Jack to stay with Jess…chalking up to the fact that Aaron probably didn’t want to burden you – even though he could never.

You didn’t hear from Aaron until nearly two weeks later.

A: Hey, we just got back from this case. I’ll pick Millie up in the morning for school. Are you good to pick up Jack after?

Y: Hey! Yeah I can pick them up tomorrow. I have to take Millie to get her cleats and shin guards for soccer, is it okay if Jack tags along?

A: I totally forgot soccer starts next weekend. If I sent some money in Jack’s backpack could you pick up his stuff too?

Y: Of course! Will you be late tomorrow?

A: Probably, after a case like this, there’s a lot of paperwork to be done. I will try to be there by 7pm if that’s okay.

Y: 7 is fine, we will get homework done and I will feed them and have Jack all ready for you!

A: Thank you. Seriously I don’t know what I’d do without you.

The next day you arrived at the school at 2:45 pm to pick up the kids. You parked your car like always and stood in wait with the other parents. You were checking your phone to see where the nearest sporting goods store was when one of the dads approached you.

“Hey, is Millie ready for soccer to start?”

“Oh, hey Scott! Yeah she is so excited! What about Macy?” You questioned.

“She’s nervous, but she told me she was glad Millie and Jack were playing too. Michael was really bummed that the girls weren’t in a class together this year.” Scott explained.

“I was too! How is Michael? We should all have dinner some time!” You suggested.

“He’s good, and I am sure he would love to have you and your new beau over for a meal – I will talk to him when we get home!” Scott beamed.

“New beau…what are you talking about? Do you mean Aaron? He and I, we’re not…” You stuttered.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay! You should be bragging to all those bitches that you bagged the hot DILF! Don’t let them spoil something good for you hon.” Scott gently squeezed your arm.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, the kids came running out. Macy ran to hug her dad while Jack and Millie made their way to you. Both kids hugged you and then said their goodbyes to Macy. You moved to grab their hands and guide them to the car, but not without catching the glares from all the moms. They must’ve heard Scott and you talking…and while you and Aaron weren’t dating, it didn’t hurt to let them believe it for a bit.

After getting the kids soccer gear, you took them home and got them started on their homework and gave them some apple slices. You checked a few emails, changed the washer and dryer, and wrote up your grocery list in the meantime.

When they were done with their homework, you checked their work and then quizzed them on their spelling words. By then it was nearly 5:30 pm, you set the two of them up in the living room with a coloring book and some Legos while you got dinner started. You made some grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans – for the kids, you added some cheese to the potatoes and cut up the chicken – setting that on the table for them alongside a glass of chocolate milk.

“Kids, time for dinner!” You hollered.

“Coming mom!” Millie called.

You were about 10 minutes into dinner when a knock sounded from the front door. You excused yourself and walked over to let Aaron in.

“Hey, we were just having dinner, can I get you a plate?” You offered.

“Oh, as long as it’s not an imposition!” Aaron replied.

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not an imposition. I like having you around.” You stopped abruptly, embarrassed that you’d let that slip. “I mean, you know, it’s nice that Millie and Jack are friends…I uh. I…”

“I know what you mean. And I like having you around too.” He said, finally stepping fully into the house.

Aaron placed a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you toward the kitchen. You plated him up some food and he joined you at the table, sitting right beside you. You couldn’t help the growing heat that bloomed on your cheeks as his arm brushed against your own. The room was filled with the playful chatter of the eight-year-olds that sat across from you, giggles escaping them as they recounted the events of their day at school.

Glancing over, you noticed the joy radiating from Aaron’s expression. You hadn’t seen him this genuinely happy in all the time you’ve known him, and you wonder if it is because he doesn’t get to relax like this often. The thought allows your mind to drift even further – splaying images of cooking for the four of you all the time, of late nights cuddled with Aaron and even further into the future, welcoming a new child to the family you’ve curated…only it's all in your head.

“You alright?” Aaron whispers. His warm breath against your ear causes a chill to cascade across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“Hey mom, is Jack’s dad going to be my new dad?” Millie posed, causing you to choke on the bite of chicken you’d just taken.

“Woah, sweetheart you’re okay, just breathe!” Aaron patted your back gently. “Here, take a sip of water.”

Taking a swig, the chicken makes its way down. “Mills…baby where did you get that idea?”

“Well Rain said that his mom said that you were moving in on Jack’s dad, and I thought that if we were moving in, then that would make him my new dad!” Millie smiled.

It was Aaron who choked this time, only it was on his water, causing some of it to certainly escape through his nose. He pulled his napkin to his face as he coughed in an attempt to clear his airway.

“Aar…breathe.” You returned the favor of patting him gently on the back. “Are you okay?”

He answered with a nod and allowed a chuckle to escape his mouth before looking up to meet your gaze. Aaron wasn’t ignorant of the fact that the other moms had been eyeing him since the beginning of the year, he just hadn’t realized that they’d gone after you due to your budding closeness.

“Millie, Rain’s mom is just kidding. Jack’s dad and I are becoming good friends, like you and Jack, and they don’t like that, so they’re saying some not so nice things.” You explained.

“Oh…okay.” Millie said, a small pout gracing her features.

A pout that pulled on not only yours, but also Aaron’s heartstrings. He allowed himself a glance in your direction and took careful note of the hurt and disappointment that flashed across your own features briefly. Was it possible you felt more than you were letting on?

Six days later you received a call at four in the morning. It hadn’t been the thing to wake you up, but it came as a surprise, nonetheless.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just got a call about a time sensitive case and Jess is dealing with her dad. Would you mind taking Jack while I am away?”

“Aaron, of course! Do you need me to come and get him?”

“No, I will get a bag together for him and drop him off on my way to the office. I am going to leave you with a key to my place just in case Jack needs anything. Thank you for doing this, seriously it means a lot.”

“It’s really not a problem, I will have a bed made up for him by the time you get here.”

“Thanks sweetheart, see you soon.”

With that, Aaron hung up, and for the second time you were taken by surprise at the pet name he so casually referred to you by. You had to remind yourself not to swoon. It wouldn’t do you any good to get into your thoughts about the meaning behind his slip of the tongue.

Jack Hotchner was the most wonderful child you have the privilege of knowing – aside from Millie of course. He was polite and he listened with no pushback. He helped Millie with her chores (cleaning up her toys and putting her clothes in the laundry basket), he didn’t complain, and he just exuded this kindness and joy that brought an extra bit of warmth to your home.

You could see Millie becoming attached and you feared her heart would break once Jack had to go back home. You only hoped that she’d understand that although Jack’s presence isn’t currently permanent, they’d still get to see each other all the time.

Jack stayed with you for five nights, Aaron surprised you all by showing up with a pizza on Saturday evening.

The three of you had been cuddled up on the couch watching Inside Out 2 when the doorbell rang. You shuffled over to the door in your sweats and fuzzy socks to see Aaron standing there in a quarter zip and jeans. Good God, he’s never looked so good.

“Aaron!” You couldn’t hide your excitement.

“Surprise! I brought pizza, I hope cheese is okay.” He inquired.

“Cheese is perfect.” You confirmed. “Kids, dinner is here!”

“Dad!”

Jack ran to embrace his father. Millie, however, stormed off to her room. You were quick to throw Aaron an apologetic glance, before following her down the hall.

“Mills…what’s wrong honey?”

Millie replied with a grumble in her pillow and a shake of her head.

“Baby, I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s not fair. Jack doesn’t have a mom, and I don’t have a dad. But when you and Mr. Aaron are together it feels like a normal family. How come you guys can’t just be together?” Millie cried.

“Oh, honey. It’s not that simple bug. Mr. Aaron, well he’s a busy man and I just…” You trailed off.

“Don’t you like him?”

“Mills, yeah I like him, but like I said, it’s not that simple. Even if he liked me back, that wouldn’t just make us a family, it would take some time for us to get serious and then we’d have to decide if that was the right step for us.”

“It is the right step! You guys like each other, and Jack and I get along…mommy it’s perfect! You could be Jack’s mom and Mr. Aaron could be my new dad.” Millie said matter-of-factly.

“Oh honey, is this about your dad?” You pulled Millie into a hug.

“No! He wasn’t nice to me like Mr. Aaron is. Mom I want Mr. Aaron to be my dad.” She whispered as tears stained her cheeks.

“I know honey, me too…me too.” You pressed a kiss to her head. “Baby lets go have some pizza and enjoy our time with Jack and Mr. Aaron, yeah?”

“Okay.”

That night, something shifted. Aaron and you had begun spending more time together, going to soccer practices and games together, taking the kids to the park, the movies, pottery painting places, dinner at your house, game night at his. Aaron had also exclusively been asking you to take Jack while he was away on cases – claiming Jess’ father was getting worse.

Two months passed like this, and things had started to feel very domestic. Millie was asking more and more about Jack being her brother and Aaron her father and you had to explain that even though they weren’t related, even by marriage, that friends could be considered family too.

Once again you were taking care of Jack while Aaron was out of town on a case, only this time it was a little different. Your car was in the shop, so Aaron had let you borrow his car, and today was the last day of school before winter break. The schoolyard was buzzing with anticipation of the final bell, parents were discussing their vacation plans with one another while waiting.

You has been talking to Scott and Michael when Becca approached you.

“You know, I think it’s a sick thing you’ve done, using your daughter to help you prey on a vulnerable man.” She hissed.

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?” You shot back.

“Aaron. You had Millie befriend Jack and for what so you could trick Aaron into going out with you? It’s truly despicable behavior. He’s a good man and he deserves someone who is genuine.” Becca spewed.

“I don’t know where you get off, talking to me like that, but I can assure you – ”

“Becca, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t speak to my girlfriend that way. She is the kindest most genuine person I have ever met, and every day she shows me how much she cares for and loves Jack and me. So back off, and maybe don’t speak on things you don’t know anything about.” Aaron bit as his arm snuck its way around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I KNEW IT!” Scott shouted.

Becca stormed off with a huff and you turned around to see Aaron wearing a shit eating grin. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with disbelief at the fact that Aaron was here right now, he’d stuck up for you, and he’d called you his girlfriend. Yeah, you were fairly sure your brain had short circuited.

“Girlfriend?” Your gaze lifted to meet his.

“You know, I’d been meaning to ask.” He grinned down at you. “What do you say?”

“Yes! Of course!”

Aaron closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a kiss. All the while the moms scoffed and huffed in disbelief that you truly had taken Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner off the market. And before you had a chance to pull away, Jack and Millie came bounding over just in time to catch the last bit of your kiss.

“Does this mean Mr. Aaron can finally be my dad?” Millie asked.

Aaron leaned down to Millie’s level “Mills, I would love nothing more than to be your dad, but we have to take things slow okay? Your mom and I have a lot of grown-up decisions to make before that can happen, so I need you to be patient. Can you do that for me?”

“I can do that!”

You leaned down in front of Jack, wanting to ensure he’s included in all this. “What do you think Jack? Would you be okay with me and your dad being together? It means you and Millie will be together a lot more often.”

“Will you eventually be my mom then?”

“If your dad and I choose to get married eventually, then yeah, I’d be your stepmom.” You explained.

“I think you’d be a really good mom.” Jack wrapped his arms around you.

Aaron and you may have only just made things official, but in the last five or so months, you’d both fallen for each other. Sometimes, things are just right, and all the pieces fall into place naturally. And for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t wait to see where this leads.

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luvvyouforever · 16 days ago

Text

undercover - aaron hotchner x reader

synopsis: in the middle of a case, your worst fear comes true. you have to go on an a date with aaron hotchner, the boss you've been crushing on for months. content: canon-typical violence, tropey, kissing, flirtatious aaron, mentions of alcohol, afab reader who wears a dress. word count: 4k+ a lil bit oops author's note: ahhh my favorite trope in crime shows. enjoy!

"so based on this geographical profile y/n and i worked on, there's only two bars our unsub could frequent with his victims. the first one is more of a nightclub and we don't think it's likely that he'll be bringing them to such a rowdy environment," reid spoke to the crowd of officers and agents awaiting instruction. "the other bar also has a restaurant attached so we'll be keeping our investigation here."

jj grabbed a handful of papers with the bar's information and passed them out to the officers. once reid had stepped to the side, aaron came forward to wrap up their profile.

"he's cunning, yet incredibly violent. do not ambush him. he will escape your grasp and hurt you in the process. be on the lookout officers," he said with a tap to the desk that sent everyone back to work. with a subtle turn, aaron gazed at you and reid. "good work on the mapping. meet back up in the conference room in 5."

"thank you, sir," you and reid echoed before beginning to organize your files back into a folder.

all the while you tried to remain professional, your heart throbbed in your chest at the smallest ounce of praise from your boss. the way he held the room in his hand and demanded respect without ever having to actually ask for it was a part of the reason why you've had a crush on them for the better part of a year.

crush, now, felt too small. it was an infatuation at this point.

it didn't matter much, however, because would you ever confess your feelings for your boss? the boss who has been nothing but stoic your entire time of knowing him? absolutely not.

shrugging the butterflies in your body away, you head over to the impromptu coffee station created for the large number of people inside the police station and pour a cup of stale yet hot and much needed energy. this case was a doozy, one that had every agent just wishing for its end. and it felt like it was soon to come to a close. they had been coming up with some kind of plan. what that plan was, you weren't entirely sure.

when you managed to snap a lid on the coffee cup, you headed into the conference room where the rest of the bau were seated haphazardly around the room. you took a spot between emily and reid, eyes focused on aaron and rossi standing in front of a whiteboard.

"that coffee's not any good, is it?" rossi asked, noting the cup in your hand.

"every sip is somehow worse than the last, but i think we all need it," you said, following your statement up with another pained drink. rossi laughed and out of the corner of your eye, you could've swore that the corner of aaron's lips titled into a smirk. you ignored it, though, and began reading the words on the board.

"so, we're hoping to catch the unsub tonight," aaron started suddenly, turning with his ever-present air of professionalism. "if he's still following his schedule, he'll find his next victim tonight, most likely at the bar reid and y/n found. we've thought about how we're going catch him and i think we'll have to go undercover. two of us."

"under what pretenses, exactly?" derek asked on the other side of the table.

"on a date," rossi answered. just faintly, a red tint appeared on aaron's cheeks. you wondered what could possibly have made him- "we've picked our two already. y/n and aaron."

"oh!" you said surprisedly. "what led to this decision, pray tell?"

aaron looked down at his folders as if they were the most important thing in the world in that very moment. rossi glanced over, shook his head, then looked at you again.

"you two just seem the most likely out of any of us to go on a date. we don't want to look suspicious, no?" rossi answered.

"i-uh-i suppose not," you said. "my go bag isn't really packed with date wear clothes. mostly just pantsuits and academy t-shirts."

aaron finally cleared his throat and met your eyes for the first time since it was announced that you two would technically be going on a date. even if you would be wearing bulletproof vests under your clothes.

"that's okay. we won't be going out till 7pm. it's only three now. you're free to find something. as long as it's easy to move in," he said in a voice that felt an octave deeper than usual. and then he did something that almost made you faint on the spot. aaron dug into his pocket, fished out his wallet, and pulled out a credit card. his credit card. "use this."

sheepishly, you took the card from his hands and placed it into your own bag. "thanks," you muttered. an elbow jabbed its way into your side from beside you and emily was smirking at you. you dismissed her with your hand and stood to exit the room.

"hotel lobby at 7, yeah?" aaron said.

you forced a nervous smile to your face and nodded, then left the room. with aaron's credit card in your bag. about to buy an outfit. for a date with him. you weren't entirely positive you could safely drive.

౨ৎ

with the information you had about the bar, you picked a semi-formal, simple dress that paired well with heels you already packed. aaron was already paying for the dress. you couldn't ask him to also pay for the accessories.

after some test laps up and down your hotel room, you declared the outfit was "easy to move in" and grabbed your bag, ensuring that his credit card was still inside. the time was only 6:45, but you knew aaron would already be there, waiting.

with a check that your holster was properly attached to your thigh, you left the room and took the elevator down to the first floor. your heart was beating irregularly in your chest and your hands were clammy, but the reflective surface of the elevator's walls let you know that you looked good. for a fake date with aaron hotchner.

the elevator dinged when the doors opened and immediately, you saw aaron sitting in a lobby chair. he looked up at the sound and stood. he was dressed impeccably well in a suit with his hair done in its usual middle part. handsome was the only word on the tip of your tongue.

"you look beautiful," he said upon reaching your figure. it seemed like he didn't mean for the words to slip out, but instead of retracting them, he simply held out his arm for yours to wrap around.

your mouth went dry, but you knew you had to say something back. "thank you, hotch. you look handsome yourself."

"i think for the purposes of tonight," he said, "you can just call me aaron."

you nodded, finding words hard to muster up. instead, you allowed him to lead out of the hotel to one of the least suspicious looking SUVs parked outside. when he reached the door, he opened it for you.

you couldn't hold back a little laugh at the gesture. "you know...we're not on the date yet," you said. regardless of the light humor of the situation, you allowed him to help you into the passenger seat. he smirked, shut the door, then walked around to his door.

when he got in, his usual stone expression found its way to his face again. "forgive me for wanting to make this feel as natural as possible. i'm sure it's awkward going on a date with your boss. even if it is undercover."

"oh, no!" you blurted out. his eyebrows raised as he backed out of the parking spot. his arm wound its way around your seat, neglecting the back-up camera for the traditional method. "sorry. it's not awkward. you don't have to worry. promise."

"yeah?" he asked, putting the car back into drive and heading to the downtown area of the small town you were in. at a stop sign, he turned to look at you. if you weren't such a highly trained profiler, you would've certainly missed the way his eyes raked up and down your body, taking in your dress of choice. "you made a good pick."

your cheeks warmed with his flattery. to avoid meeting his gaze, you fished the credit card out of your purse to offer back to him. "thanks," you muttered. "you didn't have to pay for it, you know?"

he took the credit card from your grasp and shoved it into his pants pocket. "don't worry about it," he said with a wave of his hand. "figured if you're forced into going on a date, you should have something nice to wear at least."

you looked over to his body in the driver's seat, his face focused on the road ahead of him. "why do you keep assuming that i'm hating every second of this? i mean...how rare is it that we get to eat somewhere nice while on a case? and i'm getting paid for it while in the presence of a handsome man. could be worse things." you didn't know what compelled you to add on the last bit, but when you saw his cheeks flare up, you didn't regret it.

instead of responding, aaron's body relaxed in the driver's seat.

after several minutes of driving, the bar came into view and you bit your lip in nervousness. this unsub was pretty intense and you were heading directly into the lion's den. you tried to cram the nervousness deep down in the pit of your stomach as aaron pulled into the small parking lot next door.

before turning the car completely off, aaron turned his body towards yours. "now we really need to look as inconspicuous as possible. it might feel weird, but we need to look like a real couple on a date, okay?"

"yes, sir," you responded on impulse. "i mean...yes, aaron."

despite his attempts not to, he breathily chuckled. "already off to a great start," he joked. you chuckled with him and unbuckled your seat. "i'm gonna text the team that we're heading in. don't open your door. let me do it."

a minute of quick texting passed by and aaron shut off the car, then stepped out. a few seconds passed before your door opened and aaron was extending his hand to yours. you took it with a sweet smile and let him lead you out of the car. he shut the door behind you and your arm found his own again.

regardless of the reason being for the case or for just the pure want to be closer to him, you leaned into aaron's strong body. he took to the gesture immediately and held you even closer. it was intoxicating, but you kept your gaze focused on the bar ahead.

after what felt like agonizing hours of walking side by side, you came onto the host stand at the front of the restaurant.

"how many?" the host asked.

"two," aaron responded. the hand that was holding on to your arm began rubbing the skin there up and down. every touch of his fingers left goosebumps.

the host gestured for the two of you to follow her. quicker than you'd like, she led you towards a table in the middle of the restaurant. your eyes surveyed the restaurant and bar around you, scanning for someone that resembled the unsub's profile. once the host walked away, you and aaron looked at each other and shook your heads, signaling that nothing felt out of the ordinary so far.

"order whatever you'd like," aaron said, his head pointing towards the menu in your hand. "hon," he added.

the petname rolled from his tongue naturally, as if it was a name he had been calling you for years. you tried to not show that it affected you much, but aaron noticed the way your breath caught in your throat. despite the nervousness that settled over your body, you decided to take another leap and with a shift in your seat, your heeled foot grazed over his leg. he was shocked at the sudden touch, but spread his legs further nonetheless.

you didn't pull away either when the server came forward.

"welcome, guys. date night tonight, i'm guessing?" she asked with a smile.

"mhm!" you answered first. "decided to get out and dress up for once in a while."

aaron looked at you with an almost impressed look. maybe rossi was right. you did look like a couple.

"isn't that nice? well, what would you two like to drink tonight?"

"an old-fashioned, please," aaron responded. "and a water."

"i'll take a cosmopolitan and a water," you added.

the server noted down the drinks and walked away. your foot continued sliding up and down aaron's legs, becoming a subconscious act at that point. he flipped through the menu once, then glanced around the room again. still nothing.

"an old-fashioned, hmm?" you asked, eyeing one of the meals on the menu that sounded particularly tasty.

"is that shocking?" he asked.

"no," you answered honestly. "just learning more about you, aaron."

aaron hummed, as if he were about to say something, but instead focused on his menu again. a few minutes of comfortable silence passed before the server came over with a tray of your drinks. she sat them down on the table, along with the waters, then pulled out a notepad again.

"had enough time to pick what you'd like?" she asked.

"know what you want, dear?" you asked, looking up at aaron.

"i'll take the steak frites," he said to the server.

both he and the server looked at you. you told her what you'd like from the menu, hoping it wasn't expensive enough for aaron. he barely registered the price, though, and instead collected your menus to hand to the server. if this was what dates were usually like with him, you could definitely tolerate them.

"you look like you're thinking about something," aaron said from the other side of the table where he had been watching both you and the door intently.

you took a sip of your drink and sat it back down. "i thought we said no profiling your coworkers, dear," you teased. "i feel like that applies tenfold when you're on a date."

he chuckled and took a sip of his own drink. you noted just how attractive he was with a glass of whiskey in his hand, laughing.

"pardon me for wanting to know what my beautiful date has in her head," aaron said. his words made you bite your lip and look down at the table. suddenly, though, his demeanor shifted as his eyes connected with someone coming in at the door. "don't turn around."

"is he here?" you whispered.

he nodded and picked up his drink, eyes following him to the bar. almost imperceptibly, he tilted his head towards the bar. "fifth seat," he whispered back.

sure enough, an unsub matching the physical profile had seated himself next to an alone woman at the bar. almost immediately upon sitting down, he began talking to her. the fact that the man you had been trying to catch for a long time, the man who committed some really gruesome murders was that close to you made you almost ill. you passed your emotions off by taking a drink.

"i'm gonna grab another drink, baby. i haven't seen the server around," aaron suddenly said. he nodded to you, perhaps for reassurance, before standing and adjusting his blazer to ensure the holster on his side was covered. luckily, the seat directly next to the woman was empty and he positioned himself on the other side of it. the unsub barely registered his presence, which was good. you took note of his clothes, his hair, everything, just in case she slipped through your grasp again.

eventually, aaron had flagged down the bartender, ordered his second drink, and came back with it in his hand.

"he's just flirting with her," aaron whispered once he was out of earshot. "but she's falling for it. probably not long till he tries to leave with her."

"i won't get to finish my food," you said half-seriously.

"i'll get it boxed up for you, hon," he said. though that time, aaron's voice was a whisper. the petname was for you alone.

just as aaron had expected, the unsub stood from his seat at the bar, the woman next to him following suit. together, they headed towards the back where the bathroom was, along with an exit inside the kitchen which he was likely going to use. both yours and aarons followed them and with a curt nod, you both stood to head towards the back, several paces behind them.

suddenly, they went through a door, to what seemed like a closet first before going into the kitchen. you and aaron paused at the beginning of the hallway. then some noises erupted from the closet, ones that would make an older woman blush and hold her hand to her mouth.

aaron looked back at you with a confused look on his face. at that very moment, the closet door opened. you and aaron looked at each other in panic, but just before they stepped out of the closet, you grabbed aaron by his tie and pulled him closer to you.

within seconds, you had hiked your leg up his own, revealing your thigh in the dress. his hand quickly came to the skin and he squeezed tightly. to add to the scene, you wrapped a hand around the base of aaron's neck and pulled him down. his lips met your own with a rough clash, but then the kiss smoothed out.

at first, he was still, lips unmoving against yours. when your fingers tangled themselves into the short hairs at his neck, he finally kissed you back. acting, he thought to himself as he deepened the kiss and pulled your leg higher up his. undercover, he tried to remind himself when your lips let forth a whimper into his mouth.

neither of you wanted to pull away. you only pulled your head back when you heard the kitchen door swing open and closed. you inhaled a deep breath and met aaron's dark brown eyes. they were wide and his cheeks were flushed.

"sorry. i-it was all i could think to do," you stuttered out.

aaron shook his head. "don't be," he said quickly. "come on, he's about to leave. we'll talk after."

you felt the warmth of aaron's body leave yours as he pulled the gun from his holster. you retrieved your own from your thigh and followed him through the kitchen. he flashed his badge towards the chefs to get them to stop yelling and they pointed towards the exit where the unsub had just left.

both of you picked up your pace. had the kiss deepened for a few more seconds, you would have certainly missed him. however, as soon as you threw open the exit door, the unsub was forcefully shoving the young woman into his car.

"fbi! put your hands up and back away from the car!" aaron yelled. the unsub didn't do immediately as asked, despite two guns pointing in his direction. "i won't ask again! put your hands up and back away from the car!"

in a quick flash, the unsub reached inside his jacket. in the streetlight, you saw the glint of a gun. hardly a second passed before he pulled it out, aimed, but then fell to the asphalt.

your finger came off the trigger and before lodging it back into the holster, you turned the safety back on. you hadn't killed him, only immobilized him in his right leg. it was enough for aaron to run forwards, take the gun and throw it to the side. while he placed handcuffs on the unsub, you ran to the other side of the car and rescued the woman from the passenger seat. crying, she fell into your arms. suddenly, you were surrounded by the town's police department, along with the rest of your team who had been waiting just down the street.

before everything got too hectic to seek each other out, you and aaron took a long look at each other. he nodded with a smile, his form of praise, before hauling the unsub into a police car.

౨ৎ

a few hours had passed before everyone was released from the scene. the bau loaded up into their SUVs, aaron taking the one you had rode together in. much to your chagrin, his car filled up before you could get in with him. instead, you rode with emily and reid on the way back to the hotel to gather your belongings.

when you arrived to the hotel, everyone split off into their rooms. aaron seemed to be speaking privately with rossi so you opted to go upstairs and change out of the outfit you had been wearing for the better half of the night.

as you were unbuckling your heels and placing them back into your go-bag, you heard a faint knock on the door. you rose from the bed, feet aching, and answered it.

there, aaron stood with a white t-shirt on, having had to change out of his clothes from the scene.

"hey," you said.

"can i come in?" he asked.

only then did you notice that he was holding something behind his back. you stepped to the side to allow him to enter and he scooted the item in front of him to prevent you from seeing.

"what do you have there?" you asked. slowly, he brought forth two boxes of food, having kept his promise from earlier.

"it's probably not the freshest anymore, but nothing that a microwave can't fix," he said sheepishly.

you could've cried on the spot. smiling brightly, you took the food from his hands and sat it on the hotel desk. a grunt escaped his lips as your arms engulfed him in a hug. his arms wrapped around your body and your feet lifted from the ground a little.

"thank you," you said genuinely.

aaron watched as you took the food and warmed them up, going for yours first so that he could have the slightly warmer meal. once they were both ready to be ate, you found some plastic silverware in the little coffee tray and handed one set to him.

"round two?" you said with a shrug.

"round two," he agreed. "but...i wouldn't mind a round three, or four, or five, when we get back home." he picked up a fry from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

"glad to know my impulsive gift didn't scare you off," you joked. you paused for a second and set the food down. "which, i mean, i wouldn't mind a round two on that either."

aaron paused too, setting his own box back down on the desk. he stood and offered his hand to help you up from the bed. you took it and rose. then, his hand wrapped around your back where his palm was splayed across the skin there.

"i wouldn't mind a round two either," he said quietly. "but i call the shots this time."

your knees felt weak being so close to aaron. you didn't miss the way his cheeks flared and one of his hands shook nervously. had he been feeling the same way for you for this long too?

"you can call the shots anytime, hon," you teased, echoing the petnames for earlier.

smirking, his free hand ghosted up your side till it met your chin. his fingers titled your head upwards and ever so softly, he leaned in. this kiss was much more romantic, more loving, less rushed. he had time, now. he wasn't kissing you to hide from someone else. he was kissing you because he has been wanting to for oh so long.

minutes must've passed before the two of you pulled away to a pure need to breathe. he smiled. "good round two?"

"i think i'm gonna need a few more just to double check."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner criminal minds #thomas gibson #aaron #hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #ssa aaron hotchner #bau

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