#you can’t spell Aaron Hotchner without hot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years ago

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a double shot for me (with a splash of you)

also known as a coffee shop au no one asked for, but i wanted. aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader.

word count: 8628

rating: teen, for lots and lots of coffee consumption, baked goods, and falling in love one cup at a time.

Penelope sees it first.

Ever since JJ left, cases fall on her more and more. Those pesky paper files that the FBI insists on keeping around. Dark manila folders embossed only to be thrown away. It’s a shame, but those are the ones she has to take up to Hotch’s office.

She makes the climb, moves to his door with purpose. Reaches out to knock, clutching one of her more muted pens in case Hotch needs one to sign. Not likely, but the last time she had one with a fuzzy pink thing on a spring, and the visual of Hotch signing one of their cases with that much... fluff made her eyes cross.

Anyway. She’s up and in, Hotch giving his permission, and the files in her arms get placed in his box.

“Just a couple of signatures,” she informs him.

“Are these finished consults?” he asks, and she fills him on what details she can. It’s while she’s filling him in, though, that he lifts a mug of coffee to his lips.

It’s a new mug. One that she’s never seen on his desk before. Definitely different, because the ones he usually chooses are the kind that the FBI keeps as standard issue, the ones that get stolen and restocked because they’re convenient and... just okay, as far as mugs goes. They hold coffee effectively enough, is what she’s saying.

But this is a mug. A kind of cute mug, with a logo on the front of some coffee shop. It’s white, too, almost a shock on the more somber mahogany of her boss’s desk.

“Garcia?”

She realizes then that she stopped talking. Hotch is staring up at her, mug still poised halfway up to his lips, and she blinks, mouth falling open a little.

“I’m - I’m sorry, sir. I was just admiring that mug you have. Is that place any good? It opened up pretty recently, right?”

He glances at it. Seems to notice it for the first time as well, and his face softens. That’s the only way Penelope can describe it, as if looking at the mug makes him think of something... good.

But when he talks, it’s like any other conversation. As if that little moment she spies doesn’t happen. Nods, face just on this side of neutral.

“Yeah, I like their coffee. Fair prices, too, even with the knowledge that a building full of FBI agents are here to overcharge.”

She chuckles, but it’s for more than the joke. It’s at the fact that Hotch seems that close to smiling himself, and she pulls back from his desk with a little grin. “All right, sir. Thank you.” Her head dips a little.

“Thank you,” he shoots back, and when she leaves, she thinks that maybe she’ll let that place be all his.

The first time Aaron-With-Two-A’s comes into your coffee shop (distinguishing him from Aron-With-One-A and Aahron-With-An-H), you’re pretty smitten with him. You can’t tell if it’s the fitted suit and tie, the jawline, or the small smile he gives you when he orders, but by the time you serve him with an extra bright smile that he kindly returns... well, you’re in love. He could be the love of your life. Especially when he drops a tip in the jar.

An exaggeration, of course. It’s not love.

Maybe.

Anyway, you see him walk out the door and at that point you know that you’ll never see him again. This isn’t the part of town that usually gets the suits, and there are shops closer to where they gather that he’ll probably use next. Your luck is shitty anyway, so anyone like that who brings you a little bit a joy would, of course, never return. You’re already a late bloomer, and known for your bad decisions, so while you’re very thankful for your job you know it’s not luck that landed you where you are.

But you suck it up, of course. You can’t afford to get distracted. You’re the only one working a shift in the afternoons, and that time is used for cleaning and second-guessing every decision you make, along with doing your best to make damn good coffee.

But he comes back. More than once. Get his same order, a very plain black coffee with a couple of sugars, and you hand it over across the bar each time, sometimes going out of your way to put it in his hands. Smiling, your handwriting the scrawl on the cup that spells out his name.

A-A-R-O-N.

He’s becomes a regular, and you feel comfortable calling him that. It isn’t every day he comes in, not even close. Sometimes he’s gone for three weeks at a time, but he always trails back in, bright and early for a hot cup. Soon, you’re adding smiley faces to the end of his name, and the first time you do it you can’t help but peek out behind the pastry case to watch him see it.

He smiles. You smile. It’s a win.

Slowly small talk develops. It’s weeks, pulling little tidbits from him each time you take his order. Basically, what happens is you ramble for too long, he smiles and responds, and the process repeats.

But he seems to enjoy himself, and you definitely are, and as long as the line isn’t held up, you don’t really mind.

Of course, the days aren’t all peaches and cream (though the peach galette you sell always tastes like it). One day, a slower Tuesday, you’re trying to hide the way your chest aches, after a particularly brutal phone call with your mother that brought tears to your eyes.

Why are you wasting your time on this – this coffee shop? she had asked. Mocked. You gave up a lot for that dream of yours, and you’re just scraping by –

And you’d tried to explain. You really had. What it meant to you, to start this on your own, to get away from your past, your bad decisions, your spouse. From what was holding you back. But she snapped, and she scolded, and as you closed your eyes and hung up there had been nothing you could do but gasp for air.

Her words overwhelm you behind the counter, and you close your eyes tight at the memory, not realizing that at the same time, the coffee cup you’re holding overflows.

The coffee scalds you. Because it’s fucking coffee. You let out a cry, dropping the cup all over the floor, grateful it’s only a cardboard one for to-go orders. It splashes your no-longer-clean jeans, and at that moment you’re done. You’re just done. Your hands are shaking, and burned, and you push to the sink in a gasped sob. Your hair falls in your eyes, gets shoved back, and once it falls forward again you reach up to pull at it overwhelmed.

Your name is called out, but you wave the hand that isn’t stinging, splashing water without meaning to when the faucet gets going. “I’m fine, just - just give a minute, I’ll get it right out.”

“Are you okay?”

It’s an innocent question. And you should be more put together, it’s a goddamn customer, but your already shitty day just peaks and you whirl around to snap before even processing who’s in front of you.

“Do I fucking look - oh. Oh, my god.”

It’s Aaron. With two As. The coffee you spilled? His. The voice. His? The look of concern, one that makes your cheeks flush with a red you haven’t felt in a long time? His.

Of course. The one time you yell at a customer, and it just happens to the one you have a raging crush on.

“I’m - I’m so s-sorry,” you stammer. “Like I said, it’ll be right out, I just...” You don’t even know how to recover, instead choosing to turn back to your hand, which luckily is not blistering. It’s just bright red, inflamed. The cold water over it helps, but you can still feel the undercurrent of the sting. However, you still have a job to do and you force yourself to pull way, moving to grab another to-go cup. “I’ll get you a fresh one, okay? Give me a minute.”

“Put your hand back under the faucet.” It’s not an order, but his voice carries the weight of one, and you blink a few times to stop the tears before moving back to the sink, whimpering as the cool once more rushes over your skin. “Do you need me to go get anything? Is there anyone in the back to help you?”

You can’t help your snort. It feels snotty with the tears that you’re just barely holding back. Why is he being so nice? You just make the coffee.

“No. It’s just me this morning. Just my luck, right?” The crushing loneliness of that statement floors you, and you find yourself staring at the running water to avoid his eyes.

The water is the only noise in the room, besides your occasional sniffle. After a moment, you force yourself to pull back from the water, eyes closing tightly as the pain ramps up again. And Aaron is still there, his eyes holding an intense kind of pity, and you realize his hand is reaching for yours.

He clears his throat as you raise a brow at the gesture. “I’m not a doctor, but I have a third-grader at home. Burns are nothing new to me.” You give him a weak smile (of course, he’s a father), and he takes your hand gently, looking over it with that classic intensity. He’s furrowing his brow at it for a while, and the whole time he’s just... holding your hand.

“Your professional opinion?” you ask in a shaky voice, and he hums, turning it over to look at your palm. He looks up at you again, and when he speaks it’s deadpan, brow furrowed.

“I don’t know. I think we’ll have to cut it off.”

There’s a beat, and then you’re sputtering out a laugh before you can stop yourself. He smirks before letting you pull your hand back. The pure shock of the statement brings you back from the edge, and the tears in your eyes seem to vanish as you realize you’re giggling, a hectic kind of sound. He doesn’t seem to mind the horrific noises coming from you, though, because he’s still watching you, one hand sliding into his pocket as his face relaxes.

“You’ll be okay. It’ll heal on its own – just make sure if any blisters appear you don’t pop them.”

He gets a playful glare for his efforts, and you reach for a clean washcloth, soaking it in cold water and wrapping it around the affected hand.

“Any other advice?” you ask him, and his eyes glance toward the coffee on the floor.

“No. Fresh out, but. Let me help you clean up.”

You huff out another laugh. Was he serious? “And ruin your suit?” You gesture to his whole outfit. Hell, he’s got a tie on that screams expensive, shoes that surely are the cost of a full day’s profit. “Trust me. Coffee smell stays with you. And once it’s bad, it’s bad. I’ll get it, after I make you another coffee, one you can actually take with you.”

He doesn’t seem too convinced. For a moment, he looks almost like he’s going to ignore you, take off his jacket, and grab the mop. But no matter how much you would love to see that, you shake your head, and emphasize it again. “No. I’ll do the cleaning.”

Your stern tone gets him to lift his hands, in surrender. You smile, then, a real one, without much snot, and he starts moving towards the door.

“You’ll have a good day, all right?” He says it so… so confidently, so assuredly. And smoothly pulls out his usual two-dollar tip from his wallet, dropping it in the jar.

“You don’t want your coffee?” you call out, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you. And then he’s leaving, and you’re trying to think of what to say. Something, anything, to thank him for his kindness.

“Wait!” you cry out. You must sound desperate, because he stops and when he turns back to you, you’re rummaging around behind the counter. You almost completely disappear for a moment before you’re popping back up, your prize in hand.

“Here.” The gift is thrust forward. “To say thank you. Really. You didn’t have to stay, and you did. And. I think my day will be better because of it.”

He takes it from you, turning it over in his hands.

“A coffee mug.”

Suddenly, the gesture feels stupid, and your face flushes as he keeps turning it over in his fingers. “Yeah, I - I would’ve given you a ticket or something, for a free coffee and pastry, but I only printed those for the week of the grand opening. I’m sorry, really, it’s dumb, I can take it back, and we can pretend this never happened -”

But when he looks up at you, you stop talking. The earth has stopped spinning, as far as you’re concerned. His eyes have wrinkles at the corners, because you suppose that’s what happens when he grins. You find yourself tracing them, unable to pull your gaze away. In this light, he looks brilliant. The shine of the early morning sun is dancing on his features, and you feel like an idiot for even thinking it but it’s all you can think.

“I can just… I owe you,” you finally say, and to that he shakes his head.

“No. This is – this is great.” And he means it, chuckling with it.

With a lift of the mug, he turns and goes out the door, leaving you a little agape as the world starts turning once again. And in that moment, the coffee smell is worth it, just so you can watch him disappear from view.

Rossi notices because he notices Aaron.

After all, the man’s life is… pretty routine. There are parts about the job that have him yanked all over the place, but the days that they’re at home, it’s methodical. A comfort in a way, knowing that some things never change.

At work before everyone else. Working the day away. Coming down for lunch (or not, depending what he (or Jess) managed to make at home for him and Jack in the evenings). Going back up, and working until everyone else leaves. He takes phone calls and meetings in his office, and every so often one of the team ventures up to interrupt, but. All in all, a pretty straightforward schedule most days of the week.

Dave doesn’t like to burn the midnight oil unless a book’s got him hooked, or get up too early unless there’s something in it for him, and so he’s always trailing in behind him, still before the others but at a time that’s sane.

Until one day. Aaron comes in a little later, later enough to catch the same elevator, and there’s a look on his face that’s a little… hurried.

There’s a cursory scan – no rumpled clothing, no identifying marks. And Aaron knows that he has eyes on him, because he ducks his head, not looking in his direction. Besides, Hotch isn’t exactly the type for one-night-stands, and so Dave rules it out with a nod and a press of the elevator button.

“Dave,” the unit chief acknowledges, and then steps off of the elevator once they arrive.

So. Something’s up.

Dave doesn’t confront him immediately, though. Just lingers, watches. Hotch knows that eyes are on him, but Rossi’s good enough that that doesn’t matter, especially when it happens again. Another elevator ride together,

“So,” he asks his friend, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Who’s got you running late?”

There’s not an immediate answer. Hell, the guy almost looks chastened at it, like Rossi’s scolding him for coming in at 7:45 instead of 7:15. How dare he make it in only fifteen minutes before eight in the morning?

“There’s this… coffee shop I like to hit before work. Stumbled into it one morning, and…” Hotch murmurs. He pauses, and the numbers keep climbing.

“Yes?”

If anything, Hotch’s face seems to flame, working his jaw for a second as he considers telling Dave what he already figures. “The barista. Think they own it, too, and makes good coffee in the mornings.”

Rossi doesn’t say anything at first. Just chuckles, shaking his head a bit.

“Well. Have you gotten this owner’s number?”

The silence is very telling, and Rossi just laughs.

“Come on, Aaron. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well, a rejection, for one,” Hotch replies with a look shot Dave’s way, but the older man just shakes his head again.

“Rejecting a handsome FBI agent who frequently pays the bills? Nah, I think you’ve got it,” he says, with a hand reaching to smack Aaron on the back. It’s that he leaves him with, along with another call over his shoulder.

“Y’know, once you get the number, you probably won’t have to spend so much on coffee!”

The days continue to pass by. Slowly, and surely, your little place seems to get some attention. More customers, more regulars. You manage to remember the names of your people most of the time, too, when the late nights keeping books and thinking of new bakery ideas don’t run away from you. And with those days, Aaron remains.

He still comes in the morning, at the asscrack of dawn. Of course, you don’t call it the asscrack of dawn in front of him, but often you’re still yawning when he comes in and asks for his order. And with it, since he’s so early, he stays to chat more and more. Sometimes, you see him glance at his watch, and excuse himself in a rush, and you can’t help but feel a little thrill at the thought that he just… likes talking to you that much.

There’s worry with it, too. What if he just feels so obligated to stick around? Are you forcing him to stay back longer than he needs to? But those fears are squashed by the way he always looks back to wave at you, lifting the cup of coffee you made him.

Of course, right after that he’s gone.

It’s like he vanishes. No sign of him in the mornings, and you feel a little bit of sorrow over the loss. But of course, immediately there’s a bit of embarrassment with that sorrow. You barely knew the guy, was he really worth a bit of mourning? But he truly just disappears, and for a moment your head comes up with crazy explanations as a way to cope without your early morning conversations, deal with the continued exhaustion that weighs on you as your business grows.

All hope is not lost, however, because it’s another late night into early morning balancing books when you see Aaron next.

It’s been a couple of weeks. You don’t exactly know what he does, but you know it’s something that requires the suit and tie, so you figure it’s important. Maybe a business trip, or something else that kept him away from your shop, but either way, it doesn’t matter. Because he’s back, and he gives you a little smile when you take his order, even when you can only yawn your way through it. The conversations even flow, like they did before, another source of incredible joy.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, on the tail end of yet another jaw-popping yawn. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Your hands lift above your head in a stretch, and his gaze drops to the tip jar where he deposits his normal amount: two dollar bills.

“We all have those mornings,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s not a problem.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have a morning like this,” you tease. Your hands move easily, even in your exhaustion, making his usual order with a flourish. Two sugars, in a little to-go cup, coffee over the top to make sure it’s mixed in. “What’s your secret? Don’t tell me you’re an energy drink fanatic. I’d feel like you were going behind my back.”

“No, no. Just your coffee,” he returns, and it’s easy. Comes out of him without any thought. If you blush, you hope he doesn’t notice, because your face is turned to his cup to make sure it doesn’t overflow.

“You’re too kind.” Lid on top, secured tightly, and when you turn back to him and hand it over, he doesn’t turn away. His comment makes you feel bold, too, so the name you write on it has a winky-face instead of a smiley-face. “Don’t stay away too long, my good days always come when you’re my first customer,” you add, and something seems to… shift.

Because Aaron doesn’t turn away. Smiles at you, at the coffee cup, and then glances back behind him. There’s no one else in the shop, there never is this early – it becomes known around the city as a good place to get a quick bite later in the day, set up and do some studying for a while since the black cups of coffee can be bottomless. But he checks anyway and then passes his coffee cup from one to the other, reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a little card.

“I was… politely encouraged by a coworker to take the leap,” he admits, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re offered the little white cardstock, and when you look at it, you see his full name. It feels like a momentous occasion, Aaron-with-two-As shifting to Aaron Hotchner. “And if you’re willing, I would love to go on a date with you. Get to know you more.”

Then there’s a pause, and there’s a cloud of… something. You watch it come and go, and the whole time you just offer the same smile, a smile that seems to rouse him of whatever he’s thinking about.

“But, if you don’t want to, I understand. My work life is pretty hectic, as I’m sure you can guess, and I know you know I have a son –“

“I would love to.”

It’s the easiest thing to say, because you feel it with every fiber of your being. Because Aaron Hotchner seems like a really sweet guy, who works in Quantico and still comes by your coffee shop every morning he can.

“Really, Aaron. I would. As you can guess, my schedule’s pretty routine, but I do close as of right now, so, our dinners might have to be later rather than earlier –“

“Dinners?” he says it with a small smile, and you flush at the slip.

“I didn’t mean to… assume anything, but. Whatever we get a chance to do, or keep doing, I would love to. Just. Give me a second.”

You don’t wait any longer. Your fingers move to your phone, input his number, and immediately send him a text, with your name. When his phone buzzes, you smirk.

“Now you have mine, too. Easy as pie.”

When he leaves, that day, it feels like something special. You don’t know what, just yet, but it feels new, and bright, and good.

Yeah, you think to yourself, I hope we get to do at least a couple of dinners.

Emily notices next.

It’s a later night. The whole team has their nose buried in something, whether it be a consult or a report or, God forbid, something for Strauss. There’s work to be done, and unfortunately the jet life is only a small part of it.

She’s working on a report that particular evening. This case ended a few days ago, but since shots were fired it’s taken longer to sort through. Positioning, discharge time, how many shots, where, at who, with who. A nightmare, but incredibly necessary, and she’s done with it soon enough.

Her coat mocks her as she rises to her feet. So close to picking it up, dressing, and heading out the door. But she mentally promises to be right back, that home is just a little visit to Hotch’s office away.

She climbs the steps, and is glad to see the door is cracked open, that warm lamplight is filtering out from the open blinds. It means that when she knocks, he’ll let her in.

A couple taps of her knuckles. She waits a beat, two. No response.

Huh.

Another tap. Tries to peek in, but the door is just open enough that she can only glance in with one eye. She’s not usually one to snoop without the pushing from Derek or Penelope, but her eyes are tired and she’s ready for a night in with Sergio.

Is he... is he on his phone?

His cell phone?

And smiling?

Her eyes widen a bit, and she pulls back immediately. At this point in the night, Hotch is nothing but business. Tired, like all the rest, and if he’s bent over anything, it’s a file he needs to sign off on. Maybe Jack. Maybe he got a picture from Jess…

But he’s... distracted. And she knows Hotch’s smile when he’s looking at Jack, and what she had seen is not that.

She knocks again. A lot louder, and when he responds, it’s quick. But not quick enough. There’s a beat, and she narrows her eyes.

“Come in.”

She pushes into the room, file in both hands. Immediately her eyes drop to his desk, but his cell is gone. She looks up at him, and he’s looking at her, like nothing’s the matter, like he wasn’t just smiling at his phone –

“Prentiss?” he asks. Brows furrowed at her, their permanent state.

She’s brought back to reality. Because that’s what this is, reality. He was probably just... looking at a picture, or a video, or… something. “Right. Sorry. Just finished up my report for the Douglass case. Wanted to drop it off before I headed out.”

“I’ll sign off on it tonight,” he tells her, and he bends over an open file on his desk. Like nothing ever happened. “Thank you, agent.”

She thinks on that, jogging down to her desk. Glances behind her at the shine of the light from his office. Pulls her coat on, flicks her hair over the collar.

Huh.

Getting to know Aaron Hotchner is a joy.

It’s a little complicated, finding a date that works for the both of you. Not because of anything other than clashing schedules, and it’s a good learning experience to realize that Aaron Hotchner is always on call. But there are points when he’s home, and free, and you finally are churning enough profit for someone else to close in the evenings, so the nights are what work the best.

And dinner is… great. It’s fantastic, really, and you get to know Aaron Hotchner as that, not just Aaron with the great smile and lines at the corner of the eyes. Well, he definitely still has the great smile, but now you know the whole person.

He tells you about his job, what it means to him, and it feels like you’re truly getting to know him. You can tell he’s passionate about what he does, helping people, and you find yourself enthralled by the way he speaks about his position, his team.

“Sometimes it hurts, knowing what we’re leaving behind when we fly back,” he tells you. “But. I also know there isn’t any other group of people I could this with. None of us are perfect, but when we’re together I know we can get the job done.”

Aaron doesn’t get animated, exactly. His passion is a quiet one, simmering deep within him, right where his heart is. He doesn’t talk with his hands, gesticulate or raise his voice. No, he talks with his eyes. In the way he locks gazes with you, looks up at you from the meal, in the way they crinkle with his little smiles and get warm when he mentions his son.

You’re captivated.

And he gets to know you, too, a little. A lot, really, and you feel like you’re rambling, but you’ve got his full attention, a little smile behind his clasped hands as he listens to you wax poetic about the inherent romanticism of owning your own café.

Well. Not really, but it feels like it comes pretty close to that lecture (a different lecture, for a different time).

After all, it’s your place. It’s a place for the college kids in the mornings and the evenings who suck down your cold brew incessantly. It’s a place for the workers at after sunrise, who just want a quick treat before sitting down and doing real jobs. For the curious in the afternoons, who run their fingers over your bookshelves and sit down for a place to think. It’s a place for the nerdy, and the lazy, and the studious, and the dreamers. It’s yours, and it’s kind of romantic.

“I know it’s not a lot of people’s dreams, to open a café. It’s… childish, as my mother would say,” you tell him. “But it’s more than just a shop to me. It’s owning a business, running something on my own, creating new things for people to try. It’s perfecting my bakes, and now, teaching others to. Coming up with recipes is one of my favorite things, even more than the latte flavor of the month. Giving people a place to come and be comfortable, y’know?”

You’re rambling again, and you find yourself hiding behind a sip of your wine, but he’s nodding. Like he gets it.

“I don’t think it’s childish at all,” he tells you, in a tone that makes your heart swell. “A dream is a dream, isn’t it? We all have them.”

And maybe you’re putting a lot on Aaron Hotchner, but it’s nice to get to know someone who understands, even just a little.

One date turns into two, and then three. They’re spread out, over a couple of weeks, the two of you stealing a few hours when you can. It’s the dating life of two very busy people, but neither of you mind. Each pairing of dinner and drinks is full of life and laughter and a little bit of something else.

You feel so guilty when the next time you’re meant to spend time together, another late evening, has to get pushed back. Aaron had warned you that the first cancellation would probably come from him, but it’s you texting at 5:30, letting him know that your usual closer bailed because of the flu.

It’s not a problem for me to take over, but it means that I’m going to be here until 10:00 or 10:30 cleaning up and prepping the dough for tomorrow morning. :(, you say, and add the frowny face for effect. You prefer them over emojis, just because you can’t draw emojis on coffee cups.

Frowny faces are pretty serious, he quips, but your little chuckle is weak when you read it in between orders.

I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s last minute.

Don’t worry, he texts back, quick as can be. I promise I understand. We’ll just do next week.

You’re sure? I can try and find someone to cover for an hour, at 7:30 or so.

Don’t put that stress on yourself. Next week, and it’ll be extra special to make up for it.

So that’s that. Your heart breaks a little knowing you won’t see him, but his words make you feel a little less guilty. Only marginally, really, but you have other things to focus on, like the onslaught of cleaning that comes after the doors are locked.

At 9:30, you’re sending the last stragglers away, which gets you a late start to cleaning up. Your stomach is rumbling, too, because dinner at your home didn’t end up happening.

But at 10:00, when all seems lost, and you’re realizing that 10:30 is going to be more like 11:00, Aaron’s there.

At first you don’t even realize it’s him. You’re so focused on scrubbing and cleaning the espresso machine that the person standing outside isn’t even a thought. But then your phone buzzes, and when you look over, it’s him, with a bag of something that looks like food.

You going to leave me out in the cold?

You snort at the text, shaking your head, lifting your hands and showing the suds to him through the glass. “Two minutes,” you mouth over, and he smiles at that. At you.

You’re hurrying to wash and dry your hands on the towel at your waist, and when you make your way to the door he hasn’t stopped smiling at you. The door unlocks with a clank, and when you pull it open the cold air rushes in, along with Aaron Hotchner. Of course, it’s hard to acknowledge him, when you can smell what he brought you.

“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be making it up to you?” you remind him, but there’s something weak in your voice when you feel him pull you into a hug. With it, you feel his lips gently press against your hair.

It’s exactly what you needed. A break, some food, and him. And even though it’s only for a short moment, fifteen minutes while you scarf down what he’s brought you, knowing he was there is what pushes you through the end of the night.

And the fact that Aaron sticks around to stack the chairs, his jacket off and sleeves rolled up?

It helps a little bit, too.

Derek’s embarrassed, but he’s the last to catch on. And only because it’s right in his face.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly looking. There were other things to worry about, bigger fish to fry, and Hotch’s love life wasn’t exactly top of the list. But Emily mentions the possibility, and then Garcia, and then even Rossi makes a comment that gets him a dirty look from the boss.

Coming together to gossip about Hotch’s love life is at the very least entertaining and watching the team watch their boss becomes Derek’s pastime. Emily swears that he’s always texting someone with a grin on his face, and Garcia informs them of Hotch’s newest mug and his eyes as he did so (yeah, his eyes). Rossi doesn’t play along as much as the others would prefer, but he has a glint in his gaze when they bring it up.

Derek even does his best to spy, peek around corners when he knows Hotch is close, but even with his best efforts, he comes up empty-handed. For a minute, he almost thinks the team is pulling a prank on him, but his girl insists that something’s up.

“Baby, the look on his face. I’ve never seen such a wistful look at an innocuous cup of coffee before.” The two of them are lingering in her office after a long day, his offer of a ride home keeping him behind while she finishes something on her screens.

His snort comes with a shake of his head. “I’d believe it was indigestion at this point, over… what? A fling?”

“It’s Hotch,” Garcia laughs. She reaches up, poking Derek in that arm. “You really think he’s the type of have a fling? No. Whoever it is, they matter, and matter enough that he has not let that mug come off of his desk. He uses it every day, Derek. Every. Day.”

Point taken, but Derek is still skeptical. It’s a coffee mug.

He takes the bait, though. He watches and waits. Observes. But Hotch is often a door that stays closed.

Until everything seems to go to shit one day and he has to open up.

It’s a really bad case, and the jet is a last-minute decision. The whole team thinks they’re going home, after just landing back, and end up with thirty minutes to pack for a plane back to Nashville. Sure, Derek understands, but he has plans he has to cancel, too (plans that Emily teases him relentlessly about once it all calms down). Overall, not the best way to end the week.

Everyone goes to make their respective phone calls, or at least, those that need to. But before Derek can put his phone up to his ear, moving to the conference room for some privacy, he hears him.

Hotch.

He’s just on the other side, and talking softly, but the sudden shift means not much else is happening besides last-minute packing. So Derek hears, and he eavesdrops.

And he listens.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you. I know that there wasn’t any warning –“ Hotch immediately starts, but whoever is on the other end must him off. He follows it up with the slightest hum and it’s… warm. It makes Derek’s eyebrow lift, but he keeps his distance, tries to glance around the corner.

Hotch is sitting, leaning on the edge of the round table. His legs are crossed, and his face is tilted downward. He looks pained, with the furrow in his brow, but the person on the other end seems to be talking sense. After all, Hotch lifts his hand and wipes, and the furrow is gone, and he’s smiling again.

“I know, but. Putting it into practice is still hard for me. Jack… he’s… he’s a strong kid, but I know days like these are the hardest.”

There’s some more words from the person on the other end of the line. Hotch smiles, a small private thing and Derek sees, in that moment, what Penelope means. About it being… different. And in that moment, Hotch is thrown back to Haley, and it looked like for his boss to get to talk to her.

There’s an echo of that here.

“I owe you, really. Jess will come and relieve you as soon as she can… Okay. Thank you, again, and I’ll call you when we land back in Nashville, okay? And if I could talk to Jack, then… Perfect. Okay. Have a good night, yeah?”

Derek’s gone, before Hotch finishes his conversation. His hand is holding his phone up to his ear, walking down towards the stairs. But there’s no one on the other end, and all he can think about is how Penelope is going to say how much she told him so.

Three dates turn into ten. There are dinners and lunches and time stolen when the two of you can. There’s coffee in the mornings and decaf in the evenings. He teases you for it, your downright addiction, but a couple of kisses that taste like French vanilla follow it.

It’s sweet. And you like the way he tastes even without the coffee on his lips.

However, you know it’s more than just sweet dates. There’s layers to Aaron Hotchner, ones that get peeled back alongside yours. It’s opening up to each other, on walks after dinner. Those are good, the two of you, side-by-side, because it’s an even playing field. No bar between the two of you, no coffee shop, no badge. Just. You both.

You tell him about home, and what it meant to leave. He’s seen the impact of your mother, the way she winds you up and leave you hanging, but you tell him about the tan line on your ring finger. The way you were left broken and nowhere to go but away to follow a dream, because the dream was the only lifeline you had left. What else could you do, with a hobby and a throwaway degree in business admin?

He tells you about Haley. About her laugh, about her smile. About the way they would poke and prod and teach each other until the two of them were rolling on the floor. You see how much he loved her, how much he loves her still. And when he talks about Jack, well, there’s nothing that can stop him from absolutely gushing, and you don’t want him to. Seeing this just affirms that Jack’s the luckiest kid in the world to have a father that cares about him so much.

There are layers, to each of you. But like a good chocolate-filled croissant, the insides are worth it.

And you get to meet Jack, and Jess. Finally, it feels like, after hearing so much about each of them. The four of you end up going to the zoo, on a weekend, an outing with Aunt Jess and Dad’s new friend, and by the end of it you’re smitten with all of them. Because Jack gets a lot from his father. A fierce protectiveness, a kind heart, incredible perception, and a love of chocolate ice cream.

“Do you like chocolate?” he asks you, suddenly, as the four of you eat your scoops from the vendor. Hotch and Jess are chatting, so they don’t hear the question.

“I like chocolate a lot,” you tell him. “What about you?”

He seems to ponder it a second, before shrugging, taking a long lick of his cone. “It’s all right. Second favorite to mint chip, but above cookie dough.”

You laugh a little, seeing the logic. “I see. I think if you switch cookie dough and mint chip, we’re on the same page there, buddy.”

He nods. “What about my dad? Where does he go?”

It’s a jump you can’t connect, and you raise a brow at him, stopping in your tracks and Jack doing the same.

“On the list. Of things you like. Where’s Dad go?”

“Oh.” Your cheeks are flushing, and you realize that Jess and Aaron have stopped their conversation, are watching the two of you. But there’s only one true answer, and you smile at him. “Well, he’s at the top of the list, Jack. I really like your dad, and… I hope I can keep spending time with the two of you. And Aunt Jess, of course.”

There’s a beat. Jack takes a long lick of his cone, getting some on his nose, and then shrugs again, a little bashful as he looks at you again.

“Yeah, that’d be cool. I like talking to you. And Aunt Jess doesn’t like chocolate, so I like that you’re on my team.”

You try to ignore the warmth that immediately floods you, especially when you look back behind you and Aaron is watching, his head ducked behind his cone so you can only see the edges of his smile. “I like being on your team, too,” you agree, leaning forward to offer a napkin, and Jess just chuckles, the four of you continuing on your merry way.

Things push forward. And some days are harder than others.

It’s complicated, after all. The more you learn about Aaron’s job, the more you realize how much he gives to it. And some of those days leave him worn down. You do your best to support him, to support all of them. And in return, they do the same for you.

The call comes in the middle of the day, and when you see it’s from Aaron you immediately smile. Your hands are elbow deep in a yeasted dough you’re kneading for fresh cinnamon rolls, but you’re able to lean down and answer it with your nose.

“Just a second, sweetheart.” You pull your hands from the mess, move to lift your phone to your shoulder and trap it with your ear. You feel a crick in your neck immediately, but it’s worth it. “Hey, sorry. I’m at the shop. Didn’t want to put you on speaker.”

“It’s okay,” he returns, and he sounds tired. Even in two words, it seems like he has to take a breath, to steady himself. “How’s the day going?”

You shrug, humming as you continue to work the ball of dough under your knuckles. “It’s all right. Ashley is running the register and Ben’s helping her work the front. They’re doing a good job. Makes it easy to focus on the good stuff.”

Aaron chuckles, just a little. It’s reserved. “You should bring some samples home to Jack, then. He loves taste-testing for you.”

There’s a pause, both in your hands and your response.

“Just Jack, then.”

His breath comes out again. Long and low. “Yeah. The case… we thought we had it solved, and then. Something came up. We’re flying back again, waiting for the jet to refuel.”

You know what that means. Even if he doesn’t often tell you, directly, outright, you know that it means another body. Another life lost. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“I had already called Jess, told her I’d be picking up Jack. Would you mind going to get him? I don’t want to jerk her around.”

“Of course.” It’s immediate, and you glance at your watch, blowing off remnants of flour. “He gets out at 4:00?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry to do this to you, I know there wasn’t any warning –“

You click your tongue. “It’s not a problem. You know that. Besides, this dough rests overnight, and I can do some experimenting using your incredible oven, hmm?”

Aaron just lets out a little chuckle. There seems to be some relief there, but you can’t tell right away. “I know, but. Putting it into practice is still hard for me. Jack… he’s… he’s a strong kid, but I know days like these are the hardest.”

You nod, giving your neck a little stretch as you lift your shoulder to carry the load of the phone. “I know. It’s hard for him, and for you. But it’ll work out, okay? Just promise me you’ll be safe, for all of us.”

“I owe you, really,” he tells you. “Jess will come and relieve you as soon as she can…”

“She doesn’t need to rush. We’ve got it.”

And with that, you know it’s a load off of his mind. One you can take from him. “Okay. Thank you, again, and I’ll call you when we land back in Nashville, okay? And if I could talk to Jack, then…”

“I’ll make sure he’s available,” you reassure him, and his little sigh is… just what you needed to hear. To know that his head will be where it needs to be when he flies.

“Perfect. Okay. Have a good day, yeah?”

“I will. I love you.”

It comes out. Automatically. Your hands stop working again, and you feel color on your cheeks. Aaron doesn’t say anything either, and the two of you seem to sit in a kind of dangerous limbo.

But then he just chuckles. A sound on the receiver, like he’s standing to his feet. “I love you, too.”

“Be safe.”

It’s a gentle farewell, and you can’t help but stare at your phone as it resumes its place on the countertop, staring at the screensaver you have. The two of you, and Jack, looking up at the camera.

It works. It’s complicated, and comes from nowhere, but it works. The three of you, working together to build something special. You’ll never replace Haley, but you don’t to. It’s new, and brilliant, and happy, and you find that you have another dream taking shape, one that has the Hotchners front and center.

(And Reid? Well.

Spencer’s not unaware. Spencer actually puts all of the pieces together before almost anyone else, including your identity.

“I think you’ll find that I’m what you would call perceptive. Very perceptive.”

That’s what he says to Derek, at least, when he asks him how he already knew who the mystery date was. Dave offers Hotch a plus-one to a night over at the Rossi mansion for the team and their significant others, and Hotch actually takes him up on it. That’s when they meet you, for the first time, but Reid’s the only one who doesn’t seem to be surprised who walks through the door.

But no one else has been to the coffee shop that’s on the mug, or has seen the person that Hotch has been texting and calling, and… well.

Spencer has had the pleasure of doing both all in one morning. Because next to the coffee shop you work at is a bookstore specializing in rare editions, and one day Spencer decides to go before work.

He adds a little eyebrow wiggle to his words for Derek’s sake, too, which gets him punched in the shoulder.

It’s worth it.)

“You didn’t have to bring me breakfast,” you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest.

It’s a little firm, especially since you now know that Aaron’s drives have been fifteen minutes longer to stop at your place. The direct route to the FBI Headquarters breezes right by you, and getting off and stopping is definitely out of the way.

But he doesn’t care. And truly you don’t, when it’s him and you realize that the bag he has contains one warm sausage roll, and a glazed donut, fresh from the shop by his place. that melts when you bite into it. “I know you didn’t eat anything, and you hate trying to snack on the stuff you have yet to sell in the morning,” he says. Shrugging, as if it’s that simple, because to him, it is. “And I wanted to.”

“Did you get something for yourself, too?” you ask him.

“I wasn’t the one who had to leave in a hurry, was I?” he teases. His eyes are deep and dark, and you get caught in them when you catch his meaning.

Your face turns a crimson that he smirks at, leans forward to make it brighter with a kiss on your cheek. “Well, I wasn’t the one who was insisting on some last minute… affection,” you shoot back, but all that elicits is a low chuckle from him, all bass and gravel. “Besides, Mr. Profiler – question with a question. You didn’t eat, did you?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing instead to lean against the countertop you’re sitting on, watching as you pull out the two treats and placing them on some napkins you have right at the front. But his non-answer is definitely a ‘no,’ and you give him a look.

“One day I’m going to teach you to take care of yourself as well as you take care of others, okay? Here. We’ll split ‘em.”

You snag a plastic knife, and get to work, and soon there are two perfectly portioned plates of pastry in front of the two of you. It’s early enough that customers aren’t exactly a problem, and so you don’t feel guilty sitting on the counter when you know you’ll wipe it down, or leaning down to kiss some glaze off of his lips since there’s no one to see or an order to distract you from.

Of course, neither of you notice the eyes that happen to glance in the window. Not when Hotch is standing between your legs, facing away from the glass, and not when you pull back just to look into his eyes, and in the end it doesn’t matter that a tall and lanky fellow profiler managed to sneak a peek.

Because that’s when you start to feel that your luck has really changed. The early morning before the workday, when the world just starts to come alive. There, in your shop, before the sign has even been flipped to open.

And there, in your coffee shop, as you sit on the counter, you realize that Aaron-with-two-As, standing between your legs, could possibly be the love of your life after all.

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #gender neutral reader #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #fluff #coffee shop au

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aficwhore · 4 years ago

Text

Surprise!

Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Request: Imagine its the reader’s birthday and she doesn’t want to get up but little does she know Hotch and Rossi have planned a surprise party for that night (hotch x reader married)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 2,056

A/N: Hope you enjoy this! I spell checked for once haha! It’s not the best, I’m still working on getting better at writing. Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for all the love on my previous posts <3

Reader’s POV:

I tossed slightly in bed, stirring from my slumber, the early light peeking through the windows, illuminating the empty spot next to me. The covers were neatly tucked underneath the pillows, where my husband once slept. Lazily reaching my hand over the area, feeling the soft sheets run against my fingertips, I slowly began to awaken more.

“I see that my beautiful wife is up,” Aaron’s velvety voice breaks the morning silence. “I made you breakfast in bed.” The smell of pancakes and bacon began to fill the room, your stomach quietly growling.

I flip over, seeing him make his way to me with the small tray and a glass of orange juice in his hands. I grunt, “Honey you shouldn’t have, really. Thank you, but today is just like any other day.”

He chuckles while setting the neatly prepared plate into my lap and the juice on the nightstand. “I’m sorry, but today has to be one the best days of my life. Want to know why?”

Playfully rolling my eyes, I hum expectantly.

“Because the love of my life was born on this day, many years ago.” He smiled.

“You make me sound old!” I softly swat his arm, earning a giggle from us both.

“Not old, just...mature!” He defends as I begin to poke at my short stack. “But I will say, sweetheart you have to get out of bed. You can’t waste the day away.”

With a mouthful of food I counteract, “BUT it is MY birthday, can’t I do what I want? Like stay in bed with my husband?”

“And me!” a tiny squeak comes from the doorway. “Happy Birthday mama!” Jack chimes while running over, diving into the bed near you and Aaron.

“Why of course bud! It wouldn’t be the same without you!” I replied as I ruffled the little boy’s messy hair.

“As tempting as that sounds, Jack, you know you have to get dressed, right?” the older man questioned. Jack nodded profusely, “Alright, go on little man.”

We sat in comfortable peace as Jack made his way to his own room. Finishing my plate and setting it down, Aaron began to tug my hands in an attempt to pull me from my resting spot. Seeing as is stronger than me, he was successful in getting me to my feet, but not without a bit of protest. “Y/n, I know you don’t like to celebrate your birthday, but I thought the three of us could have a nice dinner tonight. Dress up a little and enjoy each other’s company.” Aaron suggested, in hopes I would agree.

A smile threatened its way to my lips, why was he always so sweet and persuasive? I nodded, walking to our shared closet, in search of a nice dress and shoes to match. When I began to strip off my pajamas, Aaron got a phone call and urgently left the room. I thought nothing of it as I threw on my favorite color dress which fit me perfectly along with a pair of shoes which complemented the dress.

Moving to the bathroom I overheard Aaron, “I’m trying, but it's hard to be sneaky. Okay. But she can’t know.” Who was he talking to? And what in the world was he talking about? What can’t who know about? “Alright, see you then, bye.” I hurried and hid in the bathroom, not to let Aaron know I was eavesdropping.

“Who was it babe?” I tried to ask innocently.

“Uh-Oh no one! I just have to run by the office, I forgot I was supposed to meet someone. And I’ll drop off Jack at Haley’s on the way, so you have time to yourself.” He answered quickly, and somewhat nervously. Furrowing my brows,

“Okay, I love you?” I call out from the bathroom.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later?” He responds, halfway out of the door already.

Is he hiding something from me? What could it be? I trust Aaron but my mind can’t help wonder to the ‘What if he’s seeing someone else?’ thought. He wouldn’t, I mean it is my birthday. Would he? Trying to dismiss the thoughts I finish putting on my makeup and doing my hair. The speculation is still bouncing around in the back of my head.

As I’m putting the last of my jewelry on, the doorbell rings.“Who is it!” I holler as I rush to the door. I open it to reveal the girls of the BAU, Penelope, Emily and JJ.

“Oh girl! What are you all dressed up for?!” Emily exclaims looking at me up and down.

“I know right? Damn Y/n!” JJ and Penny chime in.

I laugh, “Thank you, Aaron wanted to take me to dinner, but he just left, I guess he was meeting someone?” I explain, letting them in.

“Hmm, that’s weird. What's the special occasion?” JJ inquires with a raised eyebrow.I guess they don’t remember it’s my birthday, no big deal. I try not to bring it up to anyone anyways.

“I’m not sure actually, I would say ask Aaron but again, I have no idea why he left so suddenly and secretly.” The girls all exchange a weird look. “What?!” I demand.

“Did he say WHO he was meeting?” Penelope requested.Stuttering I explain,

“No, not at all, it was really weird, and it might sound stupid, but what if he went to meet SOMEONE, you know?”

JJ frowns, “Y/n do you think so? I’m sorry hun, I mean we could always go look for him.”

Emily nods, “Right, and if the asshole IS doing something shady we can catch him.”

“Yep! Got his location already.” Penelope continued.

“Woah woah woah, you’re not saying to stalk my husband are you?! I mean, would that be bad?” I ask.

“Nope, it’s normal to have suspicions, especially with that mysterious phone call and him disappearing.” Emily claimed while dragging you to her car by the wrist.We all get in and buckle up. As we begin to follow the directions, I stare out the window, watching the buildings pass, the sun slowly beginning to set on the city.

“Wait, what if it’s nothing and I’m just overthinking?” I gulp.

“Wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry Y/n?” JJ added. Nodding I turned my attention back to the road as Emily drove. Slowly making our way to what seemed to be a fancy restaurant, my hands started to sweat and a lump began to form in my throat. “I guess this is it. Should we head inside?” JJ inquired.The inside seemed dimly lit, the windows covered by sheer curtains.

“Uh-yes. Can someone hold my hand? I'm scared to see what we’ll find.” I said while we made our way out of the car. Penelope and Emily grabbed my hands as I led the way to the door. I stopped before opening, thinking about what I’d find. Was Aaron cheating? He did lie about where he was going. What else had he lied to me about? Who was it? Was it a woman?

All my thoughts were interrupted by Pen squeezing my hand. Slowly pushing the door open, I couldn’t see much, where were the lights? As I stepped further into the Restaurant a loud “SURPRISE” caused me to stumble back onto my friends who stood behind me. The lights flipped on to reveal all my family, coworkers, and friends, surrounded by balloons, confetti, and a big banner that read “Happy Birthday Y/n.”

All my worries seem to disintegrate in seconds, tears begin to fill my eyes. The girls each kiss me on the cheek and make their way to the crowd of people. Jack runs up to me and hugs me, “Surprise! I kept a secret for you Mom!”

“You sure did!” I giggled as he wipes my tears away.

“Don’t cry, I want you to be happy on your birthday mommy.” Jack says.

“I know bubba, these are happy tears! Thank you.” I explain as I kiss his forehead, standing up to meet Aaron. “You mister, are in for one.”

He laughs, “I know I know, I’m sorry. I did it to hopefully make you smile and actually like your birthday for once.” He pulls me into a tight hug. “And Emily told me that you thought I was out being… promiscuous.”

Looking up at him, “I had trust in you! I di-do! But the thought just happened to creep its way out.” I giggle.

“I get it, it seemed worse than it was, but was it worth it? I think so. I get to see my wife enjoy her day with everyone she loves. And might I add, I also get to see her look incredibly hot.” Aaron smirks.

Shaking my head, I lean up, embracing my husband in a sweet kiss.

“Hey! I hope he’s not taking all the credit for this!” Rossi interjects with a warm smile.

“Dave, you shouldn’t have! Really, I was about to kill Aaron.” I chuckle, hugging him.

“You work very hard for everyone else’s birthday, so I thought we should return the favor. Let you get time to shine on your night.” He explains.

“Thank you, really, it’s beautiful.” I answer.

“Anything for my favorite Agent, but shh, don’t let the others know that.” He winks, handing me a glass of wine.

Aaron taps a knife against his glass in an attempt to get the room’s attention. “Excuse me, I would just like to make a toast to this extraordinary, smart, talented woman.” He continues as he gestures towards me. “She has been the light of my life since I met her. From her amazing work as an Agent, to being a great mother, and to being my best friend. I couldn’t ask for a better person to love. Happy Birthday Y/n.”

Everyone erupts in cheers and ‘Happy Birthdays.’ You walk around, talking to each person, gaining tons of hugs and gifts. The party continues on for a few hours. It slowly begins to die down. Spencer and Derek stay behind to help me and Aaron to clean, while Jack lays across a few chairs, fast asleep.

“Hey, again, Happy Birthday Y/n, love ya.” Spencer quirks as he wraps you in a tight hug.

“That’s my que to leave too, Happy Birthday beautiful.” Derek claims with a hug and a kiss to my forehead.

As the place is just about picked up, I sit next to Jack, running my fingers through his chair as I peer out the window. “You know, no one has ever done something like this for me.”

“Really?” Aaron asks.

“Yea, I mean, I never felt my birthday was that important, as a kid my family celebrated the big ones, like 10 or 18, but after that, it didn’t seem like a big deal.” I clarify.

Aaron sits next to me, the moonlight shadowing through the glass, cascading over the three of us. “I hope you know it’s important to me. You are important to me. You always will be. I love you Y/n, I am so lucky to have you as my wife. And today is a day to celebrate, so my dear what do you say. Let’s head home, put Jack to sleep, and dance in the moonlight?”

Nodding, I help grab our things and help Aaron pick up Jack.

We finally make it home, while Aaron brought in our stuff, I took Jack upstairs and laid him down. His eyes flicker open as he mutters, “Love you.”

“I love you too Jack.” I respond as he falls back asleep.I shut his door and walk to our living room to find Aaron, playing music softly. Once he sees me, he reaches out his hand to me. I gladly take it and begin to dance with him. With my head on his chest, I can hear his heartbeat, and his quiet humming along with the song. I can’t help but think about all the things Aaron Hotchner has done for me. He made sure I knew that he loved me. And to be honest, I fall in love more and more with each passing day with this man.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #Aaron Hotchner fluff #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds #fluff #imagines #bau

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write-orflight · 4 years ago

Text

Trouble: Chapter 2

*Gif not mine*

Pairings: HotchxReader

Prologue Chapter 1

Rating: M

Words: 3K

Warnings: Basic witch stuff, angst, mentions of child birth, mentions of near death

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: After Haley’s passing, Aaron Hotchner has lost the light in his eyes. He seems to find it it the most unlikely of places, an occult themed coffee shop ran by a witch.

A.N: Tarot, wicca, and crystal information is very secondhand if you see any inaccuracies, no you don’t. If you are a witch tho and want to help and be nice to me enter my ask box please, I’m annoying my friend too much.

Chapter 2: God, don't let me lose my mind

The deeper into autumn you got the more busy the shop was.

Halloween was a big money grabber for your shop. People loved to come to the shop around that time because your shop offered such ‘spooky’ feel, as the hipster who came in that morning would say. You hated that. Halloween was one of your favorite holidays simply because the veil between the natural and supernatural was so thin it was the best time for spells and charms but what you didn’t like was people and baby witches asking you about certain spells or how to commune with spirits just so they can do something “extra spooky” for whatever parties they were having for the season. Consultations were such easy money though so you’d never turn them away but your answer was always the same, that Spirits are not toys and that if they are going to invite them it better be serious and for the right intentions otherwise they might not leave.

Despite it being your favorite season, It didn’t make you less annoyed.

“If I have to make another Pumpkin flavored whatever and tell a sorority girl not to invoke a demon in her house, I’m going to scream.” Silena says to you as you enter the shop, Artemis in tow. Your sitter had to take an exam so you had to watch her for the first 2 hours of your shift. Artie, knowing the drill by now, tries to crawl up to the bar stool. You watch her for a second, smiling her little legs before taking pity on her and hoisting her up. She immediately pulls a coloring book and crayons out her bag, before working diligently in silence. You kiss her temple before walking behind the counter, tying your apron on.

“You had another consultation today?” You asked.

“Pfft, it wasn’t even that. She asked me while ordering her coffee, though I should’ve charged her for that dumbass question.” You look at her pointed, nodding your head towards your child who repeats everything. Silly winces “Sorry, but still. If this is how halloween is going to be, you’re probably going to have to do some balancing spells.”

You rolled your eyes. “Exactly what I need, more work.”

“What’s a dumbass?” Artie pipes up from her perch on the stool.

“Something you are not and shouldn’t repeat unless you want your mom mad at me.” Silly says, reaching across the counter to ruffle her hair.

The doorbell of the shop rings and the very man who’s occupied your mind these past couple of months steps in. Aaron Hotchner was one of your favorite customers despite not talking very much, he’d make small talk while you made his order which you found yourself doing slower than it would normally take you, just to get a little bit more of his time, he’d leave a tip in the jar and be on his way always leaving you with a small smile that you always immediately returned with a wide one. You tried to stop yourself from getting attached but here you were, an adult woman who had a crush on a customer who probably didn’t think about you when he left the shop.

You’d never seen him on a weekend though and frankly you didn’t know if you could handle seeing him like this again, he wore dark blue jeans, a black belt and a black t-shirt that fit a little too well over his broad chest you couldn’t help but staring at his arms that you’d never seen on display like this. You knew for a fact(well you hoped at least) he’d have no issue picking you up or pinning you down.

Now’s not the time, y/n… you think.

“Hey, you.” You greet, flirtatiously. You’ve been trying not to flirt with him, you really were but sometimes you couldn’t help it. It was your personality. “Didn’t think I’d see you in here. On a weekend, no less.”

“Yea, decided to stop for coffee before heading to my sister in law’s. Can I have my usual and an Americano for her?” He asks

“You got it.” You wink before starting to work. Silly gives you a knowing look which you brush off. Hotch takes a seat at the bar a few seats away from your daughter who looks up at him.

“Hi!” She says excitedly. “I’m Artie.”

“Hi Artie, I’m Aaron.” He looks around. “Are your parents around?” You look up. You’d forgotten to mention you had a kid to Hotch, which would probably explain his confusion of a random child sitting alone.

“My mama’s right there, silly.” She laughs. “Mama?” She says you look up automatically from the milk you’re frothing.

“Yes, bean?” You say.

“Can I have a brownie?”

“Well, I don’t know. Did you finish the addition tables I asked you to do?” She shakes her head at you. “Well, how about you do that then we’ll see if it’s brownie time, deal?” She nods, fast while pulling her math homework out of her bag. Hotch watches the interaction confused but with a slight smile.

“I didn’t know you had a kid.” He says

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Gus.” You say, calling him by the nickname you affectionately gave him your first meeting. “But yes I do, that’s Artemis.”

He nods, knowingly. “How old?”

“Well, I don’t know. How old are you, bean?” You say.

“I’m six!” She says, holding up 5 fingers, you grab her other hand to extend her other index finger too so the number was actually 6.

“Really? You’re not 16 yet?” Silly asks, ruffling her hair. “I thought you were driving us home tonight?”

Artie shakes her head. “Mama says I can’t drive yet.”

“Between you and me kid, your mama shouldn’t be on the road either.” You swat at her.

Aaron gives a small chuckle at the display in front of him. But he has to ask the burning question in his head. “Her dad—“

“Not in the picture.” You cut off. “Like not even in the same gallery.”

Hotch nods understandably as you put his drinks in the carrier for him. He looks at you confused when you add a 3rd cup.

“Hot chocolate.” You say. “For your son. I imagine that’s where you’re going. To pick him up from your sister?”

“How did you know I had a son?” He asks.

“Oh, I just used one of my witchy spells to find out information on you.” You say jokingly, but he looks at you with mild horror. “I’m kidding, Spencer told me.”

He nods. “Thank you, y/n.”

“No problem, come back to see me?”

“Always.” He says, offering you a small secret smile before leaving. You can’t help the dreamy look you give his retreating back.

“Are you coming back to earth anytime soon?” Sil says, shaking her head. “You got it bad, kid.”

“Pfft, no I don’t.” You say turning to clean up the mess you just made.

“I don’t understand why you just won’t ask him out.”

“He’s healing, Sil.” You say, shrugging. “And I don’t want to push him into something he’s obviously not ready for.”

Not to mention you also didn’t think you were ready for it.

———————————————

On Halloween day, you get a visit from one of your favorite customers

“Pennywise!” You say to chipper blonde women who strolled in she was wearing a orange and black dress with little jack-O-lantern earrings that you had gotten her the beginning of month. You move your hair back to show her the Ouija board pointer earrings she had gotten you in return. Penelope Garcia couldn’t just accept a gift without giving one in return.

“Hey Y/N, how are you this ole hallow’s eve?”

“It’s Halloween and a full moon tonight.” You say excitedly. “It’s like witch Christmas.”

“I don’t know about that but I am happy for you. Can I have a pumpkin spice latte and since I’m such a good friend an Americano with extra sugar for the good doctor?” She asks.

“You got it, Pen.” You say before starting her order. “Heading into work now?”

“Sure am! Hopefully there’s not a gruesome murder so I’ll be able to spend my Halloween having fun.” Penelope says. “You got any plans?”

“Other than taking Artie Trick or Treating and charging some crystals in the full moon, no.”

“Come on, no wild parties? no hexing beautiful men into falling in love with you?” Penny asks. You laugh loudly, shaking your head. “Man, maybe the life of a witch was more exciting in my head.”

“Yea, you did.” You laugh. “I’m basically just a cool rock collector plus love spells, so not my thing.”

“So there’s such a thing?”

“Yea there’s love spells. I don’t believe in using them. I think love itself is it’s own powerful being. It shouldn’t be manipulated with, if someone was meant to love me they would.”

“Speaking of love and love spells…” Silena pipes up from the display case she was loading pastries she just made into. “Penelope, how’s your boss?” You glare over at her.

“Hotch?” Penny asks looking between the two of you before smirking at you. “Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t.” You say at the same time as Silena says. “She has a Texas sized crush on him.”

Garcia practically squeals at that. “Let me set you up please.”

“No, Penny.” You say, immediately

“Why not?” Her and Silly say at the same time.

“Because… I don’t know didn’t his wife just die months ago, it’s hardly appropriate for me to try swoop in.”

“Ex-wife. They were already long divorced before she died.” Penelope adds

“Still! It’s not appropriate.” You say.

“So what? You’re just going to keep making him free coffee until he realizes you're into him?”

“Yup” you say adding the 3rd cup to Garcia’s carrier. “Give that to Grumpy for me please.” Garcia opens her mouth to say something but you just hold up your hand cutting her off

“Fine.” She says, grabbing the carrier. “Only because I have to go to work though, this conversation isn’t over.”

“Yes it is.” You call after her.

——————————————

You were back in the shop. Artie was tuckered out after a long night of trick or treating and crashing from her sugar high so you decided to charge some of your crystals and do some balancing spells, knowing for a fact a lot of teenagers did stupid shit to upset the balance.

As you were lighting the candles and incense, you heard a knock at the door. You were long closed so who could possibly need something right now? You look out the window and Aaron is standing there. You’re confused but you let him in anyway.

“Hey Grumpy, what’re you doing here?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were closed, I guess I’ve never been here at night. I’ll go. I'm sorry for bothering you.” He says turns to go but you grab his arm to stop him.

“Gus… it’s almost midnight, no business is open. You’re here because there’s obviously something upsetting you so I’m not just going to let you leave.” You all but push him into barstool. “Now like I said it’s almost midnight so there is something important I need to do so if you’ll sit tight for like 2 minutes, I’ll make us coffee.”

Hotch obliges, sitting silently watching you as you lit some candles on the altar you kept in the shop. You placed the honey cake you had made earlier in the day on the altar before whispering.

“Thank you to the patron, Artemis, Great goddess of Moon and Magic. Mistress of deer and owl. Be thou my guide and Inspiration. Teach me Thy mysteries and lead me in thy ways.” You stand and turn back to Hotch who is watching you intensely. “Sorry about that, midnight is her favorite time. Coffee?” You ask, He nods as you move behind the counter.

“Can I ask what it is you just did?” Hotch ask.

“That?” He nods. “It’s a full moon so since Artemis is my patron goddess, it’s best to leave a sacrifice to stay in her favor.” You shrug. He looks at you like you're crazy but you're used to that look. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s no different then some catholic practices. In fact, Christians often stole from pagan practices, and only one is just considered ‘taboo’ now.”

“Is that why you named your child Artemis, because she’s your Patron?” He asks.

“Actually, Artemis is my Patron because of Artie.” You say, he looks at you as if asking you to continue. “I wasn’t always like this.” You say gesturing to yourself and the shop. “My parents are pastors and for a long time I was this faith devout christian girl. But I got pregnant out of wedlock, my parents disowned me and I was looking for something to turn to. I met Silena and she introduced me to Wicca, and said whoever my Patron was through meditation and study, They’ll reveal themselves to me. So I went months, meditating daily, and still nothing was working. Then I went into labor, and everything was going wrong. I thought, this was my punishment from god for not only getting pregnant without marriage but turning to witchcraft. I had to have an emergency C-section. And when I was on the operating table, I almost died, Artie almost died. I started to see these images of deer and boar running through the forest. And finally when I came back to, and I could hear my baby crying, the first thing I saw when my eyes opened was the full moon out the window.” You sigh, sliding a cup to Hotch before moving from behind the counter to take a seat next to him. “That’s when I realized the goddess had saved me and my child. And while Artemis prefers virgin patronage, and that ship had long sailed past back then. I figured naming my child after her was the next best thing.”

“That’s a beautiful story, Y/N.” He says, looking at you sincerely.

“Thank you, and since you’re not running for the hills, why don’t you tell me why you really knocked at my door at midnight.”

“It’s just…” He starts, clearing his throat. “Tonight was the first ‘major’ holiday without Haley. And I tried to take Jack’s mind off it, make it fun but it was like this looming weight above us. That it wasn’t the same without her and that it never would be. And I was upset and just wanted to take a walk but I guess my feet carried me here.” He shrugged.

“Well I’m glad you’re here grumpy. And you’re healing you need to give yourself time--”

“I don’t have time!” He snaps. You flinch back a bit, having never heard his raised voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just-I don’t have time to heal. I have to be there for Jack.”

“Who’s there for you, Aaron?” You ask. He looks at you confused. You hardly ever call him by his name. It's either grumpy or gus or a combination of the two. Never by his actual name, he hated how much he liked how it sounded coming from your lips. “Do you know what a rock tumbler is?” you ask, he shakes his head confused where you’re going with this. You run behind the counter to retrieve the box you had dug through the very first night you met.

“Well a rock tumbler is a device you put rocks into. Rocks that have eroded, rocks that have trekked the earth, rocks that have been to hell and back. And what you do is you put them in this device with a little bit of water and you wait. Days, weeks, months all the while this device is just spinning, you don’t see what’s happening on the inside but after a while, when the time is right, you get these beautiful lustrous stones.” You say, showing him the box. “Healing is the same way, others don’t see you working. But in the end, they’ll see the result. And you’ll feel the result too. But if you don’t take that step you don’t end up with gems like these. You just end up with an eroded dingy rock.” You look up at Hotch and he’s tearing up slightly. Your heart melts. “Do you want a hug?” you say.

“You don’t have to--”

You cut him off. “No one on earth gives hugs because they have to. I want to give you a hug if you want one. So do you want a hug?”

He nods, fastly. So you stand, he follows suit and allows you to pull him down into a full embrace. Your arms around his neck and shoulders, he envelopes you fully into his torso, arms tight around your waist. You sigh, content. Before shaking yourself out of it. This wasn’t about you. No matter how right it felt.

After a minute or so you break apart. You look him in the eyes and he’s staring back at you in what feels like admiration. You clear your throat. “Can I give you something?” you ask.

“Is it another crystal?” He asked back.

“Yes, it is.” You rummage through the box before pulling out the one you needed. “This is Aragonite, it’s good for healing old wounds and building emotional strength. Now I can gift you this but you have to activate it yourself. Even if you don’t believe it, I feel like it’s good words to hear yourself say anyway.” You grab his left hand, sliding the crystal into it. He looks into your eyes. “Now say, I release past wounds and embrace resilience.”

Hotch sighs. “I release past wounds and embrace resilience.” He then slides the stone in his pocket. Before grabbing your hand again. “Thank you, Y/N”

“Anytime, Grumpy.” You say.

Taglist: @megatrexus @roses-and-grasses @tittymuncher69 @liaabsurd @ladyravenclaw @genevievedarcygrangerreading @softbibxtch @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx

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

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galaxyofmyown · 4 years ago

Note

can you do hotch with a reader with an age gap? maybe something to do with the song “dont stand so close to me” from the police

hello darling! here you go. i obviously aged the song up so she’s in higher education so as to not make her younger than 25 which is my usual rule of thumb. enjoyyyyyyyy! xo

aaron hotchner x reader - just a number

young teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasy

Aaron needs to stop letting himself get roped into this kind of thing. He’s much better suited for sitting behind a desk than standing in front of a classroom. But here he was anyway, at Virginia Commonwealth University, guest-lecturing for a Professional Ethics and Liability class. The professor was a friend of his from his prosecutor days and he owed her a favor.

Despite Hotch’s general confidence surrounding his career, public speaking is not one of his favorite things. But he’s gotten good at faking it over the years, so his voice carries throughout the lecture hall confidently. There couldn’t be more than 30 people in the room considering the class was only open for people pursuing an M.S. in Criminal Justice. Perhaps this is why his eyes kept wandering back to you. Sitting third row left, dutifully taking notes.

At first, there didn’t seem to be anything special about you. Sure, you were beautiful, but all the girls in the lecture hall were objectively good looking. You weren’t even dressed to impress, lounging in your seat with leggings and a big sweatshirt on. But you had a wiser-than-your-years air about you, and you seemed extremely interested in the subject matter. Hotch couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t tear his gaze away every time you wrapped your lips around the straw of your iced coffee. His interest in you nagged at him. You couldn’t possibly be older than 25. He’d never felt so attracted to someone so young before. Although not explicitly wrong, it did conflict with his personal morals.

she wants him so badly, knows what she wants to be

Yeah, you had a crush on Aaron Hotchner. Despite having only known of his existence for about an hour and 45 minutes, you were under his spell. He’s more charming and well-spoken than most of your professors, and they do this shit for a living. The way he carries himself, the way he moves his hands when gesturing to the screen. It was… hot. But it was more than that. He was smart and competent and his credentials were certainly impressive. And you weren’t the only one to notice. There were many people in your class that looked as interested in him as you felt.

“That’s all I have for you today. Does anybody have any questions?” Hotchner asks the PowerPoint goes black. A few people raise their hands, including yourself. You actually do have a question, but you’re filled with nerves as he looks at you.

“Yes, you in the third row. What’s your name?” He asks. You feel hot.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), sir.” God, he hates that you called him that. Or rather, he hates how much he loves it. You ask your question about how attorney allocations often lead to unjust decisions in court. Agent Hotchner smiles as you speak, causing one girl to turn to you and roll her eyes. Oops?

her friends are so jealous, you know how bad girls get sometimes it's not so easy to be the teacher's pet

“That’s a great question, (Y/N).” Hotchner says (earning you eye roll #2) before spouting off an answer, which you scribbled down in your notebook. He answers a few more questions, and you notice that he didn’t ask anyone else for their name. But that doesn’t mean anything right? As your professor joins Agent Hotchner in the front to thank him for speaking, you realize that you’re never going to see this man again.

And frankly, that’s unacceptable.

You need to say something to him before he leaves, so you stay in your seat as the other students either leave or walk up to talk to Professor Ramirez or Hotchner. Many students are attempting to mask their blatant flirtation with a question, which, like, power to them, but you still felt the distant and unfamiliar sting of jealousy. You don’t miss the way the Agent keeps looking at you, however, which fuels your barely existent confidence. You walk up to Hotchner right after the last student leaves, and boldly stick your hand out. He shakes it and the warmth of his hand seems to move through your entire body.

“It’s (Y/N), correct?” He asks. You nod.

“That’s correct, Agent.” Hotchner smiles at you.

“Please, you can call me Hotch.” He says.

“Alright, Hotch. I just wanted to say that it’s great to meet you. An honor, really.” “It’s great to meet you too.” He says, and if you didn’t know better you would say his tone was FLIRTATIOUS, “Are you interested in working for the FBI?” He asks and you can’t help but laugh.

“God, no.” You say, which makes him raise an eyebrow.

“No?”

“Sorry, sir, no offense, but I really don’t trust the government enough to work for them.” You say, and try to contain your smile when he laughs.

“Fair enough. So what is it you want to be doing?”

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t laugh at me-”

“I would never laugh at you.” He interrupts, and you smile.

“Okay, then. I want to be a private investigator.” Hotch looks surprised, but he nods in approval.

“I can respect that. Although you’ll make plenty of enemies that way.”

“Hm. That’s okay with me. I have a lot of friends.”

“So you’ll strike a balance.”

“Exactly.”

You stand in front of him for a second, calculating your next move.

“Is there something you needed to ask me?” He asks, looking into your eyes. You almost chicken out, but then-

“Yes, actually. Um, this is a bit weird, and I’ve never done this before, but… would you maybe want to get dinner with me sometime?” You ask, forcing yourself not to break eye contact. Hotch’s face remains controlled, and you can’t gauge his reaction.

temptation, frustration, so bad it makes him cry

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). You’re lovely and seem like a great person, but I don’t think that would be appropriate.” He says, and you deflate (although you try not to show it). Trying not to cry from embarrassment, you smile at him and nod.

“I understand, Agent. Have a good night!” You say, staying as positive as possible. Hotch looks at you with pity, which is the last thing you need.

“I really am sorry, (Y/N).” He says.

“Don’t be. Have a good night.” You say, and you’re out the door before he can respond.

You walk to the exit and groan when you see that it’s pouring rain outside.

“Shit.” You say, digging around in your bag for your umbrella, but you can’t find it anywhere.

“Fuck.”

Usually, you’d walk to your apartment from school, but you can barely see the street in front of you with all the rain. You jog over to the bus stop and nearly collapse onto the seat, ignoring everyone around you. Today sucks.

wet bus stop, she's waiting, his car is warm and dry

Hotch pulled out of his reserved parking space carefully. He’s glad he thought to take an umbrella today. He turns up the heat in his car and breathes in the warm air. He can’t stop thinking about you. Was he an idiot for turning you down? It felt like the right thing to do, but now he just feels stupid. He groans as he pulls up at a stoplight. Driving through Richmond at night and in this weather was going to be a nightmare. He looks to his right and sees you, soaking wet and miserable. God. He’s pulling the car over before he can even weigh his options. There’s no way he was going to make you take the bus this late without any protection. He rolled down his window.

“(Y/N)!” He called, startling you. You look up, your expression a mix of hopefulness and embarrassment.

“Yeah?” You ask tentatively. Hotch falters for a moment, then says,

“I can drive you home.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay I’ll just-”

“I’m worried about you. Get in if you want. It’s really no problem.”

You hesitate, and Hotch can practically hear your conflicting thoughts. But you get in the car nonetheless, and holy shit. He has heated seats.

“Thank you.” You say as you close the door. You immediately feel better, the warmth of the car soothing you, the leather seats making you feel less guilty for being soaked in this obviously expensive car.

“It’s no problem. Where should I go?”

You give him directions, his rumbling voice and soft demeanor making you feel so comfortable. The drive only takes 5 minutes, and suddenly you wish you lived farther away.

“It’s this one.” You say, and he parallel parks flawlessly. Hot.

“I’ll walk you up.” He says, reaching for his seatbelt. You put your hand over his before he can unclick it, and he looks up at you.

“Don’t please. I’ll be fine.” You rush out, not eager for him to see the inside of your shabby apartment building. He relents, but before you can pull your hand away he grabs it, softly stroking it with his thumb. It’s an awkward angle, but it makes your heart race nonetheless.

“Hotch?” You ask quietly, and he’s pulled out of his trance. He pulls his hand away and turns back to face the front.

“Sorry. Uh, good night.” He says, and you sigh.

“I’m 25, Hotch. I have a full-time job-”

“(Y/N)-”

“No. Let me say this, please. I have a full-time job and I’m taking night classes for my Master’s. I have my own insurance. I can vote, drink, rent a car. My brain is fully developed. You aren’t my boss. You aren’t my professor. You’re just a guy. I’m just a girl. It’s that simple. If you aren’t interested just say that and I’ll get out right now. But if this is about my age, or your age, then I think you’re making a mistake.” You say, your voice growing stronger with each word. Hotch looks at you, but his guard isn’t up this time. You know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Kiss me, Hotch.” You say. Hotch smiles.

“Call me Aaron.”

“Okay, how many times are you gonna change your name because-”

Aaron pulls you to him before you can finish your thought. His lips are softer than you expected, and he kisses like a guy with 20 years more experience than you. And it’s amazing.

“Wow.” You say as he pulls away. He presses his forehead against yours, and he’s full-on grinning now.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you to your door?” He asks, and you can’t help it: You giggle like a schoolgirl.

don't stand so close to me

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

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