#aaron hotcher/reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cupidkenji · 1 year ago

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killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises.

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly.

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint.

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?”

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.”

��Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?”

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new.

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick.

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

–

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you.

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up.

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision.

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

–

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him.

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day.

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up.

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it.

“I can watch him.”

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you.

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day.

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.”

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless.

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from.

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back.

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.”

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless.

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.”

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

–

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it.

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks.

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in.

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine.

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal.

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you.

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.”

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure.

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?”

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.”

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself. You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road.

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much.

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm.

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

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imyourbratzdoll · 7 months ago

Text

𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅?

been watching criminal minds lately and this guy does things to me😩

summary - you think your boss hates you but maybe it’s something else…

warning - slight sexual innuendos/tension, feeling hated, mentions of slight violence.

18+ only please, the gif and divider I use isn’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You thought he hated you and you didn’t have a clue why. Whenever you entered the room, he always seemed to grow angry. Did he question your position on the team?

You walked into the BAU, coffee in hand and a tired expression on your face. You couldn’t count how many times your boss kept you up, the thoughts and conclusions about him nagged you throughout your day and night. You had dreams that he kept you up in other fun ways but the universe wasn’t with you on this.

“L/N.” You blink, zoning back in as you nearly bump into someone. Your gaze moves up, feeling your insides twist at the sight of that damned beard. “Is it that hard to watch where you are going? Or are you planning to knock everyone down as you go?”

You cleared your throat, clutching your coffee tighter. “No sir. I wasn’t paying attention, it won’t happen again.”

His glare somehow hardens, you couldn’t help but wonder how one man could make you feel so small when you’ve built yourself up to never feel small again. “It better not. We don’t need an agent to be zoning out when we are out in the field.”

Before you can respond, he turns and heads up to his office. You stare ahead, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“You alright, Y/n?” You hum, seeing Derek standing in front of you.

“Yeah,” You nod. “Just can’t wait to get this day over with.” You sigh, shaking your head and walk with him.

You let out a breath, the case had finally been solved and you guys caught the killer. You groaned as you relaxed into the jet, your muscles screaming to be stretched and massaged, your eyes fighting to stay open but you didn’t want to let your guard down even with your team. Especially not when Hotch sat across from you, his eyes never seeming to leave your form.

You didn’t even let out a sigh of relief when the plane landed, you were so tired and you still had paperwork to do when you got back. With a groan, you followed everyone else, the one man that keeps you anxious making sure to stay behind you even though he had every chance to go before you. Your eyes rolled when you notice everyone else leave in one car, leaving you and Hotch to drive together.

You hop into the passenger seat, resting your head against the glass. Unable to relax with the strange tension in the air, your eyes moved as you watched the scenery pass by before the car finally came to a stop. Just as you’re about to get out, Hotch speaks.

“Agent. What you did was reckless.”

Your brows furrow, wondering what you had done? The unsub had tackled you? Or did you miss something?

“Coming to work exhausted and unfocused is not what is expected when you work on my team. You put your life and the team’s life at risk.”

You turn, a frown and glare on your face. “Are you serious, Hotch?” You shake your head, hand grabbing the door handle and letting the door swing open as you stepped out. Without another word, you slam the door behind you, sick and tired of being hated for no reason.

You gasp as you’re suddenly pulled back and pressed against the car, eyes immediately connecting with Hotch’s as he looms over you. His eyes dark, mouth set into a frown. His hand slowly moves to your throat, resting it there. “You didn’t let me finish.” Your thighs press together as you try to swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I can’t be distracted with making sure you’re okay while we’re out in the field.”

You blink, trying to clear your mind as your brows furrow. “….What?”

Were you wrong this whole time?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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new-author3 · 8 days ago

Text

You're My Priority

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner × Reader (S/N)

Summary: During an important case, Aaron realizes the reader is hiding that she's sick and steps in, putting her well-being above everything else.

Warnings: Emotional content, affectionate language, scenes of care and tenderness, established relationship, mild case-related tension. No explicit content.

Word Count: Approximately 1,100 words

*The gif is not mine*

---

The city was on high alert. A meticulous serial killer was leaving clues in the form of cryptic anagrams, and the victims seemed to be carefully chosen. Hotch was tense. And although the case was everyone’s top priority, his mind wasn’t fully in it — not the way it should’ve been.

What truly distracted him was you.

Not that it was a surprise. Everyone knew how closely Aaron paid attention to you. Maybe it was because you were his girlfriend, or maybe it was just that protective instinct of his — but honestly, that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that, across the room, he couldn’t stop watching you, noticing every little movement.

It was as if he knew you were hiding something. And in a way... you were.

From the beginning of the investigation, you kept insisting you were fine — “It’s just a cold,” “It’s nothing,” “I can handle it.” But Aaron saw right through it. Your eyes looked tired, you kept pressing your side now and then, and the fever you tried to mask with makeup and a forced smile... He knew you too well to fall for any of it. It was only a matter of time before he stepped in.

And that time came.

In the early afternoon, while the team was discussing the latest pattern of the murders in front of the BAU board, a wave of dizziness hit you hard. You stumbled discreetly, leaning on the table for support, trying to hide it. The fever had been relentless since the moment you stepped into the building. You looked around, silently praying no one had noticed.

But then your eyes met his — and you knew.

He had seen everything.

Within seconds, Aaron was at your side, his warm hand settling firmly on your waist.

— Come with me, — he said, low but firm.

— Hotch, I’m fine. Just tired...

— Now. — The tone left no room for argument.

You tried to resist, but his serious, worried eyes made the lump in your throat tighten. He led you to his office, gently helped you sit down in one of the chairs, and locked the door. Then he knelt in front of you — a gesture so intimate, almost vulnerable coming from him.

— You have a fever. You're short of breath. And I know you're in pain. — He gently took your wrist. — You can't lie to me, sweetheart. I know you.

— I just... didn’t want to let the team down. Especially not with a serial killer on the loose. This case is important, Aaron. I didn’t want to be a burden...

— Hey. — He reached up and softly cupped your cheek. — You will never be a burden to me. Never. I’d rather handle this case with you resting in a warm bed, taking care of yourself, than see you pass out in front of a whiteboard.

You tried to smile, but your eyes welled up. Hearing that from him broke down all your defenses.

He stood up and pulled you into a tight hug, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head.

— Now you're going to rest. And I'm going to take care of you. No arguments.

You still tried to protest, but he was already taking off his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

— Only if... I can use you as a pillow, — you said with a faint smirk.

— Whatever you want, sweetheart, — Aaron replied with a soft smile. He leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your face away just in time.

— Aaron, you can’t kiss me. I could get you sick… and you might pass it on to Jack.

You said it before he could overthink it. He paused for a second, taking it in. Then he placed his hand gently on your cheek again, pulling you into a kiss. It started soft and slow… and deepened naturally. He pulled away first, leaving you breathless — and a little more dizzy.

— I couldn’t resist. Especially after hearing you think of Jack... — he sighed, caressing your face. — But now, you don’t have to think about us. Just focus on getting better. I love you.

You were speechless for a moment but finally whispered back:

— I love you too, Aaron.

He smiled at your words and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before getting up. A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of water, a blanket, and that look on his face — the one that blended love, worry, and his usual stubbornness.

— My sweet, stubborn girl... — he murmured, sitting beside you as you surrendered to the warmth of the blanket and his presence.

You rested your head against his chest and draped your legs over his lap. He wrapped one arm around your back and let the other hand settle on your thigh, holding you gently.

As you started to drift off, he stayed there, watching every breath you took with quiet tenderness. Because the world could be falling apart outside, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered… was you.

You were his world.

And he would always take care of you.

---

Author's Note:

I hope you enjoyed the story! I wrote this one inspired by my current situation — I haven’t been feeling very well lately, and honestly, I’d love to have an Aaron Hotchner to take care of me right now.

Thank you so much for reading! 💛

And just a reminder: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Masterlist

#aaron hotcher #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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velvetcloxds · 4 days ago

Note

hotch teaching you how to shoot for self-defense ;)

This was quite frankly one of the worst ideas that you've ever had. It seemed logical, FBI boyfriend, FBI dangers, you needed to know how to protect yourself just in case the worst happened. What was not logical was Aaron in a tight t-shirt making it absolutely impossible to focus on a single word coming from his mouth.

"What did I just say," you had no idea, he had to know that because the sass was something terrible, hand on his hip, and weapon placed on the little metal shelf.

He wore this shirt nearly everyday, plain grey, paired it with whatever sweatpants were clean, maybe it was the lighting or the target background or the backup badge hanging between his biceps but this man was infuriatingly attractive. Your cheeks warmed at the way his brow raised, an overly dramatic sigh as he watched you stammer for a reply, barely, just barely managing a sorry and a shrug.

"I was trying to listen, promise," you admitted and you were prepared to be scolded, orange hue glasses not close to your eyes, earmuffs somewhere behind you, you were the worst possible person to be standing close to an armed weapon, the gun, of course, not Aaron.

"I've been talking for like ten minutes, where did I lose you?" you sighed, slow as you moved towards him, completely pretending as you looked around between everything he'd been gesturing towards. He bit back a smile when you stopped, lifting your hands to his waist with an innocent smile.

"About somewhere between signing us in and looking at me right now," it was exasperating, you nodded in silent agreement as you tugged him closer to steal a kiss. "You're an awful teacher, honey," you'd swear he was offended he gasped so loud.

"I am?"

"Terrible, really, didn't understand a single thing you said."

"Might have if you were listening," you giggled, stole another kiss, he gave in and wrapped his arms around you as well, it made you shiver- has he always been that strong? Who knows, the ways of the t-shirt was lost on you. "You're a horrible student.'

"Promise I'm good at other things," you were smiling at him something crazy, he knew exactly what you meant.

"Nothing helpful in a fight, I'm sure," he had a point and you wouldn't even dare try to convince him other wise, tightening your grip and lingering in his.

"Listen, you wear that shirt to a fight and I'm sure throwing punches will be the last thing on their minds."

"Well, now, not everyone I fight is in love with me."

"Just take off your jacket," you demanded. "Trust me, they will be."

#sarah #aaron hotcher #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds dialogues

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erwinsvow · 2 years ago

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him.

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself.

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him.

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet. Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones.

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you.

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report.

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment.

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this.

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you.

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder.

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would.

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop.

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then.

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon.

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better.

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that.

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag.

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look—something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims.

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be.

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming.

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, “take your time.”

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago.

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?”

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out.

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it.

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon.

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat.

“What?”

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight.

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.”

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago.

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy.

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?”

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling.

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.”

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.”

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.”

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end.

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing.

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?”

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin.

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking.

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car.

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back.

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body.

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.”

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same.

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that.

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition.

and voila <3

#spent my sunday writing this while rewatching season 3 #putting off prep for my grad school interview b/c this is so much better <3 #hope everyone likes it #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher imagine #hotch #hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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it had to be you.

notes: aaron is one of my favs & this frank sinatra song reminds me of him!! enjoy <3 summary: hotch unexpectedly falls for his intelligent and kind coworker, discovering love in an unlikely place. warnings: aaron being a softie, tooth-rotting fluff.

Aaron Hotchner was not a man who believed in serendipity. As Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, his life was governed by logic, structure, and an unwavering commitment to justice. Emotions, especially romantic ones, were neatly compartmentalized, kept under strict control. That is, until you walked into his life.

It was a Wednesday morning, the BAU office bustling with activity. Agents were preparing for the latest case, the sound of clicking keyboards and hushed conversations filling the air. Hotch was in his office, reviewing a case file when you knocked on the door, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

"Got a minute?" you asked, your eyes reflecting both determination and warmth.

"Of course, come in," he replied, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.

You closed the door behind you and took a seat, placing a folder in front of him. "I think I found something in the victimology that might tie the cases together."

Hotch took the folder and began to review the contents. As he read through your meticulous notes, he couldn't help but be impressed by your keen insights and thoroughness. It wasn't the first time he admired your work, but today, something felt different. There was an unfamiliar flutter in his chest, one that he quickly brushed aside.

"This is excellent," he said, looking up to meet your gaze. "I think you're right. This could be the link we've been missing."

You smiled, a genuine expression that reached your eyes. "Glad I could help. Should we present this to the team?"

"Yes, let's do that," Hotch replied, rising from his seat. He followed you out of the office, his mind lingering on the way your presence seemed to light up the room.

As the days turned into weeks, Hotch found himself drawn to you in ways he hadn't anticipated. It wasn't just your intelligence and dedication that captivated him; it was the way you treated everyone with kindness, the way your laughter filled the room, the way you made even the darkest days seem a little brighter.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case, the team decided to unwind at a nearby bar. Hotch usually kept his distance during such gatherings, preferring to maintain his professional boundaries. But tonight, something pulled him to join in. As he entered the bar, he spotted you sitting at a table with the rest of the team, your laughter ringing out above the din.

"Hotch, over here!" you called, waving him over.

He smiled and made his way to the table, taking a seat beside you. The conversation flowed easily, and for once, Hotch allowed himself to relax. As the night wore on, he found himself stealing glances at you, each one reinforcing the growing realization that you were different. Special.

When the team began to disperse, you and Hotch were left alone at the table. You looked at him, a question in your eyes. "Walk me to my car?"

"Of course," he replied, standing up and offering his hand. You took it, and the simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through him.

The walk to the parking lot was filled with easy conversation, but there was an undercurrent of something more. As you reached your car, you turned to face him, your expression serious yet tender.

"Aaron," you began, your voice soft, "I've been meaning to tell you something."

He held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "What is it?"

You smiled, a touch of nervousness in your eyes. "I... I think I'm falling for you."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Hotch felt a rush of emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to hear that," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I'm falling for you too."

You took a step closer, your hand finding his. "So, what do we do now?"

Hotch smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. "We take it one day at a time.”

As you stood there under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, Hotch realized that sometimes, the most unexpected moments led to the most beautiful outcomes. And in that moment, he knew that meeting you was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

#criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotcher imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #— lena writes 🔖

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emberfrostlovesloki · 25 days ago

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Pejoration [Hotch x Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@vodnoebalo) Center (@wardengrill) Right (@marography)

Prompt: What happens when the reader has a kink that Aaron doesn’t - Pejoration

Pairing: Aaron x Non!BAU-Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns.

Category: Smut

Word Count: 844

A/N: Hi loves! First off, this story is 18+, minors DNI. Please respect this boundary. Content warning after the cut. I hope you are all doing very well! I liked the idea of Aaron having a different sex preference than the reader, and how he makes it work for both of them so they’re satisfied. Pejoration means that the connotation of a word declines over time (often this is associated with gender). I hope that you enjoy this fic, and if you do, please like, share, and comment. Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

Content Warnings: Sex, pinv, degradation kink [reader]

y/n = your name

“You don’t deserve my dick in your hole, you dirty whore, you better thank me for what I’m giving you,” Aaron grunted as he pushed his member deeper into y/n who was squirming on the mattress beneath him. Y/n let out an expectant breath and replied, “Please. I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t stop.” Aaron pulled all the way out, his dick slick with y/n’s lubricating secretions. Repositioning his member at y/n’s entrance, he paused, not moving for a second like he was frozen in time. Expectant, y/n looked up at Hotch from the bed and said in a soft voice, “Sweetheart, everything alright?” Aaron gave his head a little shake as if resetting, before he slipped back into y/n with ease. He rested his weight down comfortably on top of y/n’s, resting his head in the cock of her neck before he said, “Sorry honey, I can’t keep up the dirty talk. You know, speaking to you like that is hard for me.”

Y/n hummed, nuzzling her face in the crown of Aaron’s head and said, “That’s okay. We can just make love today, you don’t have to fuck me if you can’t do it. I appreciate you trying again today. I know it’s hard for you to speak to me like that.” Aaron nodded in acknowledgement as y/n placed her hands under Aaron’s ass to encourage him to keep pumping gently in and out of her. y/n relaxed into the rhythm and moved her hands to Aaron’s back as he picked up the pace.

Hotch and y/n had always had different styles in bed, and much of the time they did an in-between path that worked for them. Y/n had learned in her late twenties that vanilla sex did very little for her. For y/n, the rougher and nastier, the better. It started out when she’d gone to a club that ended up being a bit of a sex dungeon. Much to y/n’s surprise, instead of running and screaming, what she saw had intrigued her, and she even tried a few things with some willing strangers that would never have to witness her ineptitude as she got used to the implements and positions required for the fun they were having.

Aaron, on the other hand, had grown up straight-laced, Southern, church going family. Not that as an adult, Aaron was particularly religious, but even still, some ideas just stuck with you, even into adulthood. As Hotch reflected on their different sex styles, he kept pumping in and out of y/n, prolonging the experience for her. He would pull almost all the way out and then push deeply back in, resulting in a lovely sigh from y/n as the feeling in her core started to pool like warmed honey. y/n smiled and moved a hand to Aaron’s sweat slicked shoulder as she said, “You know the words slut and whore used to apply to men. If the words disgust you so much when it comes to women, you could consider the fact that they apply to yourself instead.”

Hotch hummed, forming a plan in his head as he increased his speed and said, “Not to kink shame, y/n, but I’ve never been into the degradation thing, unlike someone I know. Speaking of which I need my bad bad girl to flip onto your stomach. Head down, ass in the air. Now.” y/n was a bit surprised by Aaron’s harsh tone, taking on a bit of the demeanor he had at the start of their sex session.

Once y/n had assumed the new positon, Aaron grabbed the hair and the nape of y/n’s neck, tapping the tip of his cock at her entrance. Leaning forward so Hotch could whisper into y/n’s ear he said with a rumble in his chest, “I’m going to fuck you into the bed, and you don’t get to move until you’ve cum all over my cock,” True to his word, Aaron was relentless as he fucked y/n into the mattress. Anytime she cried out, Hotch pushed her face into the pillow, careful that she could still breathe easily. With Aaron’s demanding time, y/n’s position, and the pace Hotch had set, y/n came apart quickly. Hotch didn’t push her face into the bed as she came and moaned out his name which was enough to send him over the edge as well; his cock pulsing and letting out his milky seed inside y/n.

In the afterglow of their intimacy, y/n snuggled close to Aaron and said, “I thought you said you didn’t like the degradation thing. What was that last ten minutes if not some form of control on your end?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Sweetheart, I don’t like calling you names. Now giving orders and being rough, well, let’s just say they pay me for that in my day job.” Y/n hummed and replied, “Well, thank god for that.”

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag list: @potatovoyager @princessjax @geminitapestry @mandarinmoons @alicewonderao3 @beardedhotchner @michasia24

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miley1442111 · 1 year ago

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nervous night- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

you and aaron have jack (obvi) and a daughter, ellie. :) (2k + words)

summary: you see your sister for the first time in a long ti8me, things don't go so well.

pairing: husband/dad aaron hotchner x wife/mother reader

warnings: annoying family members, your sister is a narcissist, allusions to abuse, sad moments, aaron and reader shower together (not sexually)

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Nerves wracked your stomach. You hadn’t seen your sister in 4 years. Your sister was somewhat of a narcissist and practically made you her punching bag throughout childhood. She always had to be the centre of attention, always had to be pitied, and always had to be liked. It was exhausting. Now, you were a successful professor with a husband, a son, and a daughter. Aaron, Jack, and Ellie were the loves of your life, they were your favourite people on the planet. They had your back through everything, Aaron supported and loved you and your children were the most intelligent and polite kids on the earth.

So, why were you so nervous for this dinner?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Aaron walked into the bathroom and saw the beautiful floor-length gown you had on for the evening, the flawlessly- applied makeup, and the beautiful way you had styled your hair, he was reminded of a fresh-out-of-the-academy you. Yes, you were younger than him, and yes, at the beginning he was named a ‘cradle-robber’ by the team but neither of you cared. You two were each other's everything. You had joined the BAU just after Haley’s death and Aaron and you grew close. It took about a year and a half before he made a move, since you didn’t want to take advantage of his fragile state. Since then, it’d had nothing but love between the two of you. A year of dating, marriage in Rossi’s backyard, and Ellie joining you only 9 months after the wedding. BUt when he first laid his eyes on you, he was sure you were an angel. You were so kind, so funny, so smart, so interesting. You were everything he wanted and more.

Years on, you were out of the BAU, a professor at a university nearby and Aaron had become a corporate lawyer.

“You look so beautiful,” Aaron smiled in the mirror as you fixed your earring. You rolled your eyes and chuckled.

“You look pretty handsome yourself,” you smiled at him. His cheeks warmed and his smile widened.

“The kids are ready,” As he was speaking, Jack walked in with Ellie behind him, an undone tie around his neck.

“Mom!” Ellie smiled in your direction. You smiled at your grown children. Jack was 19 now, Ellie was 11. Ellie and you were so close, just like you were close with Jack. You started tying Jack’s tie without question as Aaron scoffed from behind you and Jack just smiled at you.

“What are you scoffing about?” You gave Aaron a playful kick and he rested a hand on your shoulder, standing behind you.

“I already did Jack’s tie,” he explained. “But he undid it so you could do it.”

“Mom does your tie every morning!” Jack reminded him and Aaron smiled, rolling his eyes.

“I suppose,” he sighed as he picked up Ellie. “Are you excited for dinner Ellie?”

Ellie squealed, trying to get out of her father’s arms as he mercilessly tickled her. You and Jack laughed at their shenanigans and you smiled at your lovely life. You adored your family.

You finished up Jack’s tie and gave him a hug, moving to grab your things when Aaron grabbed your waist. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, right beside your ear and whispered. “You’ll do great, you’re incredible.”

Some of the weight on your chest lifted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dinner was in a very upscale restaurant, one Aaron had brought you to for your anniversary just a few months perviously. You sat nervously waiting on your sister as Aaron sat beside you, keeping the kids entertained with a story from your time in the BAU. As much as the BAU was a very traumatic time for the both of you, it was still an amazing part of your life. As Jack pretended to not know the ending and Ellie listened with bated breath, you smiled at your amazing family, a sense of immense pride radiating from you.

Then they walked in. What you thought to be your sister, her dark hair the same but… everything different from what you’d remembered. She seemed tanner, different, more-expensive clothing on her, and clearly luxurious jewellery clung to her. Her husband, a short man called Pete with his signature pleasant smile on his face, and three children behind them, all staring down at phones. Your sister, Maeve sat opposite you, Pete opposite Aaron, Liam (her first born son) opposite Jack, Joey (her second child) opposite Ellie, and their youngest daughter, Elizabeth sitting in a seat beside her father.

“Y/n! How are you?” She asked, her voice sickly sweet and far too loud for the atmospheric restaurant.

“I’m good, how are you?” You smiled. Well, here goes nothing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was still a narcissistic bitch. Her husband was so conditioned to her bullying it seemed to roll off him, but it hit you deep. Aaron could tell how upset you were getting at her ‘not-so-subtle’ jabs at your life and choices that he decided to commandeer the situation and talk about something both him and Pete could talk about, their shared job, being a lawyer.

Pete was a mildly successful lawyer and Aaron could tell his family lived well beyond their means, something he’d noticed since the beginning of the dinner. The children were all dressed well, she was dressed well, but Pete was in a second-hand, or old shirt.

Benefits of being a profiler, I guess.

“So, what do you like to do Jack?” Maeve asked your son, interrupting Aaron.

“I like soccer,” He smiled, his manners were shining through and you couldn’t have been more proud. “What do you like to do?”

“Oh, he’s so cute,” Maeve chuckled like he wasn’t even there. “Liam plays soccer too, don’t you Liam?” She asked him, nudging him to look up from the phone his eyes were glued to.

“What?- Oh, yeah. I scored 7 goals this season,” he smirked. Jack’s interest was piqued, he loved soccer.

“Cool! What team do you play with?” Jack asked.

“I’m kind of between teams at the minute, what about you?”

Jack was not one to show off, but he had gotten a scholarship to Stanford on his soccer talent and it was something he’d been extremely proud of since he’d started going there last fall. “Umm,” he mumbled for a second. “Stanford. I’m the captain of the Stanford team.”

Maeve’s jaw dropped. Liam’s jaw dropped.

“You’re the captain of the Stanford team?” Liam asked, shocked.

“Yeah,” Jack smiled. Liam chuckled.

“Congratulations man, that’s awesome,” Liam shook Jack’s hand in a friendly manner and you were happy Jack was being acknowledged by his cousins.

“And what about you, little miss?” Maeve asked, brushing off your son’s talent.

“I play tennis and I’m in a competitive dance team,” she smiled. “I love tennis though, I probably prefer it to dance.”

"Wow, how amazing!" Maeve's over-exaggerated enthusiasm showed something else, her jealousy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So you’ve landed on your feet,” Maeve slurred.

“I have,” you smiled as you watched your children chatting with their cousins in the garden, playing in the summer sunset.

“The husband is pretty too,” she snorted, clearly far too drunk. “Might have to steal him.”

“There is no way you could steal me away from my wife,” Aaron phrased it like a joke, wrapping his arms around your waist, but everyone could tell it wasn’t.

Maeve fake-laughed as Pete smiled at the two of you.

“I can’t believe it, my baby-sister. You’re all grown up, taking care of a dead woman’s child and one of your own,” Maeve jabbed and you could feel your blood run cold. “I never thought you’d be a good mother, turns out I was right.”

“Pardon?” Aaron asked.

“I mean, yes, Jack is impressive but that was the work of your late wife, what’s her name again? Haley? And Y/n has Ellie in dance and tennis, I mean she clearly wants to give her daughter an eating disorder just like she had back in the day.”

Your heart dropped. You were so hurt by those words.

“What the fuck did you just say to my mom?” Jack asked from the door to the backyard. Maeve had a triumphant smirk on her face.

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Maeve smirked.

“Why do you always have to ruin stuff mom?!” Liam groaned. “They are actually cool and interesting people and you’re ruining our relationship with them because you’re jealous! Just give up!”

Shouting began. Maeve and Pete were shouting at Liam, Joey, and Elizabeth and they were shouting back. Ellie ran to you, burying her face in your side and you covered her ears. Jack settled himself beside you, letting you hug him close, his face in the crook of your neck. Jack and Ellie both hated shouting, they could not stand it. It reminded Jack of the day Haley died, and it reminded Ellie of a time you had gotten hurt on a case and been rushed to hospital, she had been with you when you were rushed to surgery and she could always remember the shouting of the doctors and nurses.

“We’re leaving!” Pete demanded.

“I fucking staying here, if Aaron and Y/n let me,” Liam shouted back. All shouting was silenced, and all eyes were on you two. You looked at Aaron and he nodded.

“Of course you can stay here,” He assured his niece and nephews. “We’d be happy to have you.”

Pete and Maeve were deeply unhappy at that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end, Liam, Joey, and Elizabeth stayed, Pete and Maeve practically disowning them and saying they would ‘drop their stuff off in the morning’. I mean, you had the extra space, you had three guest rooms in your house (one of Rossi’s houses you’d bought off him for a very substantial discount), and you truly did love them.

You tucked Ellie into bed and closed the door behind you, coming face to face with Liam.

“Thank you for letting us stay,” he said.

“Of course, we love you guys so much and you’re welcome here any time.”

“Thank you,” he said, pulling you into a hug. You could feel the small sobs wracking his body but you didn’t mention it, allowing him to cry into your neck.

“Do you want to go golfing with Jack and Aaron this weekend? You can offer it to Joey too. Ellie and I can take Elizabeth with us to get our nails done,” you offered, knowing they would probably be staying for a while.

“That would be really nice,” he pulled away, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You knocked on Jack’s door, and he opened it immediately.

“You alright?” You had barely got the question out before he wrapped you up in a bone-crushing hug.

“I love you mom,” he stressed. “Thank you for letting them stay.”

You were kind of aware that Jack and Liam had been friends online in recent years, but clearly they knew each other better than you thought.

“You two are close?”

“He’s been telling me a bit about life with his parents and… it’s not good.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. After sitting with him for some time, you wished him sweet dreams and moved to your own bedroom, exhaustion pulling at your eyes.

You heard the shower running, knowing it was Aaron, you removed your makeup and clothes, then joined him.

“Hi honey,” he smiled sympathetically. “How are you doing?”

“I’m here,” you yawned as his hands gripped your waist. “Looks like they’ll be staying for a while.”

“Should I look into papers?” he asked, grabbing some shampoo and softly running it through your hair.

“Not yet,” you mumbled, allowing your eyes to close as he took care of you.

“You looked so beautiful tonight,” he whispered against your skin as he kissed up your neck.

“Thank you,” you smiled sleepily. “You looked very handsome.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After finishing up in the shower, Aaron escorted you straight to your bed, where he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you silly, whispering words of encouragement and thanks for your strength.

"And how do you feel about it?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Like shit, I feel terrible for them, and then of course, everything she said to me-"

"You're an amazing person, and mother. Don't listen to people who don't know anything about you anymore. The only contact you two have had in the past few years is through social media. She barely knows who you are, so her opinion doesn't matter," He assured you, pressing small kisses along your collarbone.

"Then who's opinion matters?" You smiled back.

"Mine, and I think that you're the most incredible," a kiss. "intelligent," another kiss. "sexy," another kiss. "beautiful," another kiss. "deserving of love and praise," a kiss to your lips. "Human being on the planet."

The chuckle as he continued his kisses and soft words and fell asleep quickly. He watched you for a moment, appreciating your beauty.

You were perfect.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

#criminal minds #bau team #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotcher

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arthfa3ry · 11 months ago

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aaron hotchner who makes it his goal to get you off at least once for every day he'll be gone on a work trip. gone for two weeks in montana? he's up till three am fucking you into the mattress. helping another team for three days in georgia? you're cumming on his tongue a minimum of three times. and don't worry if it's a last minute case, as so many are, he's already planned for that. he has a homemade dildo for you in the shape of his cock and a pretty little vibrator for occasions just like this one. and don't forget, he's unit chief so he gets his own room, so even though you're miles away he can watch your pretty hole get stuffed and hear your moans as you cum. he'd never let his girl go unsatisfied, circumstances be damned.

#fanfiction #author #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotcher smut #hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch smut #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch x you

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stylesluxx · 6 months ago

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all of the girls you loved before – a. hotchner

[warnings: none]

summary: in which y/n is grateful for aaron's experiences – inspired by all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

word count: 773

main masterlist

You've heard the stories before, the whispered mentions of the women that had come before you. Each one left a mark on him, a trace you sometimes wondered if you could see in the way he moved, the way he held you when you felt his steady hands against your back. Aaron Hotchner didn't often talk about them, but in the quiet moments, their presence lingered like a ghost in the room, a history you couldn't touch but could feel.

It wasn't jealousy, exactly. It was more the weight of knowing you weren't his first love, that he had lived entire lifetimes before you. Maybe you'd catch him staring off into the distance, his jaw tight as memories flickered across his face. You never pried, though the questions sometimes bubbled at the back of your throat. He would have told you if he wanted to, you reminded yourself.

But tonight was different. Tonight, something between you shifted.

You were sitting together on the porch, the soft hum of autumn night air around you, the distant sounds of traffic on the street below a low murmur. The team was away on a case, but for once, he wasn't. He had stayed behind, citing exhaustion, though you knew it wasn't just about fatigue. He needed time. Space. And you were here for him, silently offering the support he rarely let himself ask for.

Aaron sipped his drink, his fingers grazing the glass as he looked out into the darkened sky. You followed his gaze, wondering where his mind had drifted this time. His silence wasn't unusual, but there was a tension tonight that made the air between you feel thicker than usual. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft, like he wasn't sure he was ready for the words.

"I don't think I've ever told you about Haley."

His ex-wife. You'd heard her name before, of course, but he rarely mentioned her. Even now, years after her death, the grief still hung in his eyes when he did. You turned slightly, giving him your full attention, heart tightening as you prepared yourself for whatever he needed to say.

"She was... everything to me. For a long time." He let out a breath, his thumb tracing the rim of his glass. "And when I lost her, I didn't think I could feel that way again. About anyone."

You didn't speak, just listened, knowing this wasn't something you could fix. This was something he had to let out, piece by piece.

"I wasn't looking for this, for us." His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped turning. "But somehow, you're here."

He shifted, setting his drink aside and taking your hand in his. His fingers were warm against yours, grounding you as his gaze softened, the weight of years of pain and love swirling in his eyes.

"I used to think the past would always have this hold on me, that I'd never be able to let go of all the girls I loved before. But then I realized... they led me here. To you."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing into your chest. You didn't need him to explain further. You knew what he meant—that every love, every loss, every heartbreak had shaped him into the man sitting beside you. And somehow, through all of it, he had found his way to you.

He squeezed your hand, a silent reassurance that he was here, with you, now.

"I don't regret any of it," he continued, his voice quieter now. "Because without it, I wouldn't have you. And that's something I wouldn't trade for anything."

The tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them, the emotion of his confession wrapping around your heart. You'd always known there was a part of him that would forever belong to the past, to Haley, to the life he had before. But now, hearing him say it, you realized it wasn't about competing with those memories. It was about understanding that you were part of his story now, a chapter he hadn't expected but cherished all the same.

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder as he pulled you closer, the unspoken understanding settling between you. There was no need for more words, not tonight. You both knew that love wasn't about erasing the past—it was about accepting it, embracing it, and realizing that every step along the way had led to this moment.

And in that moment, you realized something too.

You were glad for all the girls he loved before, because without them, without everything he had been through, you might never have found your way to him.

And now that you had, you weren't going to let go.

[AN: oh hey... I think I'm going to do febuwhump to get out of my writing slump. I'll keep you guys updated. I also have a ko-fi account now??? no pressure but it's link in my navigation and here! and of course... my taglist. lmk your thoughts. love you byeee]

#stylesluxx #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher fluff #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader

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thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

Something Else || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hiyaa i have such a 😩😩 storyline in my head and i think you would excecute it soo well! Sooo i was thinking Hotch x Reader where they have to chase someone but somehow reader ends up in a car alone... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh missed writing for my criminal minds fav man! Thank you for the request anon, hope ya like it :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Hotch’s voice was low, groveling, begging you not to do it desperately through the car speaker, “Agent, stand down!”

You pressed down on the peddle of the black SUV you were driving too aggressively a little harder, “Hotch, he’s going to get away and hurt somebody else.” Somehow your voice was much steadier than his as you focused on the unsub in the small sedan racing ahead of you.

“Dammit Y/N, do not engage the unsub. That is an order.” He was more panicked than anything. He shouldn’t have let you go to that police station alone. This was such a you thing to do. You didn’t seem to care about your safety and it terrified Aaron. You would put your life on the line every single time if it meant saving somebody else. You were too selfless, too good for this job. It was going to kill you if he didn’t talk to you about it soon.

“But Hotch! I can intercept him. End this whole thing now. I have to.” You mumbled mindlessly as you came up with your brilliant plan to speed up in front of him on the road next to the one he was on. The two of you were heading out of the city into the countryside with grided roads. You could intercept him down the road if you played it out correctly.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the call before he continued his pleas, “You’re going to get yourself killed. You’re going to get somebody else killed Agent! Stand down!” To his credit he certainly wasn’t backing down in his demands. He was committed to getting you to stop what you were doing. But he should’ve known you better than that. You’d never stand down. Not when you had the opportunity to stop him.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. I’ll manage.” You sped quickly down the dark country roads knowing you’d have to be hauling it to execute your plan. Get ahead of him enough you could cut down the side road and crash into him. He wouldn’t see it coming.

“You’re not listening to me.” He was all out desperate now as you ignored him and pressed on.

“I have to Hotch. I’ll be okay. I promise.” You hung up the phone in a hurry as your turned your car down the next road, you could do this. But you couldn’t have your boss yelling in your ear if you were to do this properly. You just needed to clip the back end of his vehicle as he sped on by. You got there seconds before he did allowing yourself to decide if you really wanted to or not.

Instincts took over and you gunned it, hard. The front end of your SUV smashed into the rear end of the unsubs small Honda Civic speeding on by. The sound of crunching metal was one that always shocked you. It was just so loud. What you’d failed to calculate was just how hard you hard pressed the gas. One moment you were conscious, the next you felt you head smack against the airbag sending you into that blackened state you really did try to avoid but couldn’t this time.

When the bright light of the doctors flashlight hit your eyes your body decided it was time to come back to reality. A muffled groan escaped your throat while your eyelids finally decided to work and slowly opened up adjusting to the bright lights around you.

“Ah, there you are.” The doctor standing beside your bed smiled, “Great to see you awake. Your head may hurt. Took quite a hit there according to your boss. Looks like a mild concussion. Didn’t find anything else on intake. Got off lightly all things considered.” He pointed towards the man sleeping in the corner of your room. He looked so peaceful, the usual downturned scowl on his face had vanished in his own unconscious state.

“Mmm suppose I did.” You mumbled still coming back into reality. It wasn’t a moment later you heard Hotch shuffle from behind the doctor, light sleeper he was.

The doctor must’ve heard it too as he turned back to Aaron, “She’ll be just fine, see? Nothing to worry about.” He motioned to your wakened state, “I’ll be back in a little while. Have a few labs I need to check and then we should be able to get you out of here.” The older doctor smiled kindly at you before leaving you stranded with your probably over angry boss.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he took you in. You’d never truly felt so small under his gaze until now. He was angry, pissed, “I should have you fired.”

You closed your eyes fighting back the oncoming tears. You vowed to never cry in front of him but damn it was going to be hard to stop them. Your head was pounding, your boss who you had a massive crush on was threatening to fire you and all you wanted to do was shrivel up under the thin hospital blanket.

He cleared his throat seeing you react so timidly under his intimidating gaze he so hardly used on his team. He knew it wasn’t the time nor place no matter how angry he was. He could be angry later. You needed him now and he had to suck it up for what you needed, “Let me be clear. I should, but I won’t.” He dropped his rigid stance once your eyes made their way back over to him.

You nodded, looking away quickly. You were too ashamed to look him in the eye for too long, “I’m sorry. Did you get the unsub?” Your curiosity needed to know even if it would piss him off further.

He let out a shake of his head, “You’re something else Y/N. Yes, we got him. You knocked him out too. Quiet the scene to arrive to. Scared the shit out of me.” He grabbed the chair from beside the bed and pulled it close to sit down next to you, “Finding you with blood all over your face had me thinking the worst. You’ve got to be more careful. You’ve got to start giving a shit about yourself Y/N. You can’t keep pulling stunts like these.” His deep brown eyes searched yours hoping you’d finally hear his words he had been begging you to hear.

You heard him, you always did. But you couldn’t understand why he always tried to stop you and nobody else on the team. Derek pulled the same stunt not even a years ago, “But Derek did the same thing last August…”

He stopped you by grabbing your arm gently. He’d hardly ever touched you let alone grasped your seemingly small bicep, “You aren’t Derek, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew you were likely pushing your luck with your very handsome superior, “I know that Hotch, but I’m an Agent just like him. I have to take these risks too. What makes me different?”

He let go of your bicep before looking away and grumbling something you couldn’t hear. When he turned back to you his softened features had turned back to the usual scowl he wore in the office. Neutral natural Hotch.

Deciding to push your luck you continued to chirp, “What makes me different Hotch? He gets praise while I get scolded? Come on!”

He shook his head seemingly conflicted of his next words, “You’re just not him, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“That’s not an answer Hotch!” You were getting worked up now, “What? So, everyone else gets to take risks to move on up in their career and I get to sick back and watch? That’s not fair Hotch and you know it!”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” His usual stoic tone roared with emotion he so rarely showed. You were getting somewhere now. You just had to poke him a little further.

That wasn’t good enough for you, “So could all of my coworkers yet they get praised!”

“It’s different.” His voice had calmed but he felt his emotions bubbling to the surface as you continued to push him.

You let out a sigh after feeling like you were just going in circles, “What’s different Hotch?” You weren’t yelling but you certainly weren’t quiet.

He ran his hands through his hair conflicted beyond belief. But fuck it, you weren’t going to let it go until he gave you an answer right? He couldn’t think of a good enough excuse, so he gave you the truth instead, “I don’t love them.”

It felt like your rapidly beating heart stopped right then and there. Loved? Had you had a thought that Hotch had loved you? He’d always treated you different sure, but you never had an inkling thought he had done that because he loved you.

“You… you love me?” It felt like your throat was made sandpaper as you really processed his words.

He nodded his head at you. Slowly, watching for your reaction, he grabbed for your hands hoping to understand if you could potentially feel the same. He’d done an excellent job hiding it based on your shocked reaction. It wasn’t bad, no. You just seemed genuinely shocked.

“I love you.” He said it a bit more confidently this time.

“Are you sure?” It was the only thing you could think, and it sounded funnier spoken out loud than you truly had meant. Because why would your successful boss who seemed so far out of your league. You were only five years out of school. A measly twenty-seven-year-old attempting to figure out what being an adult actually entailed.

His stoic expression broke out into a smile followed by a soft chuckle. You’d always adored when he smiled. It seemed few and far in between he let you see that side of him, “You really are something else, you know that right?” He continued grinning at your reaction to his confession, “But yes, I’m positive. I’ve had a few years to ponder it.” He continued smiling seeing your expression go from shock to a smile to a slight blush back to embarrassment all within a few moments. He’d always found your expressiveness adorable beyond belief and this was no exception. Without much of a second thought he grabbed for your fidgeting hands hoping he could provide your brain some comfort.

“I uhm… wow. That’s not what I thought you’d say… I yeah.” Your face flushed further under his loving gaze. Now that he’d said the words out loud it’s like you were given to a softer, sweeter Aaron Hotchner that was just underneath his stoic surface.

Sure, you’d had a massive crush on the man. Looked up to him. Wanted to be him. Like almost everything about him. But did you love him? You liked him a lot. Loved him though? You thought further. You’d crushed on him since the moment Strauss had introduced you right out of college. But he was with Haley at the time. You’d pushed down the bubbling feelings for your boss that was nearly ten years older than you. He was everything you wanted to be and more. Smart, collected, calm and the best boss you’ve ever had. Yeah, you loved him too. You’d always loved him. The way he treated everyone. The way he was able to be the best version of himself when he needed to be.

He found comfort that his words had sent you into a babbling state. You hadn’t pulled your hand away from his which was a good sign, “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I just.. I’m sorry I told you like that. You just, wouldn’t stop until I told you.” He grinned knowing that he just put it back onto your own actions for his statement. Which was true, you had decided to push and poke and prod. It kind of was your fault.

It was your turn to laugh now, “I’m sorry for yelling. Escalating. You know how I am.” You smiled bashfully at the man who had your heart. And who apparently loved you, who would’ve thought? Certainly not you.

He nodded, giving your much smaller hands in a gentle squeeze, “Like I said, you’re something else. Now, get some sleep. I’ll wake you when you need to. You need to rest. We’ll talk later.”

You nodded at him, closing your eyes at his request. But before you could drift off you had to confess the same to him, “Hotch?”

“Call me Aaron. Yes?” He answered your question with his own.

You smiled after opening your eyes and making eye contact with him. He truly was a stunning man. Inside and out.

“Alright Aaron.” You laughed seeing the way his eyes lit up under the new way you said his name. It was thrilling. The two of you were learning about the others in their own ways, “I love you too.”

His smile only grew wider before he smirked over to you, “Are you sure?”

“Don’t make fun of me Aaron Hotchner!” You giggled feeling the weight of the world being lifted off your shoulders. Even though your head was aching it felt good to be here with him. He was laughing right along with you. The two of you off in your own little bubble finally finding each other after pining for so long over the years.

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

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almostwisegalaxy · 4 months ago

Text

Silent Hostility_4

Part1

Part2

Part3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Reader has a shy character in this story

Age gaps: Spencer 37-38 Reader: twenties

Post prison Reid. Season 13. But let's imagine that the team is Always the same as in the seasons marked, with: Derek Morgan, Aaron hotcher...

..................................................................................

But life...

Life gave them no respite.

No time to hesitate, to fumble through uncertainty.

Their story would be nothing soft.

Nothing gradual.

They were going to love each other instantly.

Brutally.

Irrevocably.

With no way to turn back.

The adrenaline hadn’t faded.

The case was closed.

The victims were safe.

But Y/N was at her limit.

Too many emotions.

Too much built-up tension.

She walked through the halls of HQ, her gaze empty, her jaw clenched.

She just wanted to forget.

Bury this day under layers of indifference.

But him…

He was there.

Always there.

In her field of vision.

In her mind.

Under her skin.

He had been watching her from the beginning.

He knew.

He saw right through her.

And that…

That was unbearable.

So when he caught up to her in the break room, she knew something was about to explode.

"Y/N."

She froze.

Closed her eyes.

Don’t answer.

Don’t react.

But he stepped closer.

Too close.

His scent, his warmth…

She felt her muscles tighten.

And when he murmured, his voice rough:

"Look at me."

She lost control.

Everything detonated.

Without thinking, she shoved him violently.

Her breath was ragged, her heart pounding.

"Stop!" she snapped.

Reid didn’t move.

His gaze was unreadable, intense.

"Why?" he asked calmly.

She clenched her fists.

"Because…"

But no words came out.

No excuse made sense.

Because he was right.

Because she had no more barriers.

Because the fire he ignited in her was consuming everything.

Then, he stepped forward.

Slowly.

Determined.

Each step echoed like a threat.

Like a promise.

His eyes never left hers.

And then…

He reached out.

A shiver ran through her.

She could have stepped back.

She should have.

But she stayed frozen.

And he brushed against her wrist.

It was enough.

Everything tipped over.

She grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Fiercely.

With all the rage, fear, and desire she had suppressed for too long.

Reid didn’t think.

He responded.

His hands found her waist, her back, her neck.

His entire body craved hers.

There were no more questions.

No more doubts.

Just them.

Just this visceral need.

The kiss was desperate.

Brutal.

As if they had waited too long.

As if they knew that if they stopped…

They would never recover.

The door behind them slammed from the impact of their bodies.

His fingers in her hair.

Her sighs against his skin.

The urgency of their movements.

There was no turning back.

They had always been heading toward this.

Toward this chaos.

Toward this madness.

Toward this inevitability.

---

The silence after the storm.

Shallow breaths.

Racing hearts.

Y/N abruptly stepped back, as if the wall Reid had pressed her against was burning.

What had she just done?

She ran a trembling hand over her lips.

They were swollen. Sensitive.

Marked by him.

By what they had done.

Her gaze met Reid’s.

Still as intense.

Still too much.

His chest was still rising and falling from exertion. He seemed lost in a thousand thoughts, but one thing was clear:

He didn’t regret anything.

"Y/N…"

His voice.

Deep. Rough.

Too dangerous.

She shook her head, stepped back again.

"No."

Reid frowned.

"No?"

"This can’t happen."

His gaze hardened.

"It just did."

She clenched her fists.

"It was a mistake."

Reid closed his eyes briefly, taking a shaky breath.

Then he looked at her, with that analytical expression she hated.

The one that dug under her skin.

That searched for truths she refused to face.

"Can you really say that?"

She looked away.

She wanted to say yes.

But her entire body screamed otherwise.

Reid took a step toward her.

She shivered.

Not from fear.

From anticipation.

From that damn thrill that ran down her spine every time he got too close.

"Look at me and say it."

She opened her mouth.

But nothing came out.

Because he was right.

Because it was impossible to lie now.

Because that kiss…

That kiss had changed everything.

It had destroyed her.

Or maybe repaired her.

She wasn’t sure.

But one thing was certain:

She was screwed.

Y/N left the room like a shadow.

Without a word.

Without looking back.

Reid didn’t follow her.

He knew she needed space.

But he also knew this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

And he was right.

Because that night, as he buried himself in books, trying to forget the feel of her lips on his…

There was a knock at his door.

His heart skipped a beat.

He knew it would be her.

He opened it.

She was there.

Her hair still damp from the rain.

Her gaze shattered.

Her breath unsteady.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t move.

But everything in her screamed that she couldn’t take it anymore.

So Reid did what he knew best.

He pulled her into him.

Closed his eyes as he felt her body against his.

And when she whispered, in a trembling breath:

"Help me."

He understood.

They were lost.

And this time…

They wouldn’t fight it.

---

The rain still pounded against Reid’s apartment windows.

In the darkness, Y/N stood before him. Soaked, shivering, eyes locked onto his.

She didn’t need to speak.

Everything in her screamed what she couldn’t say out loud.

Help me.

Reid felt something break inside him. A barrier he had fought to keep in place for months.

Without a word, he took her freezing hand and gently pulled her inside.

She didn’t resist.

She wasn’t running anymore.

She was letting him be there.

He closed the door behind her and stood still, uncertain.

“You’re freezing. Come…”

He led her to the couch and disappeared for a moment before returning with a towel. He placed it over her shoulders with a gentleness that made Y/N tremble.

Because there was no pressure.

No demands.

Just his presence, which she was beginning to accept.

She grabbed the towel and slowly rubbed her arms, trying to warm her numb body.

“Do you want something hot?” Reid asked softly.

She shook her head.

She didn’t want tea.

Or hot chocolate.

She wanted him.

But how could she say that?

How could she explain the storm inside her, the chaos he ignited with every glance, every whisper?

She had never been allowed to feel this.

She had never dared.

And yet, tonight, she had come to him.

So she made a decision.

She set the towel on the couch. Stood up slowly.

Reid’s eyes followed her, his expression unreadable.

Y/N took a step.

Then another.

Until she was right in front of him.

Close enough to hear his breath catch.

To hear his heart pounding.

She lifted a hesitant hand.

Rested it against his cheek.

He flinched at the contact but didn’t move.

He let her.

He waited.

Her thumb brushed over his lightly stubbled jaw.

A shiver ran down her spine.

This was crazy.

This was reckless.

This was inevitable.

She looked up at him, searching for a reason to stop.

There wasn’t one.

So, slowly, hesitantly, she closed the last inch between them.

And kissed him.

Reid didn’t move at first.

As if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

Then, gently, he responded.

His lips moved against hers with an almost painful tenderness.

Y/N felt a tremor in her chest.

This wasn’t like the first time.

This wasn’t stolen in the heat of desire.

This was a choice.

Her choice.

She deepened the kiss, her fingers sliding into his damp hair.

Reid let out a breath against her mouth, as if he had been holding it for months.

As if he had been waiting for exactly this.

His hands hesitated at her waist.

Almost cautious.

But when she pressed her body against his, he gave in.

His arms wrapped around her completely, holding her like he was afraid she would disappear.

She didn’t want to leave.

Not this time.

They kissed again and again, as if it was the only thing that mattered.

As if it was inevitable.

Until their breath ran out.

Until Y/N felt panic creeping in.

She wasn’t ready for more.

Reid noticed immediately.

He froze.

Pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

She waited for him to ask a question.

To try to understand.

But he didn’t.

He simply ran a reassuring hand through her wet hair and murmured,

“Stay.”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Stay.

With him.

Here, in this space where she didn’t feel unsafe.

She slowly nodded.

And that night, for the first time in years…

Y/N slept without nightmares.

---

Days passed, then weeks.

And something had changed.

It was subtle, imperceptible to others, but for them, it was a shift.

They had never spoken about that night.

About that kiss.

About the way Y/N had woken up, wrapped in Reid’s sheets, her body pressed against his.

About how he had simply smiled and whispered, “Good morning,” without forcing anything.

About how she had stayed.

Not because she felt obligated.

But because she wanted to.

They didn’t hold hands in public.

They didn’t whisper sweet words in front of the team.

But everything was different.

Y/N found herself searching for Reid more often.

Wanting to sit beside him during briefings.

Accepting his gestures, his touches, those small, almost imperceptible moments that once would have made her recoil.

Reid didn’t rush anything.

He let her come to him at her own pace.

But he no longer hesitated to touch her.

To place a hand on her back when they walked side by side.

To brush his fingers against hers when they exchanged files.

To run his hand through her hair under some flimsy excuse.

And Y/N didn’t push him away.

She let him.

Because, for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.

Only warm.

A feeling she never thought possible.

The Team Starts to Notice

Of course, they weren’t the only ones to notice the change.

Morgan was the first to comment.

“Reid, is it just me, or have you been glued to Y/N lately?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Reid flushed slightly and shrugged.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you serious, man?” Morgan laughed.

Emily, watching the scene, crossed her arms with a teasing smile.

“I think it’s cute.”

Y/N shot her a glare.

But the team wasn’t fooled.

Even Hotch had raised an eyebrow when he saw Y/N and Reid leaving the office together one night, their personal space almost nonexistent.

Garcia, of course, was thrilled.

“I knew it! I knew it!” she had squealed one day after seeing Reid place a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, gently pulling her closer.

Y/N had glared at her, but Reid had only smiled.

He wasn’t ashamed.

He wasn’t afraid.

With Kali, Everything Was Different

The strangest part was seeing Reid and Kali’s bond.

The little girl adored him.

Maybe even more than Y/N had thought possible.

She ran to him the moment he arrived at the office.

She laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones.

She loved when he clumsily signed words in ASL, her tiny fingers sometimes correcting him with serious concentration.

Y/N watched these moments with a mix of warmth and fear.

Because Reid wasn’t just playing a temporary role.

He was there.

Really there.

And for Kali, that was already a fact.

“You know she adores you,” Y/N murmured one evening as Reid sat on the couch, Kali asleep against him.

He looked down at the little girl, a soft smile on his lips.

“I think she trusts me a little, yeah.”

Y/N’s chest tightened.

She bit her lip, then whispered,

“She’s not the only one.”

Reid turned to her.

His gaze was filled with nothing but tenderness and emotion.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just reached out his hand.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before taking it.

And that night, she knew.

She knew she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

Because, for the first time in a long time…

She had found home.

And home was him.

---

The days passed, and with them, Y/N realized her life was no longer the same. Everything felt… lighter. It wasn’t a fairy tale. She hadn’t miraculously forgotten her wounds. But she was moving forward. And Reid was there, every day, never rushing her. Never demanding anything. Never asking for more than she could give.

But Y/N knew. She saw what he felt in every look he gave her. In every quiet smile. In every intentional touch. And she saw how she had changed too. Because sometimes, it was her searching for him. Her letting her fingers brush his without pulling away. Her finding an excuse to stay by his side just a little longer. Maybe that was her way of saying, "I love you too."

One night, after an exhausting case, they stayed late at the office. Morgan, Garcia, and Emily had already left. Hotch and Rossi had been gone for a while. Only Y/N, Reid, and JJ remained, with JJ finishing a call with Will before giving them a tired smile.

"I'm heading out. You two should go home too."

Y/N glanced at Reid. He was still deep in a file, his fingers tapping absently on the table. JJ raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Or… are you staying because you want to?"

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Goodnight, JJ."

The agent laughed before leaving, letting her alone with Reid. Silence settled between them. Reid turned slightly toward her.

"You can leave, you know. I’ll finish this tomorrow."

Y/N hesitated for a moment. She wanted to stay. So instead of answering, she sat down across from him and crossed her arms.

"What if I have something to finish too?"

A small, amused smile tugged at his lips. He didn’t say anything, but she saw his gaze soften. They stayed there, working in silence but aware of each other every second. And when they left together that night, it was hand in hand.

Reid and Kali’s relationship had become something special. Y/N hadn’t realized how much until that evening when she overheard their conversation.

Reid was sitting on the couch, his expression focused as he clumsily signed a phrase.

Kali giggled softly, then corrected his gesture.

Not like that, Spencer! she signed excitedly.

Reid squinted.

Like this?

The little girl nodded with a big smile.

Y/N froze in the doorway.

Because it was the first time her daughter had called someone by their first name. Not Mister, not Doctor—just… Spencer. A name spoken with sincere affection.

Reid looked up at Y/N in that moment.

And she saw.

She saw how much he cared for Kali.

How much he cared for them.

And her heart skipped a beat.

But with this warmth, with this new normal, came something Y/N hadn’t anticipated: fear.

The fear that all of this was just an illusion.

The fear of getting too attached, too deeply, too fast.

Because love, for her, had never been safe.

Love, in her past, had meant control, pain, manipulation.

But with Reid…

With him, it was different.

It was calm.

It was patient.

It was… real.

And that was terrifying.

One night, as they left a crime scene, rain poured down in heavy sheets. They walked in silence toward the FBI car when Y/N suddenly stopped.

Reid, surprised, did the same.

"Y/N?"

She lowered her head, watching the raindrops run down her shoes. Then, she took a deep breath and said,

"I… I’m scared."

He didn’t ask unnecessary questions. He didn’t push her to explain. He just waited, standing there in the rain, his eyes locked on hers.

Y/N finally looked up, her jaw tight.

"I don’t know how… how to love someone normally."

Reid was quiet for a moment. Then, gently, he raised a hand and rested it against her cheek.

"You don’t have to know."

His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"I don’t want you to be anyone else."

Her eyes burned.

"But what if I hurt you without meaning to?"

Reid gave her a sad smile.

"Then we’ll learn together."

And in that moment, standing in the pouring rain, she understood.

It wasn’t an illusion.

It wasn’t a trap.

It was him.

And he was real.

So, for the first time, Y/N did something she had never dared to do.

She took a step forward.

Then another.

Then, without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Reid and buried her face against his chest.

He stood still, surprised… then he hugged her back, his hold firm and reassuring.

They stayed there, under the rain, without a word.

Just them.

And it was enough.

---

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. And against all odds, Y/N learned. She learned not to run. Not to see the face of her tormentor every time she looked at Reid. Not to tremble at the thought of being loved. She learned to live. And living, for her, meant loving him.

It was a quiet morning, one of those where time seemed to stand still. The golden sunlight brushed against the curtains, painting the room in a soft, comforting glow. Y/N slowly opened her eyes. And the first thing she saw was him. Reid slept beside her, peaceful, a hand resting on her waist as if afraid she would disappear in the night. Y/N watched him for a moment, savoring this simple moment of calm. He was so beautiful. So vulnerable, with his messy brown locks and long lashes resting against his pale skin. So different from the image she had first seen in him. So different from Him. She took a deep breath, letting the peace of the moment wrap around her. Then, gently, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Reid stirred slightly, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

— Hmm… kissing me in my sleep now? he murmured, his morning voice husky.

Y/N rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips.

— You’re dreaming, Spencer.

He cracked an eye open, hazel gaze twinkling with mischief.

— Oh no, I’m very much awake.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair. Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace. It was real. This was their reality. And it was perfect.

Kali and Her "Spencer"

Reid and Kali’s bond had become undeniable. Y/N had grown used to her daughter’s laughter when they played together. To seeing her climb onto his lap without hesitation. To watching her sign phrases with him that Y/N herself didn’t even understand yet. And to the way Reid responded with infinite patience.

One evening, as Y/N tucked Kali into bed, the little girl signed something that left her speechless.

Spencer is in love with you, Mommy

Y/N froze, surprised by her daughter's bluntness.

— Who told you that? she asked, laughing softly.

Kali shrugged before signing,

I just know.

Then she tilted her head and added, eyes shining with innocence,

You love him too, don’t you?

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Kali smiled, then burrowed under her blanket.

Goodnight, Mom.

Y/N sat there long after her daughter had fallen asleep, realizing a truth she had perhaps never dared to admit to herself.

A few months later, Y/N and Reid stood hand in hand before the ocean. They were on vacation, far from BAU cases, far from the weight of the past. Reid turned to her, a tender smile on his lips.

— You know, if someone had told me a year ago that I’d be here, with you…

Y/N raised an amused eyebrow.

— You would have run a statistical analysis to prove it was impossible?

He chuckled softly, nodding.

— Probably.

Then, more seriously, he added,

— But I’m glad I was wrong.

Y/N took a deep breath, letting the salty wind caress her skin. She turned to him and cupped his face in her hands.

— Me too.

Then, for the first time—without hesitation, without fear, without holding back—she kissed him. A deep, sincere kiss. A kiss that said everything she had never known how to put into words.

And when they pulled apart, Reid rested his forehead against hers, a radiant smile on his lips.

— I love you, Y/N.

She didn’t hesitate this time. She wasn’t running anymore.

— I love you too, Spencer.

This was their story. Imperfect, marked by pain, by the past…

But also by love, resilience, and hope.

And that was perfect just as it was.

..................................................................................

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