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Words Matter: Why Your Tongue Needs God's Control

Have you ever walked away from a conversation replaying your words, wishing you had said less—or said it differently? If I were to answer that question, yes, I have. We've all experienced that slap-in-the-face moment where we feel like we should have said something differently or even used a different tone of voice.

You see, our words carry weight. They can breathe life or inflict deep wounds, strengthen relationships or sow division. As believers, we are called to reflect Christ not only in our actions but also in our speech. Yet, too often, our words are careless, reactive, or driven by emotion rather than the Spirit. We might excuse it by saying, “That’s just how I talk,” or “I didn’t mean anything by it,” but the truth is—our words reveal the condition of our hearts.

Are you experiencing this area in your walk with God right now? Do you feel convicted about the sin of lacking self-control in your speech? Then this post is for you. Let's explore why our tongues need God’s control, what Scripture says about the power of speech, and how we can surrender our words daily to bring glory to Him.

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof" - Proverbs 18:21 (KJV)

Why We Struggle to Control Our Tongue

Controlling our tongue is one of the hardest disciplines in the Christian walk—and God's word doesn’t shy away from saying so. Trust me it has been a tough area in my walk with God and it still is. So Why is it so difficult to control our tongues?

1.Anger In Response

Anger is one of the leading reasons we struggle to control our tongue. When emotions run high, we’re more likely to speak impulsively, letting frustration or hurt drive our words instead of wisdom. This impulsivity can lead to regrettable comments or harsh criticisms that can damage relationships and escalate conflicts. In moments of anger, the desire to express one’s feelings often overshadows the need for thoughtful communication.

As a result, we may lash out, saying things we don't truly mean and failing to listen to the perspectives of others, which only exacerbates the situation and makes it harder to find resolution.

"He that is soon angry dealteth foolishly: and a man of wicked devices is hated" - Proverbs 14:17 (KJV)

Anger can often bypasses self-control and leads to regretful speech. Without inviting God into our emotions, anger can quickly turn our tongue into a weapon instead of a tool for peace.

2. We Speak Before We Think

This is a common thing we all tend to do. In our fast-paced, reaction-driven world, it's easy to speak impulsively, often acting on emotion instead of thoughtful consideration. Whether we're venting in frustration, responding to criticism, or trying to make a point during a heated discussion, we frequently let words fly before pausing to pray or reflect. This tendency can result in misunderstandings or hurt feelings, as we may not fully convey our thoughts or intentions.

"Seest thou a man that is hasty in his words? there is more hope of a fool than of him" - Proverbs 29:20 (KJV)

The pressure to respond quickly, combined with the overwhelming flow of information in our daily lives, makes it crucial to develop the practice of taking a moment to breathe and think before we communicate.

3. Cultural Norms Encourage Loose Speech

From gossip-filled entertainment to sarcastic humor, and online rants, our culture normalizes careless, hurtful, and critical speech. We're surrounded by examples of people speaking their minds without accountability. Over time, we can become desensitized and begin justifying our own harsh or unloving words.

Before I got saved, I was always engaging in gossip with this group of "friends" that I used to have in high school. However, in a turn of events, I ended up being the one who was being gossiped about. Gossiping was one of the few sins that made me realize that I was a sinner in need of a Savior.

When we are surrounded by a group of people who not only gossip but also have arrogant speech, it can affect our walk with Christ. Whether it is a certain person, Tv show, or even an influencer, It is important that we abstain from the things that engages and encourages loose or careless speech.

4. Pride and Self-Justification

Sometimes, we speak harshly because we want to prove a point, defend ourselves, or be heard in the cacophony of conflicting voices around us. In moments of frustration or anger, pride convinces us that our opinion matters more than how we deliver it, leading us to prioritize our emotions over respect for others. This harshness often clouds our ability to communicate effectively, reducing the likelihood of understanding and fostering genuine connections.

"Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones" - Proverbs 16:24 (KJV)

We forget that the impact of our words can linger far beyond the moment, affecting relationships and altering perceptions in ways we might not immediately recognize or appreciate. These words can sow seeds of doubt, resentment, or misunderstanding, ultimately creating barriers where there once was connection. This leaves us to wonder if winning an argument is worth the cost of lost empathy and respect. In such moments, we find ourselves in a precarious balancing act, where the need to express our opinions and assert our viewpoints can sometimes overshadow the need for kindness and understanding.

The Heart-Tongue Connection

It’s easy to think of our words as isolated slips of the tongue, but in reality, they are windows into our hearts. Our speech isn’t just a communication tool—it’s a reflection of our inner life. What we consistently say reveals our true beliefs, feelings, and priorities.

"O Generation of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak good things? for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh" - Matthew 12:34 (KJV)

Controlling our tongues isn’t just about biting back harsh words or avoiding gossip; it’s about allowing God to transform our hearts. If our hearts are filled with anger, pride, bitterness, or fear, those things will eventually spill out in our speech. But when our hearts are surrendered to the Holy Spirit, our words will begin to reflect love, patience, humility, and grace.

A heart that is submitted to God will not produce words that destroy. If we want to speak life, we need to first invite the Lord to purify our hearts. Real change in our words begins with real change within.

"Set a watch, O LORD, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips" - Psalm 141:3 (KJV)

Why We Should Invite God Into Our Speech

As you can see,our words matter because they have the power to build up or tear down, to reflect Christ or to reflect our flesh. Our speech can be a tool for healing or a weapon that wounds. Because of this incredible weight, we can’t afford to speak carelessly or out of our own emotions. We need God’s help.

Inviting God into our speech is not about being perfect—it’s about being surrendered. On our own, we’re prone to speak from pride, impatience, frustration, or fear. But when we yield our words to the Holy Spirit, He empowers us to speak with wisdom, grace, and truth. Our speech becomes more than just communication—it becomes ministry.

"But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment. For by thy words thous shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned" - Matthew 12:36-37 (KJV)

As believers, our words are a witness. What we say and how we say it tells the world something about who Jesus is to us. When we invite God into our speech, we allow Him to use our words to encourage the weary, speak peace into conflict, share the gospel, and reflect His character.

In short, we invite God into our speech because we want our mouths to glorify Him. Our conversations should be filled with love, seasoned with grace, and rooted in truth that Christ truly lives in us.

Practical Steps of Letting God Control Your Tongue

Letting God control your tongue doesn’t happen by accident—it’s a daily choice to walk in step with the Holy Spirit and allow Him to shape both your heart and your speech. Here are some practical steps to help you align your words with God’s will:

1.Start Your Day Off With Prayer

Begin each morning by asking God to guard your mouth and guide your words, allowing you to express kindness and wisdom throughout the day. Taking a moment for a simple, sincere prayer can help center your thoughts and emotions, setting the tone for a more Spirit-led day where you are mindful of your interactions and the impact your words have on others. If you want to learn more about how prayer changes everything, you can learn more by checking out my blog post here.

By inviting divine guidance into your daily communication, you pave the way for more meaningful connections and a tranquil spirit.

"Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer" - Psalm 19:14 (KJV)

2. Pause Before You Speak

Train yourself to pause and ask: “Is this kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?” Taking that brief yet powerful moment of reflection can significantly alter the impact of your words. By considering kindness, truth, and necessity, you cultivate a habit of mindfulness that not only helps prevent hurtful or careless words from slipping out but also fosters deeper, more meaningful connections with those around you.

"He that hath knowledge spareth his words: and a man of understanding is of an excellent spirit" - Proverbs 17:27 (KJV)

This practice encourages you to think about the feelings and perspectives of others before responding, ultimately promoting a more compassionate dialogue when interacting with friends, family, and colleagues. In a world often filled with haste, ensuring that your communication aligns with these three fundamental questions can enhance understanding and emotional safety in your relationships.

3. Fill Your Heart With God's Word

Since your words reflect your heart, regularly filling your heart with Scripture will naturally begin to transform your speech in profound ways. By immersing yourself in the rich truths of the Bible, you cultivate a mindset that values wisdom, kindness, and grace. Memorize verses that speak of these virtues, allowing them to resonate deeply within you.

"Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee" - Psalm 119:11 (KJV)

As you meditate on such Scripture, you'll find that not only do your thoughts begin to shift, but your interactions with others become more positive and uplifting. Let the Word renew your mind and purify your speech, shaping your conversations and guiding your responses in both challenging and joyful situations. This ongoing process will lead to a more authentic expression of love and understanding in all your relationships.

4. Confess And Repent When You Fall Short

No matter how much we love God or desire to speak with grace, we all fall short in our words. We speak too quickly, react out of anger, gossip without thinking, or say things we later regret. However, the beauty of the gospel is that failure isn’t the end—forgiveness and restoration are always available when we come humbly before God.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness" - 1 John 1:9 (KJV)

Confession is not about shame—it’s about agreeing with God that our words were wrong and inviting Him to cleanse and transform us. It’s an act of surrender and a step toward healing.

When we repent, it means to turn away from destructive speech and to choose to walk in the Spirit. It’s asking God not just for forgiveness, but for transformation—so our future words reflect His character more and more.

When you fall short, don’t hide it or excuse it. Bring it into the light. Pray honestly. Ask for God’s mercy and, if necessary, apologize to those you may have hurt. In doing so, you reflect humility, grow in grace, and give the Holy Spirit room to reshape your heart and tongue.

5. Surround Yourself with Godly Influences

What you listen to, read, and who you spend time with will shape how you speak, influencing not only your vocabulary but also the tone and mannerisms you adopt. Choose friends, mentors, and content that encourage wholesome, Christlike speech, as these influences can nurture a more uplifting and positive way of communicating with others. The more you walk with those who demonstrate self-control, the more self-control you will have over your words.

"He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed" - Proverbs 13:20 (KJV)

By deliberately curating the sources of inspiration in your life, you can develop a speech pattern that reflects your moral convictions and serves as a beacon of light in the conversations you partake in, thereby creating an environment that fosters mutual support and uplifting dialogue among your peers.

6. Practice Speaking Life Daily

Make it a habit to intentionally speak encouragement, blessing, and truth over others. Whether it’s a kind word to a friend or a prayer for a stranger—let your speech reflect God’s love. This also presents a great opportunity to practice speaking with grace, especially when engaging with someone who disagrees with you on a certain topic or someone who doesn't yet exhibit the Fruit of the Spirit of self-control over their tongue. Every day offers a new chance to uplift those around you; small gestures of kindness can make a significant difference in someone’s life.

Consider how a simple compliment or heartfelt message can inspire hope and joy, creating ripples of positivity. Strive to foster an atmosphere of support and compassion, where your words serve as a balm to the weary and as a guide to the lost. By consciously choosing to speak life into every situation, you not only enrich the lives of others but also cultivate a deeper sense of purpose and fulfillment within your own heart.

Conclusion

Our words are not just noise—they are powerful tools that can either bring life or cause harm. As followers of Christ, we are called to a higher standard in the way we speak. Not because we’re perfect, but because we serve a God who transforms hearts, and from that transformation, our speech begins to change.

So my fellow reader, I encourage you to take a moment each day to invite God into your speech. Before you speak, text, or post—pause and ask, “Will these words reflect the heart of Christ?”

Read and reflect on God's Word. Ask the Lord to reveal to you what your speech has been like lately. Allow His Word to shape your heart and transform your tongue. And if you fall short, don’t hide—run to God, confess, and permit Him to continue His work in you

Your words matter. Let them glorify the One who speaks life into you.

Source: Words Matter: Why Your Tongue Needs God's Control

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hotchnersgirll · 3 months ago

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let me love you — a. hotchner

summary: it takes you almost kissing someone else for him to realise just how much he cares

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

warnings: angst, tension, angry kisses, jealous!hotch, he's so hot, did i mention tension? bcs there's so much tension tension tension, a few swears, her bag sort of disappears.. oops

word count: 5.2k (oops x2)

Aaron doesn’t even look at you anymore.

Okay, that’s not true — he does. When he has to. When there’s a case file in his hands and you’re just another member of the team he needs to brief — another agent he’s in charge of. When there’s a question about geographical profiling or victimology and you’re the one who can answer it. When he’s assigning roles and has to say your name.

But everything outside of that? Nothing. Cold silence. Controlled distance.

And it killed you.

You wouldn’t even know you kissed him. More than once. Wouldn’t know how his hands felt in your hair, or how he��d said your name like it physically hurt him. Wouldn’t know that there was a moment — no, a string of moments — where he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him to earth.

Because now? Now he’s pretending none of it ever happened.

And the worst part?

You know he still wants you.

Not in the arrogant way. Not in the I’m-so-irresistible kind of way. No — you know it because you see it. In the way his eyes flicker to you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. In the way his jaw ticks when Morgan jokes too casually with you. In the way he goes quiet when your laugh cuts across the room — his lips pressing into a thin line while his body tenses, almost like he’s trying to stop himself from laughing along.

He wants you. And he’s made that clear before.

But he’s also your boss. Older. Emotionally constipated. A man who shuts people out just before they get too close.

So of course, he made the decision for both of you. Of course, he pulled away, said it wasn’t appropriate, said you needed to keep it professional. Of course, he slammed that wall up between you and iced you out like he didn’t miss you the moment he left.

And now? Now you’re in Florida. The local PD is stretched thin, there’s a suspected spree killer hitting tourist-heavy areas along the I-4 corridor, and you’re operating out of some small, humid precinct where the AC rattles and no one knows how to use a case board.

Hotch pairs you with Officer Pretty Smile — an actual cop, around your age, golden tan, charming, full of casual grins and easy compliments. You don’t even hear most of what Hotch says when he assigns you; you’re too busy fuming at the fact that he’s done it again.

Just like the last two cases, he pairs you with some random officer, keeps you away from the scene, away from the precinct, away from anywhere he might be — in a way, he’s not letting you do your job.

Distanced from the rest of the team, you’re not much help.

How is that professional?

You know the game he’s playing. Avoidance. Distance. Control.

You’re sick of it.

But Officer Pretty Smile — his name’s Ryan — doesn’t seem to mind the stormcloud hanging over your head. He makes it easy to forget, just a little. He’s perceptive, actually listens when you talk, knows when to make you laugh and when to stay quiet. It’s a relief.

He flirts — lightly, respectfully — and you flirt back. Why shouldn’t you?

Aaron’s the one who put this wall up. He’s the one not speaking to you.

You don’t owe him your loyalty if he won’t even look at you outside of a damn case briefing.

The case wraps up after a few days of gruelling profiling, false leads and one late-night stakeout that finally caught your UnSub at a rest stop. You’re debriefing the locals, coordinating transport and starting to pack things up when Ryan walks you out to the parking lot.

He offers you his number, and you take it, pocketing it with a smile that widens when he leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. It’s innocent, really. Careful and sweet, but when he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His face stays close, breath brushing against your skin as his eyes lock onto yours.

Then his gaze drops — not just to your lips, but the space between you — like he’s weighing the distance and what to do about it. It takes a breath or two before he meets your eyes again.

He leans in, slower this time, and his lips just barely graze yours. A featherlight touch that barely classifies as a kiss. It’s more of a hesitation. A silent question — do you want this too?

Yes, you do.

You answer by lifting a hand and placing it gently on his jaw, your touch light but certain.

He exhales softly, and his hands move to your waist, holding you like he’s been wanting to all day.

Your lips are so close, a breath away, and just as you’re about to close the gap—

“Agent!”

Aaron’s voice cuts through the humid Florida air like a gunshot, sharp enough to turn heads. It’s not just a call — it’s a warning. A demand. His tone carries weight, and everyone nearby instinctively pauses, glancing over to where he stands near the SUV, his jaw tight, posture coiled like he’s seconds away from snapping.

You freeze.

Where the fuck did he spawn from?

Ryan pulls back, but not completely. His hands stay on your waist, holding you close, as his eyes look over your shoulder.

You, however, don’t turn around — stubbornly refusing to give Hotch the satisfaction of ruining this moment.

He can wait.

He can watch.

You keep your gaze locked on Ryan. On his lips that are a bit further away than before, parted in confusion as he stares at your boss.

Your fingers shift slightly against his jaw — a gentle nudge meant to draw his attention back to you. And it works. His eyes flicker away from whatever intensity Hotch is radiating behind you and settle back on yours.

You lean in, slow and deliberate, and the moment you do, he seems to forget everything else as he leans in too.

And, just like before, just as your lips graze—

“Agent!”

Somehow, his voice is harsher than before — each syllable laced with barely contained fury.

Your hands fall from Ryan’s face and drop to your sides as you sigh, letting your head dip forward slightly.

“What’s his problem?” Ryan murmurs, his frustration mirroring yours as he shoots Aaron a brief, irritated glance before turning his attention back to you.

You lift your head, just enough to meet his eyes again, and mutter, “I don’t know. He’s just—” You wave a hand vaguely behind you. “A hardass.” You pause. “Or an ass. A normal ass. Whichever floats your boat.”

Ryan snorts, nodding as he looks back at Aaron. “Yeah. That tracks.”

You smile, wide and genuine. “Well then,” you say, looking up at him, “duty calls.”

He nods, looking a bit reluctant as he returns your smile and asks, “Will I see you again before you go?”

You hesitate, just for a second, before finally glancing over your shoulder.

Hotch stands by the entrance of the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office — arms crossed, back stiff, jaw tight. His eyes are locked on you like he’s trying to dissect every inch of the moment he just interrupted. He looks furious. Controlled, as always, but furious nonetheless.

You look back at Ryan. “Probably not.”

There’s a brief pause — just a breath of silence — before he nods. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for anything more. Instead, he steps in and kisses your cheek again, soft and quick, like a quiet goodbye. When he pulls back, he lets his hand brush down your arm before stepping away.

You turn without another word, lowering your head as you approach Aaron. With each step, the feeling of his stare on you burns hotter, sharper.

You stop in front of him, standing there for a moment before you glance up.

His blazer is off, his blue button-up clinging slightly to his skin. His sunglasses perched on his nose and his jaw is tight.

You hate yourself for thinking that he looks hot.

You cross your arms, exhaling sharply before saying, “You called?”

He doesn’t waste a second. “Get the scene logs from the officers inside. I want them scanned and uploaded before we leave for the jet.”

His tone is dry, detached. The words hang in the air like a weight that doesn’t match the way he’s looking at you. His expression is stone-cold, all business, and it only fuels the frustration coursing through you.

You blink, your chest tightening. That’s it? That’s the urgent reason he called you out of a kiss like the sky was falling?

It’s a bullshit task. You both know it.

But he’s your Unit Chief. And right now, he’s pulling rank — not for the case. The case is over. Solved.

He’s doing it for himself, and it makes you want to scream.

You bite back the thousand things you want to say, give a tight nod, and walk past him without a glance.

—

On the jet, the tension is unbearable.

Aaron is sitting near the front, a stack of case files spread in front of him that he hasn’t touched since takeoff. He just stares at them, unmoving, like he’s willing them to make him forget.

You’re in the back, headphones on, glaring out the window as your forehead rests against the glass of it.

The others feel it — the tightrope tension stretching across the cabin. No one says a word.

After a while, you can’t help but glance his way, your eyes rolling when you see how he’s glaring at the files in front of him.

He’s clearly seething. The image of you, about to kiss someone else, seemed to be carved into his memory.

If he’d been closer, he might’ve punched the guy. Hell, if he wasn’t so goddamn professional, he might’ve dragged you away himself.

But he didn’t. He waited. He watched.

He hates that he waited.

And now he’s stewing in it.

When the jet lands, everyone moves quickly — eager to escape the static pressure in the air. You stand, grabbing your go-bag before heading for the stairs.

And then — low, sharp, right in front of you:

“Stay.”

He’s still seated, leaning forward slightly, elbow propped on the table. His hand is pressed to his face, fingers buried in his hair while his palm digs into his temple like he’s desperately trying to hold his thoughts together.

His eyes are closed — not from sleep, but something heavier — and despite the jet landing, his papers are still out, strewn in front of him. Clearly, he’d given up trying to read them — or pretending to read them.

His face is taut, shadowed — caught in a quiet storm of exhaustion or thought. Maybe both.

He looks really hot.

Swallowing, you will that thought away.

‘Stay.’ He had said, in a tone that made you freeze — one that left no room for argument.

You hesitate, your grip on your bag tightening a bit as you stare before deciding.

No.

With your lips set in a frown, you start walking again.

Just as you’re about to move past him, though, his hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist.

You tense, his touch making you feel warm and a bit breathless despite your anger.

“I said stay.” His voice cuts through the quiet — steady with an edge that sends a jolt through you.

Shit.

You look down at him, jaw set. “Let go.”

He doesn’t move at first — just lifts his eyes to meet yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. Then he exhales before rising to his feet in a fluid motion. His grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen as he stands over you, shoulders squared.

You falter, thrown by the sudden nearness. “Hotch—”

“Aaron.” He interrupts you, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at you. His tone is sharp, stern like hearing his last name offended him.

“Hotch.” You repeat it, just to piss him off.

If distance is what he wants, distance is what he’ll get.

He stares at you for a second before exhaling, a tired look in his eyes as he says, “We need to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Your voice rises a bit and you barely manage to hold back a laugh. “You ignore me for weeks, send me off like I’m a problem you can delegate, and now — suddenly — you want to talk?”

His jaw clenches. “You don’t understand—”

“No. You don’t get to—“

Before you can finish what you’re saying, he uses his grip on your wrist to pull you into him. Fuelled by everything he hasn’t said, it’s not a gentle gesture.

You gasp as you stumble forward, crashing into his chest. Your cheek brushes the soft fabric of his shirt and your hand splayed instinctively against him for balance. When your eyes finally meet his, he’s already looking down at you — jaw tense, eyes dark, your faces now inches apart.

“You were going to kiss him.” His voice is quiet, but the words hit harder than if he’d shouted them.

His grip on your wrist tightens slightly, and for a moment, he closes his eyes. The sight of you both leaning in replays in his mind — the tension in his jaw is visible as his lips press into a line. His expression looks as if the image physically hurt him.

When he opens them again, his eyes lock onto yours, searching, checking to see if you understand the severity of it.

Your lips are parted as you stare at him.

You’re not surprised that he brought it up. You knew it was coming, but the way he says it — the weight in his voice — wasn’t something you were expecting.

His words carried an undertone of pain that make you falter. It’s not just about the kiss, you realise. It’s about everything he’s been holding in.

“You were about to kiss him.” He repeats, slower than before, his eyes still boring into yours.

Hearing the word ‘kiss’ a second time, along with the sudden proximity, had your gaze falling to his lips.

You couldn’t help it.

You looked back up quickly to find his eyes still on you.

A flicker of guilt creeps into your chest — something small, unwanted. Maybe it’s the way his voice quietened when he said it. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes, like he wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt him — you almost kissing someone else.

For a split second, you start to feel bad.

But it doesn’t last.

Not when you remember the last few weeks — how he’s iced you out, kept his distance like you didn’t matter, like the moments you shared never happened.

Your jaw tightens and your brows furrow in the way they always do when you’re annoyed.

“Stop.” You say, the word sharper than you intended. Shaking your head, your voice comes out quieter the second time. “Just… stop.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches you — eyes flicking across your face like he’s trying to read you.

Like he’s trying to profile you.

What happened to never profiling each other? Probably the same thing that happened to being ‘professional’.

“You’re being unfair, Aaron.”

You avert your gaze, unable to hold his anymore. It drops to his chest — the fabric of his shirt stretched a bit beneath your hands that are still resting there. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, slightly faster than it should be.

He has no right to be upset, you think, and it takes everything in you not to say it out loud first. But when you look back up at him, your anger catches fire again, sharp and unforgiving.

“You’re the one who pushed me away.” You bite out, voice low. “You iced me out. For weeks, Aaron.”

Your words land heavy in the space between you, but you don’t stop.

“You told me we couldn’t—” You falter slightly, pain catching in your throat, “—that we had to keep things professional. And then you avoided me. You acted like I didn’t matter.”

His jaw flexes again, but he says nothing.

“And now what?” you continue. “Now you’re upset because I almost kissed someone else? You don’t get to pull me in two different directions like this. You can’t tell me to stay away, and then look at me like that when someone else gets close.”

His hand is still on your waist, his grip on your wrist still firm. He hasn’t let go, hasn’t backed off, and that makes it worse — the contradiction of it. The ache of being wanted but not claimed.

“It’s confusing. You’re confusing.” My voice goes back to being quiet as I lower my gaze again, missing the way his expression softens a bit.

It softens because he knows you’re right.

He can’t argue with you, not really. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Or rather, not looking at him at all. Your eyes are fixed on his chest now, lips pressed together in that tight little frown that always means you’re trying not to show how hurt you are.

He can’t argue with you because you’re right.

He’s being unfair, and the guilt of that realization hits him instantly, swallowing him whole. The weight of his own selfishness also sinks in, making him feel stupid for not realizing how much he’s hurt you.

When the silence stretches for too long, you look up, and your frown deepens when you see how he’s watching you.

“Stop profiling me.” Your voice shakes a bit as you try to yank yourself free of his grip. But Aaron doesn’t let go. His hands stay firm on your waist, like letting go would mean losing something he’s not ready to give up.

It only makes you angrier.

You shove at his chest, hard, but he barely budges. “Let go.” you snap, glaring up at him, but his expression doesn’t shift. He just watches you, jaw tight, eyes unreadable behind the shield of his silence.

That silence cuts deeper than anything.

“You ignored me for weeks!” you shout, your voice rising, cracking with something raw. “You didn’t even look at me. You shut me out like I meant nothing!”

You try again to pull away, like his touch burns. Like the heat of his hands is searing through your skin, cracking you open.

And it hurts him — more than he thought it would. Watching you try to escape him like he’s done something unforgivable — which he has — makes something twist in his chest. He wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how. Every word you throw at him lands like a blow, and still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.

He just hurts.

“Let go!” you yell, louder now, fists balled as you push at him again. “I said fuck off, Aaron!”

You look up at him then — eyes blazing, cheeks flushed with anger, your frown etched deep into your face. The fury in your expression is undeniable, and it hits him like a punch.

And before he even realizes what he’s doing — he kisses you.

It comes out of nowhere. Like something snaps inside him, like instinct. It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s angry and desperate and messy—like he’s trying to shut you up and apologize all at once. Like everything he’s been holding back has just erupted, too big to contain.

You freeze at first, tensing against it, breath caught in your throat.

But then you break.

Your hands fist in the lapels of his blazer, gripping hard like you need something to hold you upright. Your lips move against his with the same kind of fury you’d just thrown at him — like this is a fight, too. But somewhere in that chaos, your shoulders slump, and so do his.

Like you’re both exhaling for the first time in weeks.

Like this is the first breath either of you has taken since everything fell apart.

His hands move — one, then both — rising to cradle your face, fingers splayed across your cheeks like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You pull back first, breaking the kiss with a gasp, your breath catching somewhere between his mouth and your own. His grip loosens, and for a second, something like a whine escapes him — soft and involuntary — like he can’t believe you’re already pulling away.

You’re breathless. Lips swollen. Heart racing.

“You’re such an asshole.” you hiss, voice low, hoarse, but still furious.

His eyes darken. “You were gonna kiss him.”

“Stop repeating that!” you snap, but there’s no bite behind it now — just exhaustion and heat and emotion so tangled you can’t separate any of it.

You don’t even think about it — you just lean in again, drawn like a magnet. And this time, he meets you halfway. Your lips part just before they touch, and when they do, it feels like the ground shifts beneath you. Like the jet could be spinning or crashing and you wouldn’t even notice.

It’s slower, deeper — but just as intense. His hands are still on your face, and yours are clinging to him like you don’t trust gravity anymore.

But then he pulls away.

His forehead drops to yours — close, so close — and for a moment you almost let him stay there. But something in you twists, and you turn your head just slightly, breaking the contact. You keep your eyes shut, breathing shallow, your face turned toward the wall of the jet like if you don’t look at him, you can hold onto the last piece of your anger.

His heart sinks.

“I’m sorry.” he says, his voice quieter now. Cracked open. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

You don’t move. Don’t look.

“I— I thought it was the right thing.” he says, and now it’s all unraveling, everything he’s shoved down clawing its way out. “I didn’t know how to handle what I felt for you. I didn’t know if I should. So I convinced myself the best thing — the most responsible thing — was to shut it down. To shut you out.”

He lets out a breath, sharp and rough. “I told myself you’d be better off. That you didn’t need someone like me — someone older, someone who barely knows how to process his own shit, let alone drag you into it. My hours are a nightmare, I’m exhausted all the time, and I have nothing to give you except… this mess.”

His voice softens but doesn’t steady. “And if Strauss found out, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull you off the team. To punish you for something that was always my fault.”

You still don’t speak. Your eyes remain closed.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says again, quieter now, like it physically hurts to say. “But it felt like cutting off my own oxygen. Seeing you every day, hearing your voice, pretending you were just another agent — it fucking destroyed me. Every moment I stayed away, I felt like I was unraveling. But I thought… if I could just hold the line a little longer, maybe I could let you go.”

His voice cracks then, barely above a whisper. “But I couldn’t. I can’t.”

You don’t say anything, and the silence eats at him. He shifts slightly, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read anything — any flicker of emotion, of softness, of something.

“Please say something.” he murmurs.

There’s no anger in him anymore. Just regret. Just longing.

“I haven’t slept,” he says, after a second. “Not really. Not since I let you go. You’ve been in my head every day. Every night. You walk into the room and I can’t think straight. I hear your voice down the hall and I forget what I’m doing. It’s pathetic.”

Then gently — cautiously — he reaches out, fingers brushing against your chin. He turns your face to him, coaxing your eyes to his.

And when you look at him, he looks wrecked.

There’s exhaustion in his features, shadows beneath his eyes, but it’s the look in them that breaks you: raw, sincere, desperate. Like you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth right now.

“I’m sorry.” he says again, like it’s the only thing he has left to give. Like he means it with everything he’s got.

And he does.

It’s silent for a second.

His eyes search yours, unsure and a little frantic, like he’s trying to profile you again — trying to get an understanding of whatever’s going on in your mind.

He gives up quickly, wanting to find out whatever it is your thinking from you yourself. But just as he’s about to ask, you kiss him.

When you pull back, your hands stay on him, sliding down to his chest where you can feel the rapid, uneven rhythm of his heart.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, Aaron.” you murmur, voice soft but steady. “I’m not. I barely have my own shit together half the time. And I’m not looking for some ideal version of you — just you. The version that cares too much and thinks too hard and carries everything on his back like it’s his job to keep the world spinning.”

You pause, your eyes searching his, and he doesn’t look away.

“I don’t want anyone else.” you say, more firmly now. “I can’t want anyone else. My heart’s already decided. It’s you. It’s always been you. These past few weeks without you—feeling you pull away, watching you pretend like nothing mattered—that was hell. And if you think I just brushed it off and moved on, you really don’t know me at all.”

You don’t stop there, because you can see it — how he’s still doubting, still not sure what you see in him. So you tell him.

“You don’t even realize how much I see you.” you whisper. “How good you are. You’re strong, yeah, but you’re also… unbelievably kind. You’re the one who makes me feel stable when everything else is a mess. You make me feel safe without trying to control me. You make me feel… things I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.”

His brow creases like he doesn’t know what to do with that, like it’s too much, too pure.

“And I don’t give a damn about your age. If anything, it makes you hotter.” you add with a breath of a laugh. “It means you’ve lived, you’ve learned, and you listen. You make me feel taken care of in a way no one ever has.”

He’s blinking at you like his brain short-circuited somewhere along the way.

“As for Strauss…” You shrug a little. “She’s not a profiler. We barely even see her. If we keep things professional at work, we’ll be fine. We’re good at this — at keeping calm under pressure. This isn’t gonna change that.”

Then you take one of his hands and hold it tightly, pressing your fingers to his palm.

“All I want,” you say, voice low, “is for you to let me love you.”

Something in him breaks. Or maybe it mends. You can’t quite tell.

His eyes widen just a little, and for a second he just stares at you — like his brain is still catching up. Like the word punched the breath right out of him.

“What?” he asks, the word so soft it’s barely audible.

“I just want to love you, Aaron.” you repeat, quieter this time, like it’s a promise.

His breath shudders out of him, and he leans forward again — not kissing you yet, just resting his forehead against yours, like he needs the grounding.

“I love you.” he says, the words raw and unfiltered. “And I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you next time — really talk. I won’t shut you out again. I won’t let myself forget what this feels like.”

“You better not.” you murmur.

And then he kisses you again.

It’s steadier now. Certain. Like he’s finally, finally giving in to the truth he’s been denying. Like he knows what he wants — and it’s you.

As your lips move together, the world outside the jet fades into the background. His hand moves slowly, purposefully, down your side, and then it shifts, lowering until he reaches into your pocket.

You pull away a little, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Before you can fully process it, he pulls out the small piece of paper — the one with Ryan’s number scrawled on it.

Your heart skips a beat. He saw that?

The thought stings for a second — had he seen everything? You’d assumed he’d stepped outside for some reason and had just happened to catch a glimpse of you two — coincidentally, when you were about to kiss.

But Aaron’s mind works in a different way. He had seen you leave with Ryan, noticed the way you two were talking, the smiles on your faces. And something in him tensed. He didn’t like it. The way you were walking so close, how easy it seemed between you. So he followed, curiosity gnawing at him. He hadn’t meant to — but it felt like he had to know.

You break the silence with a quiet question, still trying to make sense of it all. “You saw that?”

Aaron’s jaw tightens, his face flickering with a flash of frustration, then quickly hardening as he remembers it.

“I saw all of it.” he says, his voice colder than you expected. A wince pulls at his expression as he scrunches the paper up in his hand, turning to toss it in the small bin beside the exit of the jet, the movement sharp and final.

You can’t help but let out a small, amused laugh despite the tension. His reaction, his possessiveness — it’s almost too much to ignore. But then, before he can get too far in his thoughts, you soften and murmur an apology. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He cuts you off with a question of his own, his gaze still intense as he watches you, his tone now a little guarded. “Were you actually going to kiss him?”

You blink, surprised by the bluntness, but you can’t help the smirk that slips onto your face. “Hey, you’re the one who paired me with him.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, the hint of frustration fading a little, but you can still see the sharp edge to his expression. “From now on, you’re with me for every case.”

You laugh at the thought, shaking your head, but the joke settles in as you reply, “I don’t think that’d help with keeping Strauss off our trail.”

Aaron chuckles, his eyes softening just a fraction, but he doesn’t back down. “I’ll risk it. It’s fine.”

Your laughter fills the space between you, and it warms Aaron’s heart more than he’d care to admit. He’s missed hearing it, hearing you so carefree, even when things feel a little chaotic.

He pulls you a little closer then, wrapping an arm around your waist as if he can’t let you go now that he’s got you. He starts guiding you off the jet with that same quiet confidence he always carries, but there’s something different now — a sense of peace between you both, even if the world outside still feels a little unsettled.

“You’re coming to my place.” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m making you dinner.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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