#Aaron Hotchner x unsub!reader

[film-bro-hotch]

Queen of Nothing (Hotch x Reader) – Chapter One

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a Hotch fic, but I am super excited to see how this one goes! I’ll probably keep this up just for my own satisfaction, but I am a full-time college student, so updates will be slow. Also chapter names are probably going to be from songs/poems, so feel free to give them a listen or read. Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Warnings: murder (mostly alluded to, no details)

WC: 1.7k

Synopsis: Reader is an ex-BAU agent. There was only so much work profiling could do, and it was something you and your boss, Aaron Hotchner, seemed to clash over. So you decided to take justice into your own hands, hunting down those who had evaded justice. You have been traveling around the country for the last 5 years serving your own form of justice, that is until you end up back in northern Virginia. You run into your old boss and ex-boyfriend, Aaron. He invites you to dinner, and you can’t say no, but you also can’t stop the work you’ve been doing for the past 5 years. You were a profiler, you can evade the FBI, right? Anything for love.

“Rats and roaches live by competition under the laws of supply and demand; it is the privilege of human beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy.” ― Wendell Berry

You think he knew that day you left the BAU that you wouldn’t be back. You only had a few things from your desk, it was only supposed to be temporary. You remember the look on his face when you set that request for leave on his desk. The two of you had been arguing a lot more lately, about your relationship, about your differences in opinion at work. You told him it was getting harder watching some of these unsubs go because they didn’t have enough evidence for a court, but you knew they were guilty. Aaron had told you that sometimes that happened, that you would get used to it, that you hadn’t been working in the field long enough. So you requested leave, two weeks, and agreed to a psych eval upon your return. 

“I just need a little air between me and the BAU,” you had said in his office.

He swiftly signed the paper. “Enjoy your two weeks, Agent L/N.” His words were dry like normal, but you could see the hint of pain in his eyes, the little extra crease at the end of his brow and the way it tilted up just a little more than usual.

Part of you wished he called for you as you left his office. The other part didn’t let you feel a thing as you walked through the door, gave simple half goodbyes, the ones you give to a friend after hanging out but are sure to see them again. Hotch was right. You never came back to the BAU. 

No, now you were in the middle of nowhere town on the coast somewhere between Louisiana and Mississippi and a little too close to New Orleans. You usually brought your justice to larger cities if you could. With so many people coming in and out, no one was sure to notice you as you didn’t stay anywhere for long. You never killed in the same place twice. At least not for a long while. You had to stop in the little halfway town to get some rest before making the drive to your next destination - which you still had to figure out.

You had burned your clothes an hour before, scattered the ashes into the bay. The man you had brought to justice was a little messier than you would normally go for, but he was much more aggressive than the men you usually take care of. This one required a sawed-off shotgun. Untraceable, but blood managed to get on your clothes, and you would rather not risk it, so you burned a pair of jeans you really didn’t want to get rid of. 

In that motel bathroom, you scrubbed your fingernails with a small toothbrush, a part of paranoia making you do so even though you had worn gloves. You tried not to look up at the mirror, see just how tired you were. You didn’t like the way you looked after a crime. You hated to even consider it a crime. You were doing more than you had ever gotten done at the BAU. Justice the legal system couldn’t provide.

You scrubbed until the hot water ran out, splashing your face in hopes to wake yourself up a bit. You still had to decide where to go next. One more rub of the face, a deep breath, and you left the bathroom, only sparing yourself a partial glance. 

To ensure that your destinations were truly random, truly untraceable, you let dice decide. One triangular die with four points would determine the first number of the latitude while a ten-sided die would determine the second number for the latitude. Longitude would be determined by a twenty-sided die and another ten-sided die. The numbers would hopefully keep you in the parameters of the United States, though if you needed to, you would reroll.

The crumpled map you tore out of an atlas was scribbled with red, places you had already been and tried to stay away from, but you didn’t want to influence the roll too much. Somehow someone like Reid would find a connection if you didn’t keep it completely randomly generated. Pulling the dice out of your bag, you gave them a quick kiss and rolled the first set. 

3 and 9.

So 39N. The line that seemed to run right through the middle of the country. You could end up anywhere. “Let’s hope west coast. This humidity is a bitch,” you mutter. You gently pick up the other two, rolling them in your hand for just a moment before letting them fall onto the map in front of you.

7 and 7.

77 W. You trace your finger along the lines on the map and feel your chest constrict as they meet. Fairfax, Virginia. Too close to Quantico. Too close to D.C. Too close to all those people you left behind. In all 5 years of this, you hadn’t even landed in Virginia. And now you were to go into the belly of the beast. 

What are you even afraid of? So many of your coworkers could have moved on, gone to different departments, you thought. Maybe they don’t even live in Fairfax. Besides, you’ll be out of there in no time if you stay focused and don’t do anything stupid.

You grabbed the dice from the map, shoving them back into your backpack and haphazardly folding it. It seems you had a long drive ahead of you, and you were going to need to get some sleep so you didn’t psych yourself out on the drive. It’s what the dice said, so it will be fine, you kept repeating to yourself as you pleaded for sleep to take you.

--

            Most of the drive was coming up with ways that made you feel only slightly better about the move. You knew the area decently well considering you had lived there for some time, but not well enough to be considered a local if any authorities began to suspect you. Even if they did, you hadn’t lived in the area for five years. As far as anyone knew, you didn’t live there anymore. The more you thought about it, the more confident you felt. You couldn’t do your job worrying about little things.

            Once you reached Fairfax County, you found the cheapest motel you could, the one that probably looked the most rundown and maybe wasn’t the safest, but that’s why you were there. In your experience, the people who ran these didn’t ask questions. 

            There was a woman behind the counter, blonde curly hair that was more frizz than curl. She had a stocky build and wore an old shirt from some county fair. In one hand she had a lit cigarette, the other held some cheap tabloid. She didn’t look up when you entered, though she undoubtedly heard the bell at the door.

            “Any vacancies?”

            She didn’t look up at you, but she did put the tabloid and look at what seemed to be an old appointment book. “How long?” she asked in a voice that made it clear she had been smoking for years. 

        ��   “Two weeks,” you settle with, pulling cash out of your bag to pay. She seemed to raise a brow for just a moment, but took it without another word, handing you the keys to one of the rooms. 

            “Room 8, outside and to your left. Checkout is at 11:00,” she says, scribbling your stay down in the book, not asking for a name before going back to her tabloid. 

            Like you figured, the room was run down and shitty, but it would help you keep a low profile. It smelled like cigarette smoke the moment you walked in, but the sheets seemed relatively clean, so you would take what you could get. There was no television, but you had grown accustomed to living without one. Doing your routine checks of the place, you gave yourself just a moment to relax. 

            It was then that you realized not only just how late it was, but how hungry you were. You didn’t make many stops on the way for food, only when you needed more gas. Most places you stayed didn’t have a minifridge or anything, but you usually kept a cooler in the car so you could have some meat and cheese for sandwiches. Not the best, but you got by well enough. That seemed to be the theme for your life the past five years. So like every usual move, you were tired after the drive but reluctantly got up and drove to the nearest grocery store to grab just the necessities. 

            By that time in the night, it was a little after 10:00, and there was hardly anyone else in the place besides the few workers that seemed to mill about. The fluorescent lights made your eyes ache a little, but that could also be due to straining them driving all day. You were trying to be quick, just wanting some food so you could go to bed. You had to be well rested to start your research for the next case.

You had grabbed what looked to be the cheapest bread and was around the corner when your cart hit something else metal, a loud metallic sound rang in your ears a bit. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath. You must have been a lot more tired than you originally thought if you clipped the shelf.

            “Y/N?”

            Oh. You didn’t hit the shelf taking a turn a little too sharp. You hit another cart, and you would have apologized if you hadn’t known that voice. That fucking voice that still hunted you every now and again and you prayed would go away. You hoped that this instance was one of those hauntings, that you hadn’t spent the past 16 hours in a car driving back to the place you fled. You would wake up in that little town outside of New Orleans and your dice would roll something else. But you weren’t that lucky.

            You could never be that lucky because the person standing in front of you was the last person from the BAU you ever saw. Right in front of you was Aaron Hotchner.

Chapter Two

[hoe4hotchner]

With blood on his hands | [A.H]

Pairing: UnSub!Hotch x gn!reader CW: Dark. This story contains descriptions of graphic violence, murder, mental illness, grief, and emotional distress. Dark themes, betrayal, loss of control, and fear, kidnapping, physical aggression, helplessness. WC: 5.2k

Please don't request a part 2 unless you have a very specific idea, my brain physically couldn't come up with more plot for this.

           The house was quiet. Too quiet. Bearing signs of life throughout the whole layout of the building, yet the disturbing truth of what had happened made you uneasy.

           It was the same scene they’d encountered twice already - an all-American family, slaughtered in their home, with no apparent struggle, no clear motive. A mother, a father, and their young son, all lying lifeless, their blood staining the carpets, their lives ruthlessly cut short.

           You stood beside Rossi, your hands clad in gloves, and a frown etched upon your face as you surveyed the scene. The scent of blood and suffering hung heavy in the air, choking your senses. You had seen your fair share of horrors, but this was different. This unsub was different.

           "Third one this week," Rossi murmured beside you, his voice gruff with exhaustion and irritation, feeling the weight of the case starting to take its toll. "We need to catch this guy before he strikes again."

           You nodded, eyes scanning the room as your mind worked through the details. This unsub wasn’t just killing; he was destroying. The brutality of the murders suggested rage - deep and personal rage. There was a familiarity to the way everything was laid out that you couldn't put a finger on.

           You stepped over to the nightstand, where the mother’s jewelry lay scattered. Your eyes caught a golden ring, glinting in the light. You reached for it instinctively, feeling a strange pull toward the piece of metal. It was simple but familiar, in a way that made your stomach churn with suspicion.

           Frowning, you held it up to the light, inspecting it. That’s when it hit you like a punch to the gut.

           You knew this ring.

           Your blood ran cold as memories flooded your mind. Years of working alongside him, watching him fiddle with that exact band on long nights at the office, lost in thought as he processed information and clues. You had seen it on his finger countless times.

           Hotch.

           Your heart pounded in your chest, a dizzying sense of disbelief washing over you. There was no way. No possible way. You told yourself it was a mistake, that the stress of the case was playing tricks on your mind.

           But the more you stared at the ring, the more your instincts screamed at you.

           You weren't wrong about this.

           You swallowed hard, slipping the ring back onto the dresser. Rossi hadn’t noticed your reaction, he was busy analyzing the scene with his usual calm efficiency. You forced yourself to stay composed, your mind racing.

           The families. The pattern. A mother, a father, and a young son. Haley and Jack. It was so obvious.

           It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Hotch's stressor… the deaths of his family. You remembered the way he had shut down after losing them, how the grief had changed him. But never in your worst nightmares could you have imagined this. This was not the man you knew.

           You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning. You couldn’t tell Rossi - not yet - he wouldn't believe you. Wouldn't believe that his oldest friend was capable of this. Not until you were sure. Not until you’d seen Aaron, looked him in the eyes, and confronted him yourself. You owed him that much.

           "Dave," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, "I’m going to head out. I need to check something."

           He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "You okay? You look pale."

           "I’m fine," you lied, offering a weak smile. "Just need to follow up on a hunch."

           Rossi nodded, distracted by something on the floor, and you took the opportunity to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. You could barely keep your hands from trembling as you made your way out of the house and into your car. Thankfully you had arrived separately.

           The drive to Aaron’s old house felt like a blur, your mind spinning with possibilities. Every part of you hoped you were wrong. That this was all some horrible mistake, that there was no way the man you had worked with for years could be behind these murders, that this was truly just some twisted dream, and that you'd wake up soon.

           But deep down, you knew.

           This was reality.

           When you pulled up to Aaron’s house, the pit in your stomach deepened. His car was in the driveway, the lights inside the house dim and all the curtains closed. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. You had to confront him. You had to know the truth.

           You walked up to the door, every step feeling like a death sentence. When you knocked, there was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Aaron, standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark and sunken, the weight of grief and something darker pressing down on him.

           "(Y/N)," he said, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here?"

           You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You stared at him, your heart racing as you noticed the subtle signs - the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed at his sides. And most of all, the unmistakable wedding band missing from his finger.

           "I…" you began, your voice trembling. "I need to talk to you."

           Aaron’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You walked into the house, the air thick with tension, your nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave, to get out while you still had the chance. But you couldn’t. Not now.

           As you stepped further into the room, your eyes landed on something that made your stomach drop - on the kitchen counter, barely noticeable, was a small streak of blood. Fresh blood.

           Aaron closed the door behind you, the sound echoing ominously through the quiet house.

           "You shouldn’t have come here," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

           Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, the realization crashing down on you with terrifying certainty. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just your old colleague. He wasn’t just the man that had been your boss. He was the unsub you were looking for. He was the monster you’d been chasing.

           And now, you were alone with him.

           Hotch stood over the lifeless body sprawled across the floor in his living room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his knuckles bruised and bloody. The man beneath him had been dead for several minutes now, his face a mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely recognizable.

           Hotch’s fists clenched and unclenched, the blood dripping from his fingers painting the carpet with small, crimson pools. His heart was pounding, not from fear or guilt, but from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He should have felt something - regret, remorse, shame—but there was only emptiness. Nothingness. And rage.

           The rage never left him. It simmered beneath the surface, a constant presence, threatening to consume him whole. After Haley and Jack, everything had spiraled. Their deaths had shattered the last bit of humanity he had clung to. He had tried, God knows he had tried, to be the man everyone needed. The leader. The protector. But after them, something inside him had broken, irreparably so.

           At first, he had managed to keep it hidden. But over time, the mask had slipped, the cracks becoming impossible to cover. The anger had grown, festering like a disease, until it had taken over every part of him. It was easier this way. Easier to stop pretending to be the good guy, the man who saved lives, when all he wanted to do was destroy them.

           Besides the way he had hurt Foyet had felt so good.

           He turned his head, his gaze cold and calculating, as a knock landed on the door.

           The scent of sweat hung thick in the air, and the room was suffocating with the tension of your predicament.

           You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock, taking in the scene before you. The man on the ground, the blood, the violence. And Hotch. Not a single drop could be seen on his clothes. Only his hands bore signs of the crime. Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were frozen, paralyzed by the realization of what you were seeing. What he had done.

           Hotch stared at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The look on your face - the fear, the disbelief - only fueled the fire inside him. For a moment, there was silence, an unbearable tension hanging between the two of you.

           Then, he spoke. His voice was low, a growl barely restrained by the thin thread of control he had left within him.

           “You really shouldn’t have come here.” He repeated his previous statement

           You blinked, finally finding your voice. “Aaron... what have you done? This isn't you.”

           Hotch’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something unrecognizable. He took a step toward you, the cold gleam in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “I did what needed to be done.”

           You could barely breathe, your mind racing as you tried to process what had happened. This wasn’t the man you knew. The man you had worked with for years, the man you had trusted. The man you had secretly loved. He terrified you now. This was someone else entirely - a predator, who was cold and unfeeling.

           “Aaron, please...” Your voice shook as you took a step back, instinctively retreating from the danger that loomed before you. “You don’t have to do this.”

           His eyes flashed with anger, and in an instant, he was on you, his hand gripping your arm with a force that made you wince. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell me what I have to do. You don't know anything”

           You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the fear coursing through you. “This isn’t you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not a killer.”

           His grip tightened, and you gasped, pain shooting through you as you felt him slightly twisting your arm. “Aren’t I?” His voice was sharp and dangerous. “Do you know what it feels like, to lose everything? Watching them die? Knowing you couldn’t stop it? Knowing that you weren't fast enough?”

           Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away from him, but his hold was unrelenting. “Aaron, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “This won’t bring them back. What Foyet did was terrible.”

           For a moment, you thought you saw something - some flicker of humanity cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by cold indifference. He released you, shoving you back roughly. You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

           Hotch stood there, his eyes burning with fury, his hands still stained with blood. “Don't tell me what's right or wrong. They’re gone and nothing can bring them back,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice void of emotion. “There’s nothing left for me but this.”

           You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There’s more to you than this. You’re better than this, Aaron. I know you are.”

           He laughed, a bitter, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. “Better? Better for who? For you? For the bureau didn't trust me to be in the field after what happened?” His eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the hatred radiating off him. “Do you really think you know me? The man I am now?”

           You didn’t answer, too afraid of what he might do next. His rage was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room, choking you with its intensity.

           He moved toward you again, his eyes wild, his movements erratic. “You think you can save me? Is that it? You always had a savior complex, just like Morgan.” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can’t save me. No one can.”

           You trembled under his touch, your heart thrashing in your chest, trying to claw its way out as his fingers dug into your skin. For a moment, you thought he might hurt you, that you might face the same predicament as the lifeless body in his living room. That he might go too far. But then, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

           He released you, stepping back, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands shook as he wiped them on his pants, the blood smearing across the fabric. He looked at you, something dark and broken in his eyes. “You should leave,” he said, his voice hollow as he turned his back to you.

           You swallowed, your throat dry. “Aaron—”

           “Go.” His voice was cold, final. There was no room for argument.

           You hesitated for a moment, torn between the part of you that wanted to stay, to help him, and the part that knew he was too far gone. Finally, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked toward the door, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

           As you reached the doorway, you turned back to look at him one last time. He was standing in the center of the room, staring down at his blood-stained hands, his expression unreadable.

           “Aaron,” you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

           But he didn’t look back. He didn’t say a word. And as you stepped out into the night, the door closing behind you with a soft click, you knew that the man you had once known was gone.

           The door had barely closed behind you when Hotch’s mind snapped back into a cold calculation. He could still feel the sting of your words in the air, your plea for him to stop. You should leave, he’d told you. But now, as silence wrapped around him, a horrifying realization dawned - you knew of him.

           Who else knew?

           You were the only one who had seen him like this, who knew what he had done. The team… They would never believe it on their own. Not until you told them, he was sure of that. But what evidence did you have to back up your claim?

           His pulse quickened. His anger, momentarily soothed by the violence he'd unleashed, flared again. He couldn’t let you leave. He wouldn’t.

           He moved quickly, his body still humming with adrenaline. You had made it to the end of the driveway when you heard him behind you. His footsteps were heavy and purposeful. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

           "Aaron?" you called over your shoulder, your voice trembling. But there was no response, only the oppressive sound of his approaching footsteps. Fear gripped you.

           Before you could take another step, he was on you. His strong hand wrapped around your wrist like a vice, yanking you back toward him with brutal force. You gasped, struggling against his hold, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, his expression dark and twisted as he dragged you back into the house, thankful that he and Haley had bought a house in a secluded area.

           "You thought you could just walk away?" His voice was low, a deadly whisper, sending a chill down your spine. "That you could leave me and run straight to the team? Tell them about what I've been doing?"

           You blinked, fear coursing through you as you tried to speak. "No, Aaron, I—"

           "Don’t lie to me!" he snarled, his face inches from yours. "I see it in your eyes. You were going to tell them. Weren’t you?"

           Terror constricted your throat. You wanted to scream, to plead with him, but the words wouldn’t come. His anger was suffocating, his eyes filled with a malice you’d never seen before.

           "I can’t let you do that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, the storm of his fury momentarily quieted by cold calculation. "You’ll ruin everything. This—" He gestured to the leftover blood still staining his hands. "This is who I am now. And you’re not going to stop me."

           Without warning, he yanked you roughly into the storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed you both whole. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance, but Hotch was determined. His large frame loomed over you, his hand still gripping your wrist with bruising force.

           "Please, Aaron, you don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to reason with him. Tried to pull yourself out of his grip.

           But his expression was unreadable now, lost in the darkness. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced in pain. A high-pitched whimper left your throat as the pain coursed through every single nerve in your body.

           "I do." His voice was cold, devoid of the empathy and warmth you once knew in him. "You’re the only one who knows as far as I can tell. And if I let you walk out of here, it’s over for me."

           Your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest. "Aaron, I won’t tell anyone," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your voice. "I swear, I—"

           "I told you don’t lie to me," he hissed, cutting you off with a deadly glare. "I can’t trust you. Not anymore."

           The air was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze suffocating. You could barely make out the features of his face as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but you could feel the cold determination, it was unmistakable. He had made up his mind. There was no reasoning with him, no turning back.

           Hotch fumbled with something on the wall and soon enough the overhead light bulb flickered on, the dim light barely bright enough to light up his features. Before you could react, Hotch pulled a length of duct tape from a nearby shelf, yanking it free with a sharp sound. Your heart raced, and you instinctively tried to back away, but he was faster. With a cruel efficiency, he shoved you up against the wall, pressing his body against yours to keep you in place.

           “Stop fighting me,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck.

           You struggled, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was stronger, and his anger gave him a terrifying, unnatural strength. The tape wound around your wrists, biting into your skin as he bound you tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized there was no escape.

           When he was finished, he stepped back, watching you with an unnerving calm. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic threatening to overtake you.

           "What are you going to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

           Hotch tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered you. “I’m going to make sure you can’t destroy everything.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose control again.”

           Without warning, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder with brutal force. You screamed, but the sound was muffled by the closet walls. His grip on you was like iron as he carried you out of the building, and into the garage where his car waited patiently.

           You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat. But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up, and his body moved with the cold precision of a man who had crossed the line of no return, a man who wasn’t coming back.

           He tossed you into the trunk of his SUV, the metal cold against your back as he slammed the hatch shut, trapping you inside. The darkness closed in around you, and all you could hear was the sound of your own panicked breathing and the engine roaring as Hotch turned the car on.

           You were trapped.

           The engine screeched as Hotch drove with grim determination, the rain streaking the windshield of his SUV. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force of his grip. You still lay in the cramped trunk, the tape burning the skin on your wrists as you struggled to free yourself. Hotch had made a stop after about an hour on the road on the road to gag your screams, he was tired of hearing your begs and pleas for mercy. You lay helpless as the vehicle bumped along the dark, slick road. Every movement jostled your body, sending sharp pains through your limbs, but the terror coursing through you dulled the physical discomfort.

           The man behind the wheel was someone you thought you knew. But this version of Hotch was a stranger.

           His phone buzzed on the dashboard, but he ignored it. You could barely make out the faint sounds through the barrier between you, but you knew it had to be the team. They had to realize by now. But the phone in your pocket still clutched tightly against your side despite the restraints, was your only lifeline. Garcia could trace it if you managed to answer it the next time they tried your number. The team would find you, you were sure of it.

           But Hotch already knew that. And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

           Your heart raced as the SUV took a sharp turn, causing your body to slide slightly across the floor of the trunk. The storm outside was intensifying, and you could feel your anxiety building in the way he drove — focused and determined. He had a plan.

           The car slowed, the rhythmic thud of the rain against the roof of the trunk filling the silence. He pulled off the main road, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Your pulse quickened as the vehicle came to a stop.

           A car door slammed shut, and you heard his heavy footsteps approaching. The trunk popped open, letting in the cool, rain-soaked air. Hotch loomed over you, his face set in a harsh, emotionless mask. Without a word, he reached down, his grip bruising as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the trunk. You stumbled onto the muddy ground, barely able to keep your balance.

           His fingers moved deftly, reaching into your pocket and yanking out your phone. His lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes flashing with twisted amusement.

           “You thought the team would save you,” he grinned in a low almost scary voice. “You thought Garcia would trace this… pathetic.” He held up your phone. A flash of lightning struck down in the distance behind him.

           Before you could react, he dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it under his heel before throwing it into the lake you had stopped near. You barely heard it splash into water over the sound of the pounding rain. Hotch calmly walked over to a large rock, grabbing it with both hands. You watched in horror as he smashed his own phone repeatedly, reducing it to a mess of shattered glass and plastic.

           Your only connection to the outside world was now gone.

Hotch turned back to you, his face illuminated by the brief flashes of lightning. His expression was as cold and unfeeling as the storm around you, but there was something darker in his eyes — a satisfaction in watching your hope slip away.

           “You always were smart,” he murmured, stepping closer, towering over you. “Too smart for your own good.”

           Without another word, he shoved you back into the trunk, his strength leaving no room for resistance. You were thrown back into the small, confined space. The rain and the outside world disappeared, leaving you in pitch-black darkness once again.

           The car started again, the engine rumbling as Hotch continued driving. You were no longer sure where you were, feeling like he potentially had driven you in circles to throw you off track, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. There was no doubt in your mind that Hotch had planned this meticulously. He had been covering his tracks, eliminating threats, and now he was eliminating your ability to interfere.

           The drive felt endless, the sound of rain against the roof your only marker of time passing. You tried to shift, to loosen the restraints on your wrists, but every movement sent sharp pain through your limbs. The car’s motion made you nauseous, the fear and discomfort blending into a haze.

           Eventually, the car slowed again. You felt the shift in the vehicle as it came to a stop. The air was suffocating, your breath quickening in panic as you heard the sound of the driver’s door opening for the third time and then the distant crunch of dried leaves under Hotch’s footsteps. Where had he taken you?

           The trunk opened again, and Hotch’s silhouette was backlit by the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the storm clouds looming above. His face was unreadable, but there was no regret, no hesitation in his actions. He reached in and grabbed you roughly by the arm as he pulled you from the trunk once more.

           You were in the middle of nowhere - an abandoned building ahead, its windows dark and some of them were even shattered.

           The perfect place for someone to disappear.

           “We’re going inside,” Hotch growled, his voice harsh and barren of the warmth it once held.

           Your legs buckled beneath you, no strength left to carry your body, but Hotch didn’t care. He hauled you toward the entrance of the building with ease, his grip bruising on your bicep as he pulled you through the door. The interior was pitch black, the only sound was your rapid, panicked breaths and the distant rumble of thunder as the last of the storm was passing you.

           He led you through the building, the air biting at your skin. You could feel the hatred radiating from him - the complete absence of the man you once knew. He stopped in the center of a large, empty room, turning to face you with a dark, predatory gaze.

           “You should’ve stayed out of it,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with venom. “But you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to know.”

           He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, cold and merciless.

           “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

           The BAU team gathered in their conference room, the air filled with a heavy silence. The flickering lights of the monitors and the scattered case files did little to lighten the grim atmosphere. The latest string of killings had left them all feeling drained and frustrated. They knew the pattern - the targeted families of three - but the connection was proving elusive.

           Reid, hunched over his paper files, spoke up. “The pattern is consistent. Every victim family has been targeted in a specific order: the father is always the first to go, followed by the mother, and then the child. We’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why does the unsub want the sons to watch their parents get murdered?”

           Morgan, pacing back and forth, nodded grimly. “We’ve checked financial records, phone records, and even personal connections, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the unsub is just a ghost.” He listed, counting with his fingers as he mentioned each thing.

           Rossi, reviewing photos from the crime scenes, frowned in concentration. “There’s something we’re not seeing. Maybe we need to look at the details of each scene once again, this time more closely. There’s got to be a common thread.”

           Garcia was furiously typing away, her eyes darting between various screens. She was usually the one bringing good news or revelations, but this time her face was a mask of worry. “I’ve cross-referenced all known data, and I’m still coming up empty. It’s like the unsub is erasing every trace of himself.”

           Penelope’s words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a new piece of evidence popping up on her screen. The team watched in quiet concern as she displayed a series of images on the large television screen behind them. The new evidence came from a tech at the latest crime scene.

           “Look at this,” Garcia said, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed to a photo of a golden wedding ring lying on a dresser. “I’ve run the image through our database. It’s not just any ring. It’s a unique design only a handful made in total, and I found a match.”

           The room fell silent as the team examined the image. Reid’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance too. “That ring… it’s a distinct piece. I’ve seen it before.”

           Rossi’s gaze shifted from the photo to Garcia. “You’re saying this ring could be linked to someone we know?”

           Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I cross-referenced it with our records, and it matches the description of a ring worn by someone in our team.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the name displayed on her laptop.

           The realization hit like a thunderclap. The team exchanged worried glances, their earlier frustration giving way to a new kind of dread. Rossi’s face darkened as he leaned in closer.

           Garcia nodded again, her expression serious as she confirmed the words Rossi had been about to ask. “The ring belongs to Hotch.”

           The room erupted into chaos. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, and Reid’s expression was one of horror. “No way,” Morgan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hotch? He’s one of the most dedicated agents we’ve ever worked with.”

           “Is there any chance it could be a coincidence?” Rossi asked, his voice tight with concern. "That it's one of the other owners of similar rings?"

           Garcia shook her head, her face pale. “I don’t think so, they've all been spotted across the country and have rock-solid alibis. The design is too specific. And if Hotch is involved, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

           Reid began to piece together the information, his mind racing. “If Hotch is connected to the unsub, then it’s possible that he’s been orchestrating these murders from within. We need to act fast.”

           The team sprang into action, their earlier determination now transformed into urgency. Rossi and Morgan began to gather additional evidence and check Hotch’s recent whereabouts. Reid and Garcia worked on tracking Hotch’s phone, hoping to pinpoint his location.

           As the team raced against time, their focus sharpened on finding Hotch and uncovering the truth behind his involvement in the killings. Each agent’s heart pounded with the realization that someone they trusted might be the very monster they were hunting. But they were not ready to admit it just yet.

           Meanwhile, the darkness within Hotch continued to grow, his plans advancing while the team desperately tried to uncover the truth.

           The next move was crucial - finding Hotch could be the piece they were missing.

[htchnr]

➻❥ HTCHNR'S 2023 KINKTOBER ✮

★ - © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! - ★

✮ FINISHED.

༺♰ Outdoor Sex. Astarion — mug after mug. ✅

༺❥ Degredation. BAU!Hotch — just a toy. ✅

༺♰ Ab Riding. Derek Morgan — damn his abs. ✅

༺❥ Blood Kink. Unsub!Hotch — new favorite flavor. ✅

༺♰ Hunting Kink. Unsub!Hotch — thrill of the hunt. ✅

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Aaron Hotchner X Derek Morgan X ADHD Autistic teen reader

Summary: Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan interrogate a 14 year old daughter of Unsub who has ADHD and is autistic, she was abused by her father her whole life. A bomb gets set off and she protects them

Third person pov...

14 year old Y/N had been in a small interrogation room for the last hour alone, your probably wondering how she knows that because she's been keeping count in her head.

Early on that day the police came looking for her farther but he wasn't there, instead she got taken to the police station and handcuffed (after she accidentally lashed out when they touched her) she's autistic and doesn't like touch- the police didn't listen when she tried to explain to them.

So here she sits, for the last 5 minutes she has been tapping her foot repeatedly on the floor, she has ADHD and couldn't sit still for long, but she was handcuffed to the table so she couldn't stand up and stim.

She then started humming the same tune over and over and over until a man shouts at her to shut up over the com. "Someone's grumpy" she mutters, deciding to go back to tapping her foot repeatedly.

She was beginning to get overwhelmed with everything. "Can I go now please?" She asks into the room but obviously towards the two way mirror.

She got no response. "Please, I don't like it here" she whispers shouting not going to work she realised, suddenly the door is opened two men walk in.

Y/N tenses, with her dad she doesn't like being around men, angling her body away from them she waits until they speak.

Eyebrows slams a files down on the table making her flinch at the loud sound, the Grumpy looking man just stares. "What- Do you know what these are?" He demands, Y/N shakes her head not looking at the man.

She looks down then shuts her eyes. "N-no I don't please" she cries squeezing her eyes shut not wanting to look at the pictures, they where of the victims died in the bombings that happened.

"I don't like it here" she cries pulling on the cuffs trying desperately to yank them off, eyebrows tries to grab her to stop but she kicks out. "No don't touch" she cries almost in hysterics.

Eyebrows holds up his hands and moved out of reach. "Okay I won't touch you, we won't touch you Y/N" he says teying desperately to calm her down.

Grumpy pants- as Y/N dubbed, walked out of the room putting his phone tk his ear, Hotch calls Penelope. "Yello" "Garica, Y/N L/Ns file does it have anything about mental disorders or anything like that?" He asks confused with the girls strong reactions.

After a few seconds Penelope gets back. "It says here that she is Autistic and has ADHD sir" Hotch thinks "that makes sense, thanks Garica" "your welcome Bossman" Hotch then walks back into the room.

Derek is far away from the girl. "Morgan" Derek walks over. "We forgot one thing that all the victims have in common, they are all neurodivergent in some way" he explains to the man.

They then both look over at the girl, she was back to tapping her foot repeatedly

"Y/N, are you autistic?" Asks Hotch, the girl nods her head. "Yes I am, I tried to explain to the idiots in blue but they wouldn't listen" she says it was the most they heard her say.

"Can I have these off now please?" She asks, her voice quiet like she expected to be shouted at. Derek looks ar Hotch the man nods his head. "Sure" he says and unlocks Y/N hands.

The 14 year old instantly jumps up from the desk, absently rubbing her red wrists, she begins pacing back and forth flapping her hands. The men watch her as she stims.

"We just want to talk to you about your father." Says Hotch, Y/N stops stimming and looked up at them with wide, frightened eyes.

She was small in stature, but her piercing gaze held a hint of strength that took the two seasoned agents by surprise. "My father is a monster" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hotchner and Morgan exchanged a knowing glance. They had seen this before – the child of an Unsub who had been subjected to unimaginable abuse and trauma.

"Y/N does you father treat you well?" Asks Derek carefully, Y/N looks down she nervously rings her fingers as she thinks.

"He doesn't" she confesses. "He hates that I'm different, he thinks it's wrong and tries to beat the 'retardness' out of me" she confesses crying as she paces back and forth in the little space.

Hotch and Morgan eye each other from the corner of their eyes then look at Y/N.

"We know, hes a monster which is why we need to find him" Morgan replied gently. 'But we need your help to find him. We believe he may be planning to harm more people.'

Y/N hesitated for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It was a map, with a clearly marked location circled in red.

'That's where he's keeping his bombs" she said, sliding the paper across the table. Hotchner and Morgan looked at each other in shock.

They had been searching for those bombs for weeks, and here it was, handed to them by a scared teenage girl.

They immediately sprang into action, calling for backup and racing to the location. But as they arrived, they realized that Y/N had also been telling the truth about another thing – her father had taught her how to make bombs.

Before they could even process the situation, a loud explosion ripped through the air. Hotchner and Morgan were thrown back by the blast, but they were quickly pulled to safety by Y/N who had shielded them with her own body.

She lay unconscious, her small frame protecting them from the debris, Y/N was rushed to the hospital, and after a few days, she regained consciousness.

Hotchner and Morgan were there, by her bedside, along with a team of doctors and nurses who were amazed by her bravery.

"We couldn't have stopped him without you,' Hotchner said, his voice filled with sincerity, the girl looked up at them and smiled weakly. "Can I be part of your team now?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Hotchner and Morgan shared a smile, knowing that Y/N had found a new family in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Despite the darkness of her past, she had shown courage and strength that they had rarely seen before.

And as they welcomed her into their team, they knew that together, they could take on anything that came their way.

The end!

Hope you liked this one shot sorry for the late update been a busy week but I am now on Christmas break and will update regularly.

As usual sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1204

[tjwritesfanfics]

Perfect plan (Aaron Hotchner)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Unsub!Reader

Summary: You had no problem teaming up with George Foyet if it meant you could get rid of Haley Hotchner.

Rating: Angst

Warning: Death, killing, no one knows the reader is involved, a lot of cm darkness and unsettling nature, the reader is very convinced she's doing the right thing

Words: 1809

Main Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

An thank you to @tudorscrown for the idea!

You've loved Aaron Hotchner since high school. 

He's loved Haley since then too. And she won. Not that she deserved him. The only good thing to come from her was Jack. Sweet little Jack was the only thing keeping you from killing Haley right out. Instead you became “best friends” with her. That way you could spend as much time with Aaron and Jack as you wanted. 

You were there to watch her grow insecure with Aaron being away all the time, pretending to comfort her and reassure her of how much he loved her and jack. Honestly you were amazed by your own acting skills and the ability to hold back what you truly wanted to say to her.

Aaron is the best husband.

You’re such a bitch and don’t deserve his love.

He should be with me.

You are so lucky you have the sweetest little boy on the planet otherwise I would snap your fucking neck.

But you held back.

Even when Haley and Aaron divorced, you knew his heart still belonged to her, leaving no room for you. You knew that if you were to have him all to yourself, she would have to die.

It was only a matter of time that you met George Foyet. He came up to you, planning on killing you, the start of his plan to get back at Aaron, but you convinced him that you knew a better way.

Why just kill the people Aaron Hotchner was close to? Why not do a little psychological torture first? George liked the way you thought and, though begrudgingly, agreed to spare Jack. That took some time for him to agree with, but you refused to help him and in fact actively worked against him and promised him he would never get revenge.

Deep inside he knew you would and make his plans ten times more difficult, so he agreed. He just needed a little bit of insurance first. And that is why he stabbed you several times before leaving you bleeding in the park. Reaching for your phone, you called Aaron.

“A Aaron...”

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” You smile hearing the panic in his voice. Ah to know how much he loved you. “What happened?”

“Foyet-" You swallow the pain of the wounds starting to really hurt. You would have to remember to return the favor when you saw him again. "H he…”

You needed to say no more for Aaron to spring into action, getting your location by Garcia hacking into your phone, calling 911, and rushing to your side. He held your hand in the ambulance as you weakly recalled the “events” of the evening to him. How Foyet approached you, said something about a deal, and proceeded to stab you.

“Shhh,” Aaron brushed back your hair, “You did good. Rest now.” You close your eyes, his presence warming your heart.

It was only a matter of time before Aaron realized that Foyet would come after you again plus his ex-wife and son. He knew he would have to protect you all by putting you in Witness Protection and sending you far away.

It was only a matter of time before Aaron realized that Foyet would come after you again plus his ex-wife and son. He knew he would have to protect you all by putting you in Witness Protection and sending you far away.

You kept Foyet in the loop on not only your location, but the location of Haley and Jack, who both of the handlers assigned to your cases. In turn he gave you updates on Aaron.

Though you were used to not seeing him for long periods of time, you were missing him. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of being with Aaron and Jack.

Finally, the day came.

You were seated beside Jack, watching Foyet and him play with his little toy soldiers, your emotions completely in check as to not give away the ending of this day or how giddy you were about it.

“Here. Call this number.” Foyet handed Haley the phone. She pressed call, placing it on speaker, freezing when Aaron’s voice came over the phone. “Foyet.”

“Aaron? You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

She looked so confused until Foyet looked up at her, the pieces falling into place. “Oh Aaron.” She breathed, tears welling in her eyes.

“He can hear us, right?”

“Yes.” She wiped at her face, her tears sparking more joy in you. “I am so sorry.”

“Haley, show him no weakness. No fear.”

“I know… Sam and Y/n told me all about him.”

“Is she there with you? Is Jack?” Always the caring man, checking in on your and his son. “They are. I is he?”

“No, Sam is fine.”

You and Foyet knew Kassmeyer was dead, he had to pretend to figure out where he would get your locations without revealing your involvement. He told you that he was going to stop by there and kill him for a little bit of fun.

“Oh Aaaron, Aaron, Aaron-” You didn’t like the condescending voice he was using towards him. “Is that why your marriage fell apart? Because you’re a liar?”

You bit the inside of your cheek so you didn’t roll your eyes. Aaron wasn’t a liar, he was just a protector of the truth. Turning back to Jack, you push back his hair, assuring him everything was going to be okay as you fill your eyes with terror passing between Foyet and Haley.

“Tell Jack I need him working the case.”

Haley nods, looking over to Jack and you. “Jack? Did you hear that?” Jack jumped up from his spot, rushing to his mother to take the phone. “Hi daddy.”

You couldn't help but smile a little at Jack. He was such a sweet little boy and honestly didn’t deserve to deal with this. It was the only guilt you held being a part in all of this.

Aaron told Jack that he needed him working the case with him again before telling him to hug his mother. Haley squeezed him tight, knowing this would be the last time she got to ever hold him before letting him go, watching him run out the room.

“He’s so cute. Like a little junior G man.” Foyet watched Jack go before calling out, “I’ll be right out Jackie-boy!”

You glare at him, daring him to even think about going after that little ball of wonder, but Foyet seemed to ignore you, his mind already made up. Standing, you made your way over to Haley, taking her hand in yours and giving it a squeeze, trying to convince her you were her friend up until the very end.

Foyet saw the act of comfort, scoffing as he pointed the gun at you. “I want you to wait in the other room.” Haley gripped your hand tighter, not wanting to lose her only lifeline besides her ex-husband on the phone. You tried to stay, moving yourself behind her, appearing like you don’t want to leave her side, but you really wanted the satisfaction of seeing her get shot. You waited for years for this bitch to die, and you weren’t going to let Foyet take that away.

“Come on, come on.” Foyet took your arm, taking you to the other room. “I’ll get to you in a second, beautiful.” You cringe at the sound of his voice. He really was going to leave you here? In a normal situation, someone would try to fight back while he is distracted, but all you did was lean against the wall, waiting and listening.

Haley talked about love, and it made you sick. Love. She didn’t love him; not like you did. Your anger was quickly dissipated by the sound of several gunshots.

You poke your head back into the other room, a wicked grin spreading across your face. Before saying anything you walk over and pick up the phone Haley held in her dead hand, making sure the call was ended. The last thing you needed was to accidentally give yourself away.

Before you could say anything though, the clicking sound of the safety and the cold steel of Foyet’s gun pressed into your back. “I should have seen this coming, honestly.”

“You should have, but I’m not going to kill you.”

“Oh?”

Foyet lowered his gun, rounding to the front of you, a grin of his own on his lips. “Nope. I am going to leave you alive and then when Aaron gets here, I am going to let him know that it was you that led me to his wife and kid. So, while they are dead, you live, and he hates you.”

You stood in silence as he told you his master plan, just like a real super villain, it was honestly kind of funny to hear. You saw his plan coming a mile away, but let him play it out because you had a trick up your own sleeve.

In a flash, you grab his arm, yanking him forward and throwing him off while your other hand grabs his gun. The two of you continue to wrestle, falling to the ground, rolling around before the loud sound of a gun rang in your ears.

You pull back, peering down at Foyet as his wide eyes stare up at you, his hand gripping his stomach as blood seeped from his now fresh gun wound.

“I knew you would try and kill me, but I wasn’t going to let you.” You aim the gun at his head. “You see the difference between you and me, George, is that I’m not pride driven. Just in love.”

He laughed. “Love?! You don’t love him! You’re obsessed! You think just because you get his wife out of the way he’ll just suddenly accept you?!”

You clench your jaw, pressing the gun harder into his forehead. “He will! I will help him and Jack through this tough time! He loves me!” You take a deep breath to center yourself. Foyet was just trying to buy time until Aaron showed up to catch you in the act. Chucking at his ploy, you smile.

“I see what you were doing, but it’s not going to work. Because unlike you, I’m not sloppy.”

You pull the trigger. Ending the terror that was George Foyet.

The door banged open, Aaron rushing in to see you standing over Foyet’s dead body, gun in your hand and Haley dead on the floor. “Aarron!”

He was numb, tears streaking down his face as he went to Haley, clenching her tightly as his stoic composure finally broke. It hurt you to see him like this, but you knew it was for the best. “I’m so sorry Aaron.” Tears welling in your eyes, dropping the gun.

“You..” Aaron pulled back from Haley, taking your hand into his, “There was nothing you could do.”

You grip his hand tightly, knowing that right now he would hurt, but once the two of you find Jack only time, and you, would heal his heart.

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil’s Backbone -- Unsub!Hotch x BAU!Fem!Reader

Full send. I’m back 😈 How about a darker fic?

Follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be updated when each chapter is released! xx.

Huge disclaimer: Hotch is not nice in this. I feel like that goes without saying since he’s the unsub here, but I wanted to say it anyway. He is not nice; he’s toxic and manipulative. Their relationship is fucked up as hell and I’m 100% not condoning this. (That being said, the smut is really hot I loved writing it)

Summary: Foyet murdered Haley and Jack. Hotch took Foyet’s life. He thought that would be enough. But it wasn’t. He needed more.

WC: ~30k total

As always, ** indicates smut ;))

Prologue

One: All along we called it normal

Two: Was it obvious to everyone else?

Three: The lesser of two evils

Four: You’re not who you are to anyone

Five: Don’t pin it all on me

Six: What a wicked thing to do

Seven: I’ve fallen in love with a man on the run

Eight: [REDACTED FROM THE RECORD]**

Nine: How did we get here?

Ten: The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all

Eleven: All I wanted was you

Twelve: [REDACTED FROM THE RECORD]**

Thirteen: I should’ve known, I’d leave alone

Fourteen: What you have done is terrible, and now what?

Fifteen: Haven’t I given enough?

Sixteen: You’re still the oxygen I breathe

Seventeen: Don’t leave me like this

Epilogue

Completed! [Sept. 29, 2023]

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

fic based on adele’s sky fall lyrics such as “where you go i go, what you see, i see” or “you might have my number but you’ll never have my heart” 😱😱😱😜

It's only a short one and... well, I don't really know how I came to write this, it just happened while I listened to the song on repeat lmao

It's not too long, but maybe I'll write some more of it and they'll be a part 2 aha

Warnings: blood, knives, unsub reader, manipulation, abduction, reader is a bit unhinged (not in a good way)

would like to clarify, obviously I do not condone crime, I'm writing this out just in case someone somehow thinks I condone this, I do not. I'm aware I'm digging myself a bit of a hole with this, but still. Anyways...

You had led him on for months. Something you were actually quite proud of. You had fooled an FBI agent, the unit chief of the BAU. The Big Bad Aaron Hotchner. You had gained his trust, you had ‘moved in’ (he didn’t need to know that was just an act, that you had an apartment downstairs too). You gained his trust, given him a sense of security, let him grow attached, let him grow to love you. You pretended to love him.

And he didn’t even realise because, at the end of the day, he was just like any other man. His downstairs brain ruled, blinding his upstairs brain. You let him feel secure, greeted him when he got back from a case, picked Jack up from school, cooked dinner when he was tired, bought him a coffee when he was working.

Who was going to guess who you really were? Who was going to suspect sweet and innocent (Y/N) (L/N)?

You wiped the blood off your cheek with your thumb, pressing it to your lips, the metallic taste filling your mouth.  You smirked, looking down at your latest victim. He looked up at you, eyes wide and filled with tears, blood smeared along his cheek. Pathetic. You gave a gentle tut, head tilting.

“Afraid, sweetheart?” You asked softly, placing a hand on his cheek. “It’s alright to be scared.” A glint filled your eyes.

“You should be.” You gave a hum, moving your hand to pick up the knife, resting it on his neck. You leaned forward, “Say hi to Aaron’s ex-wife for me.” And with that, slashed.

There was nothing like the thrill. The adrenaline rush that shook your hands, the fluttering in your stomach, the heavy breathing. Nothing matched it.

You revelled in the feeling for a moment before you removed the gloves, placing them in a plastic bag, along with your clothes and the knife. When you got back, you’d burn the clothes and gloves. As for the knife, you’d wipe it clean, before placing it in it’s designated place in the floorboard under your bed. Wiping the blood off your face, you threw the tissue and wipes into the plastic bag. You’d burn them too. You looked at the body, admiring it for a moment before you turned on your heels, and left. You’re sure someone would find it eventually. It’s not like they’d be able to tie him to you, you didn’t know the man. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. And he looked so much like Aaron youunsub y/ just couldn’t resist.

[amorechris]

                       Brooklyn Baby

SUMMARY : After a case that hit close to you, not only were the victims paper copy of you, and you had taken on a very heated standoff with the unsub. When you all return to quantico you are greeted with another case, however your boss seems to have a soft spot for you.

PROMPT : "I need a good cry and a shower. So give me like half an hour and then we go kick some ass."

WARNINGS : fluff, mentions of bau gore, cuteness, bau fluff, and more of the cutest fluff, comfort, bad humor

YOU TRUTHFULLY DIDN'T KNOW HOW YOU HADN'T BROKE DOWN, the team didn't either. The case was tuff for you as these victims were a clear lead to who he was really after, you. You had to admit the man was clever, he had picked a state you did college in and did murders there to lure you out there back to your home, Brooklyn. From there things got worse by the minute.

When you were in the stand-down it was after an attack of he purposely crashing into the SUV you had been in on purpose. He had tried to abduct you but even in you bloodied cut up state you had managed to take him down. Though it ended with a concussion, and a bullet graze. It was truly admirable to Hotchner how you showed such strength through the case and the team would've been lying if they said they didn't admire you at all.

Though you should've known that it would come flooding the second you got even a minute alone. So when you had stuffed your go bag back under your desk the team had dispersed to get coffee, bathroom breaks, vending machine snacks, before they went to see what their second case was.

You had sat down and stared at your file covered desk and slowly the lights around you became shiny, your bottom lip quivered unintentionally and slowly your eyes blurred like how they would when you first take your contacts out. You felt the tears falling down your cheeks without even blinking.

You were the person that disguised or hid your emotion through humor, it was a coping mechanism and Spencer had told you that multiple times when you guys would have small outings for coffee and library breaks. However it was just your personality and it was a quality that actually people liked.

You hadn't noticed when Dave came out of his office taking one glance at you and lightly knocked on hotch's window. Soon somebody was standing in front of you and slowly you could hear people like Morgan and JJ asking if you were alright. However you snorted lightly and wiped your eyes.

You looked up at your boss who had discarded his stoic expression and it was replaced with concern. Spencer was already running to the coffee machine, and Morgan was going to get Penelope to come in with her special 'cheer up' stuffed animal. All your teammates contributed in different ways and you all cared foe each other and took care of each other like family.

The thought, the deep of having a family you thought you would never had made you cry a bit harder.

"I need a good cry and a shower. So give me like half an hour and then we go kick some ass."

You had let out a mix of a sob and a laugh before you stood up and and Hotchner put his arm out resting his hand on your lower back. You wiped you eyes thankful you had waterproof mascara and internally cheered that you could cry and not look like a marble painting.

As you reached the door Hotch held it open for you and you spun around with tear stained cheeks and damp eyes holding a thumbs up to your team who had watched and looked worried until you flashed them a smile.

Hotch shook his head sighing and led you out the door and into the elevator and you sniffed wiping your nose as Hotch turned to you once the doors shut.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded and turned to him. "Hotch, I have a question..." you said looking down at your feet.

He turned to face you as you now both stood face to face with backs on either side of the elevator. "If it's time off then, of course."

You smiled softly but shook her head. "No, no. Guess what’s on the menu?" You asked and he shook his head. "Oh god, what is it?" he asked and you snorted.

"Me-n-u."

Hotch unintentionally let out a small laugh but he shut his mouth and stared at you with wide eyes you had the biggest beaming smile.

"I laughed because it was bad."

"mhmm sure, you know you liked it."

"Stop talking."

"But you didn't hear the one about the boats!"

[magewritesstories]

when i tell you the urge to write a unsub!reader criminal minds fic where the victims absolutely had it coming and reader gets away with it is strong rn, i mean it is STRONG.

[ros3mari3]

Is This The End ?

Spencer Reid x Hurt Reader

The case had taken a dark turn. The unsub had been elusive, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. But it wasn’t until you went missing that the severity of the situation hit the BAU team like a freight train. Spencer Reid, your boyfriend, was beside himself with worry, his usually sharp mind clouded by fear and desperation.

It had been 48 hours since you were last seen. The team had combed through every clue, every piece of evidence, but the unsub was meticulous, leaving little to go on. Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling of dread gnawing at him, and his heart ached with every passing minute.

You awoke in a dimly lit room, your body aching from the harsh restraints. Fear gripped you as you took in your surroundings, the cold, concrete walls offering no comfort. The unsub had been watching you, his eyes filled with a chilling satisfaction.

"Good, you’re awake," he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "It's time for the show."

You realized, with a sinking feeling, that he had set up a camera. The next few hours were a blur of pain and terror as he tortured you, recording every moment. You fought to stay strong, to not give him the satisfaction of your fear, but it was an unrelenting nightmare. You didn't think you'd be able to hang on much longer.

Back at the BAU, Spencer was a wreck. He barely ate, barely slept, consumed by the need to find you. His normally sharp intellect was dulled by worry, and his teammates noticed the change. Hotch, Morgan, and JJ had all tried to comfort him, but he remained inconsolable, his thoughts consumed by what you might be enduring. He didn't understand this. Why couldn't he think?? He clawed at his head in frustration. You had taken up every inch of his brain.

The team had managed to trace the unsub’s location to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. It was a risky move, but they had no choice. Spencer insisted on going with them, his eyes blazing with determination.

"Reid, are you sure you’re up for this?" Hotch asked, concern etched into his usually stoic features.

"I have to be there," Spencer replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "I can’t just sit and wait."

The team stormed the building with precision, their years of training coming to the forefront. Gunfire erupted, and the unsub fought back with a ferocity born of desperation. Spencer’s heart pounded as he navigated the labyrinthine halls, calling your name.

"Y/N!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Where are you?"

Desperation clawed at him as he searched, every second feeling like an eternity. He finally reached a door at the end of a long corridor. He kicked it open, his breath catching in his throat when he saw you slumped against the wall, barely conscious, your body battered and bloody.

The sight of you in such a state nearly broke him. He rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he gently cradled your face.

"Y/N, I’m here," he whispered, "I’m here. It’s over. You’re safe now."

You blinked, trying to focus on his face, trying to convince yourself that he was really here. "Spencer…"

He nodded, his heart breaking at the sound of your weak voice. "Yes, it’s me. We’re going to get you out of here."

The journey to the hospital was a blur. Spencer stayed by your side, holding your hand, whispering reassurances even as his heart ached with guilt and helplessness. The doctors worked quickly, and you were soon in surgery, fighting for your life.

Hours later, you were stable but still unconscious. Spencer sat by your bedside, refusing to leave. He held your hand, his eyes never leaving your face, silently willing you to wake up.

When you finally opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was Spencer’s tear-streaked face. Relief washed over him, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Hey," you whispered, your voice hoarse.

"Hey," he replied, his voice choked with emotion. "You scared me."

"I’m sorry," you said, tears filling your eyes. "I tried…"

"Shh," he interrupted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. I’m just so glad you’re okay."

You squeezed his hand weakly. "I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice breaking. "So much."

Recovery was slow and painful, but Spencer was there every step of the way. The team rallied around you, offering support and encouragement. The trauma of your ordeal lingered, but with Spencer’s love and the strength of your bond, you began to heal.

Spencer never let you forget how much he cared for you. He was your rock, your anchor in the storm. And though the scars of your experience would never fully fade, you found solace in the love you shared, knowing that together, you could overcome anything.

The first few days in the hospital were a blur of medication and exhaustion. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time waking to find Spencer by your side. His presence was a comfort, a reminder that you were no longer alone in that dark, cold room.

On the third day, you woke to find him reading a book, his hand resting gently on yours. He looked up as you stirred, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hey," he said softly, setting the book aside. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," you admitted, your voice still weak. "But better."

He nodded, his eyes filled with relief. "The doctors say you’re healing well. It’ll take time, but you’re going to be okay."

You squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his reassurance. "I’m so glad you found me."

Spencer’s expression darkened slightly. "I’m so sorry it took so long. I should have found you sooner."

"Spencer," you said firmly, "you did everything you could. You saved me."

He looked into your eyes, the guilt and anguish clear in his own. "I was so scared, Y/N. I’ve never felt so helpless."

"You weren’t helpless," you insisted. "You found me. You saved me. I am alive because of you."

He scrunched his eyes shut, and nodded, a cry threatening to spill from him throat. But he understood, he drew you close, remembering every detail, every curve of your body. He knew every part of you, knew your scent. If you had died, his grip tightened at the thought. If you HAD died, he would've died too, he wouldn't have been able to function without you.

You were the thing keeping his soul alive.

[angelyuji]

HEHEHHWHEE imagine the bau team hunting down a serial killer not knowing its their OWN PARTNERRRR imma use hotch as an example cuz dilf😫😫😩😩😩

no real warnings tbh just that reader is a serial killer

i think that he would literally never ever guess it was you. this unsub has been taunting the team, they'd get close and then, the MOMENT they think they're getting close... you're gone (kinda). cuz technically you're still around yk. you're going on dates with aaron, taking care of jack during emergencies, etc. but your serial killer hobbies are in hiatus.

aaron would talk about it with you too. he knows he's not supposed to tell you about the case, but sometimes he gets so frustrated with the case and you lend him an ear yk.

you hide it well, but every time he talks to you about the case. you feel giddy knowing how well you've stumped the great bau.

aaron would never suspect you. you're a great partner, a great parent, he loves you. i mean, every night he holds you talking about how much he loves you. you're the sunshine on his rainy day. all of this distracts you, keeps you on haitus for a long time maybe even permenantly. he tells you that he's planning on quitting the bau. that lets you relax, truly putting your hobbies to rest.

"i think i'm going to take the offer..." aaron says, leaning against the counter, watching you cook dinner.

"hmm? which offer?" you look over at him, in his tight shirt and baggy pants.

"to resign." he laughs and pushing his hair back with one hand. "i want to be here... with you and jack. i want to focus on being a father... and a husband." he looks away and you smile at his bashfulness.

"i'm happy with whatever decision you chose to make, aaron. you're stuck with me."

then he proposes, you're elated. every thing is perfect. you have an amazing fiance, an amazing (almost) step-son. the entire bau is there when he proposes. every single thing is perfect... except that aaron isn't quitting. he's staying at the bau with them. he's staying with them. even after he promised you that he'd quit.

"you told me... you told me that you'd quit." you pace around the living room.

"i know. i'm sorry, but the team needs me." aaron looks at you, eyes filled with guilt.

"we need you, aaron! me and jack! we need you." you feel tears roll down your cheeks.

"(y/n)..." he tries to reach out to you and you back away. he stops, hurt.

"i need some air." you leave, kissing jack good-bye.

you were gone for a week, and in that week, two people had died.

"something on your mind, aaron?" rossi put a hand on his shoulder. aaron sat in his office, staring at the picture of the three of you on a picnic.

"i'm not sure... since (y/n)'s been gone, two people have died and... i noticed this last time too." aaron puts his head in his hands.

"what do you mean?" rossi sits down.

"i-i'm not sure. last time too, we had a fight and they left and- and people died." the dots start to connect, but rossi shakes his head.

"aaron, you don't really think-"

"no. no, i'm sure i'm just imagining it."

"i think you should listen to strauss. the stress from scratch, the new unsub, everything..." rossi trails off.

"i know... i know, i'll think about it."

of course, aaron calls your parents and they say you've been with them the entire time. so he lets it go, but it stays on his mind even when you were back. you'd be sleeping in the same bed and he'd look at you and wonder... could you be a killer? but you'd pull him into a kiss and he'd fall for your warmth once more. you knew he had his suspicions, rossi told you himself. he said he was "worried" that you should "convince him to resign. it'll be good for the both of you". and you did just that. you moved up the wedding, you sent out the invitations, you did everything to distract him from his suspicions and work.

when you walk down the aisle, you see all his suspicions melt as tears fall from his eyes. you feel a grin creep up your face, you did it. you had him for yourself.

"i, aaron hotchner, take (y/n) to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part"

[film-bro-hotch]

Queen of Nothing (Hotch x Reader) - Chapter Two

A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for the support on the last chapter. Loved logging in every day to see some new notes. To be absolutely honest, I wrote a lot of this chapter while distracting myself from my undergraduate thesis. So I hope you enjoy this issue of my procrastination project!

Chapter Warnings: allusions to domestic violence, murder

WC: 1.9k

Chapter Two - I Know the Bravest Thing I Ever Did Was Run

“Sometimes, the only way to get justice is to take it for yourself.” ― Leigh Bardugo

You blinked a few times, trying to process if the loss of sleep was making you see things. There was no way this could be real. Out of all the possibilities, out of all the stores, out of all the people, Aaron Hotchner could not be in front of you.

What made this scene feel just a little more real was noticing the changes in him. The crow’s feet by his eyes were a little more pronounced, as were the creases on his forehead and his laughter lines. You were sure the last two were more from scowling than laughing, though. His under eyes were darker than usual. He just looked…tired. What had 5 years done to him?

You finally managed to find your voice through the violent wave of shock and nostalgia as you managed out an, “Aaron?”

Time away had made reading him a little harder. You couldn’t quite tell if his gaze gave excitement or apprehension. “It’s been, what, five years now? You - ah - you look good.”

Before you would have been so sure, but you couldn’t tell if he had truly counted the days since he had last seen you. What you were sure of, though, was that he was undoubtedly profiling you. And so were you. One of the first things you noticed besides the changes in his face was the absence of a wedding ring. So he and Hailey finally called it off? They had been on the outs when you and Aaron started your…honestly, you didn’t know what to call it. He stayed at your place so much, he made you dinner and gave you morning kisses on your cheek after he had slept in your bed. You never actually fucked, not even a real kiss. You wanted to call him your boyfriend because that is what nearly everything pointed to, but because of the tension with Hailey, you never brought it up. 

“Thanks,” you said, one end of your lip curling up in a sort of half smile. “You too.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each wondering what to even say next. You couldn’t possibly treat it like you never left, like nothing ever happened. Aaron was the first one to speak up. 

“So what brings you back here? I figured you didn’t stay in Virginia after you left.”

Left was accurate but felt hollow compared to what really happened. But it also reminded you that you needed to come up with a story. Fast. 

“Yeah, I didn’t. I sort of had my crisis and found myself back home with my parents. I helped my dad with the ranch for a good four years I think. It was nice being back with family and all, but I was a little restless. I think part of me missed all the travel from the BAU. So I’ve kind of been trekking across the country for the past year or so,” you started. Good, giving yourself a stable place in your story, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. During your tour of America, you went back to the ranch in the middle of nowhere Texas a few times. Your parents never understood your job, so they didn’t question it much. “Now I’m trying to make my way up to Maine, maybe go into Canada, maybe join some fishing boat, who knows,” you joked with a shrug, and Aaron gave you a half-hearted smile. Pretty good for him. 

“It sounds like you have had more adventures than we have.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that. Come on, tell me how the team is. What have I missed?” You know it’s dangerous, but you want to know how they are doing.

“Some things haven’t changed. Morgan and Garcia still flirt every day. Reid looks like he should be in a boy band,” he gave pause after seeing the shock on your face. “I don’t think that was what he was going for, but it doesn’t look half bad. We have a couple of new agents… Agent David Rossi and Agent Emily Prentiss. Gideon and Elle don’t work for the BAU anymore.”

So things really had changed. Part of you felt upset for not being there, for being just another person that left the BAU. He probably noticed the way your face fell a bit, but you were quick to resume your expression. “So a diplomat’s daughter and one of the best agents of all time? Seems like you are running quite the team.”

Aaron wasn’t one to boast like some prideful fool, but he wasn’t meekly humble either, so it was a comfort that his reply was somewhat familiar. “Yeah, they are doing well.” There was a pause near the end, one where you almost wish he filled it with a but it’s not the same without you or an I’ve missed you, maybe even a would you come back? You weren’t getting any of those. You knew Hotch well enough to know he wouldn’t say something like that, and you knew yourself enough to know you would never accept. There was a reason you left in the first place. 

There was another long moment of silence, and you were finally the one to break it. You needed to get out of there before you did something reckless. “It was really great seeing you again, Aaron. I should let you get back to shopping. It’s getting late.” You struggled to read his expression at that moment, but you decided you might have seen a bit of disappointment.

“Yeah. It was good seeing you too.”

Was that all? You felt like there should have been more, but you tried not to let yourself think about it too much. You couldn’t, or else you would do something stupid. Something that would get you caught. You offered him a small smile before moving your cart away from his, starting to finally move in the direction you had been before you ran into him. You felt your shoulders deflate a bit, almost in relief that nothing more happened. Or maybe it was dejection. After five years, was that really all their reunion would be? A simple conversation in a grocery store that they would both forget in a week? You cursed yourself for this foolish thinking, for wanting something more. That time was long gone. You started to pick up speed, hoping to get out of the grocery store before running into him again.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Well shit. Your instinct was to leave everything there and run. The fear that ran through you was that somehow he had found that, but your calmer part knew there was no logical way. You took in one deep breath before turning around to face him. Aaron had left his cart and was jogging over to you. Damn, you missed seeing that. 

He handed you a card, one he presumably thought about for a few seconds and then pulled it out before running back to you. “If you stay in Fairfax a little longer, you should give me a call. We can have dinner and catch up a little more in depth.”

Your calloused hands touched his as you took the card, and a wave of longing ran through you. Having him so far away made it harder for you to miss him, but now he was right here, and he wanted to see you too. “I-uh actually went no contact when I started this little road trip. No phone,” you say. It was truthful, but also an excuse. It was dangerous to get mixed back up with him. 

Hotch didn’t wait a second as he pulled out his wallet, fishing out a $50 bill and setting it in your hand, wrapping your fingers around it. “Get yourself a burner phone and then call me. You can throw it out once you leave Fairfax. You know, to keep up the no contact. But maybe keep my card if you get bored on that fishing boat up in Maine.”

Was that a joke? Did Aaron Hotchner just make a joke? You found yourself laughing, and he was too. “Aaron, I-”

“I know what you are going to say, and I have already thought it through. You are going to want to pay me back, and instead of doing this little dance about who pays for what, we are just going to make it even and you pay for ingredients for dinner. Yes, we are cooking at my place. Why are you giving me that look?”

Everything he said was with such a deadpan seriousness that you were almost shocked by how much he seemed to know you. You hadn’t even noticed your expression change. Slowly, you put the business card and the money in your pocket, admitting defeat. “Okay,” you said. “I’ll call you.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You turned your back to him and couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you started to walk away. You hadn’t heard Hotch move. He was still standing in the middle of the store, watching you leave for the first time in a long while. 

---

You debated even getting the phone. It would be so easy to simply leave him with the ghost of you, do your job and get the hell out of Dodge. But you were weak, and you missed those gray eyes of his like some sad dog. So you bought the cheapest burner phone you could find and spent the remaining $10 on a fast food dinner. That night you didn’t even bother to plan your next day before your head hit the pillow and you fell asleep.

You spent the majority of the next morning looking for possible cases to follow. You looked mainly at domestic and child abuse cases, ones that were dismissed by the court for any number of reasons. From there you did your own research, tailed the people, men most of the time, that you were hunting to see if these accusations were truly unfounded. Sometimes you came to your answer pretty quickly, other times it took a few days longer, but rarely were you wrong. You were bringing more people to justice than you ever had while working for the BAU. 

This research led you to a man in his early 40s, Christian Wright. Two kids who weren't in his custody. Three years ago he was in a nasty divorce with his wife, Catherine. Seemed like Wright came from a pretty wealthy family, and didn’t have his wife sign a prenup. He was coming back for his money and his reputation given that she had claimed neglect and abuse in the divorce papers. She disappeared a few months after the divorce was finalized. Most figured it was Christian, but no body, no crime. So he got off the hook. You knew his wife was most likely dead, but you were going to bring her killer to justice. 

You had gotten in your car to start your first stakeout when you noticed Hotch’s business card you had left on your dashboard. You stared at it for a long moment, part of you knowing you shouldn’t call. You had work to do, work that couldn’t be disturbed. But then you remembered how he held you in the mornings, how on the weekends when he was there he would put that stupid record on and make breakfast while whistling along to Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. You bought The Beatles’ white album just for him. And an echo of you wanted that back.

Against your better judgment, you pulled out the burner phone and typed in the number. 

“Hotch? Hey, it’s Y/N. You free tonight?”

Chapter One Chapter Three

[bau-drabbles]

mafia hotch finding out he has a soft spot for the reader and being confused and slightly angry about it 🥹 (i love our man finding out he’s in love and mafia version?? 😵‍💫)

i love mafia hotch sm 🥹❤️‍🔥 this is so soft and sweet :")) feel free to request anything with mafia hotch! <33

i haven't really worked out the details for this so just pretend for now he's a double agent 😩 also might be ooc 🥲

hotch looked up from his desk, his hands paused as they flipped to the next page. it was utterly useless, he couldn't get much further than a few lines. he was too much in his head as he sighed and slammed the case files down, unable to concentrate on anything.

tonight was a big mission, he couldn't afford to lose his head so easily. he knew his team would be on the case which would only make it that much more harder, he couldn't afford to slack yet the only thing he could think of was you.

the frown on his forehead was unmovable, his face was unreadable as he moved his files away and reached for the half empty tumbler. he let the burn of the alcohol swirl on his tongue, inhaling a deep breath as he sank further into his seat.

hotch never claimed to be perfect, he knows his hands are scarred with the blood of many people. he knows his horrible path, he's manipulative and cruel and sly. with a flick of his wrist, he was able to have a person down in seconds. he was never a good guy, he never claimed to be.

but there you were, your annoying presence lighting up his day. perhaps that was why he never liked you

you saw him.

you saw your unit chief fight bravely for every case, working to the bone every night when everyone had already left. true, you didn't know the real reason why he did those things. but his mind liked to indulge in fantasies every so often, liked to think that you could possibly accept him for what he was. maybe you'd be the belle that tamed the beast? maybe this time someone would see the real him and stay? but love was for fools, he had to remind himself.

he hated you, he needed to.

you and your annoying presence, something he thought he could do without. being in the mafia was hard enough, living a life as a double agent was already risky. adding pleasure to the mix was a surefire way to death.... yet despite that all he couldn't seem to understand why he missed your presence?

a strange feeling entered him, something foreign. something he hadn't felt in years, a promise. promise of hope, promise of companion around this time. only the last time time he was this vulnerable to someone, she ended up being the biggest thorn in his side. so he forced it down, forced it to not rear its ugly head ever again. he promised himself he could never fall for another person, not like this. he would never put himself through that again.

hotch leaned back on his chair, his hand around his glass of whiskey. his head was ever so gently tilted to the right, his eyes sparkling under the lights. his heart thumped with an emotion he hasn't felt in years. he noticed something different about him in the last few years, a genuine smile.

oh.... oh

[easy-there-leftovers]

Sorry about this, but!! (hotch x unsub! reader)

I'm well on my way to formulating a baseline for our unsub! reader x hotch, and while I know I promised a "maniacal" unsub (which could really mean anything), I wanted to weight out my options!!

We can either go with "outright insane" unsub! reader, which essentially just means that right from the get go, as soon as they are brought in, they will appear very disturbed and are more likely to disrupt the investigation before appearing helpful. They're essentially morally irredeemable, and as a person, they just suck.

Pros: more "colorful" dialogue in the beginning, we see reader's true colors/ insanity(?) right away Cons: the reader is initially more annoying/ frustrating to the viewer/ harder to corral into working with the BAU (but will eventually play 'fetch')

Or, we could go "eventual devolution" unsub! reader, which entails a more neutralized(?) or suppressed, 'insanity' due to the malpractice of the institution they were admitted to, but will eventually devolve. Violently. Which means that they are more amicable to working with the BAU, but they'll explode sooner or later. They're essentially trying very hard to keep being the good guy, but are struggling greatly due to their extremely disturbed mentality.

Pros: easier to work with in the beginning, will show how reader's urges manifest due to the suppression. Cons: reader's "urges" will manifest as violent and vivid thoughts that may be disturbing to some viewers, reader is constantly treated like a criminal (because she is)

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi! I love your one shots soooo much they are super cool! Could you do one with a gender fluid unsub around 14 who is hotchs child and like has been killing since hailey died and they go on cases and always kill wherever their cases are? I probably phrased this horribly but to bad! (:

Aaron Hotchner X Unsub Teen Reader

Request: Hi! I love your one shots soooo much they are super cool! Could you do one with a gender fluid unsub around 14 who is hotchs child and like has been killing since hailey died and they go on cases and always kill wherever their cases are? I probably phrased this horribly but to bad! (:

Third person pov...

The rain pounded against the windows of the BAU, mixing with the tension that hung thick in the air.

A team of elite profilers, once accustomed to solving the most heinous crimes, had been uncharacteristically stumped lately. Even their veteran leader, Aaron Hotchner, was feeling the pressure to crack this case.

“Another body found in Phoenix,” Garcia’s voice chimed through the conference room.

“Same MO as the last three we tracked. And it’s almost as if whoever is behind this is toying with us. The victims were all found in different locations, and there’s no connection beyond the way they were killed.”

Hotch stood at the head of the table, his jaw set as he processed the information. What remained unspoken hung like a thick veil in the room—his child.

Y/N had been accompanying the team for the past few months. They were brilliant and keen, yet something darker stirred within them—something rooted in a tragedy that had left its mark on the family.

It was one year since Hailey’s shocking death, and in that time, Y/N had transformed. Once a bright, cheerful teenager who wore their heart on their sleeve, they were now a whirlwind of secrecy and shadows.

The pain of losing their mother had morphed their grief into a need for retribution. They had been the one to inform Hotch about their first kill, a desperate declaration of their struggle with the chaos swirling inside.

“I want to help,” they had said, their eyes sparkling, yet haunted. “I never want anyone to feel how I felt when Mom died.”

Hotch’s heart ached at the memory. He was helpless to contain the darkness blossoming within Y/N, and what he feared most was that they might one day become the very thing they sought to destroy.

As the team piled into the jet, Hotch’s gaze fell on Y/N, sitting silently, headphones in their ears, lost in their own world.

Their style had evolved into a blend of what-they-wanted-to-be and what-they-resented; garments tailored not to gender expectations, but rather an expression of their multifaceted self—a mixture of floral patterns contrasted with edgy leather, layers lending complexity to an already intricate persona.

“Are you alright?” Hotch asked softly, leaning closer, though they didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied, the words almost rehearsed, a barrier against the turmoil that awaited exploration. “I want to help, to make a difference.”

The words hung in the air, and beneath them was something deeper, more menacing. Hotch couldn’t shake the feeling that Y/N was seeking not just to help, but to find solace through something darker—not just shaping justice, but perhaps defining it through blood.

When they landed in Phoenix, the tempo of the city pulsed around them; sirens sang through the streets, and chaos bubbled beneath the surface.

The BAU team wasted no time regarding the case. Teaming up with local law enforcement, they reviewed the crime scenes, learning the patterns that unfolded with each new victim.

Y/N observed with an intensity that fascinated and terrified Hotch.

As they pieced together the clues, he struggled to decipher whether they were contributing to the investigation or secretly plotting their next move.

Days blended into nights as the team worked relentlessly. Each day they’d visit the scenes of the grisly murders, with Y/N becoming more withdrawn and brooding.

They had become an expert at slipping away unnoticed, coming and going like a phantom that haunted the edges of their father’s life.

During one evening, Hotch found them beneath a flickering streetlight, sketching something in a weathered notebook. “What are you drawing?” he asked softly, trying to bridge the vast emotional gulf that had formed between them.

“My thoughts,” Y/N murmured, not raising their eyes from the page. “Of Mom. Of… everything.”

Hotch’s heart tightened. “You don’t have to carry this alone, you know. I’m here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to just be here,” Y/N admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I want to be something else. Something that means something.”

“You are so much more than you realize. Your mother would have wanted—”

“Mom’s dead,” Y/N interrupted, the sadness transforming into an uncharacteristic ferocity. “Do you think I haven’t thought about it every day, every single moment?”

Hotch swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising tide of frustration and fear. “You have the chance to make a difference in the right way. Let us help you—”

“Sure, help me by stopping the bad guys,” they shot back, standing abruptly, their emotions boiling over. “You mean help me keep the things I want to do in check? Help me pretend I’m not hurting? I don’t need that. I need something much more… satisfying.”

The confrontation felt like a turning point. In that moment, Hotch truly understood the internal war raging within his child. It wasn’t just about grief; it was about an urge to exert control in a world that felt chaotic and lost.

Understanding this collided with the haunting realization of their possible actions. As each day passed, bodies continued to pile up in unspeakably horrific ways. Their killer—a shadowy figure playing mind games with the authorities—remained elusive, and as clues began to mount, a nagging sense of familiarity clawed at Hotch’s memory.

Finally, everything clicked into place when a witness emerged with descriptions of the killer’s attire. Everything fit perfectly with Y/N’s style.

Hotch’s pulse raced as anxiety gripped him; he had to find Y/N before they reached a point of no return. A frantic search of bars and alleys began while Garcia worked on tracing their phone virtually everywhere.

When he finally found them—a confrontation under the same streetlight, with the echo of sirens blaring in the distance—there was a blood-stained knife clutched in Y/N’s hand. Their expression flickered between triumph and despair.

“I did it, Dad. I stopped them,” they whispered, trembling as they gazed into his eyes.

“You’re not a monster,” Hotch pleaded, his heart racing. “But this isn’t justice. This will only destroy you from the inside out.”

Silence hung between them for an agonizing breath, before Y/N dropped the knife, the clatter breaking a spell. “But I killed for you,” they sobbed. “For us.”

Hotch stepped forward, carefully reaching for them. “We can find a better way, together. This—this isn’t the path your mother would want for you.”

As Y/N fell into his embrace, the darkness quelling its hold, the rain began to pour once more, washing away every trace—a promise for a better tomorrow: healing, understanding, and love forged through pain. They stood together under the flickering streetlight.

The end!

Hope you liked this one shot, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1207

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