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#aaron hotchner fanfiction
headkiss · 2 days
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I’ve got a slightly angsty idea for Hotch if you’d like it:
Reader gets into an accident of some kind and ends up in the hospital, and Hotch is worrying out of his mind the whole time because he’s on a case or something, but all is well and it’s fluffy at the end and just love and “don’t ever scare me like that again” and all that good stuff
hiii thank u so much for ur request!!! sorry it’s taken a couple of months to get to </3 i hope u like it!! | 0.6k mentions of a car accident and a teeny tiny injury, and fluff (duh)
“Aaron?”
Hotch knew something was wrong as soon as you’d called in the middle of the day while he was away. You’d always wait for him to call first, to make sure he had the time.
So, the buzz of his phone in his pocket worried him. Even more so when he heard the way your voice shook through the speaker.
He walked away from the rest of the team, leaving their temporary conference room at the local police station and finding somewhere quiet before speaking, “what’s wrong, honey?”
“I’m okay, I promise, but…” you paused to clear your throat, forcing your startled tears back, because you really were okay. “I got in an accident. Nobody’s hurt, but they want to take me to the hospital to make sure I don’t have a concussion or anything.”
Aaron’s heart was pounding, and he had to remind himself that you weren’t badly hurt, that you were right there on the other side of the phone, talking and breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair, wishing he was closer to you.
“Okay,” he says, though it comes out in a breath. “Okay, I’m gonna try to get home.”
“No, Aaron, you really don’t have to. I’m not injured, and they need you there.”
Truthfully, you’d love to have him beside you, his hand tight in yours, his voice cutting through the ringing in your ears, his presence calming enough. But you knew what you were getting into as soon as you started dating Hotch, and you’d never expect him to have to choose between you and his job.
“The team is more than capable of doing this without me, I promise. I’m coming to you, alright?”
You know there’s no changing his mind, and selfishly, you don’t want to. “Okay. Thank you.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
He doesn’t want to hang up the phone, doesn’t want to leave room for the worry and fear that’s already creeping up on him, but he does.
The team, of course, is very understanding, reassuring him that they can handle this case and that he should get home, telling him to let you know they all hope you’re okay. He’s driving to the airport within minutes.
It’s only a few hours later that Aaron lands, rushing back to your place straight from his flight after confirming with you that’s where you’d be. His hand shakes the slightest bit as he slips his spare key into your door.
Aaron breathes your name when he sees you on your couch, a small bandage on your cheek. “You said you weren’t hurt.”
Your heart squeezes in your chest as he crosses the room and crouches in front of you, cradling your face in his hand so gently your eyes well up. The shock seems to catch up to you, the relief you didn’t know you needed just by having him near is almost overwhelming.
“I’m not,” you sniffle once and his eyebrows furrow. “I’m not hurt, I promise. It barely even bled. I guess it’s just sinking in now.”
You blink and a tear slips down your cheek, but Hotch is quick to wipe it away with his thumb. He moves to sit next to you on the couch, tugging you as close as possible, your cheek buried against his collar, his hand running up and down your back.
You can hear his heart beating in his chest, quicker than usual, but you don’t call him out on it.
“You’re okay,” he says, and Aaron’s not sure who he’s reassuring more.
“My car’s probably totaled,” you mutter against him.
“Cars are replaceable, you aren’t.” He drops his mouth to the top of your head, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“I was scared,” you admit quietly.
“I know, honey,” he says, shifting so that his cheek is resting atop your head. “I was, too.”
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angellsell · 2 days
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End and Begin
Summary: some people are meant to fall in love with each other but are not meant to be together, you and Aaron are two of them Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Genre: angst [oneshot] Warning(s): none A/N: day twenty-six of the marchhotchness event by @hotchfiles
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Some people are meant to fall in love with each other but are not meant to be together. It's a cruel twist of fate, a bitter irony that mocks the heart's desires. And I've come to understand this truth all too well, tangled in the bittersweet threads of love and loss.
Aaron. His name lingered on my lips like a whispered prayer, a ghost of affection that refuses to fade. From the moment our eyes first met, I knew there was something inexplicably special about him. His smile was a beacon of warmth in a world often shrouded in darkness, his laughter a melody that echoed in the depths of my soul and that could only be heard in the solitude of our being.
We were inseparable, two souls entwined in a dance of passion and devotion. Every moment spent in his presence was a treasure, each touch a symphony of longing and desire. His hands in mine, his gentle touch of fingers in my hair while lying in my bed were heaven on earth. We carved out our own little universe, where time stood still and the rest of the world faded into insignificance.
But beneath the surface of what I thought was the start of a perfect love, cracks began to form. Fissures of doubt and insecurity widened with each passing day, threatening to swallow us whole. His laughter, once a symphony of joy, began to sound strained as if trying to mask the growing distance between us. His smiles became fleeting, his touch hesitant.
I tried to ignore the signs, to cling to the illusion of happiness we had constructed around us. We both painted over the splits with false promises and whispered reassurances, hoping against hope that our love would weather the storm. But reality has a way of tearing down walls, exposing the fragile truth hidden beneath the facade.
Late nights turned into early mornings filled with shouted arguments and tear-stained apologies. We danced around the elephant in the room, tiptoeing around the issues until there was no space left for silence. But no amount of avoidance could change what was happening before our very eyes.
I poured my heart out to him, laying bare my fears and insecurities in the hopes of bridging the growing chasm between us. But his response was always the same, a hesitant nod, a half-hearted attempt at reassurance that only served to deepen the divide.
And so, we drifted further and further apart, like ships passing in the night, destined for different horizons. Our once vibrant being became a shadow of its former self, a hollow shell of what could have been. And as I watched him slip through my fingers like grains of sand, I knew that our time together was drawing to a close.
But even as the end came near, I couldn't bring myself to let go. I clung to him desperately, as if by holding on tight enough, I could stop the inevitable from happening. But some things are beyond our control, and our love was one of them.
Words left unspoken hung heavy in the air, suffocating us with their weight. And in the silence that followed, I realized that some bonds are too fragile to withstand the trials of life.
Aaron. His name lingered on my lips like a whispered secret, a desperate prayer for him to stay as he was walking his way out of my door, out of my life.
We were never meant to last, we were destined to unravel at the seams like a threadbare tapestry. And as I stand here now, alone in the wreckage of what once was, I can't help but wonder if it was all just a cruel trick of fate.
We were over, and the worst thing is we never began.
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"Girls without boyfriends how's life?"
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diqldrunks · 2 days
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✧*̥˚ AARON HOTCHNER MASTERLIST *̥˚✧
nav | main masterlist | inbox
:・゚✧:・゚
✧*̥˚ headcannons *̥˚✧
"SECRET STARES": working in the bau and dating aaron hotchner (while trying to keep it from the team) would include…
"PARENTS EVENING": teacher!reader and aaron hotchner meeting (for the first time at parents evening) would include…
✧*̥˚ drabbles *̥˚✧
"ELEVATOR MISHAPS": being stuck in an lift with aaron hotchner would include...
"A MOCK INTERVIEW": part two to "elevator mishaps"!
"DRUNKEN STUMBLES": aaron hotchner helping drunk!reader (who hurt themselves) would include...
"BACK SCRATCHES": aaron hotchner and back scratches would include...
:・゚✧:・゚
aaron hotchner taglist (lmk if you want to be added!); @inkluvs @loveeharrington @garfieldsladybird @fclklqre @alexis-angelsss @ivyppoison @starstruckwillows @masivechaos @leaskisses444 @hotchnerxo @kajjaka
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thewulf · 2 days
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Hiii🌸🌸 well this is my first time requesting so it's conoletly fine if you don't like this idea, no problem here!
Also I don't know how much you like to write about family dynamics, but if it's alright with you...
Aaron Hotchner x reader,
It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom".... And of course Aaron is there the whole time taking care of his' and his family emotions.
Kinda fluff, then angst and fluff ending hahha
If you want to write it, it would be such an honor you are my favorite writter in here but if you don't feel like it, it's fine
Love you and thank you 🌸🌸🌸
Ooooof this one is brutal. But I love it. Kids are sooooo mean sometimes and know exactly how to make it hurt!
You got it!
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mickisnotclever · 2 days
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~ Made Just for You ~
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Prompt: "To Belong" - Day 24 of @hotchfiles 's event MarchHotchness! (It's two days late but pretend it isn't, alright?)
Relationships: General, No ship, Aaron Hotchner & His Family, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team
CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, Blood, Alcoholism, Guns
Word Count: 1,819 | This wasn't meant to be this long. I have other fics I'm trying to update but this simply took hold of me
AN: I've never posted fic to tumblr before so I hope I did this right. Also, if this isn't the greatest can you just ignore it or lie to me? Lmao I'm so nervous about posting this. Takes place in very early days + season 1 era, so no Emily yet.
Home should be the one place where every child feels like they fit seamlessly. There should be spaces carved out in the exact shape of their bodies for them to nestle into at the end of a long day.
Aaron's house had no space for him when he was growing up.
It was too crowded with empty glass bottles and tin cans. Filled to the brim with the sound of his mother's muffled cries. Packed tight with his brother's desperation to please.
He had become an expert contortionist at a very young age.
He learned how to fold up his presence, to tuck himself into the tiniest crack. He perfected the skill of fading away in plain sight when his father transformed into a raging whirlwind that threatened to rip their house apart.
As time went on, he learned how to conveniently materialize when the crosshairs started to focus on his mother or brother.
He was nonexistent one moment, and there the next. Ready and willing to fill the space between the flying leather and his baby brother's pleading form.
He began to almost like it in a way.
He didn't enjoy the searing pain but he learned to take it. He almost... wanted it. It reminded him that he was there, that his father saw him for at least a few moments. Despite the circumstance, he was allowed to share the space with him for a while. He was allowed to exist loudly. He was allowed to have a voice. It didn't matter that he was crying in agony and despair.
The Hotchner house looked like a normal one from the outside. A regular family resided there, two parents and two children. They never wanted for anything, be it food and water or possessions. The neighbors saw them as equals, as as people who they could turn to for help. After all, they were the perfect family.
But Aaron knew the truth. That only one child truly lived there. Only one child fit there, was allowed to freely move around the whole area without a second thought, belonged there.
If Aaron had to make himself a ghost in order to allow his brother to live, then so be it. He'd gladly glide between the spaces that held the evidence of his brother's childhood. He drifted past the height markers on the door frame with an "S" scratched next to each one. None of them had an "A" next to them. There was a dent marring the other side of the frame where a heavy bottle had missed Aaron's head. He was fine with that.
When he silently drifted past the refrigerator and saw a display of a carefully crafted drawing with a shakily penned name, he smiled to himself. The award Aaron had been given for his high marks at school was still just as valuable where it remained in his bag.
He was too busy making himself small to notice when he had grown up. His family hadn't noticed either, least of all his father.
The times with him that Aaron used to relish in a demented way had grown tainted with resentment. The blood that dripped from his mouth, another stain in the carpet, was no longer proof that he was alive. It was no longer the mark of some sick justification to himself that his father was helping him grow strong. It was just another reminder that he was only allowed to leave traces of himself behind when they were ripped violently from his body.
The day he decided to pack his things and leave for college, his father tried to pull him back into the residence that rejected his presence.
Aaron unfolded himself then, staring the man dead in the eyes, and his father finally saw him. All of him. His fury blazed bright behind carefully tempered glass.
And he let Aaron go.
Aaron wasn't sure how to stop hiding within himself. His whole life had been spent ensuring that he didn't have a noticeable presence. Now, he was free to have one. When he reached to feel the space where it should be, his fingertips brushed nothing but an empty cavern.
Days turned months into years and he found solace in being directed to designated areas.
This is your dormitory. Your side. Your bed.
Temporary ownership of a space was all he needed.
This is your classroom. Your desk.
He studiously made his way through classes, doing everything he needed to ensure he received top marks. Before he could form a permanent place for himself, he'd be moving on to another.
This is your building. This is your desk. These are your clients.
He presented facts, he helped people get justice. It was the closest he came to feeling like he had a purpose, a place he was supposed to be.
But feelings of uncertainty snagged inside him, on the edges of something he wasn't aware was there. Seeing how clients had suffered made him want to go back further, to help before they were hurt.
It was never about him. He couldn't let himself unfurl here. He had a job to do. And he moved on, abandoning the area he briefly allowed himself to settle.
This is your new classroom. This is your gun locker. This is your protective gear.
He didn't need to fill out any extra space with anything other than what he was trained to do. Follow the protocol, become the best he can be, help his teammates complete the task. He was just another highly skilled shooter under a helmet. This was easy.
The feeling remained.
Then came the FBI.
This is your desk. These are your supplies.
He met Jason Gideon. The man studied him in a way he never had been before. It filled him with discomfort.
He focused on his work. The unknowable thing inside him grew a little more every time they managed to successfully stop a tragedy from happening.
The first time a cup of coffee appeared on his desk in the morning, he thought someone had forgotten it there. Looking around for anyone that seemed to be searching for it, he spotted Gideon raising his own identical cup at him with a nod.
A hidden corner within unfolded as he took a drink from his cup.
He met Derek Morgan. The man was downright playful in a way he was extremely unfamiliar with. For a long while, he didn't know what to do with it. Slowly, he attempted to match the man's energy. At first, it was just once in a while when a sarcastic comment made its way past his lips before he could prevent it. Before he noticed, it was an almost daily occurrence. And he found he didn't hate it.
Gideon recruited an incredibly young man, Spencer Reid.
Almost immediately, he saw himself in the younger man. The way he would hunch over, how he would ball himself up into his seat, the way he seemed to speak as fast as he could whenever he had someone's attention before his allotted time was up. Aaron began to leave space for Reid to bloom, letting him speak about the things he wanted to whenever there were no time sensitive matters at hand.
Whenever he saw another piece of Reid emerge from its hiding spot, something within him followed suit.
Penelope Garcia was a force that he was utterly thrown by and drawn to, simultaneously. She was so loud, in more ways than the literal. Her unashamedly bright clothes rivaled her personality and Aaron almost envied her. When he was focused on the work, he sometimes didn't have room for her colorful words but sometimes, despite himself, he would smile.
Another part of him unfurled, and the thing within grew a little more.
Elle Greenaway was someone he understood. He saw her drive right from the start and felt a tug of recognition. She just wanted a chance and he related to that deep in his bones. There was no question that she did good work. She joined the team and he knew it would be a good fit. The first time she made a joke that pulled a laugh from his chest, they both stared at each other with surprise. Maybe hers was mixed with a little more delight than his.
But he felt the swell of the thing growing, getting very close to filling him up to the edges.
Jennifer Jareau was a whirlwind, she looked over cases with a speed and intensity that he admired. The way she knew just what to say to the press to keep them as informed as possible while ensuring they still had control over the message was a skill he appreciated. When she teased him about his stoic outwardly appearance, he only felt a smile pulling at his lips when before he would’ve vanished into himself.
With these people, he didn’t have to be “the other one” or “your brother” or “hey, you” or even “Aaron.” He could just be Hotch.
And here, Hotch was a part of the team. Not just any part, but an integral part. They didn’t only need him, but they wanted him.
He felt it in the way that Reid moved unconsciously to save him a spot right next to him in line as they delivered a profile.
When Morgan lifted his arm to clap him on the shoulder, and Hotch had absolutely no fear that his hand would come crashing down on him.
In the moments when Gideon pulled him aside to give him praise in the veiled manner that he had learned how to decipher over the years.
When Elle would notice he hadn’t smiled in a while and crack a joke to make him laugh.
When JJ would bring food over while they were working long cases and offer him his favorite burger.
On a slow day, when Gideon would show him a rare coin he had managed to find, smiling at Hotch’s excitement, and then pressed it into his palm wordlessly.
In the field, when he could hold a confiscated weapon behind him without looking and know that Reid would be there to take it from him.
When Morgan would bust a door open and Hotch could go in first, confident that he had his back.
When Garcia would work at the speed of light based on his suggestions and then compliment his thought process, saying they were unstoppable together.
The thing that had been steadily growing in the depths of his being was now firmly in place. He couldn’t hide away even if he tried. And he didn’t want to.
There were spaces carved out for him all around the members of his team. He didn’t just grow with them, but he grew around them.
This place was made just for him.
He had finally found where he belonged.
And he never wanted to leave.
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sequinsmile-x · 1 day
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i am edging closer and closer to both my 1k followers on here, and 2 million words of hotchniss fanfic milestones...
i'm going to write something certifiably insane to mark both those occasions aren't i?!
yes i mean the hunger games AU haha
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slight angst with happy ending for aaron hotchner
he misunderstands your body language or something (maybe you grew a bit distant, more time on phone etc) and he thinks you cheat cuz he’s travelling for work and he’s had this small insecurity for a while
but obviously you’re not (leave it to you what reader was doing and if she reveals) cheating and comfort ensues
(love me some jealous hotch)
fem!plus size reader, wc: 566.
a/n: i know i need to let the angst breathe, but being the angst lover that i am, i almost jumped at this LMAO.
cw: angst, and fears of cheating :(
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Aaron wouldn’t blame you for cheating on him.
He was never home, he had a hard time answering your calls, and he barely texted you back; especially if he was away on a case. 
He hated that he even thought like this, but many nights he’d often catch you on your phone, texting away like he wasn’t lying right next to you. Aaron hated being nosy, but he’d sometimes find himself leaning over – just a bit – and playing it off as kissing you on cheek and bidding you goodnight. 
He’d understand if you were using the device to cool down or relax, but it was an everyday affair. When you were cooking? You’re texting with one hand. When you’re eating? As soon as the damn thing vibrates your eyes flicker over to where Aaron was sitting across from you quickly before looking back down and flipping the damn thing over.
Who the hell was holding your attention like this? 
Aaron didn’t want to offend you by accusing you of cheating on him, because he loves you, but if he didn’t at least know he would go crazy.
“Honey?” He had called out to you one night, his voice soft.
“Hm?” You hummed, your eyes still attached to your screen that illuminated the soft contours of your face. God, you were breathtaking.
“I -” For the first time since the beginning of your relationship, Aaron had no idea how to talk to you. “I don’t mean to intrude but… what are you doing?”
Your eyebrows furrow and you look up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that for the past week your phone has been glued to your hand.”
You look almost surprised at his confrontation, and that made his stomach drop. Is it really as bad as he thought it was? He felt the bile rise in the back of his throat.
“Oh.” You were almost conflicted. “I-”
“Is there someone else?” Aaron never interrupted you, but he had to know, he had to get the hard part out of the way.
Your jaw dropped and your brows dipped low in disbelief, “Wha - what? No!” You scrambled to shove your device in his hand. “There’s no one Aaron, look.” Your head gestured down to your phone and when he did, he felt like an idiot.
There at the top was labeled ‘Penny <3’
“You know… your birthday is coming up soon, and me and Penelope were just trying to plan something nice for you. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t ask me about it because you know I can’t lie to you, and I didn’t want all of Penelope’s hard work to go to waste.”
Oh yeah, he was definitely really fucking embarrassed, but he was also overcome with the overwhelming feeling of shame.
How could he have assumed the worst out of you? All this time you were distant was because you loved him so much to the point where you couldn't keep anything from him.
“Oh, honey I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with remorse, and you only grabbed his large hand and kissed the back of it in response. You felt a cheeky smile tugging on your face.
“I’ll forgive you on one condition.”
“Whatever you want, it’s yours.” You shivered at the satisfying sound.
“You have to act surprised when you walk into the room okay?”
He chuckles but nods, “I promise.”
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ddejavvu · 6 months
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wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife
"How could you cheat on your wife?"
Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.
All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.
"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"
She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.
Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."
And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.
Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"
She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.
"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.
"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.
"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"
"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.
She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."
It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"
"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."
A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.
"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"
That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.
"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.
"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.
"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."
She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"
"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.
"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."
"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.
"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."
"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.
"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"
"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.
"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.
"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."
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luveline · 6 months
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hi, i have a request for hotch if that's okay with you :)
when they're on the jet, yn is smiling a lot at her phone so the team starts to tease her because the think that she has a mysterious boyfriend. and she does, but he's sitting right next to her and he's also wondering who's making her smile like that since it's clearly not him
tysm!
Hotch is trying hard to award you your privacy, but your smile makes it difficult. You're actually squared away from him despite sitting in the seat beside him of your own free will, your phone to your chest, a huge smile curved across your cute mouth. 'Cute mouth', Hotch thinks to himself with derision. He's thoroughly whipped for you. It might not work out. 
You've been secretive and strange on your phone for an hour now. With nothing left to do but wait for the jet to touch down, you can watch whatever or text whenever you want. Hotch just wishes it wasn't so distracting. Who are you texting? He feels ill. 
"Who's that?" 
The dam finally breaks. As soon as Morgan asks, Emily pipes up, "Yeah, who is it?" as Rossi laughs and declares, "I know that look. Young Y/N's in love." 
You side eye Hotch. "Workplace harassment," you say. 
"Who is it?" Hotch asks. 
You gawp but laugh at his unprofessional questioning, pressing your phone screen tight to your chest. "Hotch, it's–" 
"Your not-so-secret boyfriend? Come on, we all know you have one," Morgan says. 
"I know you know, you're like sharks," you say, giving them all a great long look. 
For weeks now, you've glowed. This overzealous smiling and laughing is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Your nosy coworkers can't hold back their curiosity any longer. Hotch was stupid enough to think that your secretive dates and nights spent curled in on one another might be the reason behind your new hopped up sprightliness, but apparently not. 
"So you admit it!" Emily cheers. 
"Maybe. But it's not what's happening on my phone." 
"Well, what is it?" Spencer asks. 
They've leaned in on you, a circle of eager faces. Your sudden decision to admit you —maybe— have a boyfriend is as much as anyone's gotten out of you in weeks. If anyone could tease the truth from you, of course it's Hotch, and so the team looks to their leader pleadingly. 
He's not sure he wants to know. "They won't leave you alone otherwise," he says, hoping that his expression shows his leniency. Your secrets are your own if you want to keep them. 
You smile at him. Again, he thinks you have a cute mouth, and that he's biassed but you definitely smile sweeter at him than anyone else. You and Hotch know something the others don't, amusement like light behind your irises. "I'll show you," you say smugly, "and only you, Hotch." 
"Typical," Morgan murmurs, sitting back on the couch. 
Hotch clenches his sweaty palms beneath the table. "Alright." 
You lean in against his shoulder. Your phone turns on, and he's taking deep breaths as you click to your photo app, and then an album labelled with a simple, '<3'. 
It's photos of him. Most he knows you took, sitting across from you in dark restaurants or kneeling in your apartment putting together a new set of drawers. Your giggles begin in earnest as you swipe through them to a more recent photograph. You couldn't have taken it more than a week ago, when he'd stayed the night with you by accident, too tired to leave. His face is slack in sleep. He realises it's a video when you click a button and the sound of crinkling fabric plays from your speaker. In the video, you unbutton the tight collar of his shirt, stroking his neck briefly with a loving knuckle. The video moves down to frame his arm, his hand clinging to your other one like a sucker. 
Hotch looks up from the video and blinks at you. Your hand on his sleeping neck, the sound of your tired laughter —he can't not smile. "Oh. That's…"
"What did you show him?" Morgan asks, his voice coloured with both amusement and frustration. The team echo his question.
"I can't kiss and tell," you say, still tucked up by his side. 
"I think it's best if you don't, L/N," Hotch agrees. 
He'd lose all credibility. 
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ynscrazylife · 29 days
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i need to be excused (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)
summary: yknow that scene where hotch says “excuse me” and then faints? imagine that but his wife does it to him.
Having a profiler for a husband gets annoying with how observent he is. Unfortunately, you’re also a profiler, so it’d be hypocritical to complain.
Still, when Hotch notices the slightest thing wrong, he latches onto it. He’s had his eye on you ever since you took a hard hit from a fight in the field. You barely had time to recover before the team had to board the jet again to respond to some emergency Strauss needed them for.
Apparently, a man who claims to be linked to other murders and who was a former BAU agent had made a threat against Strauss’s family. Finally back at the BAU, the team’s stuck calling people, making arrangements, going through endless paperwork to try and get more information and figure out what was going on.
You’re not doing so hot. Still reeling from the pain, but also exhausted and definitely moody. Hotch keeps it professional since they’re at work, but is still watching out for you.
Hours later, after correctly identifying the man and making the arrest (which included lots of running around), the team again returns to their base. They’re going through everything and debriefing next steps, when you abruptly stand.
“I need to be excused for a moment,” you say, already sounding breathless, before promptly keeling over and collapsing onto the floor.
For a second, everyone freezes in shock. Hotch is the first to react. He all but screams your name, dropping to his knees and trying to assess what’s going on.
“Honey, honey? C’mon, wake up. What’s going on? Sweetheart, please,” Hotch says as he shakes you, moving you so that your head is in his lap.
Spencer kneels on your other side, gently taking your pulse and reporting that it’s stable. “Could be exhaustion, dehydration . . .” He trails off, listing all the reasons he can think of.
Hotch uses one hand to run his fingers through your hair and the other to cup your face, lightly tapping your cheek. After nearly a minute of the team standing around, wondering what to do, your eyes start to flutter open.
“Aaron?” You mutter, seeing your husband’s eyes first.
“Hi, hon. You passed out. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling,” he says, keeping his voice soft but letting out a breath of relief now that you’re awake. He continues threading his fingers through your hair and rubs his thumb against your cheek.
You blink a couple times and then say, “Tired.”
Exhaustion, then. “You’re sure that’s it? Is anything else wrong?” Hotch asks, anxious to role out some underlying cause.
You nod, then grimace at the lightheaded feeling it gives you, turning and smushing the side of your face in Hotch’s lap. He looks up at the team and gestures his head towards the door.
They get the hint, though Emily and Spencer do offer to stay behind and help. Hotch thanks them but assures them that you’ll be alright and the team takes off.
“Do you feel alright to sit up?” Hotch asks after a moment.
“Yeah,” you murmur and, with his help, sit up. You immediately lean into his arms. “Ooh, wow. Dizzy.”
“I think you pushed yourself a bit too hard, sweetheart. We gotta make sure you rest properly. Wouldn’t hurt to get some food and water in you, too,” Hotch says, cradling you.
You hum in agreement. The two of you sit there for a bit, Hotch being in no rush to move you. He can’t help but reflect a bit and he sighs, shaking his head.
“What?” You ask grumpily.
“Just a little in shock that you actually excused yourself before fainting,” he says. He recognizes the funniness of it, though he lacks any amusement, still too worried.
You chuckle. “Was tryin’ to be polite,” you explain.
“I’m sure you were,” Hotch says, smearing a kiss against your head.
You continue on sitting, Hotch rubbing your back. Finally, he gets the both of you on your feet, and leads you out to the car. He sits you in the passenger’s seat and buckles you in, driving you home. Once there Hotch immediately gets you in bed, helping you change into pajamas before doing the same. He gets you a glass of water and a snack, making sure that you eat and drink it all.
“Wanna sleep now,” you mumble once you’re done, curling into his chest.
“Of course, dear. Just relax,” he coos, already planning to call you both out of work tomorrow. He does not take his wife fainting lightly and is going to do everything he can to make sure you’re okay.
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headkiss · 4 months
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something more
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pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.
“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”
“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.
“I should really get this done-”
“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’
“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”
He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.
“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.
“Okay, put me to work, boss.”
“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.
He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”
“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.
It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”
And he still wanted to check on you.
“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”
“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.
“Get in here, Hotchner.”
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.
So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”
You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.
“Who taught you that one, huh?”
“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”
“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”
And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”
“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”
“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.
“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.
“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”
“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”
“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.
“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”
“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”
You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.
It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”
His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”
You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.
“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”
Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.
It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”
“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
“We fell asleep, but we landed.”
“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”
“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”
Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”
He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”
“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”
“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”
Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.
“Really?”
“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“
“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.
“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”
“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”
“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.
“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.
“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.
On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.
“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”
Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”
Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.
-
You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”
“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts weren’t so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.
“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”
Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”
“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”
“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”
“If you say so, Hotchner.”
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”
“Learned from the best,” you say.
You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, you’re on a mission to change that.
While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”
Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”
You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.
“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”
For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.
“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”
Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.
“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.
It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
“Finally,” from Emily.
“About time,” from JJ.
“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
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zvdvdlvr · 3 months
Text
— I Love You
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— 🧠 synopsis. A tough case leaves you in the more than willing arms of SSA Aaron Hotchner.
— 🧠 word count. 2,409
— 🧠 warnings. Foul language. Idiots to lovers. Friends to lovers. Weird plot. Possible jealous!Hotch.
Maybe it was the children that hadn’t been saved in time. Maybe it was the pitying glances from not only the team, but the police officers. Maybe, even, it was the way Aaron’s eyes flitted away any time y/n looked up. 
No, y/n was mad. Angry, spiteful, defiant- any other synonyms for angry. The fact that the unsub had been completely fooled by y/n’s act until he had promptly decided he didn’t believe y/n’s promise to help in any way she could to lower his prison sentence. That’s the thing with schizophrenics: they’re extremely paranoid.
Y/n was so infuriated, she refused to talk- a habit that she had learned from childhood. If she didn’t say anything, she couldn’t get in trouble. It was a bad habit that y/n had eventually stopped by the time she went to college because the anger she kept inside of her without any kind of release would always find a way to rot her from the inside out. 
So now, even on the flight home, y/n still hasn’t said more than two sentences in a row.
— 🧠
Aaron Hotchner was a man with excellent observation skills and the ability to adapt. He knew y/n’s habit of reserving herself to silence due to the amount of time they have worked together, but Aaron felt like something was different this time.
Instead of starting the pile of paperwork he already had, Aaron instead found himself watching y/n. She was always extremely sensitive to cases that dealt with kids, but this seem to hit home, adding to the fact that their unsub had blown his brains out within a five foot radius of y/n and the seven-year-old girl that had been the last victim. 
When the team had gotten to the scene, they watched the little girl dissolve into y/n’s arms, brain matter and blood on the latter’s face. The look in y/n’s eyes when Derek had immediately rushed to the two of them was one of complete despair. Aaron watched, paralyzed, as you picked up the little girl and let her scream and wail near your ringing ears. You turned, pressing her head down so she wouldn’t look at the dead body and look Aaron dead in the eyes and took the child to the ambulance.
Something in your eyes had provoked worry in Aaron. Did you feel guilty? Were you not allowing yourself to break down when you needed to be strong for the little soul in your arms? Was there something you were trying to tell him?
“Hey,” Hotch murmured. He sat down as carefully as he could (which wasn’t too impressive seeing as it was 1 in the morning on a plane).
When you didn’t say anything, Hotch sighed. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I need you to know you did what you had to do. What he did… that wasn’t on you, y/n.”
Then you looked up at him with tears in your eyes and Aaron felt his heart sink. “Oh, honey…” he whispered. 
And then you were in his arms, crying, while trying not to wake up the others. “Hotch, I-“ you started, sniffling. 
“I’m here, sweetheart,” Aaron all but cooed, lightly carding his fingers through your hair. He knew you blamed yourself because that’s how you are. You always strive to do the best you possibly could, oftentimes resorting to neglecting yourself whenever you did something that you knew you could have done better or simply because you forgot. 
“It’s all my fault, Aaron, I- I could have saved him but- I… I messed up and I- I don’t even know what I did! And that little girl…” you trailed off, another wave of tears threatening to overtake your ability to speak. 
Aaron’s throat bobbed as he struggled to find the words to comfort the woman in his arms. Long ago had he resigned to simply being y/n’s boss/borderline friend because he accepted the fact that- as much as he hated to admit it- he was older, not your type, or just simply unattractive. But he would do theoretically anything you asked him to do even if it caused him heartbreak in the future.
“You saved that little girl, angel. *You* did. If you save one of them, you save all of them. Focus on the good, honey, not the bad. If you can do that then you can do anything, and believe me,” Aaron smiled, “I have no doubt in my mind you can do anything.” 
Aaron held you and prayed to God that you didn’t hear how fast his heart was racing. He brushed your tears away and let you sleep on his shoulder, happy that he had hopefully gotten you out of your funk.
— 🧠
Later, Aaron woke up to Derek tapping his shoulder. “Do you want me to take our golden girl home?” Derek asked, with a softness to his voice that he had whenever he talked to you. 
Blinking away the tiredness from his eyes, Aaron shook his head. “No. No, I got her. Tjank you, Derek, but you need to go home and get some rest.” 
Derek nodded. “Get home safe,” he said to Hotch, a small smile in his face when he heard you sigh a little in you sleep and bury your head even further into Aaron’s neck.
Derek patted Aaron’s shoulder before taking his leave.
“Wake up, y/n,” Aaron murmured, heart swelling in his chest when he heard you mumble incoherent words.
Slinging his own go-bag and yours over his shoulders, Hotch helped you stand up.
“Hotch, lemme take my-“ you started, being cut off with a yawn.
“I got it, y/n,” Aaron chuckled. He let you slip your arm in his and all but lean on him as he made his way to his car. 
When he got you settled into the passage seat, Aaron tossed the bags in the back and started the drive to your house. 
“Aaron?” You asked, voice small.
He looked over at you. Despite the lack of light, Aaron watched you pick at your fingers. “Yeah?”
It took you a minute before saying something. You wanted to ask him why he kept calling you ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’. It’s not that you didn’t like it (you loved it), you just don’t think he could keep calling you that if he didn’t have any kind of attraction to you. You, though, you’ve been enamored with Aaron Hotchner since the day he shook your hand and offered you a job. 
Similarly, you wanted to ask him what he did when he got lost in his own mind; when he himself couldn’t pull himself out of his thoughts. 
So you settled on a breathless “Thank you”. 
Silence reigned once more as Aaron tried to pick out the meaning of your thanks. Where you thanking him for driving you home? For letting you fall asleep on him? For… being one of the best friends you’d ever had in your life without saying it?
When Aaron carried your bag to the door as you unlocked the it, he wondered if there was another universe where he was taking you home every night, going to bed with you, waking up to Jack begging for pancakes with you, dropping Jack off at school with you, and then going to work with you. Maybe, Aaron thought, somewhere in another universe I’m watching the woman I love fall asleep with my child in her arms. 
“Do you… need anything else?” Aaron asked, holding out y/n’s go-bag for her to take. 
Aaron kicked himself. He felt like a school boy whenever you’re around, and the fact that he’s standing in front of you and your home isn’t really helping his nerves.
“Would you maybe want to, uh… stay? For tonight?” Y/n blurted. Aaron’s eyes must have widened because he saw y/n become flustered. “I- you know, just for tonight. I need a ride to work tomorrow anyway… You- You might as well just stay.”
“If you want me to-“
“Please?” 
Aaron stepped into y/n’s house and immediately toed off his shoes. “Where do you want me to put this?” 
“I’ll take it.” She accepted the bag and walked to her room.
Aaron walked around the kitchen. Your house was clean and colorful. You had quite a few photos of the sunset framed by your television, but there were a lot more candid shots of the BAU then of your family. Hm.
“Come here, A,” you called from your room (?).
Dutifully, Aaron followed the sound of your voice, pushing your door open slowly and entering your room. Where you sleep. Where you get dressed and undressed. Where you live.
You walked over to Aaron and handed him a little pile of clothes. “These should fit. I guessed your size. If those don’t fit I have more men’s clothes.” 
“Why do you have men’s clothing?” Aaron asked, a smile toying at his lips. 
“Brothers, boyfriends… they’re comfy,” y/n shrugged. “Does it matter, Aaron?” 
Aaron watched you tilt your head, smirk widening. 
“Just curious.” He defends himself poorly, red tinging his cheeks as he scratches his head.
“Bathroom’s right in there,” you say, pointing to the door attached to your room. 
Aarom walks to your bathroom and shuts the door. He immediately releases a breath of air he hadn’t realize he had been holding. After turning on the lights, he changes into the clothes you gave him. Both owns smelled exactly like you, something that made Aaron smile.
He shut off the light and closed the door. “Thank you, y/n. I appreciate it.”
You looked up from your dresser. “You’d do the same for me. There’s nothing to thank me, Aaron.”
“What are you doing?” Aaron asked, approaching your figure. 
“I don’t think you would want to see me walk around in just a bra and boxers, A,” y/n laughs. 
The bluntness of your answers smacks Aaron in the face with a metal bar. “Boxers?” He finds himself asking.
You just laugh. “They’re comfortable.” 
“You don’t have to change your sleeping routine for me,” Aaron says quietly, eyes looking directly into your own.
“Are you sure?” 
“We’re just sleeping,” Aaron shrugs. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”
Your eyes flicker between your boss’s and suddenly your wondering how you got here. The line between boss/employee and more-than-friends/not-quite-dating was blurred and you didn’t even remember putting your thumb on how you felt about your boss.
“Okay,” you say slowly. You close the drawer, holding a sports bra and boxers. “I’m gonna go change and go to sleep… Do you want me to set up the couch or just sleep in the bed with me?” 
“What do you want, y/n?”
You direct your gaze to the floor. “I don’t care, honestly.” You weren’t just gonna tell your crush you feel safer when his touch is what lulls you to sleep, that you’ve been in love with him since practically the beginning of time, that you wanted more than just a night (of PG activities!) with him.
“I hear your brain going 200 miles an hour over there, sweetheart. What’re you thinking?” Aaron teases.
“Will you hold me, Aaron?” You ask, urging yourself to look into his eyes. Moment of truth, you think, he’s either gonna laugh in my face or I’m gonna fall even deeper in love with my boss as we cuddle.
Aaron feels winded at your tiny voice. Yes, he wants to scream, yes! “Go get changed, honey. I’ll be right here.” 
Then that smile is back and all Aaron wants to do his pick you up in his arms and kiss you, maybe spin you around the room. His heart swells in his chest again (it’s been doing that a lot lately, he notes) as you pat his arm in thanks as you pass him to head to your bathroom.
Aaron climbs into your bed, setting his essentials (badge, keys, gun, etc.,) on the nightstand. 
You flip off the light switch and pad over to the bed and slip under the covers. 
For what felt like a millennium, Aaron held his breath and waited. 
“Aaron, I have to tell you something. It’s been on my mind and… just hear me out. Please. You don’t have to say anything back and I understand if-“ you babble.
“Take a breath, y/n,” Aaron soothes. “What’s up?”
“I’m in love with you, Aaron Benjamin Hotchner. Like, if I had to choose between you over breathing I would literally spend my last breath telling you how much I love you. You are always on my mind, Aaron, and it hurts because I can’t do anything about it. I know I’m not your type, I know I’m just your co-worker, I know you probably aren’t looking to date anyone, but I just… I want you to know,” you ramble, words tumbling out of your mouth like Reid when he get’s started on some random fact. 
Aaron blinks, pupils widening. “Do you seriously think you’re ‘just a co-worker’ to me?” 
You swallow. “Yeah?”
“Do you think I would let just anyone call me Aaron? How often to you see me taking out Morgan for coffee when he gets cranky? Do I almost always end up sitting by Emily on the flight home after a case? Do I call Spencer ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’?” Aaron asks quietly, hand resting on your cheek while he tucks a loc of hair under your ear so he can see your eyes better. “Jack loves you. I love you.” Aaron laughs at how comically large your eyes get.
“Jack loves me?” You ask.
Aaron laughs. “He loves you ‘to the moon and back’.” 
“He loves that book, Aaron, don’t laugh at your baby boy,” you scold playfully.
“I outdo him though, because I love you to Saturn and back.”
You turn to the nightstand and shut the light off before turning back to face Aaron. “Will you hold me, Aaron? Please?” 
“C’mere, sweetheart,” Aaron says, opening his arms to welcome you into him. 
And then that’s when you know his words are true. His heart rate  is definitely elevated, but so is yours. “Will you tell me you love me, again?”
Aaron, now lying on his back with you clinging onto him like a weighted blanket, complied. Carding his fingers through her hair, Aaron lulled her mind off to a quiet, safe place. “I love you, angel,” Aaron whispered, pressing a soft kiss to y/n’s forhead.
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angellsell · 2 months
Text
Honey is for Love
Summary: you have a nickname, one from both Aaron and Jack Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Genre: fluff [oneshot] Warning(s): none A/N: I don't particularly like the way I wrote this one but I hope you do
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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city. 
Aaron and I were seated at the dinner table, enjoying a homemade meal after a long day of work at the BAU. Across from us, Jack was enthusiastically recounting his adventures at preschool, his eyes wide with boundless excitement. I gazed at the little man, and a warmth blossomed within me. His innocence and enthusiasm were contagious, wrapping me in a blanket of joy.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when Aaron reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Honey, can you pass me the salt?" he asked, his voice tender.
I smiled, handing him what he asked. It wasn't the first time he had called me ‘honey’. It was a term of endearment that had become second nature to him, a sweet nickname reserved for me only that warmed my heart every time.
As we continued our dinner conversation, Jack's eyes kept wandering between his dad and me. I could see the wheels turning in his four-year-old mind. After a moment of contemplation, he looked up at me with innocent curiosity.
"Daddy calls you honey" he said, his words laced with a childlike statement of sincerity that could melt even the coldest heart.
I chuckled, ruffling his hair. "That's right, sweetheart. Daddy calls me honey"
The next day, we decided to spend some quality time together at the park. The sunlit afternoon was perfect for a leisurely stroll. Aaron, Jack, and I walked side by side, the small relationship growing and becoming a blend of laughter and shared moments.
As we strolled through the park, Jack tugged at my hand, pulling me slightly off balance.
He looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes that I’m sure only children are able to do. "Can you hold my hand, honey?"
I blinked, glancing at Aaron, who had a delighted expression on his face. Jack had just called me ‘honey’ without any prompting. My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through me.
I looked down at him, suppressing a grin. "Of course, sweetie. I'd love to hold your hand"
The three of us continued our walk, Jack happily skipping alongside us, his small hand firmly grasping mine. Aaron and I exchanged glances, silently reveling in the unexpected sweetness of the moment.
Later that evening, as we settled into the comfort of my boyfriend's apartment, Aaron gently lifted Jack and sat him on his lap.
The boy's eyes sparkled with innocence as he looked at his dad. 
Aaron leaned in, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Jack, I don’t think I ever told you clearly and I’m so sorry for that. Her real name is Y/N. Can you say that, buddy?"
Jack looked at me and nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Y/N"
“Good job!”
He smiled at his dad but suddenly his expression froze. "But daddy? Why do you call Y/N 'honey' then?" the little boy asked, his curiosity unfiltered.
Aaron smiled, exchanging a glance with me. "Well, buddy, I call her 'honey' because I love her"
Jack's eyes widened in understanding, and he turned his gaze toward me. "Daddy loves you, Y/N"
My name flowed so sweetly from his lips as he felt it for the second time. His mouth curved, a proud smirk covering his whole face.
I felt a surge of warmth in my chest, tears threatening to fall. "And I love your daddy too, Jack"
For the rest of the evening we all sat there, the room filled with the joy of shared moments and the understanding that had formed between us. 
As we sat there, basking in the warmth of our little growing family, I couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected and heartwarming journey that had unfolded - one filled with love, laughter, and the sweet simplicity of a child's genuine affection.
An affection that would link the savor of 'honey' to love.
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inkdrinkerworld · 10 months
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aaron seeing reader in one of his old law school shirts and he’s like yeah this is heaven
all the air releases from his lungs as he comes home to find you lounging on the couch in his harvard hoodie.
“you’re back early,” you say, eyes shining with love as he makes his way to you immediately.
“mhm, as bad as it may sound, we had an easy case to solve today.”
aaron smushes his lips to your forehead before laying in your lap- trying for covertness but his hands tugging on the soft cotton gives him away.
“can i help you?” a giggle takes over your voice as your boyfriend’s hands climb up your torso.
“you’re wearing my shirt,” he says, a dreamy tone to his voice as he blinks up at you. “or rather, my hoodie.”
you nod, “i ran out of shirts,” you were on day number ten at his house and you’d only packed for a week. “stole the comfiest looking one.”
he places a kiss to your stomach, “you look good in it,” a second passes. “better than good actually.”
your belly heats up from his affection and you risk a small flick of his nose as you say rather bashfully, “stop.”
her only laughs, kissing your palm before pressing it to his cheek. “come to bed, honey. we can finally have an early night.”
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irndad · 14 days
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won't you be my sunshine-a.h.
a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!
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Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 
This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.
The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.
Which isn’t to say that he has one. 
There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 
It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.
That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 
Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 
He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 
“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 
He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 
“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”
She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 
He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 
He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 
He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 
It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 
“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 
“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 
“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”
It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 
He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 
“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 
It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 
“I thought you’d never ask.”
(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 
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