#aaron hotchner x f!reader

[chvoswxtch]

let's play

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: sharing is caring, afterall.

warnings: once again, every single one of them. swearing, spencer whimpering, daddy hotch, derek morgan's blinding charming ass smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: the highly requested and anticipated sequel to slumber party has arrived. once again, there is no plot, bc none of you came here for that. you don't have to read part one to understand this installment, but it is highly encouraged. please enjoy this lil valentine's treat from me to you. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Before Hotch or Derek even had a chance to step foot into Spencer’s hotel room, Spencer had kicked it shut behind himself after ushering you inside. The two men exchanged looks of confusion, glancing between each other and the closed door in front of them. Derek held his bag by the handles over his shoulder in one hand, and when he went to twist the knob on the door, it was locked. He raised his fist to lightly knock against the door.

“Hey Reid-”

“Come back in an hour.”

Derek’s ebony brows instantly pinched together, and he tossed Hotch an incredulous look over his shoulder.

“What’d he just say?”

Hotch’s permanent scowl abruptly returned to his sharp features as he stepped forward, raising his fist to pound harshly against the door.

“Reid, open this door, now.”

“In an hour.”

Derek let out a scoff, dropping his bag onto the floor with a loud thud.

“What happened to sharing, pretty boy?”

“We will, in fifty-nine minutes.”

Spencer’s voice was somewhat muffled through the thickness of the door, and it sounded far away, like he was deeper inside the room. Before either of them could say another word, a loud moan suddenly sounded from inside that clearly belonged to you. Hotch clenched his jaw while Derek stepped forward with an expression of pure irritation.

“Reid, either you open this door, or I’m kicking it down so help me-”

Hotch placed his palm against Derek’s chest and gave a slight shake of his head. Without another word, Hotch reached into his pocket and produced a room key, and in one swipe, a click followed by a flashing green light signaled that the door was unlocked. Hotch twisted the knob and pushed the door open, stepping into the room with Derek hot on his heels. 

Spencer’s head perked up from between your thighs at the abrupt intrusion, his lips and chin already glistening with your arousal, and a concoction of puzzlement and vexation knit his brows together.

“How-”

Hotch held up his right hand with the key card nestled between his index and middle finger, arching one of his thick brows in a pointed expression.

“You think I don’t have a master key to each of my agent’s rooms for emergency purposes?”

While on his knees in front of the bed with his hands clamped firmly around your soft thighs, Spencer stared at the key in Hotch’s hand as if it had personally wronged him. He hadn’t planned for that. He had planned on having you all to himself for an hour before he had to share.

“Son of a bitch.”

Derek’s mouth instantly parted into an amused tooth bearing grin at Spencer’s outburst of realization, and he chuckled while crossing his arms over his chest, causing his light gray t-shirt to stretch over his firm chest and large biceps.

“Nothing like a pretty girl to slice that genius IQ right in half. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

Raising up on your elbows on the bed, you glanced over at Derek with a faint smirk as you arched one of your brows in a teasing gesture.

“I don’t know what you’re getting cocky about. He’s the one with the eidetic memory of the female anatomy and what I like.”

“Oh it’s like that, huh? Do I need to remind you who in this room has the most practice with female anatomy? Cause I seem to remember you feeling pretty satisfied on the jet earlier.”

Slipping your hand down into the mess of light brown curls on top of Spencer’s head, you gave his hair a gentle tug to guide his mouth back to where you wanted it, a silent command he happily obliged. Feeling the warmth of Spencer’s wet tongue starting to glide slowly over your clit again, you laid back against the mattress once more and closed your eyes while a soft sigh emitted from your parted lips.

“A little refresher course never hurt anyone. Take a seat, boys. Dr. Reid is giving an oral presentation.”

Whatever argument Hotch or Derek had quickly died on their tongues as they became entranced watching Spencer sensually and slowly eat your pussy from his spot on his knees at the edge of the bed. The four of you had spent the past twelve hours since the jet landed making your rounds at the police station, visiting the scene of the crime, and the medical examiner’s office before Hotch finally decided it was time to check into the hotel. All of you were beyond exhausted, but none of you could stop thinking about what was going to happen the second the four of you were finally alone together.

There had been a buzzing energy surrounding the four of you since you stepped off the jet with the promise of more in the back of everyone’s minds.

As much as their hands were itching to touch you, Hotch and Derek couldn’t tear their eyes away from the enticing show taking place in front of them. The way your body writhed gently against the mattress, the rhythm of your hips rolling back and forth against Spencer’s face like a delicate ocean tide, the soft and hedonistic noises of pleasure that rose in volume and pitch as Spencer devoured you like a man on death row savoring his last meal.

“At least we found a way to shut him up.”

Hotch softly grinned at Derek’s quiet quip while reaching up to loosen the knot on his tie completely, slipping it from around his neck. 

“Silver lining. Help her get more comfortable, would you?”

Derek grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it carelessly behind himself. As soon as his belt was unbuckled, he kicked off his shoes and pushed his jeans down to his ankles to step out of them, leaving him in a white pair of briefs that were already bulging from his half hard cock.

“Way ahead of you.”

Taking a few steps over towards the large bed, Derek moved to sit on his knees right behind your head and leaned forward to grab the bottom of your dress that was bunched up around your hips. He pulled it upwards to slip it off of you, leaving you completely exposed. The cool temperature in the room quickly had your nipples rising to stiff peaks, and you shivered when Derek’s large and warm hands began to squeeze your breasts firmly. Letting your eyes flutter open, you stared up into Derek’s deep and warm chocolate brown eyes as he flashed you that charming grin that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

“Reid putting his mouth to good use?”

Sinking your top teeth into your bottom lip, you arched your back slightly off the mattress and moaned in response as Spencer trapped your clit between his soft lips and began to suck fervently. In return, you gave his hair a rough tug which had a moan of his own vibrating against your soaked cunt. The vibrations echoed throughout your trembling thighs, and your stomach felt tight with anticipation for what was coming, and what would follow afterwards.

Derek toyed with your sensitive nipples, alternating between flicking his thumbs over them, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, and pinching gently. He leaned over you, teasingly gliding his tongue in a languid circle around your hardened nub before sucking it into his mouth and biting down gently, causing you to tug harder at Spencer’s unruly roots. The combination of the stimulation from Derek and Spencer was almost too much, and it had you barreling towards euphoria quickly.

Opening your eyes, you were immediately drawn to the sight of Hotch sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, watching intently while a haze of lust darkened his eyes to the deepest shade you had ever seen them. He was still fully dressed in his suit, but he held his tie tightly in his right hand, and a jolt of excitement rushed through your nervous system.

“Who’s that for?”

Hotch lifted his gaze from Spencer’s head between your thighs to meet your eyes, and a wicked smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth.

“Now if I told you, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

Oh.

Hotch was in the mood to play. 

The more comfortable the four of you got with your little arrangement, the more everyone started to see the real version of one another in the bedroom. Out of the three men, Hotch was by far the most dominant, and enjoyed being in complete control, which wasn’t really a surprise to anyone. But the fetishes that lurked beneath the surface did catch you off guard from time to time. 

Derek wasn’t too keen on being tied up, unless you talked him into it on rare occasions, so you and Spencer were usually the object of Hotch’s bondage fantasies. You didn’t realize you would enjoy being completely at someone else’s mercy so much, but with Hotch, you found it incredibly erotic. Everything he did was to maximize your pleasure. He may have liked being in control, but out of the three of them, he definitely took the cake for being a giver.

The second Spencer gently grazed his teeth over your sensitive clit, your orgasm unexpectedly crashed over you without warning, and your body seized up while repetitive cries of pleasure tore through your chest. Gripping the sheets so hard in your fists your knuckles turned stark white, you tried to weakly pull away from Spencer’s delectable assault on your overstimulated clit, but Derek held your hips down firmly so that Spencer could continue to ravenously collect every drop you had to offer. 

The line between pleasure and pain was beginning to blur, and relief only came when Hotch grabbed Spencer by his hair and tugged his head backwards before pulling him up to his feet. Spencer’s pupils were completely blown open with lust, and his lips were somewhat swollen as they glistened with the burst of gratification he had wrung from you. He was lightly panting trying to catch his own breath.

“That’s enough.”

“But I-”

“You get to fuck her when I say you can. Understood?”

Spencer’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, one of his physical tells that he was aroused and trying to contain himself. He swallowed thickly and nodded his head in silent obedience. The deep and calm tone of Hotch’s voice was laced with a delicate warning, letting all three of you know that there was no room for debate regarding who was in control tonight.

You didn’t call him “Daddy of the BAU” for nothing.

“Yes sir.”

Releasing his grip on Spencer’s hair, Hotch grabbed onto the back of his neck instead and pulled him in to kiss him deeply, swiping his tongue along Spencer’s bottom lip and biting it roughly while humming in appreciation at the taste of you that lingered. A low growl sounded from deep within Hotch’s chest as he let go of Spencer.

“Good boy. Get undressed and switch places with Morgan.”

While Derek and Spencer swapped places, you moved to sit up on wobbly knees, and Hotch stepped forward to capture your jaw in his large hand, his ring and pinky finger resting along your neck against your pulse point to feel the thrum of your pounding heartbeat. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip lightly, and a flash of pure lust eclipsed over his darkened eyes when you wrapped your lips around it and pressed your tongue firmly against the pad of his thumb. He bent down to where your noses were just barely an inch apart.

“Do you think you could handle two of us at once, sweetheart?”

Your eyes instantly lit up at the question. Normally they all took turns with you, or one fucked you while you sucked another off. You had only taken two of them at once twice before, and while it caused a lingering ache for the following days after, it was absolutely worth it. Nodding your head eagerly, Hotch let out a dark chuckle as a crooked grin split across his lips.

“Good girl.”

Tearing his gaze away, Hotch looked at Derek and tossed him the tie that was in his hand, gesturing with his head towards Spencer’s direction.

“I want his hands tied to the bed.”

Derek turned to look down at Spencer with an amused smirk, taking a step closer towards the edge of the bed as he straightened out the tie in his hands.

“You heard ‘em, pretty boy. Lemme see those hands.”

Spencer let out a whine of protest, turning his head to look at Hotch with a pleading expression, but Hotch gave a firm shake of his head while slipping his jacket off of his broad shoulders and down his arms. 

“You follow the rules, you get what you want. You act like a brat, you get treated like one. Next time, you open the door when I tell you to. Give Morgan your hands.”

While Derek slipped the fabric around Spencer’s wrists in an intricate labyrinth to bind them together and tied them to the headboard with Hotch’s tie, Hotch took his time unbuttoning his dress shirt. You watched over your shoulder as Derek expertly weaved the tie around Spencer’s wrists with a soft pout on your lips.

“Don’t think I forgot about you.”

Before you had a moment to process the sound of Hotch unbuckling his belt, he grabbed your hips and twisted your body around to face Spencer, and just as quickly pulled your arms behind your back. Grabbing your wrists in one of his large hands, Hotch slipped the leather of his belt around them to secure your wrists together tightly. Your lips parted in surprise while you gazed down at Spencer below you. His arms were raised above his head, wrists crossed one over the other and bound to the headboard by Hotch’s black tie, the pupils of his eyes blown so wide they nearly obscured the hazel ring of his irises.

Your eyes fell to the sight of his hard cock, fully erect and standing proud to attention, the swollen tip a deep shade of rose and glossed over with weeping arousal. You could see the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten as you noticed him very tenuously flexing his hips upwards against nothing in search of friction. 

“He looks pretty like this, doesn’t he?”

Hotch whispered lowly in your ear, the warmth of his breath against your delicate skin causing you to shudder in response and arch your back subtly. 

“Yes.”

“Tell him.”

Staring down directly into Spencer’s eyes, a soft whimper caught in your throat while a fresh tide of arousal leaked between your thighs.

“You look so pretty like this, Spence.”

Hotch’s rough hands firmly gripped onto your hips as he pressed his bare chest flush against your back. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your lower back, and you instinctively pushed your ass back against him which caused him to dig his blunt nails into your soft flesh.

“Behave.”

Hotch quietly hissed between clenched teeth. Brushing your hair off your bare shoulder, he nuzzled his nose against the column of your neck and took your earlobe between his teeth, biting down roughly before gliding his tongue along the shell of your ear. A quiet shuddering breath slipped past your lips, and you could feel Hotch grin against your neck.

“Now, listen closely. I want you to ride Spencer while I fuck you from behind, and I want you to open that pretty mouth nice and wide to take Derek’s cock. Understood?”

Derek reached out to cradle your jaw in his large hand, gently tugging your bottom lip down with his thumb as he leaned in and pressed a teasing kiss right beneath your ear, whispering in a sultry voice.

“Think you can handle that, baby girl?”

“She can handle it. She’s a good girl.”

Despite being bound to the bed, Spencer’s voice had a rough and somewhat dominant cadence to it as he spoke matter of factly. All three men shared a knowing look between each other before Hotch smacked his palm against your ass, drawing your attention back to the present with a soft gasp tearing from your lips, reminding you that he expected an answer. Swallowing thickly, you nodded eagerly in a breathless voice.

“Yes.”

Derek arched one of his onyx brows as he slipped his hand down from your jaw down to your throat, giving it a faint squeeze.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

Derek’s lips parted into a dazzling proud grin. He slipped his hand down between your thighs, his index and middle finger experimentally slipping inside your soaked cunt while his thumb teasingly brushed over your sensitive clit. A sharp moan tore from your chest while you clamped your thighs around Derek’s hand, and his dark brown eyes flickered over your shoulder to give Hotch a slight nod of his head.

“Oh she’s more than ready.”

A whimper escaped your lips when Derek retracted his hand and lifted his fingers to his lips to lick them clean. Hotch lifted you up slightly to move you forward, causing you to straddle Spencer’s hips. Both of you let out a piercing whine as the head of his throbbing cock brushed against your pulsing clit, and as a deep chuckle rumbled in Hotch’s chest, you felt it vibrating against your back.

“Good. Then let’s play.”

Reaching down between you and Spencer, Derek wrapped his hands around the base of Spencer’s hard cock, which had Spencer hissing softly and lightly shifting his hips upwards. As Hotch gripped onto your hips and guided you forward, Derek assisted in aligning your body to help you slowly sink down on Spencer’s cock. Spencer had been watching earnestly, but as soon as your welcoming heat enveloped him completely and he bottomed out inside of you, his head fell back against the pillows as he let out a strangled moan, his jaw going slack and his eyes screwed shut. 

“Oh f-fuck…”

Spencer was by far the most vocal out of the three of them, and it always filled you with a rush of excitement being able to tear such alluring noises from his pretty mouth.

Giving you only a few seconds to adjust, Hotch placed his palm between your shoulder blades and pushed you forwards, causing you to lean over Spencer completely while Derek moved your hair away from your face. The only reason you hadn’t fallen over was because Hotch had a tight hold on the belt that was bound around your wrists, keeping you suspended in the exact position he wanted you in. Spitting into his palm, Hotch used his saliva as a lubricant to coat the length of his cock as he positioned himself behind you, lifting your hips slightly to make you arch your back and align your ass further up into the air.

“Take a deep breath for me, baby.”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you dug your nails deeply into the skin of your palms in anticipation. Hotch reached around your body to strum his index and middle finger in quick circles over your clit, ripping a surprised moan from deep within your chest. Thanks to the orgasm Spencer had given you, your body was more relaxed, and your pussy was still slick with your release which made it easier for Hotch to join Spencer inside you. When you felt the blunt head of Hotch’s cock nudging against Spencer’s and slowly stretching you out inch by divine inch, your jaw became fully unhinged and your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head.

“Ohmygod-”

The voice that echoed from your throat didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. It was depleted of oxygen and came out in such a rush that your own ears had trouble unscrambling the words. The sound of Hotch letting out a guttural moan behind you sounded like thunder booming right in your ears. The serrated sting between your thighs was impossible to ignore as your spongy walls were stretched to accommodate them both, but the discomfort paled in comparison to the succulent fullness that you felt. Hotch continued to stimulate jolts of pleasure by strumming your clit with his index and middle fingers, trying to help your body to relax and adjust to the new and overwhelming intrusion. 

“Shh…there you go. Just breathe, baby girl.”

Derek was lovingly stroking his fingers through your hair while reminding you to perform such a basic subconscious action. As you struggled to suck in deep breaths, Spencer was impatiently thrusting his hips upwards in a slow rhythm, his biceps flexing while he tugged at the restraints on his wrist. Hotch gripped onto your hips tightly to keep you from falling on top of Spencer, his blunt nails leaving crescent shaped indentations on your soft hips. Once he felt the tension evaporate and your muscles loosening, he started to flex his hips forward to match Spencer’s delicate rhythm.

The composition of their conduction had your body swaying to the idle tempo they had silently established. Spencer and Hotch held you securely between their thighs, gliding back and forth over your delicate strings, coaxing legato notes of pleasure from your lips. 

Once Derek could see that you were completely relaxed and ready for more, he moved in closer and brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, a silent signal you instantly obeyed by parting your lips eagerly. A deep sigh of appreciation sounded from Derek’s chest when he slowly slipped his cock past your lips, and he gently traced his thumb along your cheekbone while you moaned at the feeling of his velvet weight caressing your tongue. 

This was the first time you had ever taken all three of them at once like this, and it was almost entirely too overwhelming. Every single one of your senses was overstimulated. 

Despite the three of them wearing starkly unique colognes, it was impossible to discern which smell belonged to who. Each of their scents perfectly mixed in with your own, creating one indistinguishable fragrance that enveloped you entirely and left you feeling intoxicated and light headed. Your skin was overheated already from the intensity of the moment, but also from the warmth that radiated naturally from each one of them; Hotch’s chest flush against your back, Derek’s palms caressing your cheeks, and Spencer’s thighs lightly smacking against your own. 

Even though your heart was pounding in your ears to the point of being deafening, you could hear the heavenly noises escaping each of them. Spencer was whimpering beneath you, begging for you to ride him harder. Derek was panting breathlessly above you, whispering softly how good you felt. Hotch was letting out deep growls and grunts as he moved behind you, demanding lowly in your ear that you take everything he was giving you.

The salty tang of Derek’s leaking arousal coated your tongue, but you could also still taste the roasted blonde espresso from Spencer’s lips and the fresh wintergreen mint that lingered on Hotch’s tongue. The pleasure was getting to be too much, and you couldn’t hardly keep your eyes open. You weren’t even on the brink of another orgasm yet, but there was already a firework show happening behind your eyelids. 

Something about this moment was so incredibly perfect, like this was where you all belonged. 

Together.

This wasn’t just about sex. It never had been. A piece of you had always belonged to each of them, and vice versa, ever since that first night in Vegas. There was just something about the four of you together that couldn’t be explained, but you all felt it every time you were with each other like this.

A single reaction from one of you set off a chain reaction for the rest of you. Hotch started to snap his hips in more powerful and precise thrusts, causing you to grind down harder on Spencer’s cock, and the vibrations of you moaning around Derek’s cock caused his own rhythm to become sloppy and falter when he began to fuck your face. 

The air in the hotel room was thick with heat and sweat like a sauna, and a cacophony of intermingled moans and grunts of satisfaction grew louder and louder the closer you all got to reaching a peak as grand as Everest. The second one of you jumped off the top to free fall, the rest of you would follow.

Spencer was the first to break. He was so far gone he couldn’t even get a warning out, but the second he released inside of you with a loud shout of your name, his spasming hips caused his pubic bone to bump against your clit repeatedly just right to set off your own orgasm. Hotch was fucking you relentlessly from behind as he chased his own high, and the contraction of your walls combined with the flood of yours and Spencer’s release made him double over as he grunted loudly, resting his forehead against your middle back while pumping his seed deeper and deeper within you. Derek was the last to fall apart. He let his head fall back while closing his eyes, his beautiful features twisted up in pure ecstasy as he let out a sensual moan while spilling down your throat.

The four of you were stuck together in a sweaty pile on the bed and no one wanted to move. Derek slowly slipped his softened cock from your lips so you could gasp for air, and he gently ran his fingers through your hair to help you calm down. Hotch did his best to carefully pull out, but the sudden movement had you crying out and tensing up. Hotch peppered gentle kisses along your shoulder blades, shushing you quietly while removing the leather restraint of his belt from your wrists and massaging them gently. Without him holding you up by your hips, you collapsed face first into Spencer’s chest.

When Derek freed Spencer’s wrists from the headboard, Spencer immediately wrapped his arms securely around your trembling frame and cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t dare move, letting himself soften inside of you as he held you there, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss and delicately carding his fingers through your hair.

Each one of you were panting hard, trying to regain your bearings from such an intense experience, but they had catapulted you so far up into the clouds, you weren’t sure you could ever make it down. It felt as if you had stuck your finger into an outlet, sending an intense shock throughout your entire body, the lingering electricity still crackling with the faintest jolts of motion. Their voices were distant and muffled, like your head was underwater, and you couldn’t focus on anything except the blackness that pulled over the entire horizon behind your eyelids.

Moments later, something cold and wet was pressed against the back of your neck, causing a shiver to spread throughout your body. When your eyes lazily fluttered open, you were met with the dim light of the hotel room, and as you slowly lifted your head, Spencer began to come into focus in front of you. He was laying back against the pillows watching you, holding a washcloth soaked in cold water against the back of your neck while still slipping his fingers through your hair with his other hand. He gently wiped the washcloth over both of your heated cheeks and flashed you a dopey grin.

“Welcome back to Earth, pretty girl.”

A faint blush tinted your cheeks as you looked at him with a tired smile, humming softly while nuzzling into the warmth of his body as you hugged him. “Hi.”

Hearing the sweet and sleepy mumble from your lips, Spencer leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Hotch and Morgan went to grab us some dinner. They’ll be back in a bit. How are you feeling?”

“Sticky.”

Spencer erupted in laughter at the adorable pout on your lips, nodding as he brushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

“There were a lot of bodily fluids being exchanged.”

“Okay, it sounds gross when you say it like that.”

“Is ‘you did have three guys come inside you at once’ better?”

Scrunching up your nose, you weakly lifted your hand to press your index finger against Spencer’s soft lips with a quiet laugh.

“Please shut up.”

Spencer chuckled as he pressed a soft kiss to your finger, tossing the wet washcloth onto the nightstand by the bed.

“Fine. How about a shower?”

“Too much standing.”

“A bath?”

Pretending to think it over, you eventually let out a soft exhale while gazing into Spencer’s hazel eyes with a teasing grin.

“Spencer Reid, you’re a genius.”

The edge of Spencer’s lips tugged upwards into a playful smirk, and he rolled his eyes at your lame joke. He moved to sit up, slipping one of his arms underneath your knees and his other around your waist so he could lift you up into his embrace to carry you towards the bathroom.

“So I’ve been told.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejloveb0t @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @viscade @starsm00n @kenseverything @storiesofsvu @sabage101 @spiritofthewriter  @geeksareunique @urlocalgeek @avencol

[criminalskies]

To Catch a Profiler - A Parent Trap Story.

Hi there loves! So this was originally posted on my old blog, but like everything else on there, it got thanos snapped along with my heart :( anyways, I thought i'd repost it because I thought this was really cute. I really enjoyed writing it, however, the longer i sat down and tried writing this a part two, the more I felt like I couldn't do it. So for now, this is a standalone fic. Hopefully you can still enjoy it for all that it is <;3!

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader. warnings: mentions/descriptions of sex (nondescript), MINORS DNI, pregnancy, nausea, vomiting, not the happiest of endings, but a sweet love story nevertheless. w/c: 2.5k

New Year’s Eve, 2012. As the crowd outside in the streets around your New York apartment counted down to midnight, you were overcome with joy, your arms and legs tangled with those of your lover. He held you close to him and as the clock struck midnight, the two of you celebrated in the most passionate way two lovers can, your souls intertwined as you worked together to chase your highs. By the time the clock struck one, the two of you were spent, choosing to lay in bed watching the remaining fireworks and balloons drifting through the night sky. Little did you two know, this was just the beginning of your story. 

Two months went by, you were living in quiet serenity with the one you loved, when you began feeling very strange. Not like any sickness you’d ever encountered, you were eating twice the amount you used to, you were having strong heartburn in bed every night and you would have to get out of bed to use the bathroom almost every hour. You didn’t feel anything like your normal self, so Aaron took you by the hand to the hospital to get checked out. That was when you learned what the New Year had really brought the two of you, a gift unlike any year before. You were expecting. You can still remember the shock you felt through your body when you heard the words. But more than that, you can remember the tears glistening in Aaron’s eyes, his grin spreading across his face as his cheeks burned red. His dimples were deeper than you’d ever seen them and you knew he was going to be the best father to your baby.

Only three weeks later, at your very first ultrasound, Aaron was sadly tied up in court, in what he would later call ‘the longest preceding of his career’, the sonographer let out a quiet gasp, offering you a smile of their own as they completed your baby’s scan. You knew they weren’t allowed to offer you any results, but when they fetched the doctor, she was offering you the same warm smile as she took you by the hand and showed you the two little blobs on the screen, “Twins?” You asked, beginning to tear up at the thought of your beloved Aaron, a baby on each arm. Your heart suddenly felt so full you could just fall down, luckily you were still seated on the exam bed when you found out. 

You spent that night pacing your small apartment, waiting for Aaron to return from work. You couldn’t wait to tell him your wonderful news that your beautiful family was just about to double in size. It wasn’t until you checked the time at 11:41 pm that you realised just how many times you’d found yourself in this situation lately, waiting for your lover to come home, hoping every sound out in the hall will be followed by his keys jangling in the lock. He was doing great work, putting awful people behind bars, you know that. You try not to hold it against him how hard he works to make money for you and for baby, but it’s getting harder and harder to be alone now that you’re entering a new endeavour for the both of you. You decided to head to bed, your ankles swelling and your body drained from pacing your apartment all night. His dinner was staying warm in the oven, and you needed to sleep. You heard him come home, quietly moving around the apartment at 1:30 in the morning but your overworked body was too tired to pick yourself up and go to him now. He showered and finally joined you in bed, wrapping you in his arms and splaying his big hand over your stomach, trying to hold you and your baby in his arms. 

You woke up so excited to tell him in the morning, your printed ultrasound in your purse waiting to deliver him the great news, and you came out into the kitchen to see a very exhausted Aaron making you breakfast on a tray. 

“Sweetheart, I was just going to bring you breakfast in bed. I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to make sure you and baby are fed before I head into the office.” He walked around the counter to you, looking so delicious in his apron that you took back every negative thought you’d had of him the previous night. You took him in your arms, kissing his beautiful cheeks. 

“Morning, hedgehog. I have something for you too! Not to brag but it is far better than breakfast in bed. Wait here!” He scowled a little at the nickname, knowing his infamous bed-head always left him looking like the most adorable little hedgehog. 

“Always have to one-up me, huh?” He remarked, as you skipped back into the kitchen with his gift. 

“Here, look at who I got to meet yesterday.” You handed him the ultrasound with a shaking hand, the anticipation of his reaction eating you up inside. 

“Oh! The ultrasound, oh angel I am so sorry I missed it. This case is just chewing away at my time, I’m sorry. I’ll cut back when baby is coming I swear. I’ll be here to help you, every minute I can.” He looked so apologetic, scanning your face for any sign of disbelief, but you believed him. You always trusted him to follow through with his word.

“Look, silly!” You lightheartedly yelled at him. He peers down at the printout, peering at it with that exaggerated look of focus you find so adorable on him.

“Wait, which end is the head? I’m lost.” He turned the photo to you for help.

“This is a head,” you pointed at the first little blob. “And so is this.” you pointed at the second one. Aaron turns to face you immediately, dropping the card to pick you up and swing you around, looking up at you as he spun in the kitchen.

“Twins! We’re having twins, are we? Oh my god. Oh my god! Wait we are having twins right, or one two-headed little baby. Oh I don’t even care, I will love them with all of me either way!” You had never seen him so happy, as he put you down just in time, the two of you starting to get dizzy.

“Well, I think it’s two one-headed babies, but with your genes who knows, baby?”  You tease him, always commenting on how his head had to be bigger to make room for all his knowledge. You’re kidding, of course, you love how well-read he is. His reading habit has only increased tri-fold since you learned you were pregnant, he has taken home a copy of every book on pregnancy, parenting and how to be a helpful teammate throughout the trimesters. He is going to be the greatest  father to your children, you have no doubts. He wants so badly to end the generational stoicism and hatefulness his father tried imbuing onto him in childhood. He will foster love and openness in your home and you know he will never cause your kids harm. You think that’s even why he’s been working more recently, too, wanting to make the world just that much better for your kids before they arrive and he has to take a step back from prosecuting.

The next few months fly by, all in a blur of morning sickness, twice the little kicks, your life feels like a revolving door of going to the bathroom to pee and living the rest of your life outside the confines of a toilet stall, but you and Aaron push through. You pick out baby names, paint the nursery, build cribs and baby proof your whole apartment, however temporary this home may be. You get it ready for your little family, for a new chapter. But you realise as time goes on that you’re doing more and more of this parenting and planning stuff alone. It isn’t that Aaron isn’t doing everything he can for your babies, it’s that he’s doing it all for them and all the things he used to do for you seem to have stopped. No breakfast in bed or foot rubs or the things that make your life feel more supported and easy, he puts all of his energy into being a prepared father and providing for your babies. As you have to leave your job, in your last trimester. You’re bed-bound for the last two months of the pregnancy which feel like forever. 

Aaron is still trying so hard to make the world a better place for your babies which means he is putting in seemingly endless hours at the office and in court, which you feel so proud of him for, but simultaneously you begin to feel very very alone. 

When you go into labour, it is unexpected and much too early for your little ones to be ready to meet the world, but here they come. You have to call your neighbour over to help you get to the hospital, and your best friend meets you there, holding your hand for hours until Aaron gets out of court for the day and finally finally checks his phone. He barely avoids landing himself in court for his driving on the way over but it’s all worth it when he arrives and takes over for your friend, helping you breathe through the waves of overwhelming pain as you prepare to bring your twins into the world. 

When your two little ones are born, tiny and screaming, Aaron follows the doctors and nurses to the warming stations where they determine that the babies are three weeks premature, but growing nicely and will need to spend just a little time in the NICU before they’re ready to come home with the two of you. 

You saw it happen, right before your eyes. The moment your little girls wrapped their sweet tiny little hands around the tips of Aaron’s fingers, you saw every ounce of love he once held for you transfer to them. You saw how the sparkle in his eye could only be seen when he could hold the twins near him. He looked at you still with pride and with admiration, nested deep within him, keeping you both warm. But it wasn’t the same, you used to make his world turn, put the stars in his sky. Now you were just the vessel that delivered him the true centre of his universe. 

You thought it might pass, that as time and closeness and shared efforts to calm your screaming daughters would bring him back to you. You had hope. 

The two of you settled on names that day, choosing to name the first twin Charlie and the second twin Hazel. You were allowed to hold them on their second day of life, and you felt the gravity of your unwavering, unconditional love for them blossom through you as they squirmed in your arms. 

Aaron must have taken a thousand pictures of you all that day. He was so proud of his girls.

When you were finally able to bring the babies home, your house was all ready, Charlie’s side of the nursery decorated with vines and happy little forest creatures nestled in amongst the flowers. Hazel’s side of the room was decorated with clouds and sunbeams, with butterflies fluttering about the space.

It was perfect. The two of you had made the most gorgeous home for your girls, only it wasn’t enough.

As the months went on you and Aaron, both equally enamoured by your twins adorable little faces and squishy cheeks and happy smiling faces, grew apart. You had felt the shift in the air that day when Aaron met your girls and you had been right. His heart really was too full, he seems to have pushed you ever so slightly out of it to make room. It wasn’t one big change, but lots of tiny subtle actions that made you realise he didn’t love you like he used to. He didn’t have the room to. 

This drove you crazy, as you tried and tried being a better partner for him, a kinder person. More loving, spontaneous and more thoughtful. But nothing could bring him back to you. Nor could you bring yourself to hate him for it. 

You began fighting. Little things like who was responsible for bringing the girls’ diaper bag out to lunch or who should be able to return to their workplace first. Until one day, you were standing in your living room trying to decide what to watch on TV and Aaron was refusing to compromise for what you wanted. He always used to adjust for what you wanted. You blurted it out, in the blink of an eye.

 “I think we should break up.” His jaw fell open at your admission but he looked solemnly at you, more in relief than in surprise. He was happy you were the one to say it first. “The girls both deserve parents who love each other as much as we love them, Aaron, and while we used to and it was beautiful. I think it’s clear we just aren’t meant for one another any more.” 

“What about the girls?” Aaron was quick to ask. He knew your parents had split up when you were younger and being torn between two homes had almost killed you. You had hated your parents for making their marital problem your life problem, always living out of a suitcase at one house or another. “I don’t think we should make this their problem. They should never have to know.”

The two of you decided, then. Your loving little family would have to split down the middle. Hazel would live with you, and Charlie with her Dad. It was easier this way, while they were young enough to never have to know the burden of a home built on lies. They would not have to watch their parents fake smiles and not-so-happy marriage drive them crazy. You could all be happy, this way. You knew Charlie would never need any more love than Aaron could give her, and the same with Hazel, getting more than enough love from you. You would both treasure them. 

For eleven years, you both lived different lives in different states. You moved to California and Aaron to Virginia. You only knew where he was for the sake of absolute emergencies, the two of you hadn’t spoken in years. It’s better for the girls if they never know what’s missing from their lives. You’re both living perfect, happy little lives, thousands of miles apart. 

Until…

again, I'm sorry to say I lost myself in this, and at this moment I'm not sure how to even progress with a part two, but maybe that'll change in future. I hope you all enjoyed!

[winterscaptain]

tali!!! between you and qvo i'm being blessed. feeling like i should open up requests now

perhaps something with my fave ajf babies?

(omg do it if it sparks joy!! we're having fun this week!!)

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader AJF!Caroline Hotchner x AJF!Graham MacGowan AJF!Becca Alvez x AJF!Hank Morgana joyful future fic

a/n: here's a lil thing i had in my drafts! we haven't officially met graham yet, but we might recognize him from the ajf family tree! he's our Scottish king and the winner of our caroline's heart. i hope you enjoy this little thing!!

words: 452 content advisories:  language, alcohol use, alcohol mention

summary: i've seen you in blue and i've seen you in yellow, but only you, red, will do for this fellow!

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Uncle Sean!” Caroline throws a piece of popcorn at Sean. It bounces off the body of his guitar. “We gotta teach Graham a proper American drinking song.” 

“Which one?” He asks. 

“The right one.” 

Alice scoffs, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. “Toby Keith was a jingoist fuck.” 

“But,” Hank says, tipping the neck of his beer bottle toward her. “Red Solo Cup hits different.” 

She relents. “Alright, fair.” 

Sean starts picking out the lead guitar part and Hank puts his beer aside, picking up his own acoustic to back him up. Becca tips back, avoiding the neck of his guitar, before settling against his shoulder once more. 

“You’re gonna love this,” Caro says, close to Graham’s ear. “You might have heard it before, but we’ll teach you for real.” 

Graham nods, the light from the fire lighting up the gentle joy and curiosity in his eyes. 

“Now a red solo cup is the best receptacle / For barbecues, tailgates, fairs, and festivals,” Sean starts, passing it off to Hank. They both settle into a comfortable drawl.

“And you, sir, do not have a pair of testicles if you prefer drinking from glass.” 

Sophia scampers up the back stairs as best she can from the yard, her cane thumping dramatically against the deck as she flops down next to Alice. She smells of pine and dogwood, likely rooting around with Grayson in the yard before the sun gets too far past the horizon. Bella’s still down there, crouched amongst the pine needles while her son builds fairy houses. 

“Now,” Soph says, picking it up, “a red solo cup is cheap and disposable and in fourteen years they are -” 

Alice joins for a brief, “Decomposable” 

“And unlike my home, they are not foreclosable…” 

Graham picks it up on the second chorus, giving his wretched American accent his best effort. Caroline’s hands wrap tightly around his bicep and he rocks side to side with Alice and Sophia, laughing his way through the chorus. 

You watch from the safety of the sunroom, Aaron beside you. 

“I like this one,” you tell him. 

He hums. “Me too. Helps that he flew her out from Scotland for the holiday. Scores points, there.” 

“It’s nice to have her home.” You huff a laugh. “Our little lawyer.” 

Aaron shakes his head. “I can believe it but at the same time…” 

“She’s your daughter, baby. I dunno what to tell you on that one.” There’s silence for a second. “It figures she’d also live out an enemies-to-lovers trope from one of her books. And he’s Scottish.”  

“That,” Aaron replies, “I think she gets from you.” 

You scoff. “Oh, please.” 

Aaron simply shakes his head, pulling you close to kiss your temple.

[merz-8]

my hyperfixations keep me from killing myself so please just let me be delusional and dream of fictional older men and their big brown eyes and massive cocks

[springtyme]

heyy love, could you do an aaron hotchner x fem bau reader where they dated in secretly for a while but then he broke up with her. the reason he broke up with her is because he is her boss and that always was something that made him feel doubtful about their relationship. it’s up to you if you want to end it with an happy ending.

thank youu

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ♡

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon! Such a lovely one and I was so happy to write for Hotch! mwah <3

summary: You suspect that you've been in love with Aaron Hotchner since you first laid eyes on him three years ago. Now you're on your way to Idaho to go on your first case together since he broke your heart two weeks ago.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: Angst and fluff. Boss/employee relationship. Hurt/comfort. Heartbreak. Kissing. Sharing a bed. (first time I write for Hotch, so please bear with me) Haven't proof read yet. I don't know if I really like how it ended up tbh, but maybe it's just because I was really tired while writing it..?

You keep your gaze on the pages of the book, despite the words keep blurring together and after having read the same paragraph four times over, without even having registered what you have read. You’ve given up on actually getting any reading done, but you don’t want anyone talking to you right now and you still have almost four hours left before you land in Idaho. So you keep eyes glued to the book, hoping that the act of pretending to read will deter any unwanted conversation.     

You can feel his eyes on you, not all the time, but you feel how his gaze occasionally lingers on you. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you sense his presence nonetheless.  

Taking in a deep breath you look up from the book to steal a glance in his direction, catching his eye for a brief moment before he looks away. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, a hint of longing that mirrors your own. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wears so well as he continues his conversation with Derek. 

The last two weeks have been painful, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions since Aaron had ended your relationship, before it even had a chance to really begin. It’s been three years since you joined the BAU and from the very beginning you had felt drawn to Aaron Hotchner in a way that defied logic and reason, like there was a connection between you that transcended the professional boundaries of boss and subordinate. 

A silly crush is what it had started as, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized that what you felt was far more than just that. It was a deep, undeniable attraction, a connection that went beyond the surface level. And as time passed, that initial spark grew into something more profound, something that stirred your soul and filled your heart with warmth. 

Sometimes you had let yourself hope that he felt the same way, that the moments of shared glances and unspoken words between you held a deeper meaning, but you had never dared act on it, or let yourself get your hopes up too high. The reality of Aaron’s position as your boss and the boundaries it imposed had always stood as a barrier. The unspoken rules of professionalism, the fear of risking his or your career and the harmony of the team had kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. 

It was three months ago that things had changed between you. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a shared confession during a late-night conversation with the raw emotions of the aftermath of an exceptionally harrowing case that had laid bare the depths of your emotions, and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long had reached a point of no return. 

He had kissed you that night and it was sweet and tender, yet charged with unspoken desire and desperation. It was a moment of surrender, a brief glimpse into a world where the barriers between you could be broken down and the feelings you had both been suppressing could be allowed to flourish. 

The next couple months had been a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, each one deepening the bond between you in ways that words could never fully capture. There were secret meetings in secluded corners of the BAU office, stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, and shared glances that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a shadow began to loom over your newfound connection. Aaron had started to act distant and reserved, his once warm and affectionate demeanor now replaced by a noticeable aloofness. And two weeks ago on a night where the both of you had stayed late to finish some reports he had told you that it all had been a mistake, and that the two of you should maintain a strictly professional relationship moving forward. 

His words had cut through the air with a sharp finality and landed like a heavy blow, shattering the fragile hope that had still lingered within you. Aaron’s eyes had been averted, unable to meet your gaze as he spoke the words that shattered your heart.

You steal another glance at Aaron, watching as he maintains his composure in conversation with Derek, his mask of professionalism firmly in place. 

You turn back to your book, the words still a jumbled mess on the page. You can’t pretend to read anymore, not when your heart is heavy with memories and unspoken words. With a sigh, you close the book, making Emily, who is seated across the aisle, glance up from the case file she is reading with a questioning look. 

You offer her a faint smile, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy despite the turmoil swirling within you. 

“You okay?” she asks as she sets aside the case file. You appreciate her gesture, knowing that Emily’s intuition often went beyond words.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you. With a small nod, you offer Emily a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind,” you reply softly, the words carrying a weight that belie their simplicity.

Emily nods in understanding, her gaze holding a sense of sympathy. “He’s an idiot, by the way,” she says with a wry smile, and you feel how your heart stops for a second, panicking at the thought of Emily uncovering the truth of what has unfolded between you and Aaron. 

“What do you mean?” you stammer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Emily’s response.

Emily just smiles at you as she picks up her file again. “We’re profilers, it’s not hard to read between the lines,” Emily says with a knowing glint in her eyes, her smile reassuring and understanding. “And you’re not as hard to read as you think, it’s clear that you have been dating someone, you have been looking like a smitten kitten for months, it’s been really cute to see, by the way, but something has changed recently. You’ve been distant, and often lost in thought sulking,” Emily continues, her tone gentle yet perceptive. 

It’s not like it really surprises you, given how perceptive Emily is, and how deeply you’ve been feeling the shifts in your relationship with Aaron, but you had still hoped that you could have hidden your feelings from colleagues. 

“So, yeah, whoever he is that has you feeling like this is an idiot, you’re clearly a catch,” Emily says with a reassuring smile, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding.

You feel relief wash over you, though Emily has sensed that you’ve been heartbroken, she hasn’t figured out that it is our boss that has been the course of it. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say, offering the dark haired woman a tired but grateful smile.

Emily returns your smile. “If you ever need to talk or just... not talk, I’m here,” she offers, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I appreciate that,” you say, and you do really mean it, but you know that you’re not ready to talk about any of this yet. “But I think I’ll try to take a nap first, hopefully clear my head a bit before we land.” 

“Mm, sounds like a plan,”Emily responds with a soft chuckle. 

Grabbing the blanket from the empty seat next to you, you lean back in your seat, engulfing your body in the soft, fluffy material. 

Before closing your eyes you cast one last glance at Aaron, his profile etched against the soft glow of the cabin lights. The memories of stolen moments with stolen kisses floods your mind, mingling with the ache of his recent rejection. You feel a pang in your heart, a mix of longing and sorrow, as you turn away, curling up in your seat, closing your eyes to the world outside.

You pull the blanket closer around you, the soft warmth of the blanket envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and security, providing a shield against the turmoil of your heart. The gentle hum of the airplane engines lulls you into a state of relaxation, the rhythmic sound serving as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts and emotions. 

As you feel yourself drifting further into the realm of sleep, your senses start to weaken, the sounds of the airplane cabin fading into a distant murmur and you barely register the tears gently sliding down your cheeks before you drift off. 

· · · · · 

You’re softly pulled out of sleep by the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder. As you slowly flutter your eyes open, the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminates the figure beside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re about to land,” Derek’s voice is warm and filled with a hint of amusement as he gently rouses you from your slumber.

You blink a few times, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your mind as you adjust to the reality of the present moment. With a small smile, you offer Derek a nod of gratitude. Slowly, you sit up in your seat, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you get ready for touchdown. 

As the plane begins its descent, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - longing, sorrow, and a hint of resignation. The turbulence of your heart echoes the turbulence in the jet cabin as you start dissenting onto a lower altitude.     

As the cabin lights dim in preparation for landing, you look up to find Aaron’s eyes looking in your direction, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looks away, a shadow covering his features in the soft glow. This would all be so much easier if he would stop looking at you all the time.    

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the plane continues its descent. The mix of longing and sorrow in your heart feels almost suffocating, but you push it aside. You have to focus, have to keep your head clear for the sake of the case, you are a professional and you are not going to let your emotions cloud your mind. As the wheels touch the runway with a slight jolt, signaling your arrival in Idaho, you

And as the team disembarks from the plane and makes their way to the awaiting SUVs, you feel a sense of resolve settling within you, happy to no longer be confined to the limited room of the jet cabin and as you step out into the crisp evening air, you release a sigh of relief. 

You watch Aaron walk ahead of you, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable as he walks to one of the cars and you beeline for the other. You keep your gaze fixed outside the window for most of the car ride, watching the landscape pass by in a blur as the car speeds towards its destination, a little sleepy town about an hour away. 

As you and the team arrive at the local police station, you can feel the tension between you and Aaron simmering just beneath the surface. The case at hand requires your full attention, and you push aside the turbulent thoughts and emotions that threaten to consume you as you focus on the task at hand.

Throughout the evening and early night, you work alongside the team, profiling the unsub and piecing together clues to hopefully catch the unsub before they strike again. The familiarity of the work, the rhythm of profiling and investigating grounding you in the present moment, making you go into a state of laser focused professionalism. You find a sense of purpose in the work you do, a reminder that you are more than the turmoil of your emotions.

But as the night wears on, the team regroups at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before continuing the investigation in the morning. You find yourself standing outside the small hotel, looking up at the dark, star lit sky and as you turn to head inside and join the rest of the team, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as you see Aaron standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you, his usual stoic expression faltered, his brown eyes softening as they meet yours.   

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet night, and suddenly, you know that the decision you have made to the hard choice you’ve struggled with for the past two weeks is the right one. 

 Without saying a word, you walk towards him, a mix of uncertainty and determination coursing through you. As you come to a stop in front of him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand to silence him. “Not here,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you gently take his hand, leading him towards a secluded corner of the hotel grounds. 

As you come to a stop, you turn to face him, the dim light of the night casting shadows across his face. With a heavy sigh, you search his eyes for any sign of the man you once knew, the man who had kissed you with such tenderness and held you with such care, for the man you think might’ve even loved you. You had loved him, had long before he kissed you, and you still love.

 “Aaron, I…” you begin, trailing off as you feel all the words in your head leave you as you look into his eyes, remembering that night he had kissed you for the first time. It had been a late night just like this one, it had been the first time you had ever called him by his first name. 

“Let’s sit,” he says, his voice gentle yet strained, as he guides you to a nearby bench. You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Aaron speaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for leading you on, for... for everything.” His words are filled with regret, and you can see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own. 

He reaches out his hand, hesitating before resting it on yours. His touch is soft and hesitant but filled with unspoken longing and you feel how your heart skips a beat, how you have missed the feeling of him touching you, even if it’s just the slightest of touches. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper. 

‘But it did hurt, it hurt so, so much’, is what you want to say. But as you look into Aaron’s eyes, filled with regret and vulnerability, you find yourself unable to form the words, the intensity in the warm, chocolate brown depths of his gaze rendering you speechless. You see the conflict within him, the turmoil of emotions swirling beneath the surface, and you feel the need to avert your gaze.  

You look down at his hand on yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine in the balm night air. For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the familiar sensation, the connection that still linger between you despite the circumstances.

Aaron’s hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent plea for understanding. “You deserve so much better than that,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath, the words forming in your mind before you speak them out loud. “Maybe I don’t want you to decide for me what I do and don’t deserve,” you say, looking up at him again, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you. Aaron’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a mix of  crossing his features.

It seems like it’s his turn to be lost for words, which for some reason seems to give you a bit more courage. You fill your lungs with another deep breath before opening your mouth.  

“I’m quitting,” you declare, your voice firm and resolute. You’ve been struggling with making the decision, but as you look at Aaron now, face lit up by the soft moon light you know that it is the only decision for you, you are never gonna be able to let him go if you keep working for the BAU. “I’m turning in my resignation letter when we get back from this case.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on your hand tightening even more as he processes your words. The weight of your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, the unspoken implications of what this means for both of you settling in. You can see how a myriad of emotions flicker across his face – surprise, concern, and perhaps a glimmer of something else that you can’t quite place.

“You can’t do that,” Aaron’s voice is firm but filled with a mix of concern and resignation, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt

You can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at his words, it’s not like you had expected him to be happy about your decision, but a little, and probably naive, part of you had hoped that he would acknowledge that it would be the solution to how the two of you could be together, hoped that he still wanted that. But you’re not leaving the BAU for the slim chance that you can be with Aaron. You’re quitting because it’s become clear to you that it is the only solution. If the only time you can push aside the pain of being around him is when you’re actively investigating  a violent crime case, you have to let him go, and you can only do that by leaving the BAU. 

“Yes, I can… I have to, I think,” you say firmly, yet you feel your heart breaking a little by the thought of leaving. “I need to do this for myself. For my own well-being,” you continue, your gaze unwavering as you look into his eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.” 

Aaron remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. Finally, he sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

“I know,” you reply softly, a tinge of sorrow coloring your words. “But we both knew the risks when we started this.”

“I should never have put you in this position,” Aaron says, his gaze dropping to the ground as he speaks. “I should never have kissed you that night. Ilet my own feelings cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. I’m your boss, and I took advantage, and I-I hurt you, and…” 

“No, look at me, please.” You reach out and gently cub his cheek in your hand, making him meet your gaze. “Aaron, it wasn’t just you. I wanted it too, I wanted to be with you,” you confess, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “I wanted to take the risk because I thought it was worth it. And maybe it was, for a while. But we can’t keep going like this, Aaron. It’s not fair to either of us.” 

Aaron’s eyes search yours, a mix of emotions swirling within their depths. “What are you saying?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation. 

“I’m saying that I need to let you go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to let go of this hope that maybe someday we could find a way to be together. I can’t keep holding on to something that’s only causing us both pain.” Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you speak, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But despite the pain, you feel a sense of clarity wash over you, a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth. 

Aaron’s eyes soften, his hand coming up to gently grasp yours that’s still cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. You offer him a sad smile, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away. 

“Me too, Aaron,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. As you stand up from the bench, you turn to walk away, the weight of your decision settling in your heart. But before you can take a step, you feel a hand grasp yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turn back to see Aaron standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of something you can’t quite place. 

“I...I can’t let you leave without saying this,” Aaron begins, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and in the process, I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let you go without telling you that I love you. ” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the depth of his confession washing over you like a wave. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for the two of you. “But what does that mean, Aaron?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. “What are you saying?” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he speaks. “I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live with the regret of letting you slip away. I want to fight for a future where you are a part of my life. I know it won’t be easy, I know there are risks and complications, but I can’t let you go without at least trying cause I love you.” 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into Aaron’s eyes, the sincerity and love shining within them filling your heart with warmth and longing. Taking a step closer to Aaron, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with determination. 

“I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” 

Aaron’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. Without another word, he closes the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with passion and longing. The world falls away as you melt into each other, lost in the moment of shared love and desire as the man you love kisses you under the moonlight.

The kiss deepens, becoming a promise of the future you both want to fight for, a pledge to overcome the obstacles that stand in your way, a balm for the weeks of heartbreak. And as you break apart, breathless and filled with emotion, you feel how your entire body shivers, already missing the feeling of Aaron’s warm lips against yours. 

“You’re freezing,” Aaron frowns, quickly shredding himself of his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your heart swelling with hope and love as he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the hotel. Hotel might be a little generous; it’s more of a bed and breakfast, with so few rooms that the team had to pair up and share, but it was the only accommodation in town and it is not like you and the team aren’t used to having to share rooms from time to time. 

It turns out the rest of the team has already paired up and hit the hay, leaving only one room since you’re the last two to arrive. “Looks like you and I’ll have to share a room,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, an hour ago you would be horrified by it, but now you’re absolutely thrilled about it.  

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with a soft smile on his face as you get your keys before taking your hand in his again and leading you to your shared room.  

As you step inside, the warmth of the room envelops you, melding with the warmth of Aaron’s touch as he pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours once more in a sweet, tender embrace. In the dim light of the hotel room, with the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains, the emotions swirling within you are no longer suffocating, but freeing, as you surrender to the love that has bound the two of you together.

As you finally break apart and look around it turns out that the room is a twin room, with two beds divided by a bedside table. It makes sense that your coworkers didn’t leave you to share a room with a shared bed. 

You share a knowing look with him before the both of you start to quickly get ready for bed, it’s late and you’re both exhausted and there is only a few hours till you’ll need to get up again. 

You share one last kiss before moving to your respective beds, but as you lay there, the distance between you feels unbearable. The man you have been pining over for three years has just a little while ago told you that he loves you after weeks of heartbreak and he lies so close yet you can’t even touch him? That’s ridiculous! 

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice filled with longing as you look at Aaron.

“I know,” he replies, his voice just as filled with yearning as he pulls his covers to the side letting you slip into the bed with him. 

You settle into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you feel as if you’re finally coming home. The walls that had been built between you are crumbling down, allowing you to embrace the love that has always been between you.

As you snuggle closer to Aaron, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The turmoil of the past weeks fades away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and love.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Aaron whispers, his breath warm against your ear, and you know that he means it. And you know that you never want to let him go either. 

With a smile on your face, and your heart full of love and hope, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man you love, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

[hotchnisslvr]

“Power Struggle”

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: M

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: For months, you and SSA Aaron Hotchner have been toeing the boundary between romance and your careers. When the unsub that's been killing women in Michigan by way of replicating Zeus' punishments from Greek mythology takes you as his next victim, it's up to Hotch and the rest of the BAU team to find you before it's too late. Hurt/comfort and angst with happy ending.

Tags: graphic depictions of violence, reader kidnapped by unsub, blood, implied SA, nudity, electrocution, scarring, hospitals

“You’re telling me someone is out here killing people to recreate, what? Greek legends?” Sheriff McCullen’s brow pinches as he shakes his head.

“Legends are stories often loosely based on a real person or event to teach us a lesson. Mythology is based on supernatural or sacred lore and explains why things came to be. It’s a common mistake.” Reid speaks quickly and methodically, as if reciting from a textbook. “It’s straight out of the mythos,” he explains, his voice tinged with something akin to excitement as he approaches the whiteboard where photos of the victims had been pinned up for review. Using a ballpoint pen as a pointer, he taps the first image of the first victim. “Regina Manford, she was found tied to a boulder in Craig Lake State Park with her liver removed. Animal predation showed birds had pecked at her while she was still alive. In Greek mythology, Zeus did this to Prometheus to exact revenge on him after he stole fire to give to man.”

Reid moves on to the next victim, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did so. “Sarah Walters was found bound to an old water wheel that had been set on fire. Greek Mythology suggests this is a copy of Zeus’ punishment for Ixion.”

“And what did he do to deserve that?” asks the sheriff.

Reid’s lips form a tight line. “He was invited into Zeus’ home on Olympus. After attempting to seduce his wife, Hera, Zeus punished him by binding him to a wheel of fire cursed to spin forever toward the underworld. She might’ve smiled or even looked at him, and in his delusion believed she was a seductress deserving of punishment.”

“So, what? This guy sees himself as some sort of god?”

“We believe that is his delusion, yes,” answers Emily. “Each victim also bore signs of sexual trauma, this is something Zeus is also renowned for in the mythology. Our unsub thinks he’s infallible and that these women’s lives and deciding when and how these women live and die is his divine right.”

“Do we know if there will be more victims?” asks one of the detectives.

You step forward from your place between Morgan and Hotchner. “Given the number of victims Zeus punished within the mythology, we can assume he is not finished. These kills are two weeks apart. It’s been twelve days since the last body was found. We can only assume he’s currently hunting for his next victim. And when he finds one, he convinces her to go to a second location. It's once they leave the primary location that he attacks. In each case, the victim suffered a blow to the head, leaving a uniquely shaped gash in her forehead. This suggests that he strikes them with a distinct blunt object or even a ring that’s on his hand.”

“We need every man out on the streets,” Hotch states, his eyes hard as he scans the group of law enforcement gathered to receive the profile. “He stalks his victims in the city, often on the weekends when night life is busiest. He’s charming. He has no problem approaching women because he views himself as a deity and carries himself with the arrogance and confidence of one. He’s white, in his early to mid 30s, good looking, charming, and likely has a career that would’ve provided him with medical training.”

A female detective with short blonde hair sticks her pencil in the air. “How do we know that?”

“The incisions made on Regina’s body were clean, precise, and showed no signs of hesitation,” explains Rossi. “The M.E. also informed us that the hepatic artery was clamped off, meaning,” Rossi hesitates before continuing on, “meaning Regina Mansford was alive as her liver was being cut from her body.”

An uncomfortable murmuring breaks out. Hotch raises a hand, silencing them. Your mouth goes dry and you swallow, hoping your team doesn’t notice the way your eyes dilate when you look at him and the silent way in which he can command a room.

“This is why we need every available officer on the streets. Increase units in the downtown area. Have plain clothes officers on the streets. That’s where we’ll be. Thank you.” Hotch tucks his head and sweeps out of the bullpen, the rest of the team trailing after him into the conference room.

“Where do you want us?” asks Morgan as you shut the door to the conference room.

“Reid, I want you here working the geographical profile. See if there’s anything we missed that could bring us closer to a precise location where he’s kidnapping his victims. Rossi and JJ, I want you to go back to Sarah’s apartment and see if we missed anything that tells us where she was exactly on the night she was kidnapped. Derek and Emily take the north side of downtown.” He inclines his head toward you. “You and I will take the south side.”

His eyes linger on yours a moment longer than they ought to have. You dip your head and swiftly exit the room, jacket in hand as you prepare to brave not only the frigid Michigan cold but working one one-on-one with Hotch. This had been going on for months; subtle looks, brief touches where his fingers would slide over yours while passing off a case file…yet a part of you still wasn’t sure if it would ever go any further than that. You spend so much of your time with the team, it would be so easy to mistake one gesture for something that it wasn’t. Yet you knew that wasn’t true. You know behavior. You’re trained to recognize the subtlest of shifts in demeanor and body language and you know exactly what is going on.

You jump as someone pushes through the front door of the precinct. Emily’s gentle laugh disrupts your rumination. “Sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She moves to stand closer to you as she zips her jacket. “The guys went to grab the cars.”

You nod and shove your hands in your pockets.

Emily arches a perfectly manicured brow. “What’s up?”

You school your expression and feign nonchalance. “Nothing, I just want to catch this guy before he hurts anyone else.”

Emily’s brow furrows and then straightens, a glimmer of knowing in her eye. “Something tells me there’s a different guy on your mind.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nearly choke on the crisp winter air. “What? I don’t—“ Your words falter as Derek and Hotch arrive, the SUVs humming to a gentle stop at the curb.

Emily eyes you, a sly smile curving one side of her red lips. “We’ll talk later.” She winks and steps forward to open the passenger side door, sliding inside and disappearing into the dark interior.

As you turn to move toward the SUV, Hotch is there, opening the door for you. The gesture surprises you, but it shouldn’t. He’d been doing little things like this for weeks now. You nod your head in thanks and as you turn your body to slide past him, his hand catches your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers glide against the small of your back, guiding your movement into the vehicle.

His hard eyes meet yours as he shuts the door and you’re grateful for the shadows inside the car as you feel your face flush bright red. Hotch slides into the driver’s seat with ease. He shifts the car into gear and pulls onto the road, heading in the direction of downtown.

After a few minutes, you open your mouth to disrupt the silence, but his cell rings. Hotch answers and places it on speaker as JJ’s voice floats through the receiver, “Hotch, we think we’ve got something at Sarah Walters apartment.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

“There’s a sticky note in her trash can,” a garbled sound echoes through the speaker as she shifts the phone. The sound of paper crinkles as she reads, “Tony’s at 9, does that mean anything? Has Garcia come across a Tony in any of her research into the victims’ lives? Maybe an Anthony?”

An image of a neon sign flashes across your mind’s eye. “It’s a bar,” you say matter-of-factly.

“A bar?”

“I remember seeing the sign on our drive-in. It’s a bar on the south side of downtown. That could be where he’s meeting these women.”

“We’re only a few blocks away, we’ll head there now. Thank you, JJ.” He hangs up and slips the phone into his jacket pocket.

“How do you want to play this?” you ask.

“We go in, make observations, see if we can identify anyone that matches the profile.”

You smirk and a small laugh escapes your lips.

“Something funny?” Hotch asks, his voice low in his throat.

You purse your lips, pausing before you proceed. “If we go in looking like feds, we’ll scare this guy away.” You tilt your head, considering. “Well, one of us anyway.”

A slight twitch in his brow is the only indication your words have just barely gotten under his skin. “Touched a nerve, sir?”

As the traffic light ahead blinks red, he eases the car to a stop. He breathes out slowly, the amber glow of the stoplight reflecting in his eyes. In less than two heartbeats, he thrusts the car into park and with both hands clasps your face, drawing you in to kiss you with such fervor white spots dot your vision. It takes a moment to process the heat of his mouth on yours and the way his tongue slides between your lips, and before you can truly reciprocate the light turns green and he pulls back, his breathing ragged against your mouth as his forehead touches yours. “Be careful when and how you choose to call me sir.”

Before you can exhale, his eyes are on the road again and you’re driving deeper into downtown.

“Understood,” and then you add, almost imperceptibly, “sir.”

A small smile quirks at the corner of his lips, but he says nothing more as you approach your destination.

It's nearing 9:30pm when you pull up on the street parallel to Tony’s. People trickle in and out of the bar in groups of twos and threes; most are young, in their mid to late twenties.

“Right,” you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to exit the vehicle. “Stay here.”

“Excuse me?” Hotch asks, reaching over your lap and grabbing your wrist to stay your hand from popping the door open. Your breathing stills and he just barely turns his face toward yours. “Since when do you give me orders?”

Unsure where the confidence to challenge him comes from, you lean in near his ear. You swallow once before speaking. “I think you like taking them.” Feeling incredibly brazen, you nip at his ear once and as the unexpected gesture disarms him; flick your wrist out of his grasp and pop the door open. You slide out of the car and are immediately greeted by the frigid January air eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms. Extending an arm overhead to hang on to the frame of the SUV; you lean down into the cab of the vehicle. “I’ve got you right here,” you say as you tap the hidden earpiece. “Let me know if you see anyone from the outside that fits the profile.”

Hotch eyes you and there’s a fierceness in his gaze. You wonder if he’s thinking of how he’ll ultimately retaliate for your little role reversal now that he’s gone and upped the ante in this little game of cat and mouse. “See you soon,” you wink and slam the door shut.

As you approach the bar, you make sure your coat is buttoned in a way that hides your sidearm and credentials from sight. The bouncer doesn’t even pretend to ask for an ID as you approach and move through the front door with ease. As you cross through the threshold, your senses are assaulted by the smell of beer on tap, the sharp tang of liquor, grease, and an amalgamation of perfumes and colognes.

Immediately you begin scanning the room. You note the layout of the bar: three exits for patrons, the one you just came in through, one near the bathrooms for cigarette smokers, and an emergency exit on the far right wall near to the kitchen. There are three pool tables all of which are occupied as well as three dart boards along the far wall. Groups of friends engage one another and dates carry on without a hitch. You approach the bar, which is centered along the far wall. Stools line the high countertop and behind the bar, two women work to fulfill the never-ending drink orders. You approach the bar and slide into one of the empty seats, relaxing your shoulders as you do so, and order a rum and coke that you don’t plan on drinking.

After a moment the bartender drops a cocktail napkin in front of you and places the drink on top. You thank her and stir the contents of the drink with the swizzle stick popped inside.

“Is this seat taken?” an unfamiliar voice causes the hair on the back of your neck to prickle and you know immediately that it’s him.

Painting on a saccharine sweet smile, you turn toward the voice. A white man, standing at about 6’2”, is smiling down at you. The neon lights behind the bar reflect in his blue-gray eyes and his honey blonde hair falls in soft waves to his shoulders. “Please,” you say demurely and gesture toward the seat. You tell him your name and continue smiling.

“Ronan Carlson,” he introduces himself as he slides in beside you and adjusts the lapels on his leather jacket, a fake Rolex peeking out from his sleeve. He’s preening, you think to yourself. The bartender approaches from behind the bar and he smiles, the curve of his lips the opening act of his charming performance. “I’ll have what she’s having, thank you.” He pulls a roll of cash from the inner pocket of his jacket, flips through several bills, and pulls a $100 bill free before sliding it across the counter to her.

The bartender’s eyes widen in surprise and he winks at her. She nods her thanks and turns to make his drink.

“That was very kind of you,” I say, stirring my drink for the thirteenth time.

He shrugs and tips the baseball cap he’s wearing down over his eyes and you know it’s to obstruct the view the cameras have of him. “It’s only money, and I think I may have made her night.” He inclines his head toward the bartender whose head is bent close to the other woman’s. She’s smiling wide and shows her the $100 bill.

Internally, you roll your eyes hard, but externally you smile and look at him from beneath your lashes. “You must have a great job, what do you do for work?”

His hand flexes as he sets his drink down on the counter and you note the two chunky platinum rings he wears on his right hand. There are symbols etched into them offset by different colored stones, but you don’t want him to catch you staring as he answers, “I’m in business for myself these days,” he says with no further explanation. “Though I used to be in the military.”

You feign surprise, though you were hopeful he’d continue to divulge information. “The military, wow. Let me guess,” you pause and allow your eyes to slowly scan him from head to toe. You remember the profile. “Army…medic.”

“Reign it in,” you hear Hotchner’s voice through the earpiece. “Be mindful of how much you reveal to him. Don’t let him know you know more about him than he’s letting on.”

You watch him assess you and your read into him. One blonde brow creeps up toward his hairline and that wicked smile curves his lips again. “Excellent guess, how do you figure?”

Leaning on to your forearms, you push your drink aside and slide your hand over his and you don’t miss the way his fingers tense at your touch.

“It’s the hands,” you say coyly. “You look like you know how to handle yourself.” He relaxes under your touch and a heat ignites in his eyes that makes your stomach churn, but you don’t let it show on your face. “You look like you know how to handle a lot of things.”

He licks his lips and turns the ring on his finger. “Tell you what,” he says as he picks up his drink. He places the glass to his lips and downs its contents. “Why don’t we get out of here?” He looks down at you from beneath dark lashes. “And I’ll show you just how much I can handle.”

You stand up and flash him a grin. “Let me quickly freshen up and I’ll meet you out front.”

His lips quirk into a smirk, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

You smile as you slip away toward the bathroom. As you push through the crowd you inform Hotch that the unsub is on his way out.

“There’s a line growing out the door,” he answers over the earpiece. “Does the description match the profile?”

“To a T,” you answer as you push past a couple with their tongues in each other's mouths. The amount of patrons has increased dramatically over the last hour. The volume of the music makes it hard to hear through the earpiece. You push your way into the restroom and are surprised to find it empty. Fortunately, the outside noise is muffled. You begin to describe Ronan’s appearance and note the jacket and hat he’s wearing. “He’s wearing two oddly shaped rings,” you add. “I think it’s what’s caused the unusual injury to the victims’ faces.”

“I’ve got him. He’s cutting through the line toward the parking lot.” You hear the car door open and slam.

“Got it, I’ll be right there.”

“Good work,” Hotch says over the open line.

You smile to yourself as you unbutton your jacket, glad to be on the receiving end of his praise. For a split second you wonder what else you could be on the receiving end of if you continue to play this game with him. After the case, you remind yourself. Priorities. Priority number one is getting this sick bastard off the street, and he’s right here within your grasp. You shoulder the door as you reach for your gun, positioning your thumb over the rotating hood to dislodge your weapon from its holster.

Over the speakers, an employee is calling to celebrate someone’s birthday. The crowd is distracted and pushing toward the source of celebration. The bar erupts into an off key rendition of Happy Birthday but you don’t hear it as 30,000 volts of electricity course through your veins. Your muscles spasm and lock up as you fall forward. Pain radiates from your abdomen in waves that crash over you again and again. You try to tell your body what to do as strong arms catch you and pull you into a chest that smells like cigarette smoke, but your limbs don’t cooperate. You feel his nose root into your hair as his lips find your ear. “How’s that for capable?”

As he shoulders your weight and steers you out through the emergency exit you hear Hotch’s voice in your ear. “It’s not him!” There’s an edge of panic in his voice as he says your name. “Do you copy? It’s not him. He gave another man $500 to wear his hat and jacket into the parking lot. It’s not him. Do you have eyes on him?”

Dark spots the edges of your vision as he drags your dead body weight. You try to focus all of your ability on getting out any words that can signal to Hotchner what’s happening, any at all but your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.”

You hear the tinkling of keys and a door slide open. Pain rattles through your skull as he throws you into the back of whatever vehicle he’s operating. Pain slices through your wrists as zip ties slice through the skin there. Through tunnel vision you see him leering at you. He’s backlit by the streetlights.

As his fist flies toward you, you finally manage one word.

“Aaron.”

•

When you come to, the first thing you feel before the splitting pain in your head threatens to cleave your mind in two, is cold.

Your mouth is dry, but as you move to lick your lips you realize you can’t because there’s a gag in your mouth. You try to move your hands, but they’re bound too. Zip ties cut into each wrist, securing them at your sides on the legs of a wooden chair. When you try to shift the chair, you learn that it’s bolted to the floor and your legs are spread open; zip ties at your knees and ankles keep them apart. Except for your bra and underwear, you’re naked. He undressed you. You feel the wound from the stun gun before you glance down at your stomach and see the two bloody pinpricks in your abdomen. You feel your heart rate increase as panic begins to set in. Do not panic , you tell yourself as you take a steadying breath. The minute you start to panic, you’re dead. You close your eyes and piece together the last dredges of your memory.

Tony’s. Sitting at the bar. The unsub. Ronan. Hotch was in pursuit. And then there was just pain.

Hotch.

The pain in your skull is overwhelming and you’re not sure if you can feel the earpiece anymore.

“Hotch,” you attempt to say through the gag. “Hotch, do you read me?”

You close your eyes as hot tears brim along your lash line when there’s no response. The signal is out of range or the unsub found the earpiece and removed it.

A door creaks open on squeaky hinges and your eyes dart toward the source of the sound. Ronan walks through the door with a sick smile on his face. As he saunters toward you, he rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows. Without looking away from you, his arm drops to his side and he scoops a folding metal chair with one hand, carrying it with him as he edges closer to you.

You flinch as he cracks the chair down in front of you, forcing it open. He chuckles as he takes a seat. His eyes skirt the length of your body and you wish any limb were free to deliver a blow to his smug face.

He reaches into his back pocket and withdraws your badge. He flips it open and holds it up to your face, the way his eyes flit between you and your credentials makes your lip curl.

“An FBI agent,” he says slowly. He slaps your credentials shut against his denim-clad thighs. “Hot damn!” he shouts and whoops. He throws your badge to the wayside and it clatters against the cement floor. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been minutes. The torture is unrelenting and the pain is unending. Your chest heaves as you brace yourself for the next surge of electricity. Ronan, if that’s even his real name, twists the knob on the amplifier and taps the jumper cable clamps in his hands together. He smiles when he hears the buzz of electricity between them. As he presses them into your thighs, you cry out in pain as the shockwaves paralyze your body and mind and the pain overwhelms you.

“YES!” he roars as he pulls them away from you. He’d taken his flannel off, but now he peels off his t-shirt, balls it up, and uses it to wipe the sweat off of his face.

With the voltage no longer coursing through your veins, you slump forward, chest heaving as your scrambled brain fights to stay alert.

He drops the cables and clasps your face in his hand, forcing your chin up to meet his wild eyes. “You just don’t quit, do you? You're special.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs as if he cherishes what he’s doing to you. “You are worthy of a god.”

When you come to Ronan is watching you. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands.

“She wakes,” he muses.

You glare at him and his brow pinches. He purses his lips together like he’s been stung, but his eyes are alight with amusement.

“You,” he says, gesturing up and down your body, “look beautiful.”

You don’t need to look down to know the number of bloodied burn wounds spanning the lengths of your legs. If you couldn’t keep track of any other thought, the count was all that kept you grounded. There were ten. Five on each leg. Your wrists and ankles bled from the way you’d pulled against them with every shock he delivered.

He reaches forward and this time you don’t flinch. He hooks two fingers into the gag and pulls it down over your chin, his fingers trailing your lips as he does so.

“Here,” he says, bringing a bottle of water to your lips. “Drink.”

You clamp your lips shut and turn your face away. He laughs and shakes his head. “Come on now, don’t refuse me. That’s not how you show gratitude when a god shows you mercy.”

You muster as much hatred into your stare as you focus your attention back on him. “Mercy?” you hiss, and your voice is hoarse from screaming against the gag. It hurts to speak. You pull against your restraints. “This is what you call mercy?”

“I’m only testing you to see if you’re worthy,” he says by way of explanation. "You've lasted longer than the others."

“Worthy of what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“To be my Hera.”

“How is what you’re doing to me, what you did to those other women, going to help you find her?”

“They weren’t worthy,” he answered. “They couldn’t take my power like you could, my lightning. They were false. They needed to be punished.”

He leans in, his lips close enough to yours that you can feel his smoky breath on your skin. “But you, you deserve to be rewarded.” Your skin bristles at his words. His lips find your jawline and you grimace as he drags them up the side of your face. When he pulls away, dried blood flakes onto his skin.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes as he smoothes your sweat-drenched hair away from your face. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Unable to suffer any more of his poisonous bullshit, you rear your head back and slam it forward. Pain explodes behind your forehead, but it’s worth it to hear the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking. He roars in pain and clutches his bleeding nose. White light blinds you as he backhands you and curses your name. His ring splits the skin of your cheek open. The force of the blow causes you to bite your lip and you feel your teeth cut into the chapped skin there. You spit blood at him, angering him further.

“You are false!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth as he shoves the gag back into your mouth. “You are not her!” He moves to pick up the jumper cables, twisting the knob of the amplifier all the way up causing the bulbs overhead to flicker. You know this is it. If he touches you with those, it will kill you.

Bracing yourself for the killing blow, you go to the grave knowing you did not give in to this bastard.

It never lands.

Instead, three shots ring out and he’s falling to the floor dead at your feet. As the unsub’s body falls, Hotchner’s frame comes into view and a choked sob escapes your lips. He holsters his weapon and runs to you. Emily and Morgan are right behind him. Morgan passes Hotch a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and he makes quick work of the zip ties binding you to the chair. From the corner of your eye, you see Emily turn off the amplifier and check Ronan’s pulse.

Unable to hold yourself up, you fall forward into his ready arms, letting yours fall over his shoulders. Hotch drops to his knee to support your weight. “You’re okay,” he says as he pulls the gag free from your mouth and you sob into his chest. He smooths your hair back from your face, his eyes assessing the damage done to you. Blood stains his shirt, your blood.

“Morgan, your jacket.” Hotch orders.

Without hesitation, Morgan unfastens his bulletproof vest and unzips his jacket. He passes it to Hotch who drapes it around your shoulders in an attempt to preserve some of your modesty.

“I need a medic!” he shouts before directing his attention back to you.

Your eyes waver as you try to keep them open. You lock in on the depths of his warm brown eyes. “You’re going to be fine,” he says but his voice sounds far away.

“He wanted someone to be his Hera,” you say weakly.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Hotch soothes.

You swallow and it hurts your throat to do so. Your lips crack open, “You found me.”

Hotch cradles your head against his chest. “Of course I did.”

You wince as the sound of a gurney crashes into the room, the metal wheels squealing as it draws near. Your head swims as you’re swept into the air and laid out on its cushiony bed. A light shines in your eyes and voices are overlapping. Blindly, you use what strength you have left to drop your hand off the side. Unable to focus your attention on where he is, you know he’ll hear you. “Don’t leave me.”

And as you lose consciousness, you feel his hand slip into yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

•

A steady beeping fills your ears as you slowly come to. Your eyes feel bruised and you don’t think you have it in you to open them, but you feel something around your wrists and bolt upright. Pain crashes over you in a wave. It was a dream. You’re still bound in that basement. The beeping increases, growing louder and faster. Someone says your name and you feel hands on your shoulders. You try to swing your fist and are surprised when your arm follows through and makes contact with flesh. Did you break through the zip ties? You hear your name again, clearer this time. A man. He’s asking you to stop, to relax.

“It’s me,” he repeats and says your name again. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital.” He says your name again. “It’s me, it’s Aaron.”

You stop fighting and blink hard. Hotchner’s stern face comes into view, except there’s concern wavering in the depths of his brown eyes. His brow softens as you relax. A small smile turns the corners of his lips. “Hey there,” he says. A nurse rushes into the room and he raises a hand, “We’re fine, here. Thank you.”

The nurse looks at you and you nod. She looks unsure about leaving but ultimately relents. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

Aaron cups the back of your head in one of his hands and gently begins to lower you back down onto the pillows behind you. You allow him to guide you and feel the tension ease from your muscles as your back sinks into the surprisingly plush hospital pillow.

As the adrenaline wears off, you’re finally able to take stock of your injuries as the pain quickly makes itself known. You feel your pulse beating in your skull, pounding at your temples, eyebrow, and cheekbone. With shaky fingers, you touch the places where you remember the unsub striking you. You feel a thick bandage taped over your right eyebrow and steri-strips over your cheek. Your lip is swollen from where you bit it.

Bandages encircle your wrists and there’s an IV stuck in your hand. You’ve been dressed in a hospital gown and the sheets are drawn up to your waist covering the burn wounds. You don't have to see them to know how bad they look. The pain is telling enough.

“Is he dead?” you ask, lowering your hand back down to the bed.

Hotch’s lips form a tight line. “Yes.”

You blink back tears as that information sinks in. “Good,” you whisper in a choked voice. You blink and allow your head to loll to the side. A colorful bouquet of roses and carnations dotted with plastic ladybugs and butterflies sits in a clear vase on the side table.

You smile, “Garcia?”

Hotch smiles in turn. “It was tough to convince her to go home and get some sleep, but I promised her I wouldn’t leave you alone. Even then, it was still a hard-fought battle.”

You chuckle and wince as the movement irritates your injuries.

Hotch telegraphs his next move, and you know it’s to avoid startling you. He cups his hand over your uninjured cheek and strokes the skin there with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, and his voice sounds tired and pained. “I should’ve gone inside with you.”

“Hotch, don’t.” You reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “Don’t do that to yourself. He didn’t know I was with the FBI until after he took me. If you’d been there, he might’ve pegged us as law enforcement and taken off. He might still be out there and we’d be finding another dead woman in a matter of days. You know I’m right.”

Hotch closes his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. “I could hear you.”

“What?” you whisper. You try to sit up and wince as the movement stings the wounds in your legs and abdomen. Hotch stands and helps adjust the pillows behind your back before sitting back down in the chair at your bedside.

“Not for very long. He drove out of range, but I heard him speaking to you. I heard the blows land. I heard your head smack against the floor when he threw you in the van.” He stops and shakes his head. “I felt so helpless. I was afraid. I couldn’t get to you, just like,” his voice catches in his throat. “just like I couldn’t get to Haley.”

Your heart breaks for him as he speaks. You reach for his hand and take it, squeezing it. “Aaron, you did get to me. You saved my life.”

He clears his throat and swallows. “Yes, but we were almost too late.”

“But you weren’t,” you state, your tone firm. “Aaron, look at me.”

He hesitates and inhales deeply before lifting his gaze to yours. The corners of his eyes soften as he meets yours and you smile. You gently tug his hand, “Come here.”

Hotch glances toward the door and then back at you, “The doctor—“

“Isn’t going to do shit,” you finish. “I’m the one that endured hours of torture. Pretty sure I’m allowed some close comfort.”

He lets out a shallow laugh. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Standing, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. With one hand he loosens his tie until he’s able to pull it up and over his head. He tosses it onto the chair and circumnavigates the bed, assessing the best way to join you on the small mattress.

You groan as you slide over. Hotch reaches out to stop you but you silence him with a pointed look. “Mind the IV,” you say as you pat the space beside you.

Hotch acquiesces, using the tips of his fingers to raise the IV drip enough for him to slide into bed beside you. He slips an arm around you and drops the feed. It falls across his torso. The feel of his arm around you is comforting, like a security blanket, like safety. You relax into him, and rest your head on his chest. His lips brush against your bandaged brow.

“Not quite how I imagined we’d first be sharing a bed,” you joke softly as you nuzzle in deeper against the wide plane of his chest.

You feel him smile against your hair. “Only you could joke at a time like this.”

“If I can’t laugh at what’s happened, I’ll never be able to close my eyes at night.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” He rubs the bare skin of your arm in small circles. “I’ll be there until you can.”

You turn your head to look at him then, your heart full. This is happening. His eyes are on yours and you push yourself toward him ever so slightly. He closes the small gap between you and presses his lips to yours. It wasn’t hungry and primal like the kiss in the car. There would be plenty of time for that later. This kiss was light, tender…healing.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I tried to go home, I really did but as soon as I got there I—” Garcia’s voice abruptly cuts off. You look up and her initial look of surprise turns to one of abject joy.

You feel your cheeks flush as Emily and Morgan appear in the doorway behind her. Morgan’s eyes widen and Emily’s brow arches as a smile curves her lips.

“I, uh, brought backup.” Penelope giggles. She remembers she’s holding something. “And cookies! I couldn’t sleep, so I baked. I figured I could bribe you into going home and getting some sleep.” Her words leave her mouth at a mile a minute. “I thought you’d fight me on it, so I brought some muscle.” She gestures with a tilt of her head. “They’re the muscle.”

Morgan exhales and points a finger at you and Hotch. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on here?”

Emily elbows him and he drops his arm. She takes the tray from Garcia and walks it over to the side table where she places it next to the flowers. She winks at you as she turns back to Garcia and Morgan. “It’s about time,” she says.

Penelope laughs as she hooks her arm in Emily’s. “What's it been? Two, three months?”

Morgan guffaws. “Months?”

Penelope pats his face with a ring-adorned hand. “My sweet oblivious profiler. Come on, hot stuff.” She takes him by the hand and leads him from the room. Emily shakes her head and laughs. “Men.”

“Safe to say the team knows.”

Hotch releases a breathy laugh and kisses your forehead again. “I know what will be the first thing on the agenda at tomorrow’s debriefing.”

•

6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since you’d pressed the elevator button that would bring you back to the office. The weight of your gun feels right where it sits upon your hip, your gait more familiar to you now than when it wasn’t holstered to your side. You nervously adjust the grip on your go bag. You’d packed and repacked it the night before.

This morning as you were getting out of the shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your cheek had healed nicely though the skin on your brow that had been split by the unsub’s ring had scarred, severing the tail end of your eyebrow from the rest of it. The ligature marks around your wrists and ankles had healed and the skin was smooth once more. The stun gun had scarred your abdomen, but all that remained were two purple pinpricks of scar tissue no bigger than the size of an infant’s thumbnail.

Your legs are a different story. The front of your thighs are an array of mottled scar tissue. One burn had gone so deep that they’d needed to graft skin from your calf to salvage it. The wounds no longer hurt physically, but you’d woken up from nightmares on more than one occasion.

You were never alone though. Garcia worked remotely on secure laptops with VPNs as often as she was able. Rossi brought you home-cooked Italian at least twice a week and talked with you over numerous glasses of red wine. Reid brought black-and-white foreign existentialist films that you didn’t understand, but his enthusiasm as he watched made you happy all the same. Emily and Morgan brought coffee and donuts as often as they could and Hotch…if he wasn’t at the office or visiting Jack, he was with you. On several occasions, he brought Jack. Jack would sit on the bed beside you, playing with his toys, narrating the adventures of his action figures as Aaron stood in the doorway, smiling. At night, when you had woken in a cold sweat, Aaron was there with a washcloth to wipe it away. When the bandages had stuck to your burn wounds and it felt like your skin was being peeled apart, he got your pain medicine and helped change the dressings, holding you until the pain had passed.

You blink as the elevator dings, signaling you’ve reached your destination. You take a deep breath and smooth down the front of your blouse as the door opens wide. Everything looks the same, yet everything feels like it's changed as you approach the desk you occupy perpendicular to Emily’s. A smile crosses your lips as you see the Welcome Bac k card on your desk. Two vases of flowers sit behind the card. One is almost exactly like the one from the hospital so you know it’s from Garcia. The other, a bouquet of purple tulips, has a note attached to it. You open the note and read it.

Glad to have you back. Things haven’t been the same around here without you. -AH

Hotch. You should’ve known. You smile and tuck the note into your purse.

“Hey, hey, look who’s finally decided to get her ass back to work.” Morgan’s charming laugh is followed by Emily chastising him.

“Ignore him,” she says as she places a steaming mug of coffee on your desk.

“You’re a godsend,” you say by way of thanks and take a long drink. Two sugars, no milk, just the way you like. “Wow, Emily, that’s perfect. I needed this.”

“How come you don’t remember how I take my coffee?” Morgan asks pointedly.

She shrugs, “Chicks before dicks, Derek.”

You sputter and choke on your coffee.

“Look,” he says as he pats you on the back. “Her first day back and you’re gonna kill her.”

At that moment JJ passes by with a file in hand. She raises it in the air and gestures to the conference room. “We got a case.” She smiles at you warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

Together, you, Morgan, and Emily enter the conference room where Reid, Hotch, and Rossi have already gathered. Once you’re all sat, JJ begins presenting the case. You review current victims and why the Sacramento Police Department has invited you onto the case

“Sacramento PD is expecting us this afternoon. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us. Wheels up in thirty, understood?”

A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ echo throughout the room. As the team gathers their belongings and moves to leave, you wait for Hotch to catch your eye. You wink at him before mouthing, “Yes, sir.”

[mggsv]

NIGHT GUARD

f!reader x Spencer Reid (18+)

summary : You were getting out of jail one way or another, you just needed a coat to ride in. Lucky for you, you fucked the night guard every chance you got.

warnings : manipulation, dom!spence, guard x prisoner, abuse of power, minor spanking, dirty talk, talks of impregnating, squirting

“Lights out!”

Being in prison was no joke. Doing the same things every single day drove you crazy. Not to mention the literal bullying of some inmates. You had a friend or two, they had your back. You mostly stood up for yourself though. You were quite intimidating once talked to. You stayed to yourself and watched out for yourself. You were sick of it.

And now this week you’re in solitary. “Y/N?” You hear your name being whispered from the other side of the door. A voice you knew all too well. “Pretty Boy.” You smile, “Get me out of here huh?”

“Not tonight.” He quickly shuts you down, but opens the door. Spencer Reid worked the night shift for the prison, being the night guard in your ward. Everyone wanted him- some people tried, many, many failed. But you? Tch. He leans in to kiss you softly on the lips, you moan into the kiss, tasting strawberry on his lips from his lip chap, your favorite. “Double Security tonight.” He murmurs.

His hands are on you in an instant, fumbling to undo the orange jumpsuit you made look so beautiful. You moan softly at Spencer’s lips on your neck, biting as he trailed down to your hardened perky nipples through the white tank top. “Fuck Spence-“ your body’s being pushed up against the wall, kicking out of the shoes and jumpsuit. He takes a moment to admire your frame, standing there in a tank top and underwear. “Well? I don’t have all night.” You breathe. He smiles softly and starts taking off his belt, walking towards you.

“You’re right.” Spencer looks over your body before you’re shoved against the wall. “You know what to do.” He says. Smirking, your body moves to bend over, touching your toes. Spencer moans at the sight of how wet your panties were. The spot only growing larger as he neared, cock hard and waiting….

“Have you heard the rumors going around?” thrust. “Guards are being fired, transferred for having sexual relations with the prisoners.” thrust. “It’s crazy out there- ah fuck..” Spencer’s cock was buried deep into your heat. Your eyes were shut tight, taking the large shaft with pride. You’d get out, you’d.. moaning quietly as he slapped your ass you felt yourself tighten around him. He curses lowly, speeding up. “Oh shit..oh fuck..f-fuck-“ you tremble, cunt squeezing around his thick cock. the grip around your ankles tightened as you held on. You felt dizzy, blood rushing to your head from the position.

“If you weren’t locked in here I wouldn’t have to be so-fuck- careful.” your eyes watered as your legs started to hurt. “How many times have I wanted to fill you up.. ah, how much I wanted to see you full with my cum until your belly’s all swollen.” Another smack to your ass brings you to a quivering halt. your cunt gushes against Spencer’s cock, juices running down your legs while he kept fucking you. “Mgonna cum- I’m gonna cum Spence- I’m..fuck fuck!” You cried out, not caring who heard. Spencer fucks your through your orgasm, his own cum coating your walls shortly afterwards. Slowly, he fucked his cum back into you, pulling out messily while it dripped down your wet cunt with your juices.

“Tsk, tsk.. You weren’t quiet at all angel. Now what if they transfer me hm? How are you gonna get out now?” Spencer daunting voice was loud in your ears, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of your heart beating before your eyes closed.

[milla984]

With Neighbors Like These

Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)

Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present

Word Count: 2k

The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.

Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different. 

The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.

He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”  

You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.

“Feeling lonely, already?” 

“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”

“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.

He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.

Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing. 

“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.

“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed. 

“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”

“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?” 

“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.

“... so you’re a bad influence.”

The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly. 

You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”

His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.

“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.

You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”

Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs. 

Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again. 

“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”

Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.

He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear. 

“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.

You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.

“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit. 

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

You nodded in confirmation and he growled. 

He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.

“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance. 

“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”    

His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”

You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff. 

He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open. 

“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.

“Better?!”   

He whined again. “Not exactly.”

You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”

The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.

It was torture but he was damn good at it.

When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.

Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood. 

He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.

When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.

With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.

“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.

He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.

He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”

He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”

“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.

“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”

He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”

You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile. 

“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”

@hornyhornyhimbos

NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.

[buckyysdoll]

life with aaron; because i’m feeling soft and i love him i love him i love him

MAIN MASTERLIST

DOMESTIC LIFE with aaron where you’re married and you’re raising up children in the home that you share. Each and every morning the privilege is yours to wake up in his arms, and watch his face as he wakes; to have those lingering touches, soft groans at the sound of the alarm although you wouldn’t change your routine for the world.

He’ll gladly — and does — sacrifice those extra five minutes asleep to bring you coffee; he tries his hardest not to burn your toast and succeeds. It was an art form, after all, and his favourite.

He's your provider, and one look from him has you steadied, one touch has your body weighed down; anchored at last to the life you’d been given but wasn’t quite sure you deserved until him. You get his first laughs of the day and how his hair looks when he's just woken up, and pretences be damned. Before he dresses for work, you alone — and your babies — get him when he's unguarded, half dressed, voice all groggy.

You get the quick hurried morning kisses, and the slow ones at night in the dark, searching hands. And you’ve had years of this, years of learning his body well enough to recall every single place where he aches.

The smell of his shampoo, his smell on the pillows. All of this is yours every day. The sweat of his shirts when he’s been on a run and the gentle, slow masculine touch of his hands.

The aaron that’s soft, drinks wine, does the crossword, wears “old man glasses” you can’t not tease him for.

The man that you married, who you watch from the doorway as he rocks his baby daughter to sleep in his arms; who cooks, who cleans, who provides, whose voice is the home that you’ll always live in.

The man who, when the light is low and your wedding band catches the dim orange light, you cling on tight to, hands curled in the fabric of his shirt, and swear that you’ll never, ever let go of.

[cosmicblogs]

[hotchsreader]

For the Rest of My Life

Words: 1.5k

Reader has an anxiety attack at work, and Hotch helps her through it. Very soft Hotch.

You knew today was going to be a hard day. You woke up, hair caked to your forehead and your legs felt like jelly, like you were not meant to be walking on them. As you sat up, your entire room spun around and it took more than a couple minutes to ground yourself. You knew what to do in times like this, you had your useful skills learned over the years tucked away in the folder in your brain, but today it felt like the cabinet holding them was locked.

You walked into the bullpen, eyes foggy and head down. Usually, you greeted everyone with a happy and hopeful smile, but today that felt too hard. The muscles in your face felt like they would snap if you tried even to talk. Derek looked up at you, and over at Emily trying to gauge the problem, but Emily just shook her head no and let you sit at your desk, forget about all that was going on in your brain, and throw yourself into the reports that were due. You sat there for a few hours, with no one bothering you and your focused workspace. It was very easy when everything felt like this to throw yourself into work or a project because it makes the mind stay busy. It’s when you have nothing to do that everything feels like it's going to come crashing down around you. It’s when you have nothing to do that it creeps up to the surface and begins to slip out, mostly without your control.

You were so focused you didn't hear the familiar sound of steps creep up behind you until an arm was placed gently on your shoulder.

“Hey, I know what you’re doing, and I would like to see you in my office ASAP,” Hotch said to you, he leaned down to say it in your ear so no one else could hear. He knew that allowing everyone to hear what he said would make this all worse on your end.

You didn’t think twice, you got up from your workspace, pushed the chair in behind you, and followed closely behind him. You realized as you walked behind him how tall he was, and how well fitted his suits always are. You start to wonder where he buys them before you realize how far your mind has wandered in the minute it takes to get to his office.

“Have a seat, and tell me what's on your mind.” He sits in his chair and motions for you to sit down in the chair across from him. You feel the tears slip out before you even hit the chair. You knew this would happen at some point today, but Hotch actually taking the time to pay attention to you, to realize something was wrong enough to come out of his office and grab you, made the tears sting just a little bit more.

“Oh no, sweetheart what is going on?” He immediately jumped up and rushed around his desk to you the minute he saw the tears falling from your eyes.

“It's just… it's just a hard day for me is all.” You sniffled and tried to wipe your tears but he brushed your hand aside and wiped them for you. He placed his hand on your knee as he bent down beside you, looking up into your eyes.

“Is it your anxiety?” He asked, you could tell his voice was laced with concern. He would do anything to protect you, but it is hard to protect a person from their own mind. No matter how much he had tried to.

Your palms had started to become clammy, and you were shaking. The entire time you were trying to throw yourself into your work you had ignored what was going on inside your brain. In hindsight, that was a bad idea because now every little thing that happened alongside your anxiety was fighting its way out. You started to cry a little harder, your shoulder bobbing up and down as the sobs tormented you.

“What can I do honey? I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” Hotch was speaking in a soft, gentle tone. This was not the first time he had helped you through an anxiety attack. The second night you spent with him you realized you had forgotten to submit a report on the case you all had handled that week and started to panic. He calmed you down then by reassuring you that he was in charge of when they were due, and he absolutely believed you that it had been done you had just forgotten to submit it. You have never been one to turn something in late, even at work. The only thing about now, this was the first time you had an anxiety attack at work, and you have no idea why it was happening.

“Just stay with me, hold me.” Hotch grabs you, lifts you up, and takes you over to the couch in his office. He sits you down and runs over to his desk where he grabs tissues. He sits down in front of you on his knees, takes the tissue, wipes your eyes, under your eyes, and gives you a new one to blow your nose with. After you do this, he takes them all to the trashcan, returns to you sits down, and guides you where your head is on his lap and he is stroking your hair. He knows that laying down and having your hair stroked is one way to easily ground you, so you can return back to your normal state and are able to function again.

You clear your throat and ask, “How did you know something was up?”

He lets out a small laugh, “When you walked in. You didn’t look at anyone, you didn’t wave, and you didn’t even lift your head up to check if I was in my office like you always do. I let you have a little while, hoping you’d be able to pull yourself out of the trance you were in, but once I realized you couldn’t, I intervened.”

You shift, rolling yourself over, so you can get a solid look at the man. His forehead is creased, meaning he’s worried about you, and his hand hasn’t moved from your hair. He uses his other hand to rub your cheeks with his thumb and he hums your favorite song.

“Do you know what caused this anxiety attack?” He looks down at you with a half smile as you smile back at him, letting him know everything is getting easier. The pounding in your chest has started to ease up, but you can still feel your heart rate is pretty fast. If you got up now, you’d probably either pass out or your eyes would go blurry for a minute, preventing you from moving.

“Honestly, no. I woke up and felt very groggy and focusing to even get myself out of bed was tough. I haven’t had one of these episodes in a while, so I thought if I just worked through it, I could ignore it enough that it’d go away.” You now, roll your eyes at the thought. You had been dealing with anxiety since you were eleven years old. You had dealt with these types of episodes before, you had to face it head-on or it would just get worse. You learned your lesson this time.

“You could’ve just come to my office. You know I am always here for you. Always. I would have helped you get through this. You didn’t have to let it build up this badly.” He jokingly waved a finger in your face to symbolize you had been bad. This brought a hearty chuckle out of you, which in turn made him smile. Seeing Hotch smile could cure most things for you. He was a great man, a great dad, and a great boyfriend. He would do anything if it meant that you would be okay. You had just thought this one wouldn’t be as bad.

“I know, it’s just embarrassing to have to deal with this. I wish, I just wish I could be normal.” You let out a heavy sigh, as he looks at you.

“Hey, if having anxiety makes you not normal, what does having nightmares related to the things I’ve been through make me? We all have our demons, and we all have things that make us different from the people around us. There is absolutely no such thing as normal. Who you are, and I mean this, and everything about you makes you perfect to me. Anxiety included.” He says, completely serious.

You look up at him, sit yourself up, and place a soft kiss on his lips. He returns it, grabbing the back of your head to emphasize how much he means it.

“I wouldn’t have made it through this without you, Aaron Hotchner.” You smile, your mouth inches from his. He kisses you again, and bites your lower lip. You laugh.

“I wouldn’t have made it through a lot without you, if this is the way I can repay all you’ve done for me, I’ll do it for the rest of my life.”

[chvoswxtch]

A fic where reader likes Aaron but is like 20 years younger than him (I checked the math, even at the start of the show, he was 43 so that wouldn't have been weird. Unless u find that weird? Pretend i said 10 years if that weirds u out) and she thinks she doesn't have a chance with him and that he wouldn't even consider her. And so she just pines over him with the unrequited crush blues. Maybe hotch seems to "baby" her and be extra protective of her so she chalks it up to being the baby of the team. Meanwhile he does not view her as a baby. At all. And maybe he doesn't even realize he treats her any different. Angst welcome! Definitely romance

She/her pronouns for the fic if u want to do it please 🙏 and thank u 😁

– Zee

MY DARLING ZEE

I have been SO excited to post this one, so thank you for requesting it. as usual, I got carried away, but it's daddy hotch so I apologize for nothing

enjoy ;)

warnings: swearing, lots and lots of angst word count: 4.5k

baby.

Furious didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt currently. The entire cabin of the jet was thick with tension radiating from your barely concealed rage, and for a split second you felt guilty, because the team’s discomfort was more than palpable. But as your gaze wandered to the opposite end of the jet and you caught sight of the culprit of your vexation, brooding heavily in your direction, any sliver of remorse evaporated from your pores and your eyes instantly hardened in response.

Fucking Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch’s thick dark brows were pinched together, creating a crease of annoyance right between them, and his lips were pressed in a line that was harsher than usual, causing his frown lines to settle even deeper into the skin around his mouth. His deep umber eyes were void of any warmth, and there was no evidence of faint mirth creasing around them. Instead his lethal gaze was cold as steel, and as rigorous as stone.

You had seen a more intense version of that look several times before whenever he interviewed unsubs that made monsters look like fairytales, and normally it sent a chill down your spine. Not because you were scared of your boss; quite the opposite actually. Every time you watched him stare down the worst of humanity with an aura of disinterest and a hard glare that showed he was completely unimpressed, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. Especially on the rare occasions when he lost his temper and ended up slamming his hands on the table while yelling in their face. You found that incredibly hot. 

From the day you met Hotch for your interview, you had found him attractive. Intimidating as hell, but attractive. The fact that he was your boss didn’t deter you from developing a little crush on him, or the fact that he was a widower with a six year old son. None of that stopped the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach every time he gave you a tiny bit of praise in the form of a “good job”, or a simple nod of approval. In fact, the more Hotch warmed up to you, the worse your little crush got.

You found yourself grinning whenever someone made him crack the tiniest of smiles, and nothing fueled your ego more than his quiet snort whenever you said something he seemed to find funny. Hotch surprisingly had a great sense of humor when the stress of being the unit chief of the B.A.U. wasn’t looming over his head. He could be stubborn and closed off sometimes, and he wasn’t always the best with words, but you could tell by his actions that he truly cared about his team. Unfortunately for you, his treatment revealed exactly how he saw you. 

The baby of the team. 

It was no secret that’s how the rest of the team saw you too. Derek had been teasingly, but affectionately, referring to you as “Baby Spice” since your first day because you were by far the youngest member of the team and beyond feisty. Spencer even joined in with the nicknames, jokingly calling you “kid” with a proud grin now that he was no longer the youngest, even though there was less than a five year gap between the two of you, which Rossi constantly reminded him of with a smack to the back of his head. At a certain point you realized that Rossi just enjoyed messing with Spencer, but you still grinned at him in appreciation every time he came to your defense.

Even though you were far from being a child, Hotch still treated you differently than the others, which did not go unnoticed by anyone. He was far more protective of you, not allowing you to go anywhere alone when the team was working a case, and he hardly ever wanted you in the interrogation room with unsubs. Only after Emily backed you up, insisting it was important to your training, did he finally allow you to interrogate. But it was under the strict condition that he was always the one in the room with you. He never allowed you to enter a crime scene or a suspected location of an unsub first, and the first time you got injured while on a case, resulting in the tiniest of a cut above your eyebrow, Hotch forced you to take a leave of absence for two weeks.

You made it three days before you burst into his office and demanded that he end your leave.

He didn’t.

Because of the way Hotch seemed to “baby” you, it resulted in the rest of the team doing it too. Emily and JJ weren’t as bad about it, but they definitely put themselves in front of you anytime a situation got dangerous. Derek and Hotch were by far the worst and the most obvious about being overprotective, but Spencer and Rossi weren’t far behind. The only one that ever treated you as an equal was Garcia, and that’s why she was your favorite.

And the only one you confided in about your little crush on your boss. Although, you were sure Emily and JJ had caught on by now. They always flashed you a teasing smirk and a little wink anytime they caught you silently pining.

But that was what seemed to solidify that you would never have a chance with Hotch. Not that he was your boss, or that he had traumatically lost his wife, or that he had a young son, or even the fact that he was a good twenty years older than you. It was that he seemed to view you more as a helpless child than a capable woman.

As soon as the jet landed, you were the first one off. You could hear Hotch’s shoes stomping along the floor of Headquarters right on your heels. While you stopped at your desk to drop off your go bag, fully prepared to get your shit and leave, his angry march continued up the stairs towards his office, but he never once took his irritated glare away from your figure.

“Y/L/N, my office. Now.”

Gritting your teeth hard, you turned your head to shoot daggers in his direction, but he had already disappeared into his office. Disregarding the sympathetic concern from your coworkers, you furiously made your way up the stairs and made a dramatic show of slamming the door to Hotch’s office forcefully behind yourself, which in turn made his eyes narrow into vehement slits as he looked at you. He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders while he stepped around his desk to stand a few feet away from you. He looked absolutely pissed, but you were too lost in your own rage to care.

“You were completely out of line-”

“Oh, bullshit! I was doing my job-”

“I gave you a direct order and you ignored it, putting yourself and the entire team at risk.”

Hotch’s voice rose in volume when you combated his critique, and even though you had spoken over him first, the fact that he was now doing it to you only fueled your anger further. You took a bold step forward and glared up at Hotch as you grit your rebuttal out through your teeth.

“I saved that kid’s life-”

“By being reckless! You could’ve gotten him killed. You could have gotten killed. Don’t you get that?”

“But I didn’t! No one got hurt, so what the fuck is the issue-”

“The issue is you.”

Hotch’s comment quickly halted the verbal punch you were about to throw, and as you glared up at him, you noticed that his nostrils were flaring with fury and that his darkened eyes were wild and blown open with pure unbridled rage. The sting of his words caused the wildfire flaring inside of you to shrink to the dull roar of a fireplace blaze. Crossing your arms over your chest in a sign of defiance, you lowered the volume of your voice and layered it with acidity. 

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes, which seemed to be glowing with resentment, as he took another step towards you, faintly cocking his head to the side.

“Excuse me?”

He was giving you an opportunity to correct yourself. But one thing Hotch hadn’t seemed to learn about you was that you could be just as stubborn as he was, and once you reached a certain stage in your wrath, you didn’t back down. You went straight for the jugular.

“If it had been you, you wouldn’t have called it ‘reckless’. But because it’s me, you flip out and blow the whole fucking thing out of proportion because you treat me like I’m a goddamn child-”

“I wouldn’t treat you like a child if you didn’t fucking act like one.”

At this point, there was barely an inch of space between you and Hotch, and you had to tilt your head back slightly just to return his scowl. He might as well have thrown gasoline on the fire with that comment, and you were suddenly completely fed up with no one in this goddamn building viewing you as a grown fucking woman.

“If it had been Derek, or Emily, you wouldn’t be giving them shit like this. You would’ve given them a slap on the wrist, but still acknowledged that they got the job done. So why do I get treated differently-”

“Because you’re not as good as you think you are, and you’re certainly not as good as them.”

That simple statement hurt worse than if Hotch had physically struck you across the face with the back of his hand. All the fury within you suddenly fizzled out, and you stood there dumbstruck while Hotch let out an exasperated exhale through his nose and turned away from you to walk around the corner of his desk and plop down angrily in his chair. He opened the file currently sitting in front of him and directed his irritated attention solely to the pages, reaching for a pen from the holder to his right to wrap his fingers around. He didn’t even look up as he barked out his next order.

“You’re suspended for three weeks. When you return, we’ll discuss your behavior and your future here at the B.A.U.”

Everything felt like it had suddenly come crashing down around you, and you found yourself wondering if it was all worth it. The stress of the job, the never ending hours, the horrors you saw day in and day out, but especially the treatment you received from Hotch and the others. You started to wonder if you had tricked yourself into believing it wasn’t harmful and had all come from a good place, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. For the first time since joining the B.A.U., you found yourself wanting out.

Swallowing the pieces of the lump that threatened to form in your throat, you lifted your chin slightly and spoke in a quiet but firm voice.

“No.”

Hotch quickly lifted his gaze to glower up at you, the thickness of his brows making him appear angrier from where you stood above him. However the second he caught the look on your face, his eyes softened considerably and he sat up straight, the semi permanent frown on his lips vanishing into a subtle line. His eyes followed the movement of your hand while you pulled the gun from the holster at your hip and sat it down in front of him on the desk, along with your badge. There was a brief flash of panic in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at you again, and his lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I quit.”

Turning around to solemnly leave his office, you ignored the gentle pleas of your name leaving his lips. As you descended the stairs, the team’s heads perked up in curiosity, their gazes darting between your melancholic movements while you gathered your things, and the sight of a frantic Hotch rushing down the stairs like a man on a mission.

“Agent Y/L/N, do not walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”

Realizing that he was getting nowhere by being authoritative, Hotch let out an exasperated deep exhale through his nose and lowered the volume of his voice, speaking in a far gentler tone.

“Y/N we have to talk about this, you can’t just leave.”

You didn’t bother looking at any of them as you began your walk towards the elevators. You could still hear Hotch following closely behind you, and all of a sudden Derek’s large figure appeared in front of you. He dipped his head slightly to capture your eyes, the confusion on his features melting into pure concern as he glanced over your shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you. He held his right hand out towards you as if he were extending an olive branch and tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Whoa, what’s goin’ on Baby Spice? C’mon, talk to me.”

Derek was speaking to you in that gentle manner that he used when he wanted to show a victim that he wasn’t a threat. There was no doubt he could see the sadness and defeat glistening in your eyes, but you didn’t have the energy to rip open the wound any further.

“I’m going home. Please move.”

That was all you could manage to weakly get out as you attempted to step around him. But Derek, being Derek, wasn’t having it. He reached out to gently place his hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll drive you.”

“I can drive myself.”

“Baby-”

“I’m not a child, Derek. I don’t need your help, can you back off?”

Derek’s warm gaze widened considerably, and his neat onyx brows rose up his forehead in complete shock. You had never exploded on him like that, or any of the others for that matter. But right now all you wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

“Let her go.”

Derek glanced over your shoulder to look at JJ in pure confusion, but she gave a slight shake of her head while holding his gaze with a firm look in her ocean blue eyes, giving him a nonverbal cue to sit this one out. After a moment of hesitation, Derek removed his hand from your shoulder and took a step to the left to unblock your path. 

The entire team was silent while watching you disappear behind the elevator doors.

»»———　　———««

A subtle but firm series of knocks at your door roused you from your sleep. Squinting at the clock on your bedside table, the lime green numbers read ten twenty-three pm. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. As soon as you had walked through the door of your apartment hours ago, you kicked off your shoes and crawled in bed, your mind spiraling about what you had just done and what it meant for the future.

When the knocks grew more impatient, you threw your comforter off with an irritated huff and got out of bed, exiting your bedroom to make your way to the living room to figure out who the hell was knocking on your door this late. However when you swung the front door open, your unexpected visitor was the last person you expected it to be.

Aaron Hotchner.

The darkness under his eyes was more prominent than usual, and his neatly cropped hair looked messy, as if he had been stressfully running his fingers through it. The permanent scowl he normally wore was missing from his lips, and there was a faint flicker of concern highlighted in his eyes. The first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, and his merlot colored tie hung loosely around his neck.

He looked exhausted.

Instead of speaking, you arched one of your dark brows, silently asking for the reason for his impromptu visit. As he shifted awkwardly to his other foot and cleared his throat, you realized you had never seen him look so unsure of himself.

“May I come in?”

Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, but a bigger part of you was curious to know why your former boss had shown up at your door unannounced at ten thirty at night. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you stepped aside to allow Hotch to pass by you. The second the door shut with a soft click and you turned around to face him, there was already a blanket of irritation tugging his features down. He didn’t even give you a chance to question his presence before speaking.

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

A dry laugh instantly escaped your lips, and a soft furrow settled between your brows while you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Wow, you’re really good at this whole apology thing, huh?”

“I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to be honest with you, and the honest truth is you’re a huge pain in my ass. You’re stubborn, emotionally reactive, not to mention combative-”

“Then why the hell did you hire me-”

“I’m not finished.”

Hotch was speaking in that firm authoritative voice he used whenever he wanted to make it crystal clear he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit or push back. Despite your burning desire to lash out again, you bit your tongue and settled for glaring at him instead.

“You are constantly acting like you have something to prove-”

“Because you make me feel like I have to, Aaron. You, and the rest of the team, make me feel like I have to prove my worth every fucking day. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Or how much that makes me doubt myself?”

“Do you ever stop talking long enough to listen to someone else speak?”

Tension hung in the small space of your living room like a heavy and dense fog. Hotch observed you silently for a moment as your frustrations lingered in the air while you refused to meet his eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face, and he seemed to wait until he could tell your emotions had leveled out slightly before speaking again.

“I admired your compassion.”

Perplexity twisted up your features as you stared across your living room at Hotch.

“What?”

“You asked why I hired you. That’s why.”

He made it sound like it was the most simple statement in the world, but it only added another layer to the cryptic labyrinth you were trying to navigate.

“I don’t understand-”

“When I reviewed your case work with you in your interview, I was impressed by your attention to detail. But I was even more impressed that when I asked you questions about the victims you had worked with, you gave me personal details about them, not just black and white facts that were in their file. You remembered things about them. You humanized them instead of speaking about them like a statistic.”

All you could do was blink at him in surprise. That was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. Sensing that a calmness had settled over you, Hotch took a cautious step forward and continued.

“You know just as much about the victims of notorious serial killers as you do about the serial killers themselves. Every solution you have to a problem is led with people in mind, trying to minimize casualties. You speak about victims like people, not numbers or objects. You put everyone’s feelings, and safety, before your own, and that is both the best thing about you and the worst.”

The sincerity in Hotch’s voice caught you off guard, and for a moment you weren’t sure what to say. He spoke to you in the soft voice you had once overheard him speaking to Jack in on the phone, and that caused a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. But it also added to your confusion. If he thought so highly of you, then why did he treat you the way he did?

“Why are you so different with me?”

Hotch let out a deep exhale through his nose, dragging his palm down his face slowly before loosely gesturing to you with his hand.

“Because it’s my job to protect you.”

“No it isn’t.”

It was Hotch’s turn to stare at you in puzzlement, his thick brows knit together in the center of his forehead. Running a hand through your hair in slight irritation, you shook your head slowly.

“I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I applied for this job. I knew it was dangerous-”

“My job as the unit chief is to keep my team safe-”

“No, Aaron. It’s to lead us. We all knew the risks when we joined. There is only so much you can control, you of all people should know that. I know you try to look out for us, but you don’t treat the rest of the team like you treat me. And I get it, okay? I am the youngest on the team, but I’m not a child-”

“I don’t think you’re a child.”

Hotch looked even more perplexed by your words, his head tilted to the side slightly while looking over at you.

“Y/N, your age has nothing to do with the way I treat you-”

“Then what is it?”

That uncertainty was once again shining in his eyes. It looked like Hotch was struggling internally with which version of his truth he wanted to give you. The revelation about your age not being a factor in his treatment filled you with a sense of relief, but also left you with more questions than answers. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Hotch’s face softened considerably as he took a few steps closer towards you.

“I…I care about all of you, and I don’t want to see anything happen to any of you.”

The intensity of his eye contact caused a slight shiver to nip at your spine, and it seemed like there was a hidden meaning to his sentence; something deeper. 

“You…care about me?”

The tiniest of smirks tugged at the edge of Hotch’s lips, and his eyes had lightened in color with pure amusement.

“You know, for one of my most brilliant profilers, you’re pretty bad at this. Should I be concerned?”

Warmth bloomed in your cheeks hearing the faint tease lingering at the edge of his question. Hotch had never been this laid back and playful with you before. It almost sounded like he was…flirting?

Your eyes widened slightly while staring up at him, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“Was that…a joke? Did you just make a joke? Are you feeling alright? Should I call a doctor?”

Deciding to test the waters, you brought your hand up to place the back of it against his forehead before moving it downwards to place against his cheek, as if you were checking his temperature. All of a sudden, a huge tooth bearing grin stretched across his lips, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was smiling.

Aaron Hotchner was smiling. 

He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, his grin fading to a miniscule smirk while his gaze became a little more intense.

“Actually, smartass, I’m having a bit of a rough night. One of my best profilers quit on me earlier. Although in her defense, I was kind of being a dick.”

“Kind of?”

“Don’t push it. I’m already doing something I normally don’t.”

“Which is?”

“Begging for forgiveness.”

Hotch hadn’t let go of your wrist, and either your mind was playing tricks on you, or he had somehow gotten closer. There was barely a centimeter separating your chests. Him telling you not to push it only made you want to do it that much more, and since you had already technically quit, you decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I don’t hear any begging.”

The mirth in Hotch’s eyes darkened into something you hadn’t seen before, and for a moment you were nervous that you had crossed a line. It felt like he was staring directly into your soul, searching for some answer that would determine his next move. 

“You are by far the most frustrating woman I have ever met.”

Woman.

Hotch thought of you as a woman, and that caused a bright grin to stretch across your lips.

“Well, you’re no ray of sunshine either, but I still like you.”

Hotch’s grasp on your wrist tightened slightly at the end of your sentence, and a look of surprise flashed across his face before his eyes returned to that darkened look you couldn’t decipher. 

“Is that so?”

His voice was low, but firm, and the sultriness of it nestled comfortably between your inner thighs. All you could do was subtly nod while staring up at him, watching as he leaned in meticulously and painfully slow.

“If I’m reading this wrong-”

“If you’re reading this wrong, you’re a terrible profiler.”

You weren’t one to wait for action, so before he could respond, you reached up to grab onto the back of Hotch’s neck and pulled him down to press your lips against his in a tentative kiss. At first he tensed up, but then you felt his body physically relax, and a soft hum sounded in your throat when he snaked his arm around your waist. Reluctantly pulling away, he gently brushed his nose against yours and whispered.

“So, I’ll see you in the office Monday?”

“Mm, no.”

Hotch pulled back so he could stare down at you in pure perplexity, and you grinned at his facial expression.

“No?”

“I’m suspended, remember? Three weeks, I think it was?”

Hotch’s lips formed into a thin line as he stared down at you, the amusement previously lingering in his eyes completely gone. You couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving him away from you with your palms against his chest.

“Hey, you decided my sentence.”

“You were being a brat-”

“And now this brat has a three week vacation. I’ve been meaning to take a trip anyway-”

“Actually, I haven’t filed any paperwork, so you’re not officially suspended, and you’re still a current employee. I’ll see you on Monday, Agent Y/L/N.”

The demanding tone of his voice made you bite down on your bottom lip, and you leaned back against your kitchen island while arching one of your brows in challenge and crossing your arms across your chest with a playful smirk on your lips.

“You don’t wanna see me before that, sir?”

The way you used his title clearly had an affect on him, and you suddenly realized that the emotion eclipsing his eyes was pure lust. He slowly reached his hand up to tug at the loose knot on his tie until it came undone around his neck completely, and he slowly approached you with a wolfish grin.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee

[criminalskies]

Rome ugh helpppp! I’m dying over seeing these young TG pics and they’re making me think of fratboy!Hotch but also I’m in the mood for hotch angst 😅

Like imagine Aaron and reader going to the same boarding school and they def had a thing with each other but he started dating someone else because he chickened out/didn’t think he had a shot with reader? But what really sucked is that he and reader had a falling out bc of a rumor Hotch’s gf at the time started since she was jealous of reader? And they never talk the rest of boarding school 🥺

Thennnnn they start college at GWU and reader’s friend takes them to a frat party since friend’s significant other is a member of said frat where they see Aaron as frat pres! And all the memories come flooding back of the man they loved 😭 but then reader tries to escape and oh no, they’re spotted by AARON who stops them from leaving?

Then they have a brief convo but reader ends up crying and running away and our poor boy is🥲

So then since the incident, reader’s friend and Hotch are in cahoots to try to get reader and Aaron to FINALLY get together and everything’s not working!! But one day reader and friend walk to a spot special to reader and surprise surprise AARON is there all nervous and shy with a cute picnic with all the fancy fairy lights and readers food! And reader tries to stay mad at him but then our boy starts crying and says how sorry he is and how much he never stopped loving reader. Then they have a mature adult conversation, kiss and FNALLY get together 😊

Sorry if that was long, my Hotch brain goes wild sometimes lol

fratboy!hotch honestly runs my mind 24/7 tbh because when hotch was even a little bit young and wild and free there would be nothing and i mean nothing stopping me from falling head over heels for him.

I headcanon hotch as having had a fling or two at boarding school, in my mind this was when he explored his more bicurious side but I can basically just see him falling for somebody at boarding school because what the hell else is there to do once your homework is all done?? But omg poor reader :(((((( having him be too much of a baby to pursue you, so you two stay friends but then he lets some stupid girlfriend ruin his connection with his favourite person bc he wasn't brave enough to stand up for you the way you deserved!

So then, like all high school crushes and squashed friendships, the two of you drift apart, finding your own circles with whom you feel involved, but not seen the way your person used to see you. Reader knows no one will ever understand them like Aaron did, when he was theirs. :( and vice versa. I just know that as Aaron grows as a person and matures socially he realises he should have defended you with every bone in his body. He should never have let old girlfriends he didn't even really love ruin his relationship with you, the one real person he ever met in high school. He misses you now but he knows he ruined his chances and now you don't really want to hear from him, he doesn't even think he deserves your forgiveness. Deep down he knew you had feelings for him, and he knew how badly it would have hurt you when he didn't defend you against those kids. He knew they saw him as one of them so he could have made a real difference but now he knows how badly he blew it. How badly he hurt you.

So when your friend drags you to his frat party, he takes it as a sign, a sign that the universe is trying awfully hard to give him another shot. He sees you before you see him and he puts his drink down, abandoning his game of beer pong in favour of trying to make amends with you. But when you look up and see his tall frame crossing the room to come find you, you panic. All you can remember is the teasing and the painful words his ‘friends’ spoke to you and how he stood by letting them just have at you. Even when the rumour spread across the entire school, it was all too late for him to stop it, but he could have defended you. He could have told the truth. He *should* have told the truth.

So you feel your fingers and toes getting cold, your face getting hot at the memory as you tap your friend on the shoulder, waving a goodbye and you bolt. But moving through crowds at your height is never easy, and guys take your persistent pushing as a sign you want to grind on them on the dance floor, one of them grabbing you by the waist and bringing himself towards you, but you shove him off. You eventually make it to the open front door, Greek lettering marking the entrance but it’s guarded by a familiar face. Aaron.

You tell him you have to go, that you shouldn’t be here, and he says he’ll walk you back to your dorm then. Ever the gentlemen (only when it least seems to matter). But then he says it. He calls you ‘red’. Only Aaron ever got to call you red because only Aaron knew the way your ears grew red whenever you were about to swing your fist at someone. When your anger bubbled up so high you’d just explode. Funnily enough, it’s him saying that this time that makes your ears grow red, as tears gather in your eyes. Your jaw is clenched tight as you tell him he lost EVERY right to call you that after what he put you through. After he left you to fend for yourself with those, those snakes. You don’t quite have it in you to punch him, a piece of you forever loving the shy, bright little boy who had changed your whole perspective on life. You settle for smacking your hands against his chest, unable to contain the hurt you still feel for how he left you.

He looks confused, trying to grab your hands and stop you from pounding against his chest and you realise, then that he never knew. No one ever told him you could hear him backstage at your school play, when his mic was still on. The whole school heard him spinning a web of lies about how you were head over heels for him and he’d had to fight you off with a chair and a whip. He never knew you stormed out of the school auditorium and had to lock yourself in your room for the last week of school term. He never knew how much you cried over what he did. How he lied to his friends to make himself seem cooler. He never told them how HE had been the one to admit he had feelings. How HE had pulled you in for a kiss, then pushed you off when the closet door opened and his girlfriend started telling everyone there that night what a slut you were. How you pined for him.

He really is that stupid. You push yourself away from him, stomping off towards your dorm, telling him that if he wants to talk to you ever again, you’ll be the one operating the chair and the whip. He stands crestfallen on the path, mind reeling with memories of when he’d used those words against you. He feels the air sucked from his lungs by the cold night air and he’s frozen there. He realises now why you’d made such an effort never to see him again. He realises now how he’d sunk his knife into your back that night.

You go about your life on campus, getting to know your professors, your classmates, and trying desperately hard not to think about a certain raven haired boy who you really wanted to forget even existed right now. Until one day, your friend called you, telling you to meet them under the secluded trees, behind the southern field of campus for a smoke so you could finally spill to her what had happened that night at the party to make you run away so fast.

Only when you arrive, your friend is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Aaron is there. Wearing his high school letterman jacket, with the most hopeful, sad look on his face. He has a bouquet of flowers and jars of fairy lights decorate the big blanket. There’s handmade pastries and your all time favourite, red velvet cupcakes waiting for you. You cross your arms, excited to hear just what he has to say for himself. And then a tear slides down his beautiful cheek, as he tells you how sorry he is for being a lovestruck idiot. He tells you he was infected with cooties and he was letting his dick think for him instead of his brain and that he should have defended you, and there is no excuse for what he did. He tells you more importantly how terrified he was when he couldn’t find you at school that next week. He tells you how he drove by your house on his way to school every morning hoping he’d see you walking out towards the bus stop, or that he’d see your light on in your room, but he never did.

Your mom came out one morning, heading to work and told him you’d gone to live with your dad in Washington. And his heart shattered. He felt so helpless and sick he thought it might have stopped. He never knew you’d heard him that night, but that’s no excuse for him ever even saying those things. What he should have said; was how much he loved you. He should have told his buddies in the play about how you’re the only reason he ever even made the football team, because you were there to push him harder each time he wanted to quit. You got him his scholarship to GWU. He owes his life to the little girl whose braces got caught on her bracelet. He would give anything to be able to go back and tell her how much he loved her beautiful hair and her buttercup lunchbox. But most importantly, how much he loved her spirit. Her smile that could pull his head out of his father’s revolving stormcloud around Aaron’s home. Her laugh that could cut through the thrumming in his ears when he couldn’t answer the teacher’s question because he had copied Red’s homework the night before.

He tells you he will spend his lifetime making it up to you if you’ll let him, because for better or for worse, Miss Grogan had announced the two of you husband and wife in the playground in the first grade. And he made his vows. Your Aaron, promises you that he will uphold them, even if you punch him in the teeth each time you see him. Because he deserves it. After all, he made you Red.

[smok3r7]

MAIN MASTERLIST

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Here's the link to my Ao3 also

- Joel Miller Stories -

Latching On To You (finished)

| Joel Miller x F!reader

Series summary: What happens when, after thirteen loving years of being with Joel, you start to feel like he’s slipping away from your grasp? How much of yourself will you lose because of the trauma your father put you through at such a young age? You could be wrong about Joel, but something is telling you otherwise - or are you just not healed enough to see past your own insecurities?

Is Leaving Even An Option? (finished)

Joel x F!reader

EXTREME TW: Extreme domestic abuse (verbal and physical), PLEASE READ WARNING BEFORE READING!!

Summary: Your days have become one in the same - even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson, being home is evidently worse. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

One Door Closes & Another One Opens (ongoing)

Joel Miller x OFC! Divorce Attorney

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and she gets to see this man fight for the safety of his ten year old daughter, Sarah. Will she be able to keep it professional? For her sake.

Christmas Getaway (One-Shot)

| Joel Miller x Softball Coach!F!reader

Summary: You met Joel by coincidence. You picked up a little side job to be a high school softball coach for fun, and Sarah was one of your top players. Sarah introduces you to Joel after the first game and both of you hit it off immediately. The three of you grow closer throughout the year and end up spending the holidays together on a getaway trip. Joel treats you to a nice night.

Three, Two, One - Draw! (One-shot)

Cowboy Joel x F!reader

Summary: In Tombstone, you’re the bartender at Wyatt Earp’s saloon, a favorite actually. You’re one of the fastest shooters in the west, having learned from the best - your brother, Doc Holiday. One night after your shift at the saloon, your husband Joel Miller, tells you he wants to practice your draw speed. However, he’s not talking about guns.

New Traditions // Valentine’s Day (One-shot)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: The last Valentine’s Day two years ago has shattered your view of the so-called holiday. When Joel brings up the idea, you shut him down immediately, but he doesn’t listen. He hopes he can change your opinion on the holiday of Love.

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- Aaron Hotchner Stories -

They Always Come Back (Ongoing)

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a couple decades you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 10 (Aaron Hotchner x y/n Hotchner)

No. 10 POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS

Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding

Alt: tears, whimpering

Warnings: child abuse (straight after the cut), alcoholism, homophobia, f-slur, homophobic parent, internalised homophobia 

Word count: 1629

A/N:  we’re bending canon a little, Hotch joined the BAU a lot sooner (like 8 or so years before aha hope yall don’t mind, we’ll say after he got his law degree thing, he did a few years of law-ing until aged 24?)

@whumptober-archive

“No, no, no, no, no, I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I s-swear-” Your words are rushed and messy as you say them, scurried back.

"Shut up, boy," Your father slurred. “My son, the faggot,”

You gave a sob, your stomach dropping. You felt like you were going to be sick. You had been cocky and it got you caught. His car wasn’t there, how were you supposed to know he was home? You had kissed your best friend, Michael, after the two of you had decided to test the waters into being more than friends and gone on a date (to see a movie). And he had seen through the blinds.

“I’m sorry, dad, I’m sorry, I swear-” The strike was expected, but still took you by surprise. You didn’t fight back, knowing that there was no point, that he was too fueled by hatred and alcohol to care.

When the hits eventually stopped, you waited, curled up on the floor, waiting for him to leave the room. You heard him wander upstairs, shutting his bedroom door loudly behind him. You drag yourself up, wincing in pain as you do. You climb the stairs slowly, knowing that moving any faster would cause more harm than good. When you enter your room, you shut the door gently behind you.

You limp to your bed, throwing yourself down, whimpering as you did so. You reached blindly under your bed hidden at the bottom of a box of photos is the cellphone Aaron got you, telling you not to tell your father about it. He'd just take it away and right now it was your only link to the outside world. You pause when you’ve got the phone in your hand, letting your emotions flood through you for a moment, sobbing loudly, hand covering your mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle them. When you’ve recovered, you dial Aaron's number, you knew that because of his work he had to keep his phone on at all times.

Aaron’s phone woke him up, turning over with a roll, he saw at the time. 3 AM. His stomach dropped seeing your name flash on his phone. “(Y/N)? What happened?”

“I pissed him off,” Came your pained reply. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Calms me down,”

Aaron gave a sigh at his brother’s words. “I’m coming to get you,”

“I can take it, Aaron,” You mumbled.

“I don’t care. I’m coming to get you,”

“I can take it,”

“(Y/N), I’m doing what I should have done at eighteen,” Aaron said strongly, “I’m picking you up and you are going to live with me and Haley,”

"No, Aaron, it's fine, really, I'm fine,"

"No, (Y/N), it's not. You're not fine either," Aaron said, "Lock you door, pack your things. Don't open the door unless it's me, okay?"

You nodded, mumbling an okay as you walked to the door, locking it. "I've locked the door,"

"Good, now pack everything you can." He said, you heard shuffling, assuming it was him getting out of bed. "I will be there soon, pack as much as you can, we'll come back for the rest."

"Okay," You whispered, "Are you sure this is okay? Haley won't mind?"

You heard Aaron quietly explaining the situation before another voice popped up, "Of course I don't mind, (Y/N)," Haley responded. You relaxed, okay, Haley didn't mind. That was all that mattered. If she didn't mind then it was okay. Everything would be okay.

"How long until you get here?"

"I'll be there in half an hour, okay?"

"Okay,"

“How bad is it?” You paused, wincing in pain. “(Y/N)?”

“I’m fine,” You hear Aaron sigh on the other side of the line.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m fine.” You don’t mean to snap, but you do.

"Are you going to be okay until I get there?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"(Y/N), come out, come out wherever you are," Your blood ran cold at the slurred voice from the hallway.

"Aaron, please hurry," You whispered.

"I will." You gulped as your father slammed his fist against your door.

"Come on (Y/N)!" He yelled, "Just open the door,"

Ignoring the voice of your father and the pain spread throughout your body (motivated by the time limit Aaron had given you), you looked around your room, gathering your school work from your desk and floor, shoveling it into your school bag. When you had finished with that, you moved on to your clothing. You knew that if push came to shove, Aaron would let you steal some of his clothes if you needed it. You were just hoping you didn't necessarily need to.

You don’t reply, trying your best not to listen to the comments he yells through the door, the threats, taunts, you block them out the best you can as you continue to pack. You’re nearly done, school work all in your backpack and you’ve got the majority of your clothes in another bag.

You hear the front door open and slam shut and you know it’s Aaron. Your father is silent on the other side of the door as Aaron loudly climbs the stairs, letting you know he’s here. Perfect timing, you’ve just finished packing all of your essentials into the bag. You zip it up, clutching it and your backpack in your hands tightly.

“What are you doing here?!” His slurs are more pronounced now and you imagine he’s also swaying on his feet.

“I’m taking (Y/N),” Aaron’s voice is tight and leaves no room for argument.

“You want him? Have him.” Your father snarls. There’s a soft knock on your door.

“(Y/N)?”

“Aaron?” You ask, wanting to make sure it’s him before you open the door.

“Yeah, come on,” He says, you give a small ‘okay’ as you unlock the door. You can tell that Aaron’s trying not to react to the sight of your face, littered with bruises and cuts (some of which are slightly bleeding). “You all packed?”

You nod, holding up the two bag. “Alright,” He says, “I’ll take them, you go sit in the car.” You give him an unsure look but nod and do as he says. As you’re making your way down the stairs, you hear Aaron beginning to talk. “You come near him again, I’ll kill you.”

“Shouldn’t be talking to me like that, boy, I’m your father,"

“You never were a father.” Is his response before he, too, makes his way down the stairs. “Come on, I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

You shake your head, “Aaron, no, I’m fine,” You argue as he places your bags in the boot of his car before the pair of you climb into his car.

“I just want to check, alright?” You huff but nod, knowing he won’t let it drop (and because if Haley finds out you wouldn’t let Aaron take you she’d give you her signature look of disappointment).

You watch the nurses and doctors eye Aaron up with caution at your condition. They think he’s the one who did this to you, you know it and Aaron does too - you watch his hands tense at his side. He hates the idea of people thinking he hurt you. “Are you alright?” You ask softly.

He turns to you, giving you a strange look, “Should I be the one asking you that?”

You grin, giving a small laugh, “You look worse than me,” Aaron laughs and you join in, wincing as you do and concern flashes across Aaron’s face. The nurses and doctors, seeing this realise that he couldn’t have been the one that hurt you.

You’re called in not long after that, into a small room, you sit on the bed, Aaron stood close to your, hand protectively on your shoulder, letting you know that he was here. “I think it would be best if you gave us a minute alone,” The doctor says as she looks at Aaron. Aaron nods, removing his hand from your shoulder.

“Please don’t make him leave,” You whisper, looking at the woman with wide, pleading eyes. “It wasn’t him, please don’t make him go,” She nods and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Who was it?” She asks, you look at Aaron, unsure whether you should answer.

When Aaron nods, you turn back to her, “My dad,” You say.

“We’re looking into ways to press charges.” Aaron adds.

“What? When did we agree to that?” You ask, looking at him in confusion.

“I meant me and Haley,”

You scoff with a smirk, “Of course, she’s got you wrapped around her finger, you know,” Aaron merely rolls her eyes.

Severe bruising, bruised ribs, and a mild concussion. But otherwise you’re fine. You’re still sat on the bed, Aaron sat next to you, waiting for the discharge forms.

“What set him off?”

“I-” Aaron’s heart broke as your voice cracked and you took in a shaky breath. He knew that you were unsure whether or not to actually tell him what had happened.

Aaron gently rubbed circles on your back, “Hey, I’m not leaving - not again. I’m your brother, through thick and thin,” He soothed, “Nothing will push me away, okay?”

You nodded, “He saw me kissing Michael.” Aaron wiped the tear that had fallen, carefully guiding your head to his chest.

“It’s okay,” He whispered, you gave a sob. “It’s alright, I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you again.”

“I- I tried not to like him, I promise, Aaron I promise,”

“Hey, (Y/N), I need you to listen to me,” Aaron paused, waiting for you to nod. When you do, he continues, “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter who you like as long as you both treat each other right, that’s all that matters.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

The next fic I read better have the MMC crying... I'm so over the FMC crying cause of something and the man comforting her. I need that shit reversed now