#aaron hotchner x oc

[ptersparkers]

reckless (aaron hotchner)

summary: After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isn’t your biggest fan. That’s too bad, because you really like him.

notes: hello. this is singlehandedly the longest fic i’ve ever written (like 21.7K words). i didn’t intend for it to be this long and i tried to see where i could break it up, but i think it flows better if it’s in one piece. happy reading! x 

(edit: adding in that the reader is fem)

a huge thank you to @hotchsdoormat​ for being the best person alive and for listening to me rant about this piece. love u forever.

warnings: typical criminal minds speak, kidnapping and mentions of broken arms and ribs and typos, probably. 

***

Years of dreaming of becoming a federal agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit led to the beginning of an illustrious career solving crimes and traveling across the country. It had only taken guest lectures by none other than the BAU themselves for the idea of catching killers and outsmarting them to do so to seep its way to the back of your mind.

You just wish you liked your job.

You like your work. You like walking into the office with a sense of purpose and you like profiling bad people and saving the good ones. You even like the shitty coffee that never seems to run out and you don’t mind the early call times and the sudden departures. 

What you don’t like, however, is your boss. But you know that’s just because he doesn’t like you. 

In your two years with the BAU, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Aaron throw a smile in your direction if it wasn’t meant for someone standing next to you. Two years of Aaron being dismissive and choosing to sit farthest from you in the conference room and on the jet. Two years of watching him foster friendships with your coworkers without sparing you a second glance. But work is work.

You’re an outsider. It’s almost what you expected. 

Emily’s the first one to tell you that you don’t need to take it personally. Her rocky start with the BAU and stories of learning that trust takes time eased your worries for a while, but Aaron never seemed to give you the time of day aside collaborating with the rest of the team. Everyone says he’s notorious for being stoic and intimidating, but you don’t see it that way. In your mind, he loathes you. 

Which is unfortunate, because you liked Aaron the most.

The guest lecture had sent you into a spiral of researching recently closed BAU cases and watching hours of press conferences led by Aaron. You appreciated the way he spoke about his work. He spoke about it like it was his due diligence and you liked that he treated each victim and their loved ones with grace and kindness. 

It kills you to know that he doesn’t trust you despite doing your best in the field. Your six month review approached and you passed with flying colors, earning a short-lived celebration from Erin Strauss before she exited Aaron’s office. But he kept quiet the entire examination, aside from putting his own input with how you acted in the field. He said you were diligent, followed orders well enough, and could listen to directions. It was the most you’d ever heard Aaron speak about you, but the swell of pride didn’t last long.

Sometimes people compare the two of you when it comes to your worth ethic. Last ones to leave, can’t be bothered when focused, and the need to excel in your career field while downplaying your contribution. Perhaps the need to do good in the world catapulted you into considering a role where you’d be actively helping others instead of a career where it would be too late. 

But every time you sit at your desk, opposite of Aaron’s office, you find yourself frowning. The blinds are always closed and you always wondered if Aaron could feel you staring at the emblem on his door when you wondered how you managed to keep your job. 

“I can hear your brain all the way from here,” Derek says, leaning against the stall of your desk. You avert your eyes from the door to his voice. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you say.

Derek gives you a look. “I know it’s not nothing, sweetness.”

“Just tired,” you lie, “I slept poorly last night.”

Your gaze focuses on the files in front of you and Derek looks between you and Aaron’s office. He does his best not to let you know it’s been affecting him too; everyone’s noticed how Aaron’s been giving you the short end of the stick and that his wavering trust hasn’t disappeared like it had for the rest of them. It doesn’t do any good for team morale. 

For a moment in the beginning of your time with the BAU, you think he’s asking you to prove yourself. You’re new, you need to get used to team dynamics, and you need to prove yourself capable before he can trust that you’d have everyone’s back. You understand that. 

What you don’t understand, however, is why he treats you like a first-day agent after your contributions. 

“Alright,” Derek says, knowing better than to pry you out of your work. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

He leaves you momentarily when Aaron steps out of his office. You try not to look up, but it’s hard to ignore him when your desk is pointed in front of his door. He’s wearing a classic black suit with a red tie, belt and shoes to match. You know what the look on his face means–there’s a case. 

“Everyone in the conference room,” Aaron pointedly says.

Derek finishes pouring two cups of coffee and brings it over to the room where he sees you sitting in front of the screen. You thank him for the cup as he sits beside you and Reid gives you a small ‘good morning’ before everyone files into the conference room and their attentions are focused on the faces on the screen. 

“Two children have gone missing in Los Angeles, California,” Penelope begins. “Gracie and Olivia McCormack, four and six respectively, were last seen in their shared bedroom last night and LAPD has contacted us to help find them.”

“Looks like the mother reported going into their bedroom to wake them up, only to find them missing,” you say, frowning. 

“Is the father in the picture?” JJ asks. 

“Jaqueline, the mother, divorced Scott McCormack before her youngest was born,” Penelope informs.

“New flame?” Emily wonders. 

“Yes ma’am. Logan James.” Penelope presses a few buttons and Jaqueline and Logan appear on the screen. “This is where it gets tricky.”

“It looks like both Scott and Logan were abusive towards Jaqueline during their marriages,” David reads from the file. 

“Jaqueline’s pretty familiar with the local hospital,” you mutter. 

“We can talk about the file and start to strategize on our way to LA,” Aaron says, packing his file in his go-bag, which is already in hand. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

***

The six hour plane ride doesn’t feel as nauseating as you had predicted. Your second cup of coffee sits on the table in front of you as your file is displayed on the surface, along with everyone else. Departure wasn’t terrible, mild turbulence followed but nothing you couldn’t handle. The armrest becomes your best friend on these flights. 

“Did Scott kidnap Gracie and Olivia because he wants his kids?” Derek says aloud. 

“Most likely,” Reid adds. “Scott’s a migrant construction worker. I can’t imagine anyone letting him raise two children without a steady home or income, though.”

“So he’s angry at the loss of his children and wants them back,” Aaron says. “Garcia, does Scott have any background of domestic abuse prior to his marriage with Jaqueline?”  

“One count of domestic battery with a former girlfriend, but his childhood tells us a whole different story.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Derek beckons. 

“Scott was born to heroin addicts and they’d leave him in hotel rooms for days while they tried to rob local convenience stores for money, presumably for their next high. Poor kid, he never stood a chance.”

“Damn,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine growing up like that.”

“He was put into the care of his grandparents on his mother’s side until he was six and–oh, ouch–he apparently caused too much trouble for himself that his grandparents gave him to the foster care system.”

“I can imagine that abandonment took a toll on Scott,” JJ says.

“Take the kids away from Jacqueline as punishment,” adds Rossi. “Makes sense, especially when Jacqueline was the one to file for divorce.”

“What about Jaqueline’s marriage with Logan? Haven’t we established that Logan was abusive during their marriage?” you ask. 

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “What about it?” 

“I think it’s important to consider him in all of this, Sir. If Logan was abusive to Jaqueline throughout their marriage, maybe Scott sees this kidnapping as some sort of effort to save them from harm.”

All eyes are on you now. It makes your skin crawl and you hope you don’t say the wrong thing.

“Go on.”

“If Scott really did take his kids, I don’t know if he did it to get back at her by kidnapping them. It makes more sense that Scott would want to save his children from an abuser. I mean, he knows what it’s like to live with abusive and absent parents. What if Scott wants to protect his children from suffering what he went through?” 

“Interesting,” Dave hums. “You’re theorizing that Scott considers this kidnapping as rescuing?”

You nod. “It makes sense. Maybe he has some animosity towards Jaqueline for letting Logan into their lives and retaliates by taking his children away from her because he thinks he’s saving them.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Aaron says pointedly. 

“I’m just spitballing,” you say. “I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way.”

You shut your mouth and revert your eyes back to the file that’s in your lap, desperate for any minute distraction it can give you. The rest of the team is stunned in silence and Spencer tries his best to fill in the awkward silence by reviewing all of the facts that have been listed in the report. 

At this moment, you feel small. Aaron’s dismissive attitude makes you feel somewhat inadequate at your job and you find it difficult to remind yourself of all the cases you’ve helped close when your boss has just undermined your work in front of your colleagues. 

His coldness towards you is what you don’t get. Aaron has a reputation for maintaining professionalism, which you can appreciate, but it seems like his stoic tendencies extend far beyond keeping it civil in the workplace. It feels like you’ve been isolated and boxed out from day one and despite having gotten to know the rest of the team on a deeper level, you still walk on eggshells around Aaron. It makes you wonder why he hired you at all.

From the other side of the plane, Aaron takes a seat in an empty chair and looks out the window pensively. He knows he’s being hard on you and he knows it’s unfair that he’s treating you much harsher than the others, but Aaron knows that it’s for the best. 

When you walked into his office for your initial interview, there was no doubt that you were the perfect candidate to fill in the role as a new profiler. Your past experiences had clued you into profiling and he promised Strauss that your addition to the team would benefit the BAU as a whole. 

And Aaron was right. Cases were closing at a higher rate than previously, your quick thinking and problem solving skills aided the capture of many prolific criminals, and it almost felt like you’d been with the team since the beginning. 

What Aaron didn’t account for, however, was developing feelings for you. 

All it took was a simple undercover operation to see you in a completely different light. The unsub had targeted women who looked like you and you were more than ready to step up to the plate to catch him. It took seeing you in a sleek black dress to make Aaron’s heart lurch out of his chest and make him feel like he was a teenager in love all over again, and he hated it. 

He hated feeling this way towards his coworker. For weeks, his mind bounced around the idea of what it might cost the team; your respective positions might cause an interference because of the dating policy set in place and how it would look from the outside. Aaron didn’t want to jeopardize your career by making it seem like you were providing unprofessional favors if news were to come out that you were romantically linked with him. He didn’t want your career to be damaged just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. 

Moreover, Aaron hadn’t felt like this towards anyone since marrying Haley.

He had dated casually but never thought about the possibility of anything serious coming out of it. Aaron thought he might’ve come close to it when he had dated Beth for a while, but her career taking her across the country made him realize how unstable his life already was. Dating became a question of who gets along with Jack and the rest of his family and who is able to handle his frequent absences. His marriage to Haley showed Aaron the downside of traveling all the time and he’d be damned if he made that mistake again.

The idea of liking you in any capacity that wasn’t professional scared Aaron to death. He hates that he’s willing to find any excuse to walk by your desk or strike up a conversation with you if time permitted. He hates that his mind often wanders to a life of domesticity with you. The only logical possibility for him to combat his feelings for you is to keep you at arms length and treat you like he would any of his coworkers, which means keeping your personal lives separate and maintaining professionalism at all times.

It works a little too well and Aaron doesn’t realize it. He misplaces his anger—the frustration of knowing he can’t have you the way he wants you—and you’re at the receiving end. Aaron thinks he’s doing his best by delegating and separating you from him in the field, but he doesn’t realize that it’s causing professional tension because you constantly think you aren’t doing enough to help the team solve cases and catch criminals. 

Aaron spends the rest of the flight looking over reports the precinct sent over before the plane lands in Los Angeles. You elect to keep your nose buried in your reports for the fear of looking like you aren’t working hard enough.

***

The Los Angeles weather has cooled down when you land and Aaron has ordered everyone to head to the precinct first thing after touching down. The detectives are kind enough to reserve a room for all of you to work out of and you waste no time setting up the white board with the missing girls and timeline of the abduction. 

The stakes are high and you can feel the tension in the room. You aren’t a stranger to cases like these and you know that everyone is trying their best to keep themselves together for the sake of the department and the family of the victims. You try not to read into Aaron’s coldness to you too much. You’ve convinced yourself enough times that it’s the stress of the job and being away from his home that keeps him running on pure stress and adrenaline to prevent you from overthinking your position on his team. 

Aaron has you and Spencer stay behind in the precinct to work on the profile and piece together a timeline of the abduction, and you’re more than grateful you don’t have to spend time in the field with him. The relaxation enters your body the section you see him step out of the precinct and Spencer can’t help but pry. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You turn around from the white board and your sleeve smudges the freshly written text. The annoyance bubbles up in your chest and you hastily erase the mess you created and rewrite it before turning your attention back to Spencer.

“Stressed out, but otherwise I’m good.”

He pauses. “You’ve seemed that lately, though.”

“Can you blame me?” you ask defensively. “Our job isn’t exactly low-stress.”

“It’s just that every time Hotch enters the room, you stiffen up and you seem to lose your voice, and you play with your nails. It’s your biggest tell, actually.”

You give Spencer a pointed look. “Reid, I did not ask to be profiled.”

“Sorry,” he relents. “I just…look, I care about you and I hate seeing that you feel like you can’t share your ideas with us. Is something bothering you?”

You know Spencer knows. You’re sure the team knows why you’re apprehensive about your work and second guess yourself every time you bring forth a new theory or concept. But it’s hard to admit it out loud when all you’ve done is complain about him in your head and push your feelings aside for the sake of solving cases. 

But you know Spencer has always looked out for you after the first time you took a bullet for him a week into the job after barely getting to know each other. It’s the same way that he looks out for you in the field, protecting your cover and being the first to volunteer partnering with you when Aaron asks. He’s keen and perceptive, and you know you can’t hide your feelings from him unless you want to jeopardize another relationship with your coworker.

“I feel like Hotch doesn’t like me,” you say earnestly. “And I mean it in a way that seems almost personal.”

“He’s been pretty distant,” Spencer adds.

You shake your head. “It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgment or values what I have to say unless one of you backs me up. I can’t really tell you when I started to feel this way, but I’ve always felt like I have to walk on eggshells around him or else he’ll fire me.”

“No one’s going to fire you,” Spencer reassures. “You have an exceptional skill at finding unsubs and getting into their heads. It’s quite impressive how you’re able to put yourself in their shoes.”

“Thanks, I think,” you say with a laugh. “But you saw what happened on the plane. Hotch shot down my theory and told me not to jump to any conclusions even though I was just theorizing. I feel like he doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say because he doesn’t think there’s any value in it.” 

Spencer pauses. He sees your grip on the dry erase pen and knows how frustrated you feel. He knows you, the way you think, your work ethic, and just how badly you want to save these girls. He also knows how to distract you from your own feelings.

“Then tell me about your theory,” Spencer chides. 

“Scott might’ve taken his children as a form of punishment against Jaqueline. Sure, I think that’s a plausible theory to go off of, considering she was the one who filed for divorce. But he was never abusive towards the girls, whereas Logan was abusive to all three of them.”

He smiles when he knows it’s working.

“So you’re thinking that Scott is trying to rescue Gracie and Olivia from further abuse?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “As a parent, I can’t imagine tolerating a stranger abusing your kids. Maybe in Scott’s mind, Jaqueline was allowing Logan to abuse them without realizing he was doing the same to her.”

“The wife had full custody of the kids too,” Spencer adds, opening a case file. “He was only allowed supervised visits with a social worker present if she allowed it to happen and in the time they’ve been divorced, she hadn’t let Scott see them since she and Logan got together.”

“Okay, so Scott had enough and wanted to take matters into his own hands. If his ex-wife won’t take care of the kids and neither will her new husband, it’s up to him to take care of the girls.” 

“It looks like Scott’s had a problem with authoritative figures his entire life,” he says, frowning. Spencer turns the case file towards you. “His grandparents were physically and emotionally abusive and social workers did nothing about it. Looks like he was also a truant during his time in foster care.” 

“Get this. He’s been fired from multiple construction sites because he couldn’t follow orders,” you read. 

“Jacqueline was also the breadwinner of their relationship. I think Scott resents people who hold authority.”

“Scott wants to raise his kids,” you say, snapping your fingers. “It’s a rescue mission because he thinks he can raise them better than she can.”

Spencer grabs his phone and dials Aaron.

“What is it, Spencer?”

“Y/N and I talked more about her theory on the abduction. I think she’s right.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything. You’re almost sure he’s going to tell you to change the profile.

“We’ll meet you at the precinct in fifteen.”

***

You consider yourself lucky that Spencer backs your theory with claims and evidence. Your voice wavers multiple times when Aaron asks you to make your case, and the way he’s looking at you makes you doubt yourself. 

But everyone comes to the realization that you’re right. A few conversations with Jacqueline and an interrogation with Logan convinces Aaron that your theory had been the correct one all along. You should feel happy, but you don’t. 

You feel like you have to piggyback off of your coworkers and get them to support you before you can make your case heard. You feel like the smallest person in the room when you stand next to seasoned profilers who you’re sure Aaron values more than you. The weight of the world is on your shoulders and you carry it with you every time you formulate new ideas you want to share with the team. 

But you don’t dwell on this too long. 

Aaron has Spencer comb through security footage of local gas stations while Emily and David talk to Scott’s most recent employer. Derek and JJ are searching his last known whereabouts and searching for the girls, which leaves you and Aaron.

You’re barely able to hear his command. He wants you to talk to Jacqueline and try to coax more information out of her while he connects with Penelope about financial records and possible places he’s hiding the girls. She’s your age and he figures you might connect with her better than JJ did.

Jaqueline is understandably crying when you walk into the room. You hand her a box of tissues upon entering and she doesn’t say anything. She starts to open up after you tell her about yourself, your nieces and nephews, and you show her photos of them to prove yourself. You let her know you’re not a mother and can’t imagine the immense pain she’s going through, but you know what it’s like to care for people and how much it hurts when something bad happens to them.

Slowly, Jaqueline begins to talk. You ask her about her relationship with Scott and Logan, and all the important places that hold significance between the two marriages. She lists off a few and you make a note of it for later. Aaron calls you from the interview when Jaqueline has started to close herself in. He lets her go and gives her his business card in case she wants to talk, but tells her they’ll be in contact soon.

He doesn’t say a word about the interrogation. He just tells you to see if Derek and JJ need help canvassing more area. 

Two days later and the team is nowhere near finding Jaqueline’s children. Scott’s previous employer had less than stellar things to say about him and you’re beginning to panic at the thought of your ability to catch him and save the girls. Penelope calls with a development and thinks one of two locations is where Scott might be hiding the children. His trailer in East LA or a small house a friend of his owns. 

Aaron dispatches Dave, Emily, and JJ to the trailer while he commands you, Derek, and Spencer to follow him to the house. It’s located off of the freeway off the beaten path and you have a bad feeling about what’s about to happen.

Aaron’s driving like he knows something you don’t. You’ve taken a seat in the back with Spencer and listen as Derek points Aaron in the direction of the house. It’s getting dark outside, the sun is just barely above the horizon, and you know everyone has to be quick in order to save the girls if they’re in the house. 

LAPD officers drive behind the SUV. Aaron pulls over and you can hear the gravel underneath the tire. You swing the door open with all your might and draw your gun out as the rest of the team does, following Aaron’s orders to follow behind him as they explore the house. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

The floorboards creak underneath you and Aaron tells you he’s going to clear the back of the house while you take the front. Everyone calls a distinctive ‘clear’ and you’re about to breathe out of frustration and ask Aaron if they’ve found the girls at Scott’s trailer when you hear the faint sound of someone crying from behind you. 

You’re careful not to step too loudly despite the hardwood floors. Derek finds you and calls out your name but you put your finger to your lips and he silences himself. The sound of feet shuffling sounds incredibly quiet, but you swear you can hear footsteps somewhere behind you. 

Spencer and Aaron join the two of you after hearing silence despite calling your names. Derek tells both men to silence themselves as you walk about the room, unsure of what you’re looking for. For the most part, nothing looks out of place. That is, until your hand falls on a set of books that feels much too hollow to contain any pages. 

“What is it?” Derek asks from behind you.

“I don’t know…I think this is a false backing.” 

And you’re right. You pull the books to reveal a small hidden entryway that’s dark, and it looks like it doesn’t lead to anything. Aaron’s halfway through telling you to let another police officer look through the crawl space because you have to take off your vest and gun to fit, but you’re not hearing it. 

“Hotch, I’m the only one who’s small enough to fit through here,” you say. “I’m shorter than the rest of you and all of you are men. I don’t think Gracie or Olivia want to see someone who looks like their dad.”

“She’s right,” Spencer mumbles. You don’t wait for Aaron’s approval, venturing into the crawlspace. 

Gracie and Olivia are understandably scared until you tell them their mother’s waiting for them at the police station. You help them out of the small room they’ve been kept in and notice how relatively furnished it is–a mattress, blankets, pillows, and coloring material–and make note of how your profile was right. 

You don’t spare a glance at Aaron, too invested in making sure the children are safe with EMTs while they’re being checked for harm. Olivia asks you to stay with them and holds your hand, and you don’t bring yourself to leave them. When the EMTs let you know they aren’t injured and can visit the police station without going to the hospital, Aaron reluctantly lets you accompany both of them back to the precinct. 

It’s well after dark by the time both children leave with Jaqueline. JJ and Emily have worked out a deal with local police to keep them under surveillance and protection until Scott has been captured and are instructed not to let Logan near the three of them for the time being. 

You aren’t able to say goodbye to the three of them, instead recounting your story to the local detective who needs your statement for the paperwork while it’s fresh in your memory. You’re on a high after seeing the two girls reunite with their mother and the entire team congratulates you on a job well done when Aaron storms into the office, angry.

“Y/N, go back to the hotel.” 

Aaron stands tall, his hands on his hips and his mouth etched in an angry frown. His voice is low and you can’t believe the words you’re hearing. 

“To the hotel? Hotch, you can’t be serious.”

“You made a reckless decision to abandon your gun and vest. That could have gotten you killed,” Aaron says. “You are not capable of working under pressure.”

“You told the entire team to use our instincts and that’s exactly what I did. I saved two little girls, for God’s sake.”

“You are hot headed and have this overwhelming urge to prove yourself when nobody cares how well you perform,” Aaron says angrily. “The entire time you’ve been with the BAU, you’ve barely contributed aside from piggybacking off of someone else to reach a conclusion.”

That, you know, is a lie. Aaron just wants to hurt you.

“At this very moment, you are incompetent and can’t hold yourself together for the sake of the victims and their families.”

“We have to catch Scott.”

“You can’t do your job, go back to the hotel.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have to be.”

“Hotch.”

“I want you gone, Y/N,” Aaron says firmly. “Go back to the hotel or hand in your badge.” 

Unbelievable. 

You don’t spare Aaron another glance. Your feet carry you out to the lobby and your breath is so uneven that you need to step aside into an empty interrogation room to calm yourself down. Your jaw clenches and you ball your fists to gather some sort of relief, but you don’t find it. Instead, your nails dig into your palm until it turns white and you let go, exiting the room without another word.

The keys to the SUV are still in your pocket. You don’t necessarily care that the team will have to squeeze into the remaining vehicles and you don’t care enough to let one of them know you’ve made it outside. 

Your hands shake when you reach into your pocket. The warmth of the metal is familiar and your hand pulls it out when a stray tear falls from your face and splashes onto your cheek. Hastily, you enter the car and slam the door shut and lock it when you feel yourself overcome with sadness and anxiety. 

The tears fall freely at this point and you bow your head to the steering wheel, your breaths hot and mouth wet from crying. The back of your sleeves are soaked as you try to wipe away your tears to no avail and your vision becomes too blurry to drive. 

You allow yourself a few minutes to cry. The sound of your gasps echo throughout the care and your shoulders feel heavy with every sob. The weight of the world is truly on your shoulders now and you aren’t sure if you have a job when you go back to Quantico. 

But you pull yourself together and drive back to the hotel. It feels much longer than it needs to be and you sit in the driver’s seat for a moment when you park the car. You hate that you feel incapable of being a member of the team without Aaron breathing down your neck. You hate that you can’t live up to his expectations and that you try to in the first place. Working at the BAU wasn’t supposed to be a nightmare. 

You exit the car and lock it behind you, another stray tear escaping. You feverishly rid yourself of the tear and walk to the entrance of the hotel when you feel someone grabbing you from behind and an acute sense of pain at the base of your neck. 

It’s black after that. 

Back in the station, the local police have distracted themselves with their case files and other happenings while the rest of the team looks at Aaron in shock. Spencer's looking at the empty space where you stood and Emily is looking at Aaron like he’s grown a second head. 

“Are you serious?” she begins. “Hotch, we need everyone on this. We need Y/N.”

“She’s too hot headed,” Aaron replies. 

“Oh yeah?” Derek chimes in. “And how about you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You know damn well that Y/N adds as much value to this team as the rest of her. Two years with the BAU and stellar reviews from the board has proven that. Why are you still treating her like a first-day agent?”

“Y/N needs to learn to let go of her ego,” Aaron retaliates. “I don’t need to explain myself to any of you.”

“You’re wrong about her not contributing anything,” Spencer says. It surprises Aaron to hear Reid defy him on your behalf. “For the cases that we’ve worked on with her, she’s been the one to take lead on the preliminary profiles for most of them. Some of our biggest leads have come from her.” 

Aaron breathes and doesn’t say a thing. He looks at his team and knows they don’t approve of his choice to send you back to the hotel, but he stands by it. David looks at him like he’s almost disappointed in him and JJ holds his stare. 

He knows why he’s being extra hard on you. He knows he’s pushing you to your limit by keeping you at arm’s length. Aaron doesn’t want to admit that he sees you as anything other than his subordinate and coworker, but he does. He doesn’t want to be the reason why you don’t advance within the bureau and why there might be a future workplace ban on relationships. Even if he disagrees with how you handled things tonight.

Aaron doesn’t communicate any of this with the team while he stares them down. Instead, he fixes his posture and clears his throat. 

“Get back to work.”

***

When you come to, you’re acutely aware of the handcuffs around your wrist. 

The air is cold and you realize you’re bound to a pole in a barn, and you’re not sure where you are. Everything is suddenly hazy and your vision blurs until you blink rapidly with the hope that you’ll regain full consciousness.

The first thing you can feel is a headache. Your head’s pounding viciously and you wince at the pain, inadvertently tugging in your wrist and against the handcuffs. The metal is cold and it sends a chill up your spine when you realize you’re alone. You try your best to recite what you can sense over and over again in your mind.

The air is cold. You’re sitting on a hard floor with straw and other debris around you. The air smells like manure and hay. You can hear crickets and wind blowing just outside of the barn, and you can see hardware tools towards the back of the building.

The influx of emotions that creep into your chest is enough to make any person an anxiety-ridden mess. Your heart feels like it’s going to lurch out of your chest with every second that passes by because your reality becomes more real; this isn’t a nightmare you’re desperately hoping to wake up from. 

“Look who’s awake.”

It’s Scott. 

He flickers the lights on and that’s when you realize he’s holding a gun. 

“You took quite a while to wake up, actually. I’ve been waiting here for two hours wondering when you’d return to the land of the living.”

Scott dons a smirk that you wish you could wipe off with both of your fists. His right hand grips the gun haphazardly and he waves it around as he gestures while speaking, and the fear of dying has finally crept into the forefront of your mind.

“Where are we?” you ask. 

“South of Los Angeles,” Scott replies. “Far enough that your little team won’t find this patch of land.”

“Why’s that?”

His smirk widens when you stay quiet.

“You know, Agent, I find you interesting.”

“There’s nothing remotely interesting about me,” you say. You try your best to remember the profile and give him what he wants. He hates authority and between the two of you, you legally have all of it. So, you downplay yourself, 

“I beg to differ,” he laughs. Scott takes a step towards you and you recoil. “I’ve been watching this investigation unfold because I need to keep tabs on what’s happening so that I don’t get caught. It’s worked so far, but you were just lucky to have found my little girls.” 

“We found them because you made a mistake,” you chide. “You slipped up.”

Scott’s smirk turns into anger, and he takes another step towards you. 

“I made a mistake because I wasn’t thinking far ahead, Agent.” 

He takes another step and he’s by your thigh. Scott bends down to your level and you’re aware of how close his gun is to your abdomen, and you pray that you don’t say the wrong thing.

“I wasn’t thinking far ahead because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. But it came to me a few nights ago when I realized that you and I are people that don’t naturally get to be in the spotlight.” 

Scott caresses your cheek and you shudder underneath his fingertips. He retracts and stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“See, you and I are people who don’t get enough credit for our work. All it took was one moment watching your horrendous boss dismiss you for your work. I knew you’d be the key in getting my girls back to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scott leans forward. “You’re smart enough to figure it out.”

Unfortunately, it comes to you quickly.

The team had gathered around the house that Jaqueline and Scott had lived in when they were married. Penelope had clued the team in on this location. A new couple lived in that house with no connection to Jaqueline and Scott but you thought it was worth checking out.

Aaron disagreed. That house hadn’t been occupied by either of them for years since they got a divorce but your gut had been telling you to visit the property to look around for extra clues that might’ve turned up. Your insistence angered him, who accused you of disobeying orders, and it was David who had to intervene and remind Aaron never to leave any stone unturned.

Reluctantly, Aaron ordered the team to the house and you successfully convinced the new owners to let you look through their property with the promise that nothing would be disturbed. Two hours into searching and Aaron was ready to write your mishappenings in the file report when he returned to Quantico, but your sudden interest in the backyard piqued everyone’s interest.

You had discovered a well-hidden doorway to an underground room. The new family would’ve never seen it, as it was tucked away with roots and other invasive plants that covered the wooden doorway. When you and Morgan entered the space, it was clear that Scott had been there recently.

Unbeknownst to you, Scott has been hiding out a few houses down watching everything unfold, including the way Aaron distrusted your judgment. He’d been using that bunker as a living space, careful to work around the new family so as to not get caught. It was far enough that they couldn’t see him from where the windows were placed unless they were out in the backyard the same as he was.

“Remember now?” he asks.

You nod, complying. “You watched my boss reprimand me for wasting everyone’s time.”

He nods. “You and I are overworked and underappreciated. We don’t get credit or recognition even though we deserve it.”

“You knew we’d find Gracie and Olivia.”

Scott’s jaw locks but he agrees.

“I knew there was no way I’d be able to get to my girls in time to move them someplace else. So, I let you find them because I knew that I’d have no other chance to get them back if you arrested me.

“Then I followed you all the way back to the precinct so I could keep tabs on you and see where you were staying. It was just my luck that I happened to hear your boss yelling at you because of an open window. I knew my chance was when he ordered you to go back to the hotel.”

“How do I fit into all of this?” you ask.

“You, Agent, are going to help me get my kids back from Jaqueline and cover for me.”

“No chance in hell.” 

Scott doesn’t like that answer. He lunges towards you and tugs on your hair, enough to make your scalp feel like it’s being set on fire. 

“You don’t have a choice. I want my kids back and you aren’t in the position to make any demands.” 

He doesn’t say much after that. Scott looks into your eyes with a murderous expression before letting you go. Your head hits the pole behind you because he pushed you away with enough force that it makes you dizzy again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Scott says from the barn’s entrance. “I need some sleep and so do you.”

He doesn’t uncuff you and you’re left wondering how you can sleep when you’re being held captive.

***

When the team leaves the precinct, everyone is too drained to continue talking about the case on the ride back. They’d only been there two hours after you left but Aaron gets the feeling that the rest of them aren’t happy with him dismissing you. 

The ride is silent and everyone retreats to their rooms respectively. He tries to forget the aching feeling in his chest and goes to sleep. 

He wakes up to a cold sweat. 

Aaron’s still not happy what perspired last night. He nearly made the choice to knock on your door and apologize for being harsh in front of the team and the local police, but he doesn’t. It’s better to put distance. It’s how he rationalizes how he’s treating you because he’ll fall apart if he imagines the consequences of being in a relationship with you. 

You’re the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. He’s surprised he didn’t hear you knocking on his door to give him a piece of your mind, but he was too tired to consider that you didn’t. 

His clock reads six A.M. and he’s sure the rest of the team is waking up and heading to the police station like he is. Aaron feels more tired with each day passing and it feels like his body is on autopilot mode with how fast he’s able to change and get to the precinct. 

The team trickles in one by one and everyone makes their coffee before picking up where they left off last night. Penelope had sent the team a list of possible places that Scott might be and Aaron wants to cover as much ground as possible.

When he’s more awake, he mentally groups the team and the other police officers to search each property. 

He stops when he realizes you’re not in the precinct. 

At first, Aaron feels annoyed because he thinks you’re late. It isn’t completely out of character for you, as he’s watched you stumble into the office a few minutes before debriefing. Still, he prays that you’ll show up so everyone can move on with their day. 

But you don’t come in. Every person that walks through the door isn’t you and Aaron’s annoyance becomes a question of curiosity with fear at the end of it. 

“Where’s L/N?” Morgan asks from beside him. 

“Probably slept in,” JJ snorts. “She sleeps like a brick.” 

Everyone laughs at her comment in good fun because they know it’s true. You’re a heavy sleeper. But Aaron isn’t convinced. Something doesn’t feel right to him but he can’t quite place what it is. 

He gives it another ten minutes. Aaron’s bouncing from leg to leg, anticipating your arrival. He’s waiting for you to hastily apologize about not hearing your alarm and he’s waiting for you to jump right where you left off because of your tardiness.

But you never walk through the door.

“Something’s wrong,” Aaron mutters. Spencer nods at his disheveled expression from where he sits and Emily looks down at her phone.

“I know she’s a heavy sleeper but there’s no way she’d be twenty minutes late with the stakes this high,” Emily points out. 

JJ walks out of the room the BAU is occupying and inquires with everyone outside if they’ve seen you come in, but all of them say they haven’t seen you since last night. JJ walks back into the room with shaking hands and she’s almost reluctant to tell Aaron that nobody has seen you yet.

Emily tries to call your cell phone one more time with no luck. Aaron sends Derek to check on you at the hotel and doesn't bother to respect the speed limit on the ten minute drive to the hotel from the station. The receptionist is more than willing to give him a key to your room when you don’t answer your phone. 

When he walks in, he notices that you aren’t sleeping in the bed. Your room is clean. The bed is made and there’s no indication that you slept in it last night. Your go-bag is perched on the table and a few clothes are haphazardly thrown on the chair beside it. Nothing seems out of place. 

It’s when he walks back outside to return to the station that he hears a phone ringing from the bushes. Derek walks towards the sound and his breath catches in his throat when he realizes the phone is yours. He curses and picks up the phone to see Emily’s contact.

“L/N?”

“It’s me,” Derek says through your phone. “L/N’s not here and her phone was tossed in the bushes.” Metal catches Derek’s eye. “Wait a minute.” 

He walks forward with caution and his heart drops when he realizes it’s a discarded needle and your gun right next to it. 

“What is it?” Emily asks from the other line. She hears Derek sigh and she knows it can’t be good. 

“It’s a needle and her gun, Prentiss. L/N not showing up to the precinct and her belongings being discarded can’t be a coincidence.” 

From the police station, Emily panics. She hangs up when Derek lets her know he’s coming back and her panic rises when she sees her teammates looking at her quizzically. The lump in her throat grows when she realizes everyone is looking at her for an answer. 

“Did you find her?” JJ asks. Emily doesn’t speak for a second. 

“Morgan found her cell phone in the bushes by the front of the hotel,” Emily explains. “He also found a discarded needle...and her gun.” 

Aaron’s attention shifts from the file he’s holding to Emily, who’s fidgeting with her hands. 

“Her gun?” Dave asks for clarification. “Found outside of the hotel room?” 

Emily nods. “Morgan picked up L/N’s phone and said he found it tossed aside.”

“And none of us saw her when she left the precinct?”

Nobody says anything. 

“I think she’s been kidnapped,” Reid says abruptly. “None of us saw her when we got back to the hotel nor when we arrived at the precinct. Scott must know Y/N was the one who rescued his daughters and he’s either kidnapped her out of revenge or because he wants them back.”

Aaron doesn’t like that answer. 

His hands feel warm and his heart is racing too quickly for his liking. Aaron can feel his exterior start to wither away with the realization that you’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t second guess himself when he calls Penelope and asks her to track Scott’s cell phone and to triangulate his last known location.

This is now a rescue mission and he hates that you’re the victim. 

The team doesn’t spare a second in finding a third location he could’ve taken you too. Penelope foregoes any of her other responsibilities to find you and Aaron can hear the frantic pace of her keyboard typing as she speaks. Derek and Spencer are visiting locations that hold significance to Scott in the event that he’s returned, but Aaron's doubtful that he’d make that mistake. 

It’s when JJ explains what’s happening to the lead detective does Aaron feel like his world is crumbling around him. He’s put himself at arm’s length so much as to push you away from him and right into the arms of the unsub, and he feels like he might pass out in the middle of the precinct. 

Emily and Dave pick up how quiet Aaron’s been ever since Penelope hung up. He’s too busy staring at the white board and it doesn’t help that your handwriting is all over it. Aaron’s throat is dry and he’s a second away from starting to blame himself for your disappearance, but he knows that he doesn’t have enough time to feel sorry for himself if he wants to find you.

When Derek comes back and tells the team there’s been no luck in finding you, Aaron’s heart sinks. He’s running out of options and he knows his head isn’t where it should be, but he can’t help it. Aaron does his best to keep himself composed when Spencer tries to piece together your timeline and he hates that they’re treating you like a abduction victim because you should be in this room with them. Instead, you’re God knows where and Aaron doesn’t bring himself to imagine that you might be dead already. 

It’s Spencer who makes the connection between you and his children. He theorizes that Scott must’ve been present when you had rescued the children and kidnapped you for one of two reasons: to exact revenge or to force you to help him get his children back. JJ suspects that it’s the latter because of your profile. Scott wants to get his children back and he’d do anything to do it. 

Dave wonders why Scott would risk kidnapping a federal agent and how he knew you’d be at the precinct or the hotel, and Spencer doesn’t hold his tongue when he said the only common link between the two of you is the way you’d both been treated by your superiors. 

The room goes quiet and Spencer thinks he’s overstepped, but he doesn’t regret his choice of words. 

Everyone looks at Aaron, who’s been silent the entire time. He thinks about how angry you were last night and how he convinced himself he didn’t see you shed a tear as you passed him. The guilt of sending you home and not checking in on you when he got back to the hotel is eating him alive because you’ve been missing for twelve hours and nobody knew about it. 

“Reid’s right,” Aaron says. He feels his voice start to break. “We know why he’s taken L/N but now we need to understand how he’s going to use her in order to get his children back.” 

Aaron’s phone rings and he’s grateful for the distraction. Penelope informs them of a house that was paid in all cash and purchased under a false identity a few months ago, and confirms that it was Scott who paid for the property after speaking with the realtor and showing her a photo. Aaron wastes no time ordering the team to head to the house and he feels like he’s running out of time when Penelope says the property is seventy miles from the precinct. 

The ride to the property is agonizing. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is lethal and he’s swerving between every car with the hopes that he’ll reach you in time. Emily’s sitting in the passenger seat and she knows there’s nothing either of them can do except hope that you’re alive and well.

“We’ll find her,” she says after a long period of silence. “You know L/N. She’s strong and won’t go down without a fight.”

Aaron hesitates to speak. He gulps and he feels like his mouth is far too dry to hold a decent conversation because while he knows that Emily’s right, he can’t help but feel utterly hopeless on the freeway while you’re being held hostage by Scott. 

“I shouldn’t have told her to go to the hotel,” Aaron says. “I should’ve left it at reprimanding her for going in alone. We could’ve avoided all of this.”

“You of all people know you couldn’t have predicted that Scott would’ve done,” Emily said. “It wasn’t in the profile. Neither of us could’ve predicted that he’d kidnap L/N.”

“I know.” Aaron signals and passes three cars who are driving far too slow for his liking. 

He’s silent again, which doesn’t surprise Emily. Aaron sits in the driver’s seat, a million thoughts racing to the front of his head but he can’t seem to choose the right words to speak. He knows how unfair he’s been to you and all the anger and frustration about not being able to be with you has transpired into this mess he’s found himself in. He should’ve never let his feelings get to this point nor let his frustration shift from the forbidden relationship onto you. 

“I’ve been unfair to her,” Aaron croaks. He hears the crack in his voice as it starts to falter, but he keeps talking because he thinks he might go insane if they sit in any more silence. “I’ve pushed her aside and made her second guess herself as an agent of this team all because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check.” 

“What do you mean?” Emily asks. Aaron sighs and he grips his steering wheel, embarrassed that he’s been an unfair leader and that he’s admitting it to one of his colleagues. 

“L/N is an exceptional agent and it’s no wonder why I fell for her.” 

Emily’s quiet and Aaron’s sure he’s made a mistake by confessing that to her. He wishes he could take it back and lie instead of being honest with his friend, but he can’t take back the words he’s said. And he stands by it. 

“I’ve been so busy trying to pretend like I don’t have feelings for her but every day I’m scared that something like this could happen to her. I hate it when she’s reckless and disobeys orders because I’m afraid that it’ll get her killed.

“I know what it looks like on the outside to see me and my subordinate in a romantic relationship. She’s young, career-driven, and I’d hate to stand in the way of whatever’s next for her. I don’t know how to act around her and I thought that pushing all of this down would help me lose feelings for her, but I haven’t.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Emily says. It shocks him and when he looks at her quizzically, Emily chuckles. “What, you think I couldn't see how hopeless you were when it came to L/N? Hotch, you’re like a kid in a candy store when she’s around. The rest of us were ready to start placing bets on you two until you started giving her the short end of the stick.”

He feels awful. Aaron’s guilt causes him to flex and rev the engine. 

“I never meant to hurt her,” he confesses. “But that doesn’t matter now.”

“What matters is that we’re on our way to rescue her and there’s nowhere else she could be,” Emily reassures. “Scott wants his kids back and he knows they’re in LA county. There’s no way he would risk taking her somewhere else when he doesn’t have Gracie and Olivia.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. Neither he nor Emily need to chide him for how he’s been treating you. He knows he’s wrong and Emily knows it too. 

“L/N is the strongest out of all of us. She’ll make it through this.”

Aaron has a sneaking suspicion that Emily’s trying to convince herself, but he doesn’t say anything. 

When the team reaches the property, it’s notably quiet. The next neighbor is two miles down the road and Derek’s ready to search the house when Aaron steps out of his vehicle. 

“More backup’s two minutes out,” Aaron explains, “but we’ve got enough people to start the search. Reid and JJ, check the backyard. Prentiss and Rossi, check the house. Morgan, you’re with me. We’re checking the garage.” 

Aaron orders the police officers to check elsewhere before he and Morgan make their way to the garage. With his gun and flashlight in his hands, he approaches the enclosed space with caution and his heart spikes with anxiety. Before he can think about the worst that could happen, two police officers manage to open the garage door as he and Derek search the place. 

It’s empty. 

Aaron curses under his breath as they check the confined space but find nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of the team relates the same information and Aaron feels like he’s losing hope because he doesn't know where else you could possibly be. 

“Guys, there’s a barn across the landing,” comes JJ’s voice from the communications line. “There’s a truck parked outside and I’m willing to bet it’s Scott’s.”

Aaron’s heart stops beating for a moment. 

“We need to search that barn,” Aaron commands. “Everyone pull your resources and let’s head out.” 

It feels like slow motion to him, the way he diverts his attention to the barn that JJ pointed out. He feels like he’s watching the scene unfold in front of him from another person’s perspective and desperately prays that you’re in there, safe and alive. The grip on his gun is falling from how his hands are trembling but he reminds himself that he has a job to do. 

Dave touches the hood of the car and says it’s warm, which means Scott is most likely inside of the barn. The lead detective is ordering his team to secure the back entrance and surround the building so that Scott has no place to run and Aaron instructs his team to do the same at the front. Under hushed voices, he can almost make out the faint scout of scuffling coming from behind the large wooden doors and feels his throat close. 

Then he hears a gunshot. 

Everyone rushes inside and he’s overcome with dread when he walks inside. Aaron’s heart is racing; he can feel the grip of his gun slipping because of how unsteady his hands are and he’s nearly tripping from all the hay that he’s stepping on. He fears the worst when he enters and does his best to prepare himself to see your lifeless body.

But you’re laying on your stomach with a gun in your hands. 

You don’t process the ringing in your ears until Aaron moves beside you to reach for the gun in your hands. He’s tossed it aside and maneuvers you to check for any injuries. Aaron glances at your face and notices a deep bruise forming on your left temple with scratches and smaller bruises adorning your face, and he hates it. 

He hates that your body and face is covered in Scott’s blood. He hates that your hands are still shaking with fear. He hates that there’s nothing he can say or do that will make everything better for you. 

The shirt you’re wearing is covered in Scott’s blood spatter and you’re barely able to process that you’ve most likely broken a few ribs. You don’t say anything. The overwhelming urge to cry resurfaces and this time, you don’t stop yourself. 

Aaron catches you before you hit your head onto the ground and moves his body to sit behind you. You’re stationed between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you slump over and grab his arm for support as your tears wet his dress shirt. Aaron foregoes all standard procedure and lets you cry in his arms instead of calling for the EMT to whisk you away from the hospital. 

You don’t care that your cries are almost louder than the ambulance sirens. Your adrenaline makes the blood pump loudly in your ears and you grip onto Aaron like you’re afraid Scott will come back to life and kill you if you let go. 

His free arm is secured around you. Aaron’s eyes become glossy as each second passes by and his heart breaks in two when he hears your continual cries.

“You did so good,” Aaron whispers. “So good. You’re safe now.” 

Aaron doesn’t let the EMT get close to you when you’re trembling in his arms. He tells them to wait a moment and they try to argue with him, but they relent when they see Aaron’s stern expression. His voice cracks when he tries to speak upon hearing your soft whimpers. Your eyes are screwed shut and Aaron strokes your hair as you bury yourself further deeper into him.

Dave and Spencer canvas the scene and look around for anything out of the ordinary to report. Derek's speaking with the EMTs while JJ and Emily are patiently waiting with blankets and bottles of water for you. But you don’t get up. Your legs feel numb from sitting down and Aaron’s grip on you is so tight that you feel like you’ll fall back down if you try to stand up.

Your sobs have turned quiet and you almost feel like you’re at peace. But then you remember your bruises and the blood still on your body. You remember Scott’s body and find yourself crying even harder.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” Aaron says in your ear. “We can get you cleaned up and on your way home. Does that sound good?”

His voice is like honey. Sweet.

You nod and you try your best to sit up to no avail. Aaron tries to help you up and the EMTs catch you before you can fall back onto the ground. He reluctantly lets the EMTs take you to the ambulance where JJ and Emily are waiting. He watches as they drape a blanket over you and as you’re wheeled up into the vehicle. Emily offers to follow you to the hospital and JJ steps away, letting the ambulance drive off.

Aaron doesn’t process anything. He doesn’t hear the sirens, the police chatter, or Dave approach him with a concerned look.

“She’s gonna be okay, Aaron.”

Dave’s voice is nothing but a hollow shell to Aaron. It feels like an empty promise even though he knows you’re going to make it out alive. Still, Aaron doesn’t say a word.

“Let’s go meet her at the hospital.”

***

The doctor explains that you’ve suffered a concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, a broken arm, and a grazed bullet wound. You’ll be relatively fine, but Aaron’s heart is racing and can't get past seeing you covered in blood to pay attention to anything the doctor is saying. He hasn’t had time to beat himself up for sending you back to the hotel without accompaniment and he hates that the guilt is crashing in on him when you need him the most.

Aaron looks down at his sleeves and they’re covered in blood, dirt, and your mascara. He stares down in shock and his mind flashes to the barn, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry before. It breaks him.

The doctor explains that they needed to sedate you because of your sudden adrenaline rush. Your shock had caused you to lash out when a nurse had grabbed your wrist, and through your clouded judgment, you’d swung at him with all of your might. Your fretful apologies made you uncontrollably sob afterwards and the nurse could only look at you with sympathy. 

Two hours later, the team was still waiting in the waiting room. Under the guise of wanting to get you something to eat other than stale hospital food, Aaron leaves to buy you a meal. But he needs to get ou and get fresh air before he suffocates. 

Aaron’s guilt eats him alive. He walks aimlessly towards a deli and scolds himself over and over again for making you drive to the hotel unsupervised. In hindsight, Aaron knows his personal feelings came into play when he berated you for your recklessness. He knows he was unfair to you because he would’ve done the same thing if he were in your position.

When he returns, Dave’s looking at him like he knows what he’s thinking, but doesn’t say anything. Aaron appreciates his friend’s concern but the guilt doesn’t relent. He fidgets in his seat and tries to calm his spiking anxiety but nothing seems to work. His mind retracts to the moment he found you covered in Scott’s blood and your cries are enough to make Aaron feel like he might shed a tear in front of his teammates.

His thoughts are disrupted when he sees your doctor approach the group. 

“She’s a little out of it,” says the doctor, “but she’s conscious. You’re all welcome to say hello, but only for a few minutes.” 

When the doctor directs the team to your room, she explains what happened after you reached the hospital. Aaron can’t process anything she’s saying. His ears are ringing and he feels like everyone around him is talking too loudly for him to be able to hear anything the doctor is saying. All he can pick up is “dehydrated” and “concussed.” 

Everyone hastily walks to the room you’re in. JJ files into the room first. It takes Aaron a few breaths to find the courage to step inside of the room and he’s sure Emily’s the one who helped him take the first step.

“What’s the prognosis?” your croaked voice asks. JJ sniffles and laughs at the same time, and the rest of the group watch you try to prop yourself up.

“How you’re able to joke at a time like this is beyond me,” JJ gushes. She takes a pillow from the bed and helps you sit up.

“What, a few broken ribs and a concussion? I’m lucky the bullet only grazed me.”

Nobody laughs but you can tell they’re trying their best.

Aaron towers over everybody easily and he’s in between trying to catch your gaze and trying to avoid it. Emily hands you the sandwich from the local deli and you waste no time, opening the wrapper and letting the aioli slide down the side of your mouth.

It’s easily the most adorable and most heartbreaking thing Aaron has ever seen.

“Slow down, Tiger,” says Derek. He grabs a nearby napkin and wipes the sauce away while you smile sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you mutter, taking slower bites. Spencer’s next to hug you and you welcome the way he refuses to let you go.

Everyone looks at you under the harsh lights of the hospital room and you feel like you’re being observed. The sedative you’d been given is enough to make you feel somewhat normal because no matter how hard you try to panic over the last few hours, you can’t. 

You feel like you’re numb to your experiences and the pain Scott inflicted. Staring at your team feels eerily normal and you almost forget that you’re sitting in a hospital gown with enough injuries to put you out of the field for a few months. 

“You broke my heart, kiddo,” Dave chimes in. He grabs your free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, accompanied by a kiss to the back of your hand. JJ pulls you into a mother-like embrace, kissing the crown of your head. You lean into her touch and Aaron wishes he were the one comforting you.

“I feel like shit,” you confess. “I woke up feeling groggy and I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“We’re so glad you’re okay, Y/N,” Emily says. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say. You take another bite. “This sandwich is good.”

“Aaron bought it,” Emily speaks.

You look at him. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged his presence since he walked into the room.

“Thanks,” you mumble behind the sandwich. “I could eat five of these.” 

“I don’t want to deal with you puking on us,” Spencer jokes, and it makes you feel somewhat normal.

You don’t like feeling as though you’re a delicate piece of glass that’s close to being dropped. You hate feeling useless and pitied. Everyone’s looking at you with sad eyes and it makes you feel like you’ve let your colleagues down, even though you know there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent what transpired.

“I’m really sleepy,” you say, haphazardly throwing the wrapper on the table next to you. It isn’t a lie, but you say it with the hopes of being alone.

“We’ll be back in the morning,” JJ says. She looks at the clock in front of her and doesn’t realize that it’s four in the morning. You squeeze her hand when her eyes well up. JJ wipes her eyes and blinks her tears back and you lean against her side.

Aaron can’t help but stare. You look so vulnerable at this moment and you’re doing your best to keep yourself awake, but the sedatives are making you drowsy. The team says their goodbyes and reluctantly trek back to the hotel, but Aaron can’t bring himself to walk into the building once he’s parked.

“Get changed,” Dave says after a brief moment of silence. Aaron looks at him in confusion. “Take a shower, eat something from the vending machine, and go back to the hospital.”

“She doesn't want me there,” he says slowly. 

“She’s asleep,” Dave dismisses. “She’s not going to know you’re there and I’m sure she’ll want to see a familiar face when she wakes up.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person she wants to see.”

“You were the first person she reached for when we entered the barn,” Dave explains, “and I know you won’t be sleeping a wink tonight unless you’re by L/N’s side. Go get changed and get back to the hospital, Aaron.”

“I just–”

“I know you feel guilty. Whatever feelings you have towards her never went away and that’s why you’ve been so hard on her.” Aaron’s not surprised that he’s picked up on this habit. “I don’t have to agree with how you handled it, but what matters is that she’s alive and she’s resting. We got her back, Aaron. She’s here and Scott isn’t.” 

Aaron knows Dave is right. He thanks him for being a good friend and trudges back into his hotel room, hastily freshening himself up before returning back to the hospital.

***

You wake up later in the morning with little to no recollection of how you got there. You feel extremely out of it, like someone removed a ton of bricks from your chest after keeping it there for a fortnight. You look to your left and see a window that shows you a gloomy D.C. morning. You look to your right and see Aaron Hotchner slumped over in a seat, asleep. 

This wakes you up. You’re blinking the sleep out of your eyes when you realize he’s snoring. It’s soft and unassuming, but you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him sleep. 

The chairs must be uncomfortable, too. You do your best to sit up—which is when you notice the sling on your arm—and manage to prop yourself up on the pillows until you’re sitting upright. Aaron stirs in his sleep at the sound but he’s still asleep.

You’re not close enough to reach him and wake him up. You aren’t sure that you want to either, for the fear that he might start telling you a laundry list of all the things you did wrong throughout the case. 

The doctor from last night walks in and knocks on your door, which shifts your focus. Aaron’s still asleep and the doctor, who reintroduces herself as Dr. Aguta, gently walks around Aaron and to your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” she asks you while holding a clipboard. You notice her colorful print skirt first and it’s a contrast to how grey it is outside. 

“My head hurts,” you say with a croak. It’s the first thing you’ve said since you woke up. “And I realized my arm’s broken. But other than that, I feel fine.” 

Dr. Aguta gives you a pleasant smile. “I’m glad to hear that you’re doing okay. The sedatives we gave you last night seemed to help ease your pain, though I’ll be giving you a prescription for the rest of the month when it wears off.”

She hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Unfortunately, you do. You remember Scott, the gun, and Aaron coaxing you to go with the EMTs. It’s mostly a blur and you can’t remember the details but you remember enough. The softened expression is a dead giveaway and Dr. Aguta doesn’t press any further.

She sees your gaze shift to Aaron, who still hasn’t woken up.

“He came last night and insisted on staying with you,” Dr. Aguta informs. “Typically I’d only let immediate family stay overnight, but your boss seemed extremely worried about you.” 

“He did?” you ask. It’s news to you.

She nods. “When I saw him for the first time last night, I could tell he’s a man of few words and the leader of your team. But last night he was a stuttering mess and I let him stay overnight with the condition that he doesn’t wake you.”

You don’t say anything. Aaron’s mouth is partly ajar and you know he’s going to wake up with a lot of back pain from how he’s positioned. Dr. Aguta performs a routine check up on you and lets you know that you’ll be discharged from the hospital the following day. You thank her profusely and she can only give you a reassuring smile. You ask her to wake Aaron up for you just before she leaves.

Aaron blinks and remembers he’s not in the hotel. Dr. Aguta excuses herself to give the both of you privacy and he sits upright, stretching his back unpleasantly. 

“Morning,” he says, clearing this throat. “How do you feel?”

You’re getting tired of answering this question but you humor him.

“Better,” you say honestly. “Aside from my broken arm and concussion.” Aaron’s gaze shifts to your arm and he almost winces.

“Did you sleep well?” 

“For the most part, but I think the sedatives had more to do with it than anything.”

“Good, I’m glad.” 

An awkward silence falls over the both of you. Aaron desperately tried to pull himself together by waking himself up and you’re fiddling with your hands. You noticed he’s changed since you saw him last night, now in slacks and a quarter zip, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him look so casual.

Aaron’s trying to think of the right words to say. As your boss, he wants to tell you that none of this was your fault and there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it from happening. He wants to tell you he shouldn’t have ordered you back to the hotel, not without anyone accompanying you.

But as someone who has deep feelings for you, Aaron wants to say he was scared to death and thought he might lose another person he cares for. His anxiety skyrocketed through the roof when he saw what you had done to Scott and he wishes that you didn’t have to work through this trauma.

But he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows and you know his brain is working overtime by how often he pulls his eyebrows together. You don’t have it in you to be angry at him like you were the night he sent you away. The sedatives, along with your exhaustion, leaves little room for anger. 

“I’m getting hungry,” you say to break the silence. 

“I can get something from the cafeteria,” he offers immediately, touching his pocket to make sure his wallet didn’t fall out. 

“That would be nice.” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t touched by the offer.

Aaron leaves for a short while and you try your best to process what just happened. He chose to stay with you overnight. He offered to buy you breakfast. You didn’t think Aaron would care for you like that.

He comes back a while later and apologizes for both the sandwich (that looks haphazardly made) and the time it took, as there was a long line. You thank him politely and eat the meal, and you’re grateful that you have anything to eat at all.

Aaron watches you and feels like he’s invading your personal time. He bought himself a fruit cup, knowing Dave would reprimand him for not eating if he were able to buy something. 

“I shouldn’t have told you to go back,” Aaron says softly. You almost didn’t hear him say it. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I did the wrong thing and it got you kidnapped.”

You don’t tell him that it’s okay, because quite frankly he’s right. He shouldn’t have sent you home, but you know it’s not his fault that you were abducted. 

“It’s not your fault that Scott took me,” you say matter-of-factly. Aaron can sense what you’re trying to say and his eyes hang in shame. “But I’m alive. I’m going to have one hell of a transition back to work, but I’m alive. I’m here. That is, if I still have my job.”

Aaron’s eyes snap to you.

“The job is yours for however long you want it,” he says immediately, and he means it. “What you did was reckless but I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing.”

This makes you smile a little and Aaron soars when he sees it. 

“I didn’t mean what I said back at the precinct either, Y/N. You’re a fantastic agent and we’re lucky to have you.”

There are a million things you want to ask him. Why have you been second guessing me? Is my work not satisfactory enough? Why did you stay in the hospital with me? 

But you don’t. There are too many things you want to say to Aaron that it ends up turning into a frustrating mess every time you think of the right question to ask. Aaron doesn’t seem to notice your lack of conversation. Or if he does, you think he’s trying to fill the awkward silence like you are.

“I don’t mean to be a burden,” is what you settle on. “I don’t purposely challenge your authority or how the team operates. I know I haven’t been here as long as everyone else but I like to think I make enough contributions.”

“You do,” Aaron says. “You aren’t a burden.”

You don’t believe him. “I just…lately I feel like I've been getting in the way of things.”

“You haven’t.” Aaron means that honestly but you don’t pick up on it. “You’ve shown immense critical thinking and problem solving skills. This case alone has proven that.”

You don’t disagree with him, but your mind reverts back to Scott and you start to deflate. 

Aaron knows he needs to apologize for how he’s been acting towards you. The abduction and his guilt is eating him alive and it forced him to be truthful with himself about how harsh he’s been treating you upon realizing he likes you more than a colleague should. But he doesn’t know whether this moment is appropriate or not. Ever the professional.

Both of you are saved by Dave showing up unannounced. He’s dressed casually too, with jeans and a sweater for an unusually cloudy day in Southern California. His knocking brings both you and Aaron out of your heads.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dave laments. He enters the room after you beckon him in and gives you a gentle hug on the side that doesn’t have your sling. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling because I’m sure you’re tired of that.”

“Thank you.”

“But I did want to check up on you,” Dave continues. “The rest of the team are slowly waking up, I imagine.” He turns to Aaron. “I assume we’re grounded here until Y/N can fly back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says. “Tell the team they have the rest of the week off. I don’t think Strauss wants us spending more of our budget on flights.”

“Already done,” Dave says with a smile. “You had us worried for a while there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, even though you know you have nothing to be sorry for. “I didn’t mean to make any of you worry about me.”

“We always worry about you, kid. It’s our job.”

“Are the girls okay?” you ask him. 

“Safe and sound. That’s actually why I came to visit, other than to check up on you.” 

You blink out of confusion.

“Jaqueline called the precinct and asked to speak with you,” Dave explains. “Long story short, she got in contact with me and wanted to know if you’d be willing to speak with her. She wants to thank you in person.”

The thought never crossed your mind. Saving her children had always been your first priority, even when Scott threatened to kill you if you didn’t help him. You’re not a mother by any means, but Jaqueline is around your age and you have plenty of nieces and nephews to get an understanding of how difficult this whole ordeal was for her.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to make sure Jaqueline would be okay. 

“Absolutely,” you say immediately. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Aaron asks. “You just got to the hospital.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm, turning your attention back to Dave. “They can come visit me here if they’re willing to. I don’t think I have it in me to go to the precinct.”

“Of course,” Dave says with a small grin. It’s almost like he knows this will heal the both of you. He leaves the room and tells you he’ll be back later this afternoon.

Aaron sits in silence and he’s in awe of your resilience. He’s sure it’s the shock and sedatives talking, but he’s always known you to be someone who puts other people first. 

“I should call Strauss and let her know the situation,” Aaron says. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, and you’re strangely reluctant to let him go. But you do anyway and he walks out of the hospital room, leaving you with your thoughts. 

***

Dave lets you know Jaqueline is here with the girls a few hours later. 

“Agent Y/L/N?” a voice says from beside you. The young mother knocks on the door as two children hide behind her legs. You beckon them inside, with Aaron and Emily supervising from beyond the threshold.

“Jaqueline,” you say, propping yourself up to seem more presentable. “Hi. It’s great to see you.” 

“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” she apologizes, but you’re already waving her off when you see the two children emerge from behind her. “I wanted to thank you in person. For saving my kids.”

“It’s no problem,” you downplay. 

But Jaqueline shakes her head and rushes to grab your hand. She pulls away when she thinks she’s crossed a line, but your grip is devastatingly tight when you squeeze hers. Jaqueline looks at you and tears slip from her eyes, and her children hug her legs like they know something’s wrong.

Jacqueline composes herself and brings Gracie and Olivia in front of her, who each have hand-decorated thank you cards made of colorful cardstock paper, stickers, and glitter. Your heart swells at the gesture and you will yourself not to alarm the family in front of you with your tears, so you promise yourself you’d cry when they leave.

“Hi, Munchkins,” you greet. “What’s all this?”

The girls shyly give you the cards, the eldest taking initiative to put them in your hands.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Mommy says you were very brave and saved us.”

“We drew these last night!” the younger one exclaims. “Mommy let us stay up late because we couldn’t sleep, so we made these for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you compliment, looking at the colors below you. Jaqueline hasn’t let go of your hand. “You girls are very talented.”

“Thank you,” the young one says bashfully. “I hope you get better soon.”

Your heart swells and Jacqueline squeezes your hand again before letting go. You watch her lips flutter and as her children become preoccupied with their dresses, Jaqueline surprises you again.

“Would it be alright if I called you from time to time?” she asks. “To let you know how we’re doing. That we’re okay.” You reach for her one more time.

“I’d love that,” you say honestly.

Jaqueline doesn’t say another word, but the look of gratitude and her quivering lips is enough to make all the hurt from the past few days disappear.

You watch as they leave the room and as the young girls save goodbye. David escorts them to the front of the hospital, which leaves Aaron awkwardly standing in the threshold with his body leaning against the doorframe.

Aaron watches you. Your eyes glaze over and the cards in your hand are slipping through your fingertips, and your lips move as if you’re trying to find the right words to say. But nothing comes out. Aaron listens as your breathing becomes shallow and watches a stray tear slip from the corner of your eyes.

Before he can think, he rushes by your side and envelopes you in his arms.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, somewhere between wanting to give you enough space and wanting to pull you against him. Your fingers are tight on his forearms when he hears your labored breathing become erratic and as your tears soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

Aaron takes the liberty of moving you in front of him, his back against the pillows you were sleeping on. He looks at your frail body in front of him; you always carry yourself as a strong-willed, independent agent on the field, and now he sees that he mistook your brazen character as recklessness when it was false bravado.

His heart aches when your grip on him tightens. Aaron reaches out to move the cards to the side table and pulls you against his chest, thankful that this bed is barely enough to fit the both of you. Aaron notices your craned neck, bringing the hand that isn’t wrapped around your frail figure to your head and gently moves your head to his chest.

Your soft whimpers are enough to make Aaron’s heart break all over again.

“You’re an amazing person,” Aaron says. “You are selfless, caring, and generous.” His words compel you to cry even harder and Aaron lets you weep in his arms until your eyes are dry and you’re hiccuping. 

Aaron doesn’t let you, not for a second, feel embarrassed about breaking down in front of him. His thumbs are drawing soothing circles on your arm and he’s wiping away your tears with a tissue, allowing you to unravel before him. 

Your dry heaving doesn’t bother Aaron, but he coos into your ear and tells you he’s going to get you a bottle of water when you grip his arm. He pries your fingers off of him and melts when you snuggle your head closer to him, but he knows you’re thirsty and the best thing he can do for you is keep you healthy. 

“I’ll be back in two minutes,” he promises. “I’m all yours after that.” 

You nod reluctantly and let him go. The bed feels empty when he leaves and you feel pathetic for hanging onto him like he’s your lifeline, but you don’t care. You just want to be held.

True to his word, Aaron comes back a few minutes later and uncaps the bottle for you. A soft ‘up’ utters from his lips and you sit up straight. He brings the bottle to your lips and tilts your head back enough to let the water slide down your throat. 

Aaron puts it aside when you’ve signaled that you’re done and slides into the spot next to you once again. He puts his arm around your shoulder and brings you to his chest again. 

You don’t tell him, but you feel his heartbeat. It’s irrationally fast and you don’t know what to make of it. You tighten your hold on him as you start to fall asleep and you miss the way Aaron rocks you to sleep. 

***

When it’s time for your discharge, you’re feeling better than you did a few days ago. The team welcomes you back on board once you’ve been cleared to fly and it feels like nothing’s out of place. 

JJ bought a bunch of pastries from a local cafe and everyone (save for Aaron because he was with you the entire time) has written little messages on a decorated card. It’s Spencer who frets over you the most, bringing you cups of tea and asking if there’s anything he can do to ease your pain. You’re quite touched. 

You know you’re in no shape to drive home when you land. Your dominant hand is broken and your car sits in its designated spot, no doubt gathering dust and debris. The team is tired from the trip and everyone checks in on you one by one before leaving, and you don’t know how you’ll get home until you realize your car keys are still in your desk drawer.

Aaron watches you for a moment. He notices your apprehensiveness and the way you look at your car keys, and he puts two and two together. Before he can register what he’s doing, Aaron’s making his way to you and offering to drive you. You start to tell him you don’t need a chauffeur and that he should go home instead, but he’s more worried that you might hurt yourself inadvertently. He persists and you reluctantly say yes because you know he’s right. You could barely open the door to the building, let alone drive home. 

The car ride to your apartment is quiet, save for the sounds of cars passing by on the freeway and the sound of gravel underneath the tires. You look up at your apartment complex when you tell Aaron the code to get into your garage and he parks in the visor spot after you’ve directed him.

The sling on your arm is a nuisance and you already can’t wait to get it off. You’re able to unbuckle yourself with your free hand and you’re surprised that Aaron opens the door for you.

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

“It’s not a problem.” You can tell he means it.

When you get to your apartment, you’re somewhat surprised that you haven’t lost your keys. You struggle to put them into the lock correctly with your non-dominant hand and Aaron can see the quirk of your eyebrow and how you’ve bit your lip out of frustration.

He fears he’s overstepping. He takes the keys out of your hands gently and opens the door for you anyhow. 

When you walk inside, you don’t think you've ever felt happier to see your small one bedroom apartment. Aaron sets your go-bag on the kitchen counter and you stand still for what seems like an eternity until he brings you out of your haze and encourages you to change out of your clothes and take a shower. 

But you don’t move. You stand in the middle of your living room and stare blankly out of your window, unable to appreciate the breathtaking view of D.C. like you always do. Your throat feels dry and your feet feel like they’re permanently planted on the hardwood floor beneath you.

Aaron comes to stand beside you and he leaves distance between the both of you. He looks at the sight before him and makes a comment about how he’s jealous of your view, but not even that gets a reaction out of you.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you mumble after a long pause. “I-I can’t be by myself right now.”

Aaron knows Jack is at sleepaway camp for a school trip and doesn’t get back for another few days. He doesn’t have to think about keeping you company so you don’t feel alone.

“I can stay with you,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turn to look at him and the offer is enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

Aaron sounds so soft, caring, and unlike himself. Your heart tugs at his caring nature and you’re overwhelmed with the notion that he’s caring for you like he cares for your colleagues.

“Please,” you croak.

Aaron nods. He puts his hands on your arms and ushers you into the hallway and you point him in the direction of your bedroom. He’s acutely aware that this is the first time he’s ever been in your apartment, let alone in the room you sleep in, and tries not to dwell on it for your sake. 

“You should take a shower and sleep,” Aaron suggests. “It’ll help clear your head.”

You follow Aaron’s lead. He guides you to your dresser and you grab an extra change of clothes and he accompanies you to the bathroom next door. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” he says. “Don’t be afraid to get me.”

“Okay,” you say meekly. Your voice is far too dry to speak normally.

Aaron closes the bathroom door and you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You’re sure you look like a mess, despite being taken care of in the hospital back in Los Angeles. But you feel sticky from the flight and the sudden change in temperature, and you want nothing more than to cleanse yourself of the memories from LA.

You remove the sling from your arm and try your hardest to take your clothes off but you find it exceptionally difficult with your arm being in a brace. It hurts to lift your arm and you nearly cry out of frustration and exhaustion when you realize you can’t take your shirt off by yourself.

Embarrassed, you contemplate on showering with your clothes on, but ultimately know you’d need to take them off anyway. You open the door and call for Aaron, and you hear his steps as soon as you do.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he realizes you’re still in your clothes.

“I can’t, um, take my clothes off,” you say, clearing your throat. “I can’t bend my right arm and my left one is extremely sore. I can’t take my fucking clothes off.”

Aaron isn’t offended by your defensiveness. He gathers that it’s your coping mechanism because you feel embarrassed, but Aaron doesn’t care. He doesn’t say anything but he nods like he knows what you’re going through and you have a suspicion that he might.

“I’ll close my eyes and take your clothes off for you,” Aaron says. He says it in a way that’s so sincere but it still makes your cheeks redden at the innuendo. Aaron tries to ignore it because he feels a blush coming.

“It’s so pathetic that I can’t do this by myself.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he reassures. “You have a broken arm and your body’s still in pain. Let me help you.” 

You don’t say anything and Aaron takes it as a cue to move closer. True to his word, he puts his arms on your waist and turns his head away from you, careful to not hurt your broken arm. He maneuvers the fabric until it’s free from your body and he’s acutely aware that he’ll need to touch you in order to take the rest of your clothes off.

Aaron’s surprised when you move his hand to the button of your slacks. He clears his throat while you look up at the ceiling and bite your lip, pretending that the situation you’re in is completely normal to keep yourself from blushing too much. Aaron’s fingers work on the button and he’s careful not to put his hands where it’s inappropriate. He almost laughs at the thought, considering he’s your boss and he’s helping you take off your clothes.

You shimmy out of your slacks as Aaron slides it down your legs. He blushes at the thought of what’s to come next and swallows hard. Aaron returns to his stance and finds his neck is sore from craning, so he keeps his eyes closed and faces you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “I-I don’t think I can unclasp my bra.” 

You wince at your words, but it’s true. You tried to reach behind you when Aaron worked on taking off your pants, but the ache in your shoulder was too much. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything and you’re afraid that he might leave you. He’s so quiet that you can barely hear his breathing and you look at his closed eyes and see that his jaw is clenched. He mumbles and you’re barely able to catch it. Aaron lifts his hands to find your shoulders and you nearly shiver underneath his warm hands, despite the fact that your body might be just as hot. 

Aaron reaches behind you and searches for your clasp. You can feel his fingers on your back as he feels for it and he’s incredibly aware that your gaze is on him. It takes all of his willpower not to open his eyes. He’s imagined undressing you before, but not like this. Aaron’s fingers find the clasp and he’s slow to undo it, afraid of tangling the metal.

You feel yourself free from its constraints and Aaron slowly moves his fingertips from your shoulders and down your arm. You comply the best you can with your sore arm and your broken one, and your breathing hitches.

Aaron ignores how fast his heart is beating when he hears your bra drop to the floor. His mind is in overdrive and he bends down again, his fingers immediately coming to your waist and gripping them with gentle care. You look down at him and your mouth is wide open with your jaw hanging when you realize he’s on his knees in front of you. Aaron’s fingers hook on the material of your underwear, but you can’t bear to see him take them off.

“Wait,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily. 

Aaron forces himself to keep his eyes closed and he can hear your shallow breathing. His fingers are wrapped around the fabric of your underwear and suddenly he’s aware that it’s an intimate piece of clothing. Aaron’s cheeks redden and he’s desperately hoping you don’t notice.

“I can do it,” you say. Your voice wavers and you aren���t sure that you won’t be in pain when you take them off, but seeing Aaron on his knees with his hands practically down your underwear is too much for you at this moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, clearing his throat. His fingers detach themselves and he abruptly stands up. Aaron keeps his eyes closed still.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, and you mean it. “I really appreciate you helping me out…I’m sure this has crossed a lot of boundaries.”

Aaron wants to tell you he doesn’t mind it one bit, but he holds his tongue to refrain from making you uncomfortable. His eyes feel heavy and he stumbles when he stands up but catches himself when he feels the doorknob behind him.

“Like I said, I’m here if you need anything.” 

Aaron stands still for a moment and it feels like the both of you had the air knocked out of your lungs. He doesn’t want to overstep or make it seem like he’s taking advantage of your vulnerable state, so he exits the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You lock it immediately and pin yourself against the door. Your heartbeat is irrational and you turn the water on, fixing it to your desired temperature. Bending to take your underwear hurts and your shoulders feel like they’re about to pop off, but you manage.

You’re acutely aware that Aaron’s in your living room, no doubt trying to rid himself of the awkwardness. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful at what transpired because while it’s enough to help you forget about Los Angeles, it makes your cheeks flare into a hot mess and you feel uncomfortably turned on.

Aaron, too, feels the same way. He feels filthy sitting on your couch and results in pacing around the room. His shoes are discarded by the door and it feels all too domestic. Aaron’s tie is suddenly too tight so he tugs on the knot to loosen it. He rids himself of his suit jacket and places it neatly on the arm of the couch, and thinks about anything but you, naked in the shower. His slacks feel a little too tight, so he takes out his phone to check his email. It works for a while,

A while later, Aaron realizes you’ve walked out of the bathroom and you’ve managed to change without his assistance. You comment about how the shower loosened your muscles and you were able to get your clothes in relatively painlessly, but all he can think about is how cute you look in an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

He’s too preoccupied admiring how undone you look because it’s the complete opposite from how he sees you at work. In Quantico, you’re somewhat put together, always wearing appropriate office attire and taking your caseload with grace while the rest of the team complains to no end about the amount of paperwork that needs to be filed.

Now, you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and an old shirt that has lost some lettering. It’s domestic and Aaron loves it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about offering you the bathroom,” you say timidly. 

It’s nerve wracking for you to be in Aaron’s presence because of what happened a few moments ago and because you’re not sure why he’s been so nice to you. It’s fresh and strange at the same time, as you’re used to him looking over your shoulder.

But you don’t feel like he’s being domineering. 

“I’ve got a few shirts that might be your size,” you announce. “And a bunch of sweatpants too.”

Aaron’s heart flutters at how welcoming you are considering all that happened to you, but he’s also found himself standing with jealousy when you mention that you have men’s clothing. Are you dating someone? Does he know he’s there?

“I love thrifting and sleeping in big shirts,” you explain, overcompensating for how awkward you feel to be standing in front of your boss looking like a disheveled mess. “I tend to thrift for clothes in the men's section because you guys have really good clothes for dirt cheap.”

Aaron’s worries are quelled and he doesn’t know why he feels so relieved to know you aren’t seeing anyone. 

“That would be great,” Aaron says. 

You nearly skip to your room and huff at your awkward demeanor, pulling out a large shirt from your dresser and a pair of sweatpants you hope is big enough. When you walk back to the living room, Aaron is still standing in the same spot and you’re somewhat touched that he’s nervous to be in your apartment.

“You can change in the bathroom,” you instruct. “Take as long as you need. There’s an extra toothbrush on the counter and a towel on the rack.” 

Grateful, Aaron scurries into the bathroom and you walk away before you can think of imagining him getting undressed. Instead, you busy yourself by fetching extra blankets and pillows for him. There’s an extra thick blanket in your closet and you pull two pillows from your bed, unsure if Aaron’s the type of guy to care about his pillow count. You find yourself stumped for a moment, each hand two with pillows as you debate on how many to give him, before you realize how idiotic you must seem if someone were to take a peek inside your head.

You settle with two pillows. 

You’re fixing a cup of tea for the both of you when Aaron walks out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. You know he likes to drink chamomile tea on the plane when you’re coming back from a case late at night. You’ve seen him make it a million times. It feels weird to be making him a cup, but you figure it’s the least you could do after he helped you change out of your clothes. 

“I made you tea,” you say lamely, setting the cup down on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Aaron walks towards you and he feels the hardfloor beneath him and how hot the mug is when he touches it. Thinking about this distracts him from your broken arm and the swell of guilt he has in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Aaron says. 

“I put in a little bit of honey. I hope it’s not too much.”

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “How’d you know I liked honey in my tea?”

“You drink it a lot on the plane,” you explain. “I see you make it a lot. You always scold Spencer every time he puts too much of it in.”

He can’t help but smile, but he hides it behind the cup.

Neither of you say anything. You don’t know what more you can say. The words cause you to choke every time you think about what happened back in Los Angeles. Realistically, you know there’s no way Scott can hurt you anymore, but it doesn’t stop you from panicking at the thought of being alone in your apartment. 

But you look at Aaron, who’s looking at you, and you’re able to let your guard down for a little while. 

“Thank you,” you muster. “For taking care of me back at the hospital and back at the barn. It…it meant a lot that you stayed.” 

“Of course,” he says a little too quickly. “You’re a member of this team and your safety is my top priority.”

Your gaze drops to the floor. You aren’t sure what you were expecting. An apology? A confession? Truthfully, you don’t know what you want to hear from Aaron but it hurts knowing that he views you as just another colleague.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t made you feel that way in a long time,” Aaron starts when he realizes you’ve grown quiet. “A member of the team, I mean.” 

“I-I just felt like I should’ve been doing more,” you confess. 

“You’re doing everything right, Y/N. You’re an exceptional agent and an outstanding person. Any part of the bureau would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly. 

“Absolutely.” Aaron means in.

You finish your tea and it all becomes too much for you. The pain of your arm is quelled by the medication your doctor prescribed and Aaron helps you open the bottle. It makes you feel silly that you need someone else’s help to do something so simple and you feel your frustration get the better of you. 

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, okay?” Aaron reassures. “Please don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I promise,” you say and it’s one you’re planning on keeping.

You close the door behind you and turn off the lights. It feels weird to be in your apartment because you feel like everything should be back to normal, but it isn’t. In your years with the BAU, nothing as serious as this kidnapping has ever happened to you. You’ve been trained to deal with kidnappings before and how to talk to the victims and to the survivors, but you’ve never thought you’d have to deal with the aftermath yourself. 

You can’t sleep on your side because of your cast and your body feels like it’s constantly being run over by a stampede. The soft mattress is a contrast of how stiff your body feels and it all feels like it’s too much. 

Aaron can’t sleep either. He’s been staring at the door for the past thirty minutes as he tries to fall asleep. His phone is plugged into the wall behind him and he checks in with Dave, who texted him as he drove you back to your apartment. Aaron briefly thinks about Jack and his heart softens for a moment, but then he hears your soft cries from the room.

Aaron lies completely still and hears your whimpers. He hears you sniffle, blow your nose twice, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he has no idea what to do. He has half a mind of barging into your room to comfort you until you’re asleep, but he doesn’t want to overstep his welcome more than he already has. Aaron feels frozen on the couch and doesn’t know if you’re too nervous to ask him for comfort.

He’s surprised when you walk outside. You don’t turn the lights on and he can barely make your face when you step into the moonlight. But you look frail, broken, and like you’ve been tormented by your memories. Aaron hates that.

“Aaron?” you call out. Your voice is small and his heart cracks. “Can you keep me company?”

Aaron doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He lifts the blankets from his legs and follows you into the bedroom. You sit on the edge of the bed and sniffle. Aaron sits next to you and carefully puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

It’s comforting and it aches. The pain of trauma and knowing that your life will never be the same again makes it seem like you’re never going to recover. Aaron doesn’t say anything, letting you cry into his shoulder and ignores the way your tear stains have soaked through the fabric. 

He’s imagined being in your apartment before; he often wonders what your decor looks like and how often you spend time here. He’s imagined cooking breakfast for you before you wake up, making you cups of your favorite tea, making the bed after you’ve both woken up, and kissing you goodbye when you walk out the door. Being in your bedroom like this feels too intimate, but if he was being honest with himself, Aaron doesn’t really mind it. He likes that he’s the person you choose to lean on. He feels like this is the first step in holding himself accountable for how he’s treated you in the past. 

Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron does everything he can think of to coax you through your sadness. He whispers praise and allows you to cry when you keep apologizing for your behavior, and he keeps telling you that he’s not going anywhere. 

When you manage to calm down, you’re tired. Aaron lets you climb underneath the covers and tucks the blanket under your chin. His hand brushes your skin and he blushes, though he’s sure you can’t tell because of how dark it is. Aaron bids you goodnight and starts to walk back to the living room but you reach out for his hand before he gets the chance to leave. He turns around and feels your soft grip on him. 

“Could you sleep with me?” you ask. “Or at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” Aaron says. He throws all caution in the wind and starts to walk to the other side of the bed and he’s surprised when you open the covers for him.

Your mattress is soft and your blankets smell like you. He tries not to think about it and leaves space between the both of you.

“Did you know I joined the BAU because of you?” you ask in the darkness.

“What?” Aaron says of shock.

You laugh lamely. “You guys held a few seminars at my alma mater and I knew then what I wanted to do with my life. I applied to the academy the next fall.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say. His cheeks are hot and you’ve rendered him utterly speechless. In your tired state, you push yourself as comfortably as you can until the back of your head is leaning on Aaron’s chest, mindful of your broken arm. 

Aaron’s stunned and his body stiffens. But he thinks of all the times he’s thought about laying beside you like this and decides that he’ll cherish it as much as he can. His arm snakes itself underneath you as he tugs you closer, and he whispers a soft goodnight.

***

D.C. is a little cloudy when you wake up. The light peeks through your blinds and you’re made aware of the man sleeping beside you when you realize your face is buried in his chest. Your good arm is beneath you while the other is on top of the blanket. Aaron’s arms are encircled around you and when you feel his warmth. 

You don’t rush to wake him up. Being here with him somehow feels right despite the part of your brain telling you he’s your boss and nothing more. But Aaron wouldn’t stay with you if he didn’t want to, right? 

Part of you thinks he’s doing it just because he feels guilty. You know that there’s some truth to that, but you wonder if it’s the only reason he elected to take care of you. But you decide it’s too early to think about this. Instead, you close your eyes and bask in Aaron’s warmth, and fall asleep again. 

This time, Aaron wakes you up twenty minutes after you fall back asleep. His arms are numb from your weight and he feels like he might try to kiss you if he doesn’t wake you up. 

Your eyes flutter open and you bury your head in his neck. Aaron doesn’t bring himself to push you off of him. He pulls you against him and the both of you lay in silence for what feels like an eternity. 

Eventually, Aaron has to leave because Jack’s coming home from a sleep away camping trip. He apologizes a thousand times over because he knows he said he wasn’t going anywhere, but you tell him that Jack is more important. An unrecognizable expression flashes across his face before he’s out the door, promising you that he’ll call to check in once Jack’s home.

And he does. Aaron calls you a few hours later when Jack’s in the shower and asks you how you’re feeling, if you’ve taken your medication, and if he needs to do anything for you. You decline for his help despite desperately wanting him back in your apartment.

When night falls, Aaron lets Jack stay up an hour later than usual. They’re watching cartoons from the nineties when Aaron gets a sudden idea. He pauses the television and turns to Jack.

“Do you remember Y/N?” Aaron asks his son.

“Of course I do,” Jack says. “She’s the one who buys me snacks when I come to visit you.” 

“That’s right, buddy.” Truthfully, Aaron didn’t know you’ve continuously done that for Jack. But he rolls with it. 

“Is she okay?”

Aaron knows Jack can tell something’s up.

“Not really,” Aaron replies honestly. “She got hurt real bad in our last case and broke her arm.”

Jack opens his mouth in surprise. “Oh no. Do you think she’ll get better soon?”

“I hope so. She needs a lot of help right now because she lives alone.”

“Well she can stay with us until her arm is better,” Jack says as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. Aaron can’t help but smile through his shock. 

“I’ve gotta ask her first, but I think that’s a great idea. That’s actually what I wanted to ask you.”

“It’ll be fun!” Jack exclaims. “Me and Y/N can watch cartoons while you’re at work and she can help me with my homework. She’s nice like that.” 

“Yes she is,” Aaron says, nodding. 

“Do you think I should make her a card so she feels welcomed in our home? I think I have leftover paper and glitter. Girls love glitter.”

“Y/N would love that. I’m going to talk to her first and if she agrees to stay over, you can make her a card.”

“Yay! This is gonna be the best sleepover ever.” 

Aaron’s ecstatic that Jack’s receptive to the idea. He calls you the next morning and proposes the idea of staying at his place until your cast comes off. When you lament how long that’ll be from now, he insists and tells you Jack was the one who came up with the idea.

You can’t say no to Jack. 

Aaron helps you gather belongings from your apartment and tells you that he’ll drive you back here or pick you up any time you want or need to. You double check that you’ve packed enough clothes for a week.

It’s a gradual and awkward start. You feel out of place as you try to navigate his apartment and where he keeps everything, not wanting to feel like you’re already welcomed in his home. But Aaron keeps reminding you that his home is your home and you don’t need permission since you’ll be here for a while.

Jack is sweet, too. He helps you by telling you where everything is stored and goes so far as to hold your hand while doing so. He insisted on tucking you in while you slept in the guest bedroom just to make sure you were comfortable on your first night, and you thought you might start crying in front of him.

At first, you walk on eggshells. You tiptoe around the boys and feel like a burden when Aaron brings home dinner for three or when he buys extra groceries, especially when he refuses to let you chip in. Jack tries to ease your worries after sensing your discomfort by asking you to build legos with him and you do your best despite the pain in your arms.

Aaron reminds you of your medication (and in turn, Jack asks you if you’ve taken your pills), cooks your favorite comfort meals, and drives you to mandated therapy sessions whenever he has the time. It warms your heart at how helpful he’s been since you know how busy he is typically, and you’re not sure what to make of your emotions. 

Time passes by and suddenly staying with Aaron feels somewhat normal. You’re off of work until your arm is healed and you’ve seen your therapist a number of times, and you know you have a couple of months of doing whatever you want until you go back into the field. Against the advice of Strauss, you continue to help with cases and the paperwork load so Aaron can spend more time with Jack.

Gradually, you start to feel comfortable when you’re alone. You use his kitchen, clean his dishes, and busy yourself with tidying Jack’s messes. You explore his neighborhood and have found a few cafes and restaurants you’d like to try out. You feel more comfortable lounging on his couch instead of keeping yourself in the guest bedroom.   

It feels domestic and you can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. There’s still so much left unsaid, including how you’ve felt being his subordinate prior to your abduction. Aaron’s apologized over and over again, has given you time to heal from it and chooses not to ask for forgiveness in lieu of letting you find it yourself. It means a lot. Deep down, you know Aaron isn’t a bad person. You just wish you knew why you were different.

A week turns into two, then into three, and soon enough you find yourself caring after Jack. You feel useless if you sleep in and start waking up early to make breakfast as best you can for everyone (limited to cold breakfasts until you start to feel confident using your dominant arm when it’s out of the sling). Aaron walks into the kitchen to see you making oatmeal one day and you’re worried that you’ve overstepped, but he thanks you profusely.

Jack waddles in and he takes the oatmeal without question and asks if you can put brown sugar and fruit in it. You look around and see apples and blueberries, and Jack chooses the blueberries. He watches as you fix him a bowl and eats his breakfast in silence.

It becomes a routine for you after growing tired of doing nothing all day. Helping Aaron’s around the house as best you can, working remotely on cases, and spending time in his neighborhood feels like you’re recording.

Jessica, Jack’s aunt, has been informed of your stay by Aaron. You’ve met her before in passing but have never spoken to her in depth before staying with Aaron. She picks him up and drops him off, making small talk with you about her life and about your work. It goes so far as coffee dates when she’s available and it feels like your life is getting back on track.

Meanwhile, Aaron realizes he’s bit off more than he can chew when he sees you every morning. He hears your morning voice and finds himself wanting to wake up to it every day. He sees the way you are with Jack, how thoughtful and helpful you’ve been, and thinks it’s where you belong.

And it hurts. It hurts to know that all of his suppressed feelings are suddenly coming to the surface.

Your cast is coming off later today and you’re due for another mandated therapy session and a psychological evaluation before you’re able to return to work. He’s elated, but that means you’re okay to return to your apartment and he’ll have to get used to the house being empty.

Aaron’s parked his car at Quantico and he glances at you in the passenger seat. Your arm sling and cast are gone and you look as good as new, but he’s reluctant to step out of the car. You look back at him, hands fiddling in your lap.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you begin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jack.”

“You’d be just fine,” Aaron assures. “But it was nice seeing you recover. Is your arm doing okay?”

“It’s like I never had a broken arm.” You flex it in front of him for emphasis. “My shoulder’s still a bit sore but I think my physical therapist has expedited the healing process.”

Aaron smiles. “Good. I’m glad.” 

A brief moment of silence falls between the two of you before you both get out of the car. Your therapist had asked you whether or not you were ready to integrate yourself back with the team and was scheduled to supervise your initial day back in the office. You’re apprehensive, however, because you know that you never perform well if you’re being watched closely. 

JJ’s the first to greet you when you walk through the doors. The office smells the same and it looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same. You spend a few extra seconds embracing JJ and gather that she needs this hug more than you do.

Everyone files in and it’s barely eight in the morning. David congratulates you on recovery, Derek and Penelope bombard you with jokes that make your stomach hurt, Emily shows you photos of Sergio upon your request, and Spencer gives you a side hug and tells you he’s glad you’re doing better.

The therapist arrives soon after and you’re on your best behavior without making it seem like you’re trying to be. 

In the end, she permits you to return back to the BAU with the promise of continuing therapy. She refers to you to a few others and tells you that you should try to go in at least once a week, or however frequently your job lets you. You’re clear to fly, yield your gun, and you’re reinstated as a profiler with the BAU.

Aaron drives you back to his place to pick up your belongings before he drives you back to your apartment. He and Dave had been kind enough to drive your car back to your place, where it’s been sitting untouched.

The ride is filled with music from the eighties and you’re so elated from your first day back at work that you don’t mind singing in front of Aaron and pretending you’re shredding on an electric guitar. He takes his time getting home, taking the long way instead of the direct route, and he doesn’t think you notice. Aaron hopes you don’t.

But he arrives at his place and Jessica’s greeting you at the front door, happy to see you’ve recovered before she goes home. The sun has barely set and Jack walks out behind his aunt, asking you what’s for dinner.

You’re stunned for a moment as the realization that this all ends tonight. Staying with Aaron, falling into a life of balancing work and domesticity comes to an end when he drops you off at your apartment. Jack’s tugging on your elbow and Aaron scolds him because you might still be in a little bit of pain. He apologizes sweetly.

Aaron beckons you inside where you've started to pack your belongings. The luggage you've brought seems smaller than when you brought it, as you find it difficult to pack everything. You make the bed and set the room as you found it (to the best of your recollection), and you’re ready to put your shoes on when Aaron rounds the corner.

“I was thinking we could have one last meal here.” He clears his throat. “To celebrate your recovery.”

You don’t hesitate. “I would love that. I finally get to show you my cooking skills.” 

Aaron smiles and Jack runs to your legs, beckoning you to the kitchen. You settle on making oven baked chicken with mashed potatoes and honey glazed carrots, all of which Aaron had in his refrigerator. Jack asks how he can help and you’re touched when he brings a stool to perch on, and you tell him he can help you by rinsing the potatoes. 

Aaron offers to help and you look at him with a silly grin, letting him prepare the carrots while you prepare everything else. Halfway through the process, Jack becomes somewhat irritable because of hunger and because the entire kitchen smells like a Thanksgiving feast. But he relents and waits for the meal to be done when you tell him the food always tastes better when it’s cooked longer.

You almost forget it’s your last time with Aaron and Jack when you eat your meal together. You forget it when Jack insists on ice cream for dessert and when Aaron makes you a cup of tea just the way you like it. You forget about it until Jack asks his father if he can be there when he drops you off at your apartment. 

Your heart breaks a little. Aaron agrees and lets you grab your belongings while he buckles Jack in the car. Your luggage is in the trunk by the time Aaron is done and he opens the passenger door for you before getting in the car himself. Jack talks the entire ride, thanking you for dinner and lamenting how much he loved spending time with you. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is tight and he doesn’t think his heart could swell any bigger.

Eventually, the boys walk you up to your floor and Jack lunges at your abdomen after the three of you have walked into your living room. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Jack mumbles in your sweater.

“You’ll see her around, buddy. She’s not leaving the team,” says Aaron.

“But I’ll miss Y/N at home. I like spending time with her there.” 

You and Aaron share a look. You can’t tell what he’s thinking but you know you’re unable to control the influx of emotions that will eventually spill out of you when they leave. 

“Me too,” Aaron says quietly. 

They leave soon after that.

You spend an hour crying in your living room and you haven’t unpacked your suitcase. Living with Aaron and being so close to him made you realize how your feelings for him, albeit complicated, have always been there. 

You love him. You love his generous nature. You love the adoration he has for Jack and for his team. You love how he knows your beverages of choice and how gentle he’s been with you. You love the way he says your name and you love that you feel right at home with him.

It’s ten o’clock when you grab your phone and you know Jack’s been asleep for at least an hour. You dial Aaron’s contact and in your anxious state of mind, nearly regret your actions. But he picks up and you hear the sweet melody of his voice through the phone. Your voice falters at first, but you push through them anyway. You’re sure Aaron can hear your voice post-crying because of how raspy your voice is, but you don’t care.

You tell him you think you love him and it’s not because he’s been taking care of you. You pour your heart and soul into this speech and you panic when he doesn’t say anything.

“This’ll be one hell of a story we tell Strauss.”

And you laugh. You laugh because you know Aaron feels the same and you laugh because facing paperwork and recounting this conversation to Strauss doesn’t seem like the most frightening thing in the world anymore.

But just for good measure, Aaron tells you he loves you too. 

***

AAAND WE’RE DONE X 

[writinghotchner]

fandom: criminal minds pairing: hotch x fem!reader (could be read as hotch x oc, i guess) rating: M (nsfw) words: 1,224

read below, or on ao3.

insomnia has once again webbed its way through her brain and shattered through her eyelids. it's nothing new, she's dealt with it most of her life. with an annoyed, tired sigh, she turns fully onto her side to face her boyfriend letting her eyes scan his sleeping face as puffs of his breath fans across her nose. she sighs again, frustrated that she can't sleep and that he can. just as she's about to fling the blanket off of herself and stomp to the living room to be grumpy on the couch, he cracks an eye to look at her. she immediately huffs out a laugh.

"did i wake you?"

he clears his throat and rolls onto his back, stretching his body a little. "i felt you staring at me." he turns to look at the clock on his nightstand. two a.m.

she laughs at that, reaching over to palm his cheek, it hits him with a soft unpainful smack. "i'm sorry. i was admiring your ability to sleep."

he rolls back onto his side, wiggling a little closer to her. "can't sleep?"

she sighs. "no, my brain won't shut up long enough."

he hums his response, his eyes slipping closed again.

"aaron..."

his eyes open slowly to look at her. "hm?"

"help me fall asleep...?" she studies his face as well as she can in the dimly lit room, but she sees him crack a grin, his eyes coming to life.

"how do you suppose i do that?" his voice is still rough with sleep sending shivers down her spine, igniting the fire already growing deep in her belly.

without saying anything, she reaches for his left hand and guides it slowly towards her already throbbing center. she lifts her right leg up a little to give him room and he automatically palms the entirety of her, the warmth of his large hand making the heat already boiling between her legs unbearable.

"god, baby, please.." she chokes out in a whisper, but he keeps slowly, lightly, running his hand over her.

"please what?"

she throws him a pointed look and he grins. "i want your fingers inside m-"

before she can even finish that sentence, he skims his fingers up over her mound, and then wiggles them under her panties, brushing through her trimmed pubes. he doesn't pull her lips apart like she's dying for him to, instead he rests his entire palm on her pubic bone and lets his fingers play softly at her opening, feeling how hot and wet she already was. she squirms under him, clenching helplessly at nothing. he chuckles. "already so wet, hm? were you planning on waking me up or were you going to take care of this yourself?"

she huffs out something between a breathy laugh and a moan as she reaches under the blankets to grip at his wrist. "you're killing me here, babe."

"oh, we can't have that, can we?" he says and then quickly presses his two middle fingers down and then up, pulling her lips open and then stopping to press the tips of them against her clit. she squirms against his hand even more, her bottom lip caged between her teeth.

"aaron hotchner, i swear to god," she pants, the grip on his wrist tightening.

he props his head up on his right hand so he can look down at her, the street light from outside barely shining into the room so he can see the shadows of her face. she looks up at him right when he starts moving his fingers in small circles. she licks her lips and lets them fall apart to suck in a breath.

he speeds up his movements, watching as her face as it contorts with pleasure, her chest rises and stutters, an annoyed yet pleasurable groan leaving her throat.

"baby, please," she nearly chokes out. he chuckles to himself, loving that he can do this to her - make her beg and moan.

a few more deep pressure circles to her clit and he slides his fingers down to her opening and presses inside of her slowly. "is this what you want?" his voice is low and teasing and she can practically hear the grin on his face through her now closed eyes. he uses the heel of his hand to press back into her clit and her leg twitches.

the grip on his wrist moves down to grab the back of his hand, her fingers over his, and she makes him push himself deeper into her. her fingers brushing against her own entrance with the movement.

"jesus, fuck, god," she cries out, squeezing her eyes closed. his fingers are thick and always fill her up the way she needs, especially when he uses two. he sets a slow steady pace, pressing them as deep as they can go and then drags them slowly almost all the way out of her before quickly sliding them back in to his knuckles. she squeezes her legs together, trapping their hands in place. she can feel the tendons in his hand every time he moves his fingers, and she grips his knuckles as he picks up the pace.

strangled moans fall from her lips as she moves her hips against him. he curls his fingers and holds it momentarily against the spongey tissue that makes her feral which causes her to immediately arch her back and release a guttural moan. when he starts to move his fingers again, picking up the pace even faster, she slides her right leg back so he can have more room to move his hand. he moves faster now, the wet slapping sound of his hand ramming into her and her strangled breaths filling the room.

it only takes a few more pumps and curls of his fingers before she's squeezing his knuckles tight. she presses her her own middle fingers into his, trying to push his fingers in farther as her orgasm sparks through her, her own two middle fingers slip in with his for a moment and she thrashes against him, her eyes still squeezed shut. he can feel her lower stomach spasming and it makes him bite his lip to stop his own pleasured sounds. her breath catches in her chest as her orgasm continues to static its way through her. he leans in closer to her, "breathe, honey."

a final strangled, broken moan leaves her throat and she sucks in a harsh breath, her body goes limp, and her hand falls away from his as she continues to breathe heavily. he doesn't remove his fingers right away, he leaves them buried inside of her, unmoving. she slowly opens her eyes and looks at him. "fuck," is all she can manage to croak get out.

"tired?" he asks, his voice strangled with his own wants now, but willing to go on if that's what she needs.

before she can answer he's pulling his fingers out of her and sliding them right back up to her clit. she can feel the gush of warmth follow his fingers out and it makes her moan again.

"are you?" she husks.

"wide awake." and with that he leans over and catches her mouth in a heated kiss as he moves his body on top of hers and settles between her parted, shaking legs.

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch

Chapter Eight:

The coffee machine gurgled in the quiet of the break room as Evelyn filled her cup, her hands carefully cradling her favorite pink mug as the steam raised in delicate swirls. The rich aroma of the freshly brewed substance wafted through the air, Evelyn was moments from savoring her first sip when Spencer made his entrance. 

He moved with an awkward grace, his lean frame wrapped in a sweater, the morning light casting a scholarly glow on his thoughtful expression. Evelyn took a moment, as she often did, to admire the earnest curiosity etched into his features. She pivoted gracefully, a playful glint in her eye, the corners crinkling in silent laughter.

"Morning, Dr. Reid," she chimed. "Joining me for the most important meal of the day?"

Spencer offered a small, hesitant grin, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as if anticipating an unwelcome audience. When he turned back, finding the coast clear, his gaze couldn't help but sweep over her, a slow, involuntary trail from her eyes down to her heels and back up again.

"Did you know caffeine can actually increase cortisol levels?" Spencer inquired, his tone shifting to that of a lecturer as he warmed to the subject. "Cortisol is secreted by the adrenal glands and plays a critical role in regulating various bodily functions. While it's essential for survival, elevated cortisol over prolonged periods can lead to a host of issues. So, while that cup of coffee might seem like a good idea, it's worth considering the potential endocrine implications."

Evelyn closed the distance between them with a playful step, her eyes gleaming. "I love when you talk nerdy to me, Dr. Reid," she started. "But if you deprive me of my morning coffee, I won't be the only ones suffering the consequences."

Spencer's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily giving Evelyn's ass a quick, teasing tap. She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a feigned expression of shock. 

"In the workplace, Dr. Reid?" Evelyn chided, her voice laced with mock scandal.

Spencer's chuckle was a soft counterpart to the florescent hum of the break room. Evelyn stood there, the light catching the subtle highlights in her hair, her smartly tailored suit accentuating her figure.

"Speaking of which, and presuming your neurons are adequately myelinated for the day, how about those ground rules?" Spencer's question came with a half-smile.

"I'm going to pretend for a second that myelinated is part of my daily vocabulary," Evelyn retorted with a playful roll of her eyes. "Upstairs is all clear," she tapped her temple for emphasis before taking another step towards the genius, "but after last night, I can't say the same for downstairs."

Spencer cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as memories of the previous night flickered through his mind. "Don't start with me."

"Me? Start with you? Never," she said, her eyes dancing with humor. "But in all seriousness. This," she gestured between them, "stays between us. We can't do anything here."

She straightened up, her expression mock serious. "I'm already juggling enough with these legacy rumors. If I start adding 'sleeping with my mentor' to my resume, I'll need to write a survival guide."

Spencer's response was quick. "I can do that," he said, his eyes accusing. "As long as you behave."

"I'm always on my best behavior, sir," she declared with a sly smile, her voice trailing off as she sauntered out of the break room, "my place or yours tonight?"

Spencer's hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently as if to ward off an impending headache, the universal gesture of a man both charmed and utterly undone by the woman before him.

--

The tech lab was alive with whirring machines and the subtle glow of displays. Evelyn glided into the room, her steps light and her grin spreading. 

The hum of computers and the soft glow of screens set the backdrop as Evelyn breezed into the tech lab, her steps light and her smile wide. She found Garcia, the queen of all things digital, her dominion sprawling before her in an array of flickering pixels and streaming data.

"Hey, P! Need your magic fingers to trace a number for me. And maybe sprinkle a little of that fairy dust to make the results come faster." Evelyn says with a lighthearted twinkle.

With a flourish, Garcia twirled in her chair, her clothes a riot of color that defied that room's monochrome sterility. She peered at Evelyn over the top of her pink-rimmed glasses, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Sweetie, you're radiating more energy than my entire tech setup. What's got you bouncing off the walls? Extra shot of your coffee or just high on life?" Penlope questioned, her voice laced with humor as she watched Evelyn practically vibrating through the room.

"What? No, I'm not. It's just a good day, that's all," Evelyn laughed, the sound bubbling up effortlessly.

Garcia tilted forward, a teasing glint in her gaze. "Uh-huh. You can't fool me, Miss Sunshine. You've got that 'I just got laid' glow," she pushed, "spill it. Who's the lucky guy?"

"Garcia, quit it," she giggled, brushing off the insinuation with a wave of her hand. "There's no guy. Just... work stuff, you know?"

But Garcia remained skeptical, playfully wagging a finger bedecked with a glittering ring. "Oh, come on! You've got that look. The one that says, 'I did not get my eight hours, but boy, was it worth it.'"

Laughter spilled from Evelyn, a rich sound that reverberated against the walls. "Seriously, Penelope, drop it. I'm just happy. Can't a girl have a good day without an interrogation?"

Garcia shot her a knowing glance, but she conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. I'll let you off the hook... for now. But I've got my eye on you. Now what's this number you need traced?"

Evelyn passed a slip of paper across the table, her grin unwavering. She offered a swift thanks and retreated to the bustling bullpen. 

Evelyn's desk was a splash of color in the otherwise muted tones of the bullpen. Pink post-its fluttered like flags, each scrawled with affirmations and tiny tributes to her teammates. Amidst this cheerful chaos, Hotch stood, his hands clasped behind him as he surveyed the landscape of girlish whimsy.

At the sight, Evelyn's steps hastened, she darted forward to intercept his gaze, positioning herself squarely before him. "Hotch, sir, hi! Can I help you with something?"

Hotch met her gaze, his eyebrow lifted in mild inquiry, the shadow of a smile on his face. "I was looking for the Simmons report. You were supposed to turn in it yesterday." He tried to peer around her, amusement flickering in his eyes at the sight of her cluttered workspace. 

His eyes settled on the pen holder, an extravagant display of sparkle and faux gems. He remarked with dry wit, "Does that... fit the bureau's decor standards?"

Evelyn's smile was unapologetic as she shrugged lightly. "Mm, probably not. But it brightens up the place don't you think?" She rifled through the stack of papers, her face a canvas of sheepish charm. "About that report... I, uh, totally forgot. But it will be done, pinky promise."

She extended her pinky towards him. Hotch regarded the small gesture, his features betraying no reaction. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but his stance was unwavering. "I'm not going to do that," he declared, eyes flicking to her upheld finger. "I expect the report on my desk by the end of the day."

Evelyn snapped to attention, grin never faltering. "Aye, aye, captain," she chimed cheerfully. "You'll have it before you can say 'bureaucracy'."

With a parting nod, he moved back to his office. In the corner, Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss stood in a tight knot, their quiet conversation floating in the air near the water cooler. 

"There's no way," Morgan asserted, his head moving in a firm denial, his eyes reflecting staunch disbelief.

"I told you soooo," Prentiss crooned, her voice dripping in smug satisfaction.

"Huh?" Evelyn's question hung in the air as she swiveled towards the group, her eyebrow arching in a silent demand for clarity. "What are you talking about?" 

"There's an ongoing bet to see how long it'll take you to really get in trouble with Hotch," JJ confesses, her grin spreading as she looked towards the other.

Evelyn's voice rose in protest. "What? I do get in trouble!" she insisted. "Did you not just see that? Or when I went rogue on my first takedown?"

Prentiss let out a soft chuckle, her eyes meeting Morgan's knowingly. "Please that was 'Evie trouble.' It's like being scolded by a teddy bear."

"And what does that even mean?" Evelyn asked, her laughter rising through the room as she shook her head.

"Baby girl, your definition of trouble with Hotch is a lot different than ours," Morgan said with a playful wag of his finger. "You barely get a slap on the wrist, while we'd get the whole paddle," he teased.

"That is so not true!" Evelyn's giggle bubbled up uncontrollably, her shoulders bouncing with each note of disbelief. She playfully rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head.

As if summoned by the very topic, Rossi and Reid appeared in the doorway. They caught the end of the conversation and, with impeccable timing, chimed in together, "It's true."

"If I forgot my paperwork, I'm pretty sure I'd be relegated to coffee duty for a month--minimum," Spencer said as he gave a small, resigned shrug. 

"I'll have you know, I can get into trouble," she declared, puffing up in feigned offense. "I'm always getting under Hotch's skin."

Skepticism was written all over their faces, each look a playful jab at the very ideas. "Oh, we're sure you're a regular rebel," Morgan said, his tone heavy with irony.

"Yeah, right. They day you get a real scolding is the day I'll dye my hair pink," Prentiss declared, her laughter softening the edges of her sarcasm.

"And I'll wear a feather boa to work," Rossi added, the twinkle in his eyes suggesting he found the image as ludicrous as it sounded. 

"Statistically speaking, Evelyn, the probability of you inciting Hotch's ire is remarkably low," Spencer articulated, his brows furrowing in thought. "Considering the standard deviation of workplace interactions, it's more probably likely for an asteroid to graze our atmosphere."

Evelyn rolls her eyes, taking their words as a challenge. "We'll see about that."

Noon struck, and with it, a cast of golden rays pierced through the blinds of Hotch's office, painting the surfaces with a light hue of daylight. Evelyn, her arms cradling a stack of tardy documents, sauntered into the room. Her hair, a cascade of chestnut waves, framed her face, and her eyes, sharp as flint, scanned the room.

"Special delivery!" The announcement echoed off the walls, as Evelyn, framed by the doorway, held the papers aloft like a trophy. "The prodigal paperwork returns." Her smile was a bright flash in the subdued light.

The click of the mouse ceased as Hotch's gaze lifted slowly from the computer, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Thank you, Evelyn," he uttered, each word measured. "I was beginning to think it had gone into witness protection."

The room was filled with the sound of Evelyn's giggle as she perched against the doorframe. Her smirk was a playful twist of her full, rose-tinted lips. "Oh, you know me. I like to keep things interesting. Life's too short for bureaucracy. "

Hotch's fingers moved methodically through the stack, each page turning with a crisp snap. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never strayed as he spoke. "Interesting isn't quite the Bureau's motto. We prefer efficiency."

"And yet, here I am, brightening your day with my inefficiency," she teased.

The folder landed softly on the desk as Hotch straightened, his gaze piercing as it met Evelyn's. "Evelyn, is there something else you needed?"

"Just checking on my favorite unit chief," she declared with a shrug, "making sure you're not bored under a mountain of dullness."

Hotch's eyes took on a sharper focus, an almost accusatory gaze. "I'm quite capable of digging myself out, thank you," he stated, the hint of a smile lurking beneath his serious expression. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have work to do."

Evelyn's smirk was unwavering, a silent ally as she acknowledged his words with a graceful nod. "Of course, sir. Duty calls."

--

The bullpen thrummed with life, agents weaving through the maze of desks, papers shuffled, and phones rang, the air buzzing with the collective focus. Evelyn's presence was a silent counterpoint, a different mission in mind. Her fingers sifted across the documents in front of her. With a feigned slip of the hand, she accidentally exchanged the contents of two folders. As she handed Hotch the Thompson report, masquerading as the Henderson case, she could barely contain her amusement.

Evelyn glanced up at Hotch with feigned surprise, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Oh, did those get mixed up? That's totally on me," she said, her voice dripping with faux contrition as she sat perched on the edge of her chair.

Hotch's hand clasped around the correct folder, his gaze drifting across Evelyn's features, a wordless pause hanging in the air. It was a look that lingered just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

With a serene composure, Hotch handed back the folder, his words deliberate and clear. "Please double-check your work in the future." 

"Absolutely, won't happen again, sir," Evelyn responded.

Watching Hotch disappear behind his office door, Prentiss and JJ, couldn't help but shake their heads. "You are playing with fire."

With a playful toss of her hair, Evelyn responded, "It's what I do best." Her wink sailed across the room to the women as she swiveled back to her desk.

Later, she sent Hotch on a wild goose chase for a non-existent file. Hotch reappeared, the absence of the file evident in his empty hands and the slight crease of annoyance on his brow. His irritation was barely veiled by his professional composure and the sight stirred a warmth across her cheeks and spread through her. It was as if the air had thickened, her body responding with a clench of her thighs. 

Evelyn snapped her attention back to her task, letting out an exaggerated gasp, her eyes widening with feigned realization.

Evelyn's eyes lifted to meet Hotch's, a flutter of her lashes accentuating her apology. "Oh, my mistake. It's actually for next week's briefing. My apologies, sir."

A collective gaze tracked Hotch, the team's faces etched with a blend admiration and disbelief at the boldness. Hotch's head shook slightly as he closed the door behind him. 

With a subtle lean, Morgan caught Rossi's attention, a smirk playing on his lips. "You seeing this, Rossi?" he asked, his voice low, carrying the weight of disbelief.

"Hard to miss," Rossi mused, "she's got guts, I'll give her that," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile, "but she's doing a great job of proving our point."

"Hey," Evelyn's whisper was a soft accusation, a conspiratorial murmur that barely reached between the three of them. "Just you wait, I've got more up my sleeve."

With a gentle head shake that sent his curls swaying, Spencer loomed over her desk. "At this rate," he said, looking down at her with an amused glint in his eye, "you're going to need your own section in the employee handbook."

--

The bullpen fell into an abrupt hush, the agents' heads turning as Hotch's commanding tone sliced through the idle banter. Without missing a beat, he looked eyes with Evelyn. "Gideon, my office. Now."

The team's eyes flickered from one to another, the collective oooh sounding more like a drawn-out sigh as Evelyn got to her feet. The air seemed to still as she offered a nod, her face the picture of innocence. With a gentle tilt of her head, she responded sweetly. "Of course, sir."

Hotch stood behind his desk, the stern set of his jaw softening despite his best efforts. His words came with struggle, weighted with disappointment rather than anger. "This isn't like you, Evelyn. Misplacing evidence is a serious offense."

With eyes wide and innocent, Evelyn held her poise, her hands neatly folded in front of her. "I'm so sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

The room felt smaller as Hotch sighed, his authoritative demeanor dissolving into a softer, more approachable one. His voice lowered, tinged with an unexpected warmth. "What's going on with you today?"

"Hotch," Evelyn burst out, the playful strain in her voice belying the seriousness of her words. "I've been an absolute terror today--don't I deserve a better scolding that that? Everyone thinks you go easy on me."

Hotch's eyes sharpened, the hint of annoyance seeping through his demeanor. "So that's what this has been about? You've been testing my patience all day because of what--some office wager?"

Evelyn watched, a spark of mischief in her eyes as Hotch's composure began to fray. The fabric of his suit jacket tensed, subtly outlining the firm set of his shoulders. His jaw worked silently, a clear sign of his growing irritation, a detail she found inexplicably enthralling. 

"See, right there!" she exclaimed, her finger jabbing the air with theatrical emphasis. "That's what I'm talking about--that's the look!"

A barely perceptible quirk of his lips betrayed him. "You're unbelievable."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled with sheer desperation shimmering within. "Hotch, can you please--pretty please--pretend to yell at me? I need to win this bet."

"At this point, Evelyn, I don't think I need to pretend."

She offered him a pout, her lower lip protruding just so, a silent plea.

He exhaled a deep sigh, a reluctant white flag. "Fine. Shut the door."

"Thank you, thank you!" Evelyn sang out, her mind already racing ahead. "Oh, wait, I need to look scared, right?" She whirled around, her hand hovering over the door handle as she caught the team's collective gaze, wide and expectant, peering through the blinds.

Hotch positioned himself with his back to the window, his silhouette casting a commanding shadow across the room. With a flourish, he gestured towards the scattered paperwork on his desk, his voice booming just enough to be heard through the glass.

Evelyn's lip caught between her teeth, an effort to rein in the giggles that bubbled over. Her shoulders trembled, betraying her struggle as she dipped her head, a strategic move to conceal from the curious glances beyond the glass.

"Evelyn, you're terrible at this."

"I-I know, I'm sorry," she sputtered between fits of laughter. "But I think they bought it."

"I doubt it."

"You're the best boss ever, Hotch," Evelyn beamed.

Hotch's head gave a slow shake, the barest hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Too much if I cry on the way out?" she teased, feigning distress as she inched towards the door.

"Just go, Agent."

--

The day was winding down with the low hum of the office, Evelyn glided through the bullpen, her smirk as loud as the click of her heels. She tossed a bag onto Prentiss's desk, the contents clicking softly. The bag, clear and plastic, revealed the pink hair dye inside.

Evelyn leaned closer, the bag crinkling between them. "For your new look, Em," she teased with a wink. "I want to see a brand-new you by tomorrow."

Prentiss examined the dye, eyebrow raised in playful defiance. "Dream on, Evie," she chuckled. "This going in your Secret Santa gift."

Next the feather boa found its new home around Rossi's neck, courtesy of Evelyn's hands. "This is non-negotiable, Rossi," she declared. "Your suit needs a touch of pizzazz."

"But let's be real, Evie," Morgan chuckled. "You didn't really win the bet, did you?"

Evelyn gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Whaaaatt?" she uttered. "I have absolutely no idea what you're implying."

"Oh, come on," Emily scoffed, "we all know what Hotch looks like when he's chewing someone out. And that, my friend, was a performance worthy of an Oscar."

Evelyn's eyes widened, her act faltering under the team's knowing looks. "Oh! You know, I-I totally forgot, I have that thing I was totally supposed to do."

--

Evelyn was in her own world, surrounded by the familiar end-of-day bustle. As she slid her laptop into its case, her phone chimed--her eyes lit up, a smile curving subtly as she read the message from Spencer: My place. 8 pm.

Evelyn's gaze lifted, catching Spencer's eye across the room, a knowing look shared between them. She typed her response with haste: I'll be there. No sooner had she done so than Hotch's voice sliced through the buzz of the office. "Evelyn, my office."

She breezed in, her retort poised on her lips. "You didn't call me in here to actually yell at me, did you? Because, despite popular belief, I'm about as good with confrontation as a cat is with a bathtub. I'd probably start crying, it'd be this whole thing, and--"

"Evelyn." Hotch's voice was firm, a verbal full stop that demanded attention.

"Right. What's up?"

"Miami. Next week. A conference on behavior analysis," he began. "I want you there, presenting your research on the correlation between language patterns and criminal behavior."

"A paid trip to the beach? Count me in!" Evelyn squealed.

Hotch's reply came as a dry gust. "This is a business trip, Evelyn. Not a vacation."

She nodded, her grin undiminished. "Sorry, what? My mind's already sunbathing in Miami," she teased, twirling on her heel.

"Oh, and Evelyn?"

"Mhm?"

"The team's right," he confessed. "Don't let it go to your head."

next

taglist: @nonamevenus@aceofspades190

[sweetdulcets]

Hotch: Tonight, one of you will betray us.

Rossi: Is it me, Hotch?

Hotch: No, it’s not you.

Josie: Is it me, Hotch?

Hotch: It’s not you either.

Emily: Is it me, Hotch?

Hotch:

Hotch, mockingly: Is IT mE Hotch?

[squadmuse]

IN LOSS AND LOVE

AN AARON HOTCHNER X OFC STORY

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST EVER POTENTIAL MULTICHAPTER STORY SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE TOO (1602 WORDS)

A woman stood alone.

Empty cars were lined on either side of her, one of them her own, and yet she could not move another step, even as snow started to fall down from the heavens upon her.

She didn’t know what she was doing here, she didn’t want to be here and god knows that she shouldn’t be here, but here she was standing in front of the community hall.

Death.

That was the reason for her standing there, and for why her heart was shattered. Death had snatched someone away from her, someone important and involved within her life, and grief had fallen upon her heavier than the incoming snowstorm.

He had been her husband, her best friend once upon a time. Life hadn’t been easy for them both, and they had divorced a while ago, yet he had been so integrated into her heart and life, that just walking through those big doors before her, it felt that if she did, then it meant he was indeed gone and she was somehow betraying him.

But she needed to do this, it wasn't just herself she had to worry about, and she had been struggling, the entire family and their friends had been too. So, with a heavy heart and deep sigh, Eleonora persevered and let courage prevail.

Her gloved hand felt shaky as she held the door open for herself, but the warmth of the heat indoors made Eleonora feel somewhat relaxed. The soft clicks of her heeled boots seemed to echo slightly as she made her way along the corridor, her hazel eyes looking for the room that the group were to be meeting in.

Luckily, it didn’t take Eleonora long, as she found the room easily. She could hear muffled chatter from within, and again she felt her anxieties rising from within herself. This was it, finally confronting that Joseph was dead, and she pushed herself through the heavy door.

It was like she had imagined the group to look like. A number of chairs were set up in a large circle, and a few people had gathered already and were chatting. They seemed friendly enough, guessed Eleonora. There was even a small table where some were making tea or coffee. Coffee sounded quite heavenly at that moment to her.

Alas, Eleonora didn’t get to go make her coffee as an elderly woman seemed to appear out of nowhere and before her. She seemed kind, a soft smile upon her aged face, painted dark red. A frail hand reached out, with matching dark red painted nails.

“Ah you must be Eleonora?” asked the old woman to Eleonora, who nodded with a kind smile.

“Yes, I’m Eleonora, and I’m guessing you are Margot?” replied Eleonora. Margot had been the one to reply to her email about the group and the group leader.

An even wider smile came across Margot’s face as she nodded. “Ah it is good to see you here, it’s always hard at first, but I think you’ll find us a friendly bunch who are in the same boat,” said Margot as she rubbed Eleonora’s right arm gently.

Eleonora sniffled slightly. “It’s been a couple of weeks and with Christmas coming up, not having Joseph there is just heartbreaking…,” replied Eleonora as she accepted a tissue from Margot.

Margot nodded. “I wish I could say it will get easier, but there’s always a piece of you missing. It has been fifteen years since I lost my George in a car accident,” she added, sighing sadly.

Eleonora felt her heart break for the woman before her. “Oh I'm so sorry, how do you get by after so long?”

“Back then I had a good family around me, and I had my three children too,” replied Margot as she walked slowly with Eleonora towards two seats next to each other. “But I found this group, and it helped a lot and I mean it. I found that I wasn’t alone and people who completely understood the loss of a spouse or partner too.”

Eleonora nodded as she slid down onto the foldout chair. “I was really nervous about coming to be honest, Margot. It just feels like being here cements that Joseph isn’t ever coming back.”

The elder woman grabbed hold of Eleonora’s hands and held them in a gentle grasp. “The first step is always the hardest part, but you are here, and we always help each other here. Joseph might be gone, but he’s still there in your heart, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes, I mean we might’ve been divorced, but he was still so important in my life!” said Eleonora to Margot, who smiled comfortingly at her.

“You had a son with him, didn’t you? That you were co-parenting?” asked Margot as she leaned closer to Eleonora, the scent of lilies and roses wafting towards her.

“Yes, Theo. He turned three years old back in August. God, he misses his papa, but he’s so young that he doesn’t really understa-” replied Eleonora, her voice breaking as she thought about her little boy crying out at night for his papa or wanting to speak to his papa.

Margot sniffled herself as she pulled Eleonora into a warm hug. Eleonora could feel the tears running down her cheeks, but she didn’t care nor worry. Just from meeting and chatting with Margot, she felt safe, and she felt comfortable showing her emotions.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” murmured Margot as she comforted Eleonora. “I know exactly what you’re going through and just let it all out. Nobody will ever judge or ridicule you here.”

Eleonora pulled herself away from Margot’s embrace and wiped her wet eyes. “God, I probably look like a drowned cat right now… do you have any tissues and maybe some coffee?” asked Eleonora as she held onto Margot’s outreached hand.

Margot nodded and turned to another member of the group. “Emmett dear, will you fetch some of the tissues from the supply cupboard? I don’t think they’ve been put out yet.” she asked, and a tall man nodded and Eleonora guessed that he was indeed Emmett. “Now back to you my dear, some tea will do you some favour instead of caffeinated coffee!” she added as she brought Eleonora over to the little table she had seen before.

“I’ve never been a big tea drinker before, and I’ve been drinking coffee nonstop lately, I feel,” said Eleonora as she watched as Margot whipped together a white polystyrene cup of tea for her.

Margot nodded as she worked. “Tea was such a blessing for me, helped calm me and helped me sleep too. Do you have milk in it?” she asked, and Eleonora nodded and before long she was holding the warm cup in her pale hands.

After one sip, Eleonora did feel more relaxed somehow. Perhaps it was the warmth, or maybe it was the milk or just that someone had made it for her. The last few weeks had been tough, and she had been prioritising Theo over herself. “Wow, this is probably the best tea I’ve ever had, Margot!” she stated as more people turned up through the doors that Eleonora had been nervous about walking through herself.

Margot chuckled and rubbed Eleonora’s arm. “I’m glad you like it, now I hate to be rude, but I need to go welcome the other newbies!” smiled the old woman who Eleonora was now already fond of.

“Don’t let me keep you, I’ll just sit here and drink my tea!” replied Eleonora as she brushed a strand of her own light brown hair away from her face as Margot made her way to the new arrivals.

Eleonora hadn’t been joking about the cup of tea, it was a great cup of tea, and it didn’t take long for her to wander over to the table and take a biscuit to nibble on. Emmett chatted away with her for a bit and introduced her to some others he knew, and it was then that Eleonora knew she had made the right decision to come tonight.

It was only as she was talking away to Sara and Juana, two women close in age to herself, that Eleonora locked eyes with another set that she had not seen in over ten years, but she would never forget those brown eyes nor the man who they belonged to. Eleonora found herself rising from her chair and, if by autopilot or something more, she felt herself hurrying ever so slightly to who she had seen and who had seen her too.

Eleven years had passed, and a lot had changed in Eleonora’s life, but Aaron Hotchner had not.

"Ella is that you?" he asked, his gaze unyielding yet filled with withheld emotion.

Eleonora nodded, feeling herself begin to tear up at the sight of Aaron after all these years.

"Yeah, it's me, Aaron," replied Eleonora, and with that she felt herself being pulled into his tall frame and into a deep hug that was exactly how she remembered.

"It's been so long. I missed you," he murmured into her neck.

"I know, I missed you too. But we've found each other again," she whispered, staring up at him.

Years had passed, loves had been lost and lives created, but at that moment, the two of them were there, together and perhaps just what each other needed.

[crystalflwr]

˚₊· ━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗧 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧!

𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁! ᵇᵉ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵖᵒˢᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ

"𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞"

No one is safe.

When 5 years ago the first dead body of a male turned up, the police thought it was a one time thing created by pure rage. They should've known better — the bau should've known better.

The velvet killer. The lady in red. The most horrific female killer known in history. Her brute was unmarkable but the skill to throw the bau off every time again also preoccupied her a spot in everyone's worst dreams.

But what happens when one of the bau's team members gets taken by the uncatchable killer?

Only what they don't know is, she's closer than expected.

➸ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: late 20's Spencer Reid × early 20's fem oc! — early 40's Aaron Hotchner × early 20's fem oc!.

↳ fem oc = Sienna Carter

➸ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: angst and smut.

➸ 𝐖𝐂: 2.8k (ongoing)

➸ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: violence, heavy nsfw themes. (more specific details will be found in the chapter warnings).

➸ 𝐀/𝐍: If you want to get tagged, comment to let me know and you'll be notified!

series taglist: none

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗,

► PROLOGUE : shadows

synopsis: Agent Carter finds herself at the mercy of a psychopathic killer but it wasn't just any killer... the velvet killer has finally stepped from the shadows.

↳ (coming soon)

► CHAPTER ONE : religion

synopsis: Hidden truths finally present themselves and the impossible becomes possible when Spencer finds himself tied to a bed with the one person he once trusted most holding a gun to his head.

► CHAPTER TWO : bloody red

synopsis: revealed soon.

► CHAPTER THREE : inner demons

synopsis: revealed soon.

► EPILOGUE : it never ends

synopsis: revealed soon.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Anything for you

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Tags: hotch x oc, criminal Minds Imagine, aaron Hotchner x reader, hotch x reader, inter-office relationships, criminal minds, aaron hotchner x oc, penelope garcia, emily prentiss, jj, jennifer jareau, aaron hotchner, derek morgan, david rossi, spencer reid

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, mentions of murder, torture, general criminal minds lingo

Summary: You're kidnapped during a case. Post-rescue fluffiness ensues.

word count: 2.8k+

The first time you're kidnapped on the job, you feel like no training has prepared you. 

It was a normal work day- the BAU had been sent to Saginaw, Michigan, and you had been working with Morgan to clear a hideout associated with a possible suspect. The unsub was targeting blonde females of short stature, and the team was aware that you and JJ both fit the victimology. Regardless, it wasn’t the first time someone on the team looked similar to their victims. 

Girls are being lured out of their cars by a wounded animal on the road, and snatched in late evening or early morning hours. The unsub had been profiled as someone withdrawn and non-confrontational, so every inch of that theory is invalidated when you’re taken in broad daylight.

 After clearing the house, you had made your way through a side gate in the backyard with intentions of talking to the neighbor while Morgan searched through personal items inside. 

And your last recollection before the pain started was hopping down the back porch steps. 

And fuck, did your head hurt when you slipped into awareness.

Once you regain some semblance of consciousness, you conclude the unsub must have fled into the neighbor’s yard from his hideout and panicked when you unknowingly followed.

 Hence, the current predicament. Spread out on what you’re trying not to imagine as medieval torture device, the unsub has your arms bound high above your head. Your feet barely brush the ground, and the muscles in your shoulders scream with every move. You try to negotiate with your captor, though the words only exchange for a few moments before he plunges a needle into the thick muscles of your thigh.

 A cool rush floods through your veins shortly thereafter, and your limbs feel heavier by the second. Your eyesight blurs without contacts or glasses and dry mouth creeps up from whatever drug is flaring in your system.

Thoughts of the team invade logical thought, trying to drown out the haunting images your brain is interpreting from your squinting eyes. 

A hooded figure with an oddly deep voice comes into the room and photographs you at regular intervals . He takes more items of clothing each time, sometimes ripping and other times taking a whole article. If you were in your right mind, you would have caught on to the child-like nature and tantrums when your subdued body can’t coordinate with his movements.

“What’s your name?”

You blink slowly, awakening to a dark room. Your arms are sore, and your shoulders still ache. The toes of your boots brush what looks to be an old wood floor, though you are  unsure due to the lack of visual acuity. An attempt to lift your head fails, and it instead droops until your chin hits your chest.

A limb shoots towards you, and instinct forces you to jerk. Rough fingers brush your reddened cheeks as the gag is taken from your mouth. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“S-scare..?” You  squint, but only the shadow cast by his hood is visible. “W-where am I?”

A childlike giggle.

 “At my house. My Momma said we could have a sleepover.”

Even in a delusional and dazed, you’re able to feel the shiver down your spine. 

“A sleepover?”

FLASH. 

The sound of a camera shutter corrupted the functioning state you had started to develop, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but nothing in your brain could pull together enough info to react. 

“You’re beautiful… just stay right there, I’m gonna take more.

- - -

“He’s not smart. In fact, disorganized to the point where he can’t even keep up.”

Aaron Hotchner sits across the table from Rossi, who is trying to explain their newest theory to the local police chief. With you taken, everyone’s nerves are on edge, and Hotch finds himself tasked with keeping his emotions under control.

It was exactly why workplace relationships- even those based in casual sex and physical comfort- were not allowed. 

Additionally, it wasn’t as if members of the team hadn’t been kidnapped or put in danger before. Despite this, Hotch's mind is racing, trying to discern the best way to track an unsub who was so unorganized he didn’t even know what to do next. They got lucky discovering the first abandoned house Morgan and yourself had raided, but Hotch wasn’t sure they’d get that lucky again.

“We thought he was withdrawn, but maybe he’s escalating?” Reid suggested. It had been over twelve hours since the abduction of their teammate, and they were all pouring over case files in the station’s conference room. 

Hotch stared down at crime scene photos, including the ones from where you were taken. Prentiss is doing the same, and lifts her head at Spencer’s remark.

“What if she scared him?” Emily offers, “There’s a chance he was just trying to flee and got cornered. It would maintain the withdrawn nature.”

“He took her in the middle of broad daylight.” Morgan contradicts, obviously feeling a bit guilty as he was your partner when the kidnapping occurred. “Into the woods, and away he went.”

Reid closes the folder in his hand. “Actually, it is a good theory. She has specialized training in hand-to-hand combat, it would be very hard to subdue her quietly. If the unsub is withdrawn and scared, he might have come from behind once he realized there was no way out.”

Chief Ballard of the local department speaks up. “She’s a fairly small woman, even with specialized combat it’s hard to fight back if you take a surprise blow to the head.”

  Hotch looked up. He had sparred with you on many occasions in the gym, and knew firsthand the amount of tricks used to fend off larger attackers. However, an ambush and a good enough blow would render even himself unconscious.

“She could do it if given the opportunity. Between her hand-to-hand and her gun, there should have been some struggle. Though as Reid said, it doesn’t appear she had that chance.” Hotch concludes. 

“That could be indicative of someone lying in wait, or someone scared to show their face.” JJ says, “It really doesn’t allow us a good lead either way.”

“Damn.” Hotch grinds his teeth, nerves getting the best of him once again. “You did a cognitive interview?”

“At the scene. I had-”

A knock from the room’s entrance makes them all  jump, and an officer steps in the doorway. His eyes turn to Hotch. “Sir, there’s a woman on the phone for your team.”

Reid stands, moving towards the speaker setup in the corner of the room. “I called Garcia a little while ago, that’s probably her.”

The phone line crackles to life when Spencer picks up. “Hey, Garcia.”

“...S-Spence?”

Hotch’s blood runs cold, and he shoots to his feet. The team allows him the next move, murmuring your name as he approaches the receiver.

“Aaron… hey.” Your speech is slow and slurred, but it’s a clear sign of life.

“Where are you? Are you with the unsub?” Hotch feels the team’s eyes on him, but all that matters in the moment is the sound of your voice. 

“N-No. I-I’m with my friend Jake. He wants to have a sleepover, is that okay with you?”

Rossi makes brief eye contact with Hotch, who nodded his head in silent agreement of how to play out the call. 

Hotch takes it upon himself to answer and softens his tone.  “You know honey, I just need to know what house Jake is in. Do you remember?”

A breathy laugh came through the background of the call, and Hotch assumed it was ‘Jake’ listening in. Your heavy breathing is the dominant noise, and it takes a minute for an answer. 

“Y-yeah. Next door to the Youngs in a r-really pretty old house.” 

Rossi taps the mute button in a flash of tanned fingers. “Our unsub has reverted to a childlike state. If he’s letting her make phone calls-”

“She’s gained his trust.” Hotch finishes, finally feeling like they’re on the same page. 

“Smart girl. I’m calling Garcia to find a list of people with the last name Young in the area.” Morgan already had his phone to his ear.

“Those who live next door to old houses.” Hotch added. 

“Did you notice the way she said ‘really pretty’?” Rossi rubbed his chin. “With the emphasis on ‘pretty’? Is she trying to appease him?”

“Morgan, narrow that down to Youngs who live next door to abandoned or condemned establishments.” 

Hotch opens the line, your name sliding from his lips in that honey-soaked tone he usually reserves for early mornings and late nights in.

“Aaron?” Your words are still slow, though relatively coherent. 

“I think a sleepover is a great idea.” He swallows the lump in his throat, “We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“T-Thanks, it’s gonna be fun.”

The line goes dead after, and Hotch drags in a deep breath. 

“There’s only one place in the area with those parameters.” Morgan shoves his phone into his pocket as the team stands.

“Let’s go.”

You’ve been lowered to sit, but your hands are still suspended, fingers tingling with numbness. The unsub, or rather, Jake, as he told you to call him, is sitting with legs crossed underneath him a few feet away. There is a lop-sided grin on his face, and his child-like excitement is palpable. 

“Do you wanna play a game?” He asks eagerly. 

You manage to lift your head, filled with some hope after Jake’s strange allowance of a phone call a few minutes prior. While he might have killed two girls already, they were held for over 48 hours before Jake snapped. You are lucky enough to understand his mindset and play into it, even through whatever drug has been pushed into your system every few hours. The best guess you can muster was that the other girls were unable to deal with the strange kidnapper, and something they said or did broke his facade and led to murder. It was vague and unclear, but all you had. 

“What kind of game?” You ask through a shiver. The tremors never seem to end. 

“Tag.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

Jake opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of stairs creaking. He freezes, turning towards the broken and sideways hanging bedroom door. 

“Jake, hey.”

You pray the sounds are the rest of your team, but want to keep his attention away if it is. 

“Yes?” His boyish gaze falls back to you. 

“What about I Spy?”

  Jake breaks out into a smile. “That’s a great idea! I just gotta do your medicine first.”

The man, who you now recognize as a white male in his late twenties with blonde hair and a pudgy face, drew another syringe out of his pocket and plunged it into your thigh. If your counting is still correct, it would be the sixth injection. 

“Jake... “ You inhale as the freeze begins to spread, “I spy something… white.”

Eyes wide, they scour the room for your challenge. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you blink as the door moves ever so slightly. It’s slow, until a creak echoes through the empty room. Jake whirls around, coming face-to-face with Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss holding him at gunpoint. 

“Who are you?” He demands, scrambling to his feet. “Why are you at my sleepover?”

You sag with relief, shoulders hanging heavily on their bounds. “J-jake, they’re my friends.”

“Friends don’t point guns!” 

Jake rockets towards the left, where your pistol, badge, and shoes are discarded, Prentiss sees his motivation, and a gunshot echoes through the room. The man cries out, and your pounding head flinches away from the noise. 

“Stay on the ground!” Emily keeps her gun on him, and you druggedly take note of the wound in his leg as opposed to center mass. 

JJ moves to kneel in front of you. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

You fight the new sedation as best you can. “J-J?”

“I’ve got you.”

The other blonde turns, yelling towards the door that they were clear and needed help. Morgan appears in the doorway, rushing in to assist JJ. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants pocket, slicing the rope and cable ties binding your arms. Your exhausted body slumps into his chest, clinging to his shirt. You notice the purple tint to her hands, and hope it isn’t a bad sign. 

“You with me?” Morgan’s deep voice made you lift your head, unfocused eyes searching his face. 

“You found me…” 

“Yeah we did. You’re a smart cookie, gorgeous.”

You huff a laugh against his neck and suddenly take note of bright lights against your eyelids. Upon further inspection, you deduce it to be the sun. Morgan must have carried you all the way out.

“T-That’s bright.” You murmur, trying to shelter your eyes as Morgan lowers you to the grass.

“Medical is on their way. Where’s Hotch?”

The voices blend together for a few minutes, and you  focus on breathing in. Another presence  approaches and kneels down, surrounding you with a musky cologne and blanket of safety. A familiar hand rests on your cheek, and you blink up at his face.

Aaron Hotchner stares back at you, and a wave of emotion breaks through the drugs. “Aaron…” 

“I’m right here. You did good work today.” 

You take a moment to gaze at his familiar features. Dark hair, dark eyes. He’s kneeling beside you, but the size of his frame is still imposing. Against your will, you feel your throat tighten and eyes swell to accommodate tears. One hand extends towards him. 

“I need…” You pause, trying to collect yourself. “Hotch- please.”

Hotchner doesn’t answer her, only draws you against his chest. Your arms lift to wrap around his neck, face hiding against the sun-warmed skin of his neck. Despite the ache it causes to rake across his shoulders, Aaron remains wrapped in your embrace as your body begins to shake. You smell of sweat and captivity, remnants of the ordeal you’d just been through. The clothes you wore were the same Aaron had seen you in last, though there were small holes scattered about your black trousers. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He murmurs against  greasy hair, gripping the back of your skull with his hand. “I should have-”

You lift her head at his tone and point a wavering finger. “No, d-don’t blame yourself.”

The cloudy haze of pharmaceuticals is creeping into your eyes as you chastise him. “I know how you are… Aaron, y-you’ll beat yourself up.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s just get you to the hospital, alright?”

Hotch picks you up with little effort, strolling towards the ambulance and stretcher where it was waiting. “...N-No. I’m alright.”

Once you’re placed on the stretcher, the arguing starts weakly and you’re swaying like a daisy in the wind. Hands still fisted in Hotch’s vest hold him in place beside you. 

“We need to find out what you were given. Do the tests, and I’ll be satisfied.” Hotch orders, hand on your wrist rubbing gentle circles. “JJ can go with you.”

The blonde steps up beside their boss, soft smile on her face as she wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

“No… I don’t-” You pause and swallow, panic rising as Hotchner attempts to step back

Your fingers tremble against Hotch’s torso where they’re wrapped in his shirt, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes. Of all the years Hotch had known you on the BAU, he has never seen you so upset. You’re all trained to deal with these types of things, but nothing prepares you for the actual thing. Especially when you’re being pumped full of illicit drugs to keep you sedate. 

JJ rubbed your back, eyes lifting to Hotch. “You know boss, Morgan and I can handle the clean up and reports. You’re gonna have enough paperwork as it is.”

Thank God  for Jennifer Jareau.

Hotchner stares at the two women before dipping his head in a nod. “Alright. We’ll meet you back at the station as soon as possible.”

“Sounds great.” JJ turns on her heel and bustles off towards a group of local detectives and beat cops.

The medics were prepping the gurney to go up, carefully arranging your loose limbs on the cushion. Hotch watches in amusement, as you’re looking more stoned by the second.

“Sir, are you coming?” One of the medics asks, motioning to the back of the rig. 

“Yes, sorry.” Hotchner pulls himself into the back of the ambulance, accepting the hand you hold out to him. 

“Thanks for comin’, boss.” You tug his hand close, lips brushing against his knuckles. His body was warm, and you stretched towards it. 

Aaron leans in before the paramedics begin bustling to press a kiss against your forehead. “Anything for you.”

---

Criminal Minds Masterlist || Send me ideas

[judithlevvy]

teaser <3 possible new fanfic coming

Author’s note: please let me know if you find any grammar/spelling/syntax mistake, cause I’m not English mother tongue 🥰 hope you’ll like it

She kept staring across the street, ready in case any movement called her attention. She could feel his presence in the passenger seat, but she didn’t have the strength to bring herself to care about it: she had given up on it. He would never treat her with the same attitude he had with anyone else on the team and she had made peace with it… sort of.

Okay, it was possible she wasn’t totally fine with it, but she knew she had no control over the way he saw her, so she just gave up. It was a first-time occurrence: she never gave up on anything, especially not if she wanted to prove herself with someone. However, she had become old enough to recognize a losing battle, and trying to change the way Hotch saw her was one of those.

The sound of agent Hotchner clearing his throat drawer her attention back to the present. “You still there, Graham?”

She had to resist the impulse of rolling her eyes, and barely acknowledge him. “Fine, just sleepy”.

“We need to be focused, if you’re too tired I can have you switch turns with Morgan perhaps”.

oh, fantastic. Now it turned out she couldn’t even manage an ordinary stakeout. Her week was getting better by the second. She didn’t even bother meeting his eyes and made her eyes jump from one side to the other of the road. “I’m not going to fall asleep on the job if that’s what you’re suggesting, sir”. and yes, she made it on purpose, the “sir” thing. She was way too polite, but her newfound coldness in front of him could cut like a knife, albeit this came with cutting herself too in the process.

[alicewonderao3]

Rumor Has It

Title: Rumor Has It

Summary: Haley can't believe that Aaron's dating someone, let alone dating her for six months. She wants to know why she hasn't met her yet, and confronts him, but what happens when she finds out something she wasn't expecting?

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Haley Hotchner, (Ex-wife), OC female character. Jack Hotchner.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OC female character

Word count: 1,729

Authors note: So, this is another song fic. I heard this song and couldn't help but think of what would have happened if Aaron had dated someone else and Haley found out that he loved this new girlfriend of his. This is from the prospective of the new girlfriend and then Haley's at the end. I have no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine, and I don't own Criminal minds or the lyrics to the Reba song at the end. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Warnings: None, mentions of cheating. *I know we technically don't know if Haley cheated on Aaron, but for this story, that's what I'm suggesting.

I'd been seeing Aaron for a few weeks now. He was funny and gorgeous, and once you got past the often cold expressions he wore, he had such a reserve of warmth under it. We'd met at a parent's night, my niece attending the same school as his son, Jack. I'd given him my number and gone on my way, and when he called, we started dating. 

I knew he'd been married before, he'd been very upfront about it. His ex-wife, Haley, was active with Jack, although I hadn't met her yet. Aaron said the time wasn't right, and we enjoyed each other's company when he wasn't gone on cases. 

I knew he was working late one night and went to drop by with dinner for him, Morgan being kind enough to let me in. I slowly approached Aaron's office, stopping only when I heard his voice and another one. I knew it had to be Haley's, simply by the frustrated tone in Aaron's voice. 

The office was mostly empty, and so no one noticed me as I heard Aaron and Haley speaking to each other. He was frustrated and she seemed upset almost. It was Haley's voice I heard first. "Why won't you let me meet her, Aaron? She's met Jack, she should meet me." 

I hear Aaron sigh, and I know he's making that face. His voice is tight, clipped. "Because it's not time, Haley. And it's none of your business anyway." He adds although I heard the quiet sound of frustration that leaves him when Haley says, "But it is, Aaron. She's around our son. I need to make sure she's a good person." 

Aaron's voice is sharp. "Do you have a problem with my judgment, Haley?" There's this silence between them, and I hear Haley say. "You know I don't, Aaron." Then his voice again, frustrated, angry almost. "You do if you're questioning Alice's character. She's wonderful, and she and Jack get along well. It's just not the right time for you two to meet." 

Haley's voice grows frustrated at that, "Oh, forgive me for questioning Alice's character." There is a sarcastic note to her tone, and I hear Aaron set down a file, I know he's angry now, I can hear it in his voice. "She's a good woman, Haley. She's kind and smart and she and Jack get along. Why are you pressing the issue? What's the real reason you want to meet her?" 

There's a silence, and Haley says, "No reason. I just thought it was time. How long have you been dating, Aaron, or is too hard to remember?" I hear the dig at him, knowing Haley hated the nights he was gone, the anniversaries he missed because of work, the old hurts from their divorce taking over the conversation again as they both aired old hurts and arguments. 

Aaron's voice is sharp as he says, "If you must know, Haley, we've been seeing each other for almost 6 months now." I can hear the surprise in Haley's tone, and if I could see her face, I imagine I'd see it on her face. "You've been seeing this woman for six months and don't think it's time for me to meet her?" I hear Aaron's angry tone, "No, I don't. And it's none of your business why, so don't ask." 

But she asks, and they go around and around again in more pointless arguing. I'm about to step away when I hear Haley say, a chuckle in her tone, her voice angry. "The only reason you'd be defending her like this is if you loved her, Aaron." There is this silence, and outside his office, my heart skips a beat. Aaron and I hadn't said those words to each other yet. 

I'd felt them, sure, but hadn't been brave enough to tell him how my heart skipped a beat every time I saw him, or how I enjoyed our movie nights with Jack. But it was there, in the texts I sent when he was gone on cases, in how I attended all of Jack's soccer games, his plays everything. I tune back in to hear Haley's shocked voice, surprise laced through her tone. "You can't possibly love her Aaron. No, it's not true." 

Aaron's silence speaks volumes. I know the expression he has on his face, and he says, in a tone that clearly says he does love me, "It's none of your business, Haley, so drop it. You said you left Jack with Garcia, and I'm gonna go fetch him." His tone is brisk, and cold as he speaks to hear. 

Haley's voice rings out with surprise and hurt as she says, "You do. You love her, already? How? Why?" Aaron doesn't answer her, except to tell her that it's none of her business who he loves anymore. "We're divorced, Haley. You've moved on, and now it's my turn. Let me be happy." 

I hear Haley's angry laugh. "Happy is one thing, Aaron, loving another woman a year after our divorce is another thing entirely." This is when I hear Aaron get angrier, if possible. "Did you think I'd sit and pine over you forever, Haley?" There's a silence that follows his question and I hear him scoff. "Fine, since you wanna know the truth, let me tell you the truth, Haley." 

I freeze, and my mind tells me to leave, to go away, that I shouldn't be standing here listening to this in the first place but I can't move my feet. Aaron's voice is sharp, frustrated, "Yes, I love her Haley. Alice makes me feel important. She listens to me and brings me dinner when I work late. She's kind and special and I'm grateful she's in my life." 

I hear some kind of noise leave Haley but Aaron continues, "She doesn't toy with my emotions and most of all," I hear Aaron's voice drop here, and something tells me this is a low blow, especially by the way Haley's breath catches. "She doesn't cheat on me, Haley." 

Silence reigns. Aaron never told me how it ended, but hearing that leave his lips made my heart break for him. It explained so many things, the way he'd always check in on me, the way he always tugged me closer when other men checked me out while we were on dates. He was afraid I'd do to him what Haley had done. 

Aaron speaks again, and his tone is no less angry or cold. "I love her, Haley. I love Alice, and I'd like to tell her before she meets you." Haley is silent, and when she speaks, I hear the anger in her tone. "First of all, Aaron, I could care less if you love her." Aaron scoffs, "You do if you're here asking me about it." 

There's more silence, and Haley's voice is angry. "Fine. Jack is with Garcia. I don't care about your little girlfriend, Aaron. This relationship of yours won't last long anyway, once Alice learns how little time you have for her." I hear her footsteps get closer to the door and I barely manage to hide as she leaves, going to get Jack for Aaron. 

I give him a few seconds to calm down before I walk over to his door, knocking softly. "Hey, Aaron, got a second for me?" I push it open, watching as he smiles softly at me. "For you? Always," He says, and I set the plate down and act like I didn't just hear him tell his ex-wife that he loved me. 

He thanks me for dinner and then pulls me into a hug, holding me against him. I don't question him, I just let him hold me. For several long seconds, we're both silent. "What's wrong?" I ask, deciding to see how much he'll tell me. I hear him sigh and feel how he tugs me closer, almost as if he's debating that very question in his mind. 

I expect him to brush me off, so it surprises me when he tells me what's wrong, his voice soft as he sort of explains his argument with Haley, leaving out the part where he mentions he loves me. I offer up what little advice I can think of, but mostly just let him ramble as he holds me. 

He pulls back to look down at me, his expression soft as he tucks a dark curl behind my ear. The words leave him so effortlessly, they still hit me with the same shock value as they had outside his door. "I love you," He whispers to me and my breath catches a moment, my soft eyes staring up at him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. 

"I love you too," I whisper, holding his gaze, searching his eyes, and finding the truth reflected as he looked at me. He leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and sweet against mine, as I melt in his arms, only parting from me as Jack runs in, his voice excited as he spots me. I hug him, not realizing Haley is outside the door. 

Outside Aaron's office, Haley watches with an ache in her heart as Aaron greets Alice when she walks in. She's pretty, she has to admit, with her honey-colored eyes and dark hair. She watches him hug her, and then he tells her. He tells her he loves her. She watches Alice's breath catch, as the two stare up at each other with love in their eyes before he kisses her. 

But it's the way he does it, cupping her face in his hands, holding her as if she's the most precious thing in the world to him, that breaks her heart, pieces shattering on the ground like a broken vase, sending Jack in to greet Aaron through the film of tears that form over her face. She watches Jack greet Alice, but can't do anything but feel her heartbreak. She thought Aaron would love her forever. But watching him profess his love to another woman makes her ache in a way she hadn't expected to feel a year out of their divorce. 

"Oh, Rumor has it. She has you. Rumor has it, you love her too. Oh, talk is cheap but the price is high when it's true. Oh, rumor has it, she has you." 

[natalie-hotchner]

Hotch and Natalie are caught up in staring each other down arms crossed over their chests this is mainly because Natalie is certain Hotch ate the last of her favourite German snack. He attempts to stand his ground.

[natashasfilms]

Chapter Eight - Machismo

Summary: FBI agent Leila faces a profound life change after giving birth to a baby girl, supported by her loving husband. Despite the challenges of motherhood, Leila returns to her role as a dedicated agent a few months later, ready to confront gruesome and haunting cases with the BAU team.

Pairing: BAU!Fem!OC x Male!OC , EVENTUAL Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem!OC (Like much later)

Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death. All the usual Criminal Minds stuff. And there is NO CHEATING.

Note 1: I imagine Leila Kade as South Asian but I have decided to let you, the reader, imagine her appearance, hence the reason why I have not given her a face claim. However, her race does not affect the story, whatsoever. You, as the reader, are free to imagine her however you want. If you don't see her as South Asian, then that's fine. It won't affect the storyline. I also imagine the OC!Male as South Asian, but again, it won't affect the storyline.

Note 2: The team will consist of the main cast (Emily, Derek, JJ, Spencer, Penelope, Aaron, and Rossi) but will also include Elle Greenaway and Jason Gideon because they were some of my favorite characters and I wanted to include them with the rest of the team. Basically, Elle and Gideon never leave when Emily and Rossi join.

Note 3: There will be multiple time skips throughout this series. For example, the first chapter will begin on the first season and episode of the show but then there will be a time skip to later episodes (because there are obviously way too many episodes to write this series on and I wanted to include specific episodes that would help the plot of this story). This means that this series will be a slow burn romance but I believe it to be better this way. This will also stray from the actual show a lot, so don't expect it to follow the plot precisely.

Series Masterlist

Season 1, Episode 19

Leila settled beside the kitchen counter, enjoying a warm cup of tea while waiting for Zaid to tuck Jasmine into bed. Her last day of the break was approaching its end. Although she missed her colleagues, she acknowledged that this time off had been thoroughly deserved.

As she stood in the kitchen, Leila sensed approaching footsteps and then felt a familiar embrace encircle her waist, drawing her backward against Zaid's chest. She smiled as she recognized his soft kiss on her neck, reaching up to stroke his hair. Setting down her mug on the counter, she turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You're going back to work tomorrow, so let's do something fun." Zaid suggested, grinning at her.

Arching an eyebrow, Leila tilted her head slightly. "Oh really? What's on your mind?"

"I don't know. Maybe watch a movie, bake some cookies, makeout…"

Leila laughed, bringing his head down to her, attaching her lips to his. They smiled against the kiss as he picked her up, walking all the way over to the couch. Laying her down, Zaid broke the kiss, beginning to pull her shirt off. Leila held herself up with her elbows, looking up at her husband. Her eyes traced his form, down to his arms, falling on the watch she gifted him for his birthday when they first started dating.

"I can't believe you still wear that stupid watch." Leila chuckled, nodding her head towards his wrist. "You could buy any watch that includes better functions but you choose to keep this one."

He looks down onto his wrist, the black enclosing around the time device putting a soft smile on his face. "It's the first present you ever gave me. You best believe I'll be wearing this for the rest of my life." He pecked her lips. "Plus, it still works like it's new. You have some magic in you, I suppose, because all my past watches before you broke after the second day."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe because you didn't know how to work a watch until I came along, dumbass."

He scoffed, putting a hand over his heart. "Name calling is very bad. Don't be a bully."

Leila groaned, cupping the back of his neck to smash their lips together. "Enough with your stupid jokes." She mumbled against his lips, causing him to grin even wider. He pushed her down onto the couch, kissing her with intense passion as Leila took off his shirt. Zaid began to untie his sweatpants, kicking them off along with the rest of the clothes on the floor. Leila pulled back enough to utter one more sentence. "And don't tease."

"Yes, ma'am." He replied teasingly, slowly entering her with a groan. Leila let out a moan as he began to stretch her out, her mouth hanging open at the pleasure.

Her hands gripped right onto his biceps, Zaid pulling back to push back in once again. He leaned down to muffle her moans with his lips, not wanting to cause any loud noise throughout the house. He continued a steady pace, only increasing his speed once she adjusted.

"Shit, baby." He grunted against her lips, feeling her tight walls squeezing him. "You always feel so good around me."

Leila ran her hand through his hair, gently pulling. "Plea—fuck." Her words were cut off by him hitting a spot inside her that shook her, the pleasure coursing throughout her entire body.

"Yeah? That feel good?"

She only quietly cried out in pleasure, unable to form any coherent thoughts other than him on top of her.

"Words, honey. I need to hear you say it." He breathed out, kissing down her neck. He ensured to leave a mark.

"Yes, it feels so good." She whispered, her lips attaching to his again. They moved in sync until they finally reached their climax, moaning into each other's mouth before Zaid gently collapsed on top of her, using his arms to hold himself up to make sure he didn't push all his weight onto her.

Zaid lifted his head from in between her breasts to softly kiss her all over her face. Starting from her forehead, to her cheeks, to her chin, all the way around until he reached her lips. He carefully scooped her up with his arms, flipping her over to hug her, and kissed the top of her head.

Leila cupped his cheek, locking eyes with him. "I love you so much, Zaid Divan."

He nudged his nose with hers before he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "I love you more, Leila Kade."

Leila yawned, her eyes slowly shutting as she felt Zaid pull a blanket over them that had been near the couch. He kissed her forehead once more before the two of them fell fast asleep.

Stepping out of the elevator, Leila entered the office through the glass doors, greeted by her colleagues quietly working in the cubicle.

"Look who's back!" Derek chimed in with a hint of teasing in his voice, rising from his desk to welcome her with a brief hug. He then took a step back, appraising her appearance. "Looking sharp as ever, boss lady."

Leila returned his playful tone with a grin, playfully pinching Derek's cheek. "Always the charmer, aren't you?"

Spencer hugged her next, with Elle following right after, embracing her with a warm hug. "Missed you. How did your break go? Feeling refreshed?" The brunette asked.

Leila nodded her head, widening her eyes for the extra effect. "A lot better, actually. So, what's new?"

"There's a new case." JJ interrupted, giving Leila a quick hug. "I'm glad you're back but we'll catch up on the plane." The blonde said before she walked up the stairs towards the conference room.

Leila grinned, looking at her three friends in front of her. "Cool. Where's Aaron and Gideon?"

"Gideon is in his office calling Hotch." Spencer explained. "He took some time off this weekend since it's his birthday today but I guess he has to come in again."

Leila opened her mouth in surprise, her eyes growing wide. "It's his birthday? I completely forgot." However, she thought back to what she told him last week and was glad he decided to take a small break for himself, despite the fact he had to come in for a new case.

"Well, good thing he's here now so you can tell him." Elle stated, her eyes falling on the man who just entered the room. Leila turned around and the four of them immediately yelled out a quick "happy birthday!"

"Thank you." Aaron responded, a little flustered at the gesture. Leila hugged him and he reciprocated, the woman patting his back. "Nice to see you back."

Leila gave him a smile, following all the others who were walking towards the conference room. "Yeah, it gets boring without me, doesn't it?"

Aaron chuckled in response, nodding towards Elle. "Elle may have complained about your absence more than once. Perhaps Spencer too. And Penelope. Derek said he missed going up to your office to annoy you."

She looked up at him, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. "And you?"

He shrugged, but she could see a hint of a smile on his face. "I took your advice and decided to take the weekend off."

Leila grimaced, knowing how the plan didn't turn out all the way successful. "I'm sorry you have to come to work on your birthday."

He shook his head, allowing her to walk in first to the conference room. "Don't worry about it."

Their new case led them to Mexico, where several women had been fatally stabbed. Although local newspapers reported a series of killings and labeled it the work of a serial killer, the Mexican government held a contrary view, asserting that there was no such killer on the loose.

Despite the Mexican government's denial of the serial killer rumors, the team was summoned because they had the latest victim's son in custody as their primary suspect. The authorities wanted the team to travel to Mexico and confirm if this was a one time murder.

After the brief meeting concluded, the team rose from their seats to prepare their bags. As Leila stood up, she noticed Aaron's disappointed expression while he held his phone. Gideon, stationed by the door, also seemed to have observed it.

"Hotch," Gideon called out, prompting the dark-haired man to look up. "Call from the car." Aaron nodded but remained fixated on his phone. Leila sensed that he hadn't anticipated leaving for a case today and perhaps hadn't informed Haley that he wouldn't be back immediately after the meeting. Not wanting to intrude, she left the room, empathizing with him and his family.

After a swift briefing on the jet, Leila settled into her seat toward the back. Gideon approached and took a seat in front of her, placing a cup of coffee on the tray in front of her. Leila looked up at him and expressed her gratitude with a quick thank you.

"I take it you're feeling better?" He asked genuinely, nodding towards the others on the jet who were engrossed in their own activities. "It's been a little hectic without you. All I've been hearing are complaints from these people."

Leila smirked, savoring a sip of her coffee. "Admit it. You missed me."

Wearing a lopsided smile, he returned to perusing the case file. Leila's grin expanded even more, appreciating the camaraderie she shared with her teammates.

Arriving at the Mexico PD, Captain Navarro immediately recognized Gideon. He introduced them to Lieutenant Borquez and shook hands with Gideon. After everyone was acquainted, they were ready to inspect the crime scenes and commence their case.

"I didn't realize you spoke Spanish," Leila remarked, looking at Elle, referring to the moment on the jet when she corrected Spencer. The brunette smiled in response.

"Yeah, it's pretty useful. My mother's Cuban," Elle answered. The two women joined Aaron, Gideon, and Captain Navarro in the car to head to one of the crime scenes. "I don't suppose you know a language that may surprise me?"

"Estarías sorprendido," Leila smirked, prompting Elle to raise an eyebrow, not surprised that her friend also knew Spanish. "Sé mucho más."

Elle chuckled, shaking her head. "At this point, nothing surprises me with you anymore."

After inspecting the victim's house and noting they were searching for a heterosexual male, they returned to the PD. Captain Navarro decided to introduce them to the District Attorney General, Maria Sanchez. Upon their return, Sanchez approached them. "Do not be afraid," Captain Navarro said quietly to them.

"Agente Gideon, Agente Hotchner, Agente Kade," she greeted, shaking all of their hands with remarkable confidence. "It's an honor. Our papers are fascinated with the idea of a serial killer, and when Navarro suggested that I invite you in to dispel this nonsense, I immediately saw the wisdom."

Leila maintained a tight-lipped smile, impressed with Sanchez's boldness but still holding onto her skepticism.

"But enough formalities. I will let you get down to business," Sanchez concluded, her smile never wavering. She excused herself, moving past them with the three agents stepping aside to let her through, followed by her bodyguards.

"She's worse in Spanish," Captain Navarro informed them, leading them inside the PD.

While the guys engaged in conversation with Miguel, the prime suspect in his mother's murder, Leila took a seat beside JJ. The blonde looked up, a grin forming on her face upon realizing who it was. "Hey, you're back."

Leila raised an eyebrow, supporting her chin with a hand. "Yeah, and I just met the District Attorney General. Confident woman."

JJ laughed, nodding in agreement. "Definitely, but she really does not want to believe there's a serial killer here."

Leila bit her lip before sighing. "That's unfortunate. She's going to have to learn the truth sooner or later."

"Mhm. Love how the day you get back, you're already going to Mexico, huh?" The blonde asked.

"Hey, it's a nice surprise, I'm not going to lie," Leila laughed, raising her hands. "Who doesn't love a lovely trip outside of the states?"

JJ held up a finger, pointing at her. "You're not wrong." She glanced back at the guys talking to Miguel and then turned back to Leila. "So, what do you think?"

Leila shrugged. "I think that Miguel is hiding something, but he didn't kill his mother." She spoke truthfully. "His mother hid a photo of him in a drawer, away from all of the family photos on display. He had a fight with his mother before he left, but I believe it was because of something completely different."

JJ furrowed her eyebrows, still confused. "What do you think he's hiding?"

"His sexuality," Leila confirmed, crossing her arms. "Miguel is gay. That's why he'd rather stay quiet than reveal that part about him. If anyone were to find out, they'd kill him. Things work differently around here. He's scared because he knows he'll never be accepted for who he is."

The blonde nodded in understanding, her eyes shifting to the men walking back into the room. Aaron called them over to talk outside, and the two women followed.

"The best way to bring the attorney general on board is by providing a complete profile," Gideon told Navarro, making his case.

Navarro shrugged, looking at Gideon. "What do you need from me?"

"We'll need the files on all the murders," Derek said, his arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against a car.

The captain nodded. "Of course, but I must warn you. These reports were taken by local police in the area who are not used to this type of killer," he said honestly, sharing all the information. "Most basic details are missing."

"We'll take a look at them," Spencer responded.

"We also need to get the whole story out of Miguel Trejo, and right now, he's not talking," Aaron continued.

"But why does that matter?" Navarro sighed. "Obviously, he's not a serial killer."

Leila tried her best to make him understand, recognizing the difficulty of the situation. "Yes, we know that, but we need people to understand that these are serial killings and not just a crime of passion. The family is angry, and we understand that, but keeping it a secret would only escalate things further."

"And why wouldn't Miguel talk if he's innocent?" Derek questioned.

Captain Navarro leaned against the wall, shaking his head. "It must have something to do with the fact that he is homosexual."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "He'd rather be straight in jail than gay as a free man?"

Navarro pointed towards the PD. "I can protect him in here, but if he's taken to a prison in Mexico City and the other inmates find out that he is gay, he will be killed. That's the way things work here."

Spencer creased his eyebrows in confusion, not seeing any other solution. "So how do we get him to talk?"

Leila looked toward the woman sitting inside, and an idea instantly popped into her head. "His sister."

After questioning Miguel's sister and his boyfriend, Roberto, and uncovering more evidence, they reached the conclusion that the unsub was a man disguised as a woman. They presented the profile to the police at the department, but as soon as they finished, news came in that another body had been found.

The latest victim was identified as Isabel Santiago, displaying the same wounds found on the previous victims. The team went to the victim's house to search for new clues, paying particular attention to the necklace that had been torn off her neck.

"That's the first time he's taken jewelry from the victims," Leila observed, standing up after inspecting the victim.

"So, why was this one different?" Derek questioned, glancing at everyone in the room.

They exited the house and walked outside. The victim's daughter was sobbing near the police car, and Leila frowned at the heartbreaking scene.

"Over the past two years, we've had an average of one killing every nine weeks," Navarro stated, hands on his hips.

"Now two in three days," Aaron added.

"That's a pretty extreme escalation," Gideon commented. "He'll kill again soon."

Derek pointed to the daughter. "Who's that over there?"

"That's the daughter of the victim," one of the officers answered.

"Maybe she can tell us something about the necklace," Derek suggested.

Leila and Elle proceeded to question the daughter, Anna, while Derek stood by their side. They asked about the jewelry, and Anna responded, telling them that the necklace was hers, as her mother never wore jewelry herself.

Aaron approached them and spoke quietly, informing them that there was a disturbance at the police station.

They arrived at the PD, witnessing the chaos that had transpired in a short amount of time. "What is going on here, Borquez?" Navarro asked. "What did they do?"

Borquez shrugged. "They are following the orders of the FBI. Bringing in the sex criminals."

"What did you tell them?" Navarro asked the team.

Aaron stepped forward. "We put out there the possibility that he dresses like a woman. We told them to look into people convicted of sex crimes. We didn't mean this."

Leila looked around, her mouth agape at all the people being detained by the officers. A car pulled up, and Maria Sanchez stepped out in a rush. Leila could tell she was angry.

"These men were supposed to put the serial killer rumors to rest, and now they are making us look like a joke," Maria said with frustration. "What do you want people to think of us?"

"It was a misunderstanding," Navarro responded, trying to deescalate the situation.

"And it won't happen again," Maria looked towards the team. "It was your idea to bring them here, and obviously, it was a waste of time. Please, go home." She finished, turning around to walk back towards the car and entering it. They watched her drive away, and Leila leaned towards Aaron.

"She's scary," she said quietly, and the man chuckled in response.

Finally, they located the unsub and identified his next target. The pattern emerged: he targeted victims by assaulting and subsequently killing their mothers. With this realization, they rushed to intercept the imminent attack on the last person they believed the unsub would target.

Barging into the house, guns raised, they moved toward the back of the house. There, they discovered a person on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. As they approached for a closer look, Derek flipped the person over onto their back, revealing the unsub who had been brutally stabbed.

Noises emanated from the bushes, causing them all to raise their guns in that direction. They lowered them once they realized it was the women who had been the unsub's victims. "He pretended to be a woman," one of the women spoke. "Now he doesn't have to pretend." They all dropped their weapons, standing up straight as the team and the officers maintained their focus on them.

Having successfully wrapped up the case, the team headed back home. They gathered their belongings from the hotel and made their way to the jet, eager to return to the states.

Upon reaching the BAU, they collected the remainder of their belongings and prepared to head to their respective homes. Leila walked into her office, turned on the lights, and noticed something on her desk. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she picked it up.

She instantly recognized the handwriting and chuckled, shaking her head. "Left this for you after you come back from your case. Jasmine says hi. We both miss you." She read the note, whispering to herself. Underneath was a photo of Zaid and Jasmine, and she tucked the note into her jacket pocket. "You just have to be so extra, don't you Divan?" She couldn't wipe away the grin on her face, knowing her husband would be the person to leave a physical note instead of a text message just to be dramatic. Grabbing her bag once again, she exited her office.

[ptersparkers]

So ive been reading Spencer R. x hot wife, could You do Aaron with hot wife reader too? 🔥

omg it’s so funny that you sent me this because i was talking to @hotchsdoormat about a lil idea i had before i saw this in my inbox x

***

As your husband and boss, Aaron knows you can handle yourself. That doesn’t mean he likes seeing men try to get in your pants.

The BAU is on a case in Virginia and he’s grateful he doesn’t need to travel. The lead detective introduces himself as Det. Franklin and because neither you or Aaron want to confuse the officers, you introduce yourself with your maiden name while Aaron introduces himself as Hotchner.

He regrets it on this particular case. Aaron’s not blind either. He knows men and women alike look at you because of how you carry yourself. You’re naturally charismatic, talkative, and have the ability to make all heads turn when you walk into the room.

Usually, it doesn’t affect him too much. He knows he’s lucky because you come home to him every night and sleep next to him when you’re away on cases. He’s the only one who sees and touches your body, and he’s the only person you reach for when you wake up in the morning.

He knows this, but it doesn’t stop his blood from boiling when he realizes Franklin is hitting on you.

“Y/N, he’s trying to get into your pants,” Aaron says in a hushed tone after pulling you into the interrogation room.

“Look, honey, I know. I don’t like it either but we need to focus on the case before the unsub kills again.”

“I know,” Aaron mutters. You kiss him sweetly and he seems to relent.

“When this is all over, you can have me any way you want. Screw Franklin. I know you’ll treat me right.” You squeeze his bicep and wink before leaving the interrogation room. Aaron clears his throat, needing a moment to regain his composure.

When you catch the killer, the team feels liberated and opts to spend a few hours at a local bar to celebrate. Aaron’s given the team the night off since the jet won’t be ready until the following morning and no one complains.

But Franklin doesn’t relent. Aaron watches him corner you despite your clear boundaries. He lets you be like you asked, knowing fully well you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but he can’t help himself when he hears Franklin proposition you.

“Let’s go back to my place and celebrate. I bet you’re a real slut in the sack.”

Aaron strides to where Franklin is standing and pins his back against the wall, bracing his arm on Franklin’s throat. The sound of him slamming Franklin against the wall is enough to catch the team’s attention and they look at the scene that unfolded in front of them, amused at the way their boss is over protective.

“Don’t talk about my wife like that.”

He lets Franklin go after staring at him a second too long. The detective retreats into his office, no doubt embarrassed.

Aaron’s cheeks are red and you up your hand along his bicep and give him a squeeze. The team stifles a laugh and when JJ asks if you guys are coming to get drinks with them, it’s Emily who speaks up.

“I think Mom and Dad need some alone time.” Aaron’s cheeks flare up while you wink at her.

Everyone files out of the precinct and when Aaron finds himself planted in his spot, you touch his chest and tug on his tie.

“Come on, handsome. Feel like celebrating with me tonight?”

[cavillsbitch]

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ welcome to my masterlist! ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

about me: hi, my name is gabby, and i write primarily for Aaron Hotchner from criminal minds and Henry Cavill and his characters. i know it’s an odd mix, but my horizons have nothing to do but expand!

most of what i write is 18+/NSFW, which is indicated. some posts or fics may be indicated otherwise.

—————————————————————————

Key:

🔥= smut

☁️ = fluff

🥀 = angst

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ Aaron Hotchner ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Series:

{coming soon}

Oneshots:

Are You Sure? 🔥🥀

Love Sense ☁️

Requests:

Hotch x Firefighter!Fem Reader ☁️🥀

Worth It ☁️🥀

Quando, Quando, Quando ☁️

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ Henry Cavill ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Napoleon Solo:

Trust In Me 🔥🥀 (indefinite hiatus)

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11

MDNI-----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, youngest member

warnings: wet dream between 2 men, evelyn needs to be spayed or smth, fainting, creepy men

A/N: hiiiii gorgeous, lovely, beautiful human beings thank you so much for the support on this fic, I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! <3 let me know if you want to be adding to the tag list

ALSOOOOOO my requests are open for aaron hotchner and spencer reid!!! I would love to write some drabbles/one shots so shoot me a message! <3

HAPPY READING!

Chapter Ten:

Gasping for air, Evelyn emerged from the depths of her dream, the vividness of it lingering like a second reality. She swiftly pressed her back against the headboard, her fingers weaving through her sweat-soaked hair. The dream's details were smeared in her memory, but the visceral ache it left behind was crystal clear. Hotch and Spencer--their hands that were insistent upon her, their mouths that explored every inch of her. She scolded herself for the image--what is wrong with her? She felt like a pervert, imagining both men in such a way.

Her legs brushed against the fabric of the sheets, her actions freezing as she became aware of the dampness enveloping between her legs. Her mind turned to Spencer--his hair a soft curtain on her skin. His hands, always in motion, leaving no fragment of her unexplored. His mouth, the way his tongue felt inside her.

Evelyn's fingers instinctively started to play with the waist band of her pajama shorts, moving closer to the swollen bundle of nerves. Her thoughts drifted to Hotch--his shoulders and build, how easy it would be for him to overpower her, and she secretly wished he would. This was crazy, she thought. Despite her mind's protests, her fingers continue to wander, tracing gentle circle against her clit. 

She let out a puff of air, her back arching slightly off the mattress as light began to seep into the room. She thought of Hotch positioned behind her, showing her no mercy, finally pounding her attitude out of her. She pictured Spencer before her, his cock working its way into her mouth. Her fingers pushed into her gently, her gasps coming out short and desperate as she pictured her own fingers being replaced by Hotch's.

The imagine coaxed a moan from her, a sound that seemed too loud in her own ears. The knock at the door was abrupt, freezing her in place, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Evelyn's heart hammered against her ribs, panic seizing her as she scrambled out of bed. Her feet barely touched the carpet as she rushed to the door, flinging it open with a force that echoed through the silent hallway.

Hotch, a study in precision, stood there--impeccable in a charcoal-gray suit that made her want to drool. And his tie, a navy silk affair that lay flat against the white shirt, hinted at meticulous order. But it was his face that betrayed him--a subtle furrow of his brow, the pinch of annoyance around his mouth that suggested he'd been waiting longer than he card to admit.

Evelyn's heart did a clumsy somersault, her cheeks betraying her, turning a shade that rivaled a traffic light. One-half of her fantasy--or rather, the less enthusiastic version--stood there. "Hotch," she managed, "what are you doing here? And, um, what time is it?"

Evelyn's heart-shaped pajamas clung to her, the soft fabric revealing more than it concealed. Her cheeks flushed with urgency, mirrored to disarray of her hair. The hallway light caught the faint smattering of freckles across her nose, delicate constellations that bloomed when she eschewed makeup. 

Hotch's annoyance ebbed, replaced by a reluctant fondness. What had she been doing? Hotch's gaze lingered on her--no makeup, no artifice--just raw, unfiltered beauty. He was unsettled by how much the sight affected him. The flush in her cheeks, the softness in her eyes. 

Hotch willed his demeanor to snap back into place, his voice clipped. "Evelyn," he said, each syllable a warning. "I've called you five times. We need to be downstairs in 15 minutes."

Her pulse raced, and her tongue tripped over her words. "Oh, shoot, sorry," she blurted out, her voice echoing in the narrow hallway. The disheveled room behind her seemed to mock her--sheets tangled, alarm clock blinking accusatorily. "My alarm must've never gone off." She gestured toward the half-open door. "Do you want to come in and wait? I promise I'll be super speedy."

Evelyn's cheeks were ablaze, a canvas of mortification. She could feel Hotch's scrutiny lingering, a laser beam that could dissect her every flaw. She ushered him inside, the hallway suddenly too narrow, too confining. She slipped into the bathroom and shed the pajamas. Her fingers waged a silent war with buttons and zippers, a clumsy ballet of haste. Each click and snap was a resounding echo of the dream that clung to her thoughts. She tried to shove the images aside, to bury them under layers of fabric, but it seemed inescapable. Because now, he stood outside, annoyance etched in every line of his impeccable suit.

"Hotch," she began as she waved at the alarm clock, its digital numbers blinking like a guilty accomplice. She pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail, the elastic snapping against her skin. "I'm convinced my alarm clock is broken." The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt at distraction. "But hey," she continued, her eyes meeting his, "I think I just won that bet--the one where the team bet you'd never get mad at me." Her lips curved into a half-teasing smile, her nose scrunching at the action. "Soft spot, my friend."

Hotch said nothing as his gaze followed the hurried sway of her movements. Stepping closer, he surveyed the bed's solitary disarray amidst the room's order. The blankets lay in a tangle of turmoil. How much does she move in her sleep? he wondered. His eyes honed in on a small corner of fabric peeking out from under the pillows.

There, nestled among the tangled sheets, sat a small teddy bear, its pink bow a splash of color against the tan. Hotch's expression softened as he lifted the plush toy, turning it over in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips. Of course she slept with a stuffed animal. 

The warmth of mortification spread across Evelyn's face. "Oh, um," she mumbled with a forced chuckle, plucking the bear from Hotch's grasp. "That's my... strategic sleep ally. Because, you know, every good agent needs a backup. Totally standard-issue."

"We'll circle back to your... bedtime tactics," he said with a hint of a smirk. "For now, conference room. Let's go."

Evelyn and Hotch made their way down to the conference area. The room hummed with anticipation, bathed in the soft glow of fluorescent lights. Rows of round tables faced a raised stage, where a large screen displayed the conference logo. Agents in crisp suits mingled with academics in tweed jackets. Some wore glasses, other carried tablets or leather-bound notebooks.

A spark of excitement ignited within Evelyn, her gaze darting from face to face, recognizing those who were like celebrities of their field. 

"Hotch, do you see who that is?" Evelyn's voice was on of awe as she nudged Hotch, her gaze fixed on the figure across the room. 

Hotch's eyes followed her line of sight and landed on a distinguished-looking woman who, upon noticing Hotch, raised her hand in a casual wave. "I do," Hotch confirmed with a nod, acknowledging the silent greeting with a subtle nod of his head.

Evelyn's mouth fell open slightly. "You're actually so cool," she said, the words slipping out before she could filter them, a smile spreading across her face.

Hotch's mouth twitched in a semblance of a smile. "I'm going to choose to not take that as an insult," he replied, his eyebrow arching in mock offense. "Stay here, I'm going to check us in."

Evelyn acknowledged Hotch's departure with a quick nod and an 'okay boss'. She was still orienting herself in the conference's bustling atmosphere when two familiar faces approached from the crowed. Mr. Weller, his suit a bit worn at the elbows, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a practiced gesture. Dr. Reeves, his hair slightly disheveled, was animatedly discussing some policy change in data privacy. He quickly roped Evelyn into the conversation who listened intently, interjecting only with thoughtful nods.

Evelyn's muscles relaxed slightly as Hotch returned to her side. His hand rested momentarily on her back, a professional gesture by all accounts, but Evelyn couldn't help but feel a spark of awareness ignite. She fastened the name tag he handed her with fingers that suddenly seemed less steady, the metal's chill doing little to dispel the soft heat that had settled between her shoulder blades. 

As Professor Lewis swept in, she bypassed Evelyn's attempted greeting as if it and her were invisible. The professor's laser focus cut her off with surgical precision as it landed on Hotch. 

Her voice carried an urgent edge as she addressed Hotch. "Aaron, can I pick you brain about something?"

Evelyn's greeting hung suspended, and a familiar twinge of frustration pricked at her--the kind that came from being eclipsed again by the professor's selective attention. With a quick nod, Hotch vanished into the crowd with Professor Lewis, leaving Evelyn grappling with a sudden, unsettling sensation in her chest. She exchanged pleasantries with the two men before her, their words weaving through her consciousness without taking hold. 

Her gaze, however, was glued to the sight of Hotch and the professor, their heads bowed in earnest conversation. A surge of jealously, uninvited and irrational, twisted inside her. It was a confusing betrayal of emotion, given her casual relationship with Spencer. But she realized if it was Spencer in that Hotch's position, she'd feel the same about the professor, if not worse. The dream from last night was the culprit, she decided.

Left alone as Dr. Reeves and Mr. Weller departed, Evelyn sank into the chair at her table. The sight of Professor Lewis, so at ease with Hotch, gnawed at her. Why did it bother her so much? Maybe she just needed a nap.

As if summoned by the sheer force of her thoughts, Hotch appeared, his presence a sudden weight beside her. The question erupted from Evelyn before she could stop herself. "What did she want?"

His eyes took on a discerning quality, the subtle narrowing revealing his assessment. "She asked for my opinion on a theory."

"Hmm," came a soft murmur from Evelyn, her lips briefly pressing together in contemplation.

Hotch's gaze drilled into hers, probing. "What?"

"Nothing," Evelyn dismissed, her shoulders lifting in an indifferent shrug.

The morning's panel had unfolded with a deceptive ease, allowing Evelyn to shelve her simmering jealously. Yet, as the shadows shifted to signal the afternoon's approach, her anxiety crept back, an unwelcome companion. 

In a separate room, she paced, her fingers tracing over her notes, each word etched into memory. "You've got this, Evelyn," she murmured, a mantra against the fatigue that seemed to drape over her. "You are prepared. You are intelligent."

Evelyn's grasp to the chair became white-knuckled as a sudden dizziness swept over her, unannounced and unwelcome. The room swirled into a blur, the ground beneath her seemingly shifting as her breathing became uneven and rapid. She looked up to see Hotch. Caught mid-affirmation and near-collapse, a rush of warmth flooded Evelyn's face. She righted herself with a silent plea, willing the black dots to vanish from her vision. 

His eyes locked onto hers with a piercing intensity, studying her--the subtle shift in her posture, the way her hands trembled. "Evelyn," he said, reaching out to steady her with a firm hand. "What's wrong?"

Her words stumbled out, a clumsy cascade of denial. "Just nerves," she claimed, offering a faltering smile and a brittle laugh to conceal the tightening in her throat. Hotch's steady, searching gaze didn't waver, his disbelief hanging silently in the air.

His voice held a note of insistence. "Have you eaten today?"

Evelyn blinked, realization dawning. "It slipped my mind," she admitted. 

Hotch's next words were lost on her as darkness seeped into her field of view. She felt the world tilt, her knees buckling as she was swiftly cradled in a secure, urgent grasp. Blinking away the disorientation, Evelyn found herself cradled in Hotch's panic-stricken gaze. His eyes were wide with alarm, his cool facade shattered as his hand hovered over 911.

"Hotch," she managed, her voice soft but her sarcasm intact. "Impeccable timing as always."

There was a softening in Hotch's gaze, a subtle shift from concern to mild exasperation. "Evelyn," he chided softly, his finger's tap on her hip a punctuation to his words. "You're anemic. You can't just skip meals like they're optional."

Evelyn's effort to sit up sent the room into a dizzying tailspin, each movement threatening to yank her back down. They found themselves grounded in an intimate proximity--she, half-laying in a disoriented haze, and he, crouching by her side, arms wrapped around her in a secure hold, one hand cupping her head to shield her from the hard ground, the other laid upon her waist. 

"Didn't event cross my mind," she confessed, her voice a fragile thread. "Been so busy."

Hotch's hand emerged from his pocket, clutching a compact, foil-wrapped package. "Here," he urged, extending the snack towards her with a gentle authority. "It's good for anemia."

She squinted at the package. "Do you always carry this around?" she questioned, her voice tinged with genuine surprise.

He nodded, no-nonsense. "Yes."

Inside, her heart did an unexpected leap, touched by his silent care.

"You're a sap, Hotch," she teased, her voice light. "Who knew? I bet you've got a whole stash in that suit."

His eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, the room dissolved and the air thickened. And despite her playful words, Evelyn's fingertips tingled, her skin hyper-aware of every pore. The anemia-induced weakness faded into insignificance all because of a stupid snack he carried around. A snack he had thought to carry for her, based on a single, fleeting confession. 

"Stop talking and eat."

And so, she did.

Evelyn's body protested with each step towards her room. She'd argued, of course--pleaded about missing her speech, about the importance of being present. But Hotch, with his hands guided her with a careful touch, wore an expression that left no room for debate. The lines of his face were drawn tight, a clear reflection of the worry that silenced her objections. 

"Rest," was a firm directive, and though Evelyn balked, she ultimately yielded to his authoritative concern. Promptly, room service materialized at her door, courtesy of her favorite unit chief. The tray was abundant with foods rich in iron, and she'd devoured it with an eagerness, only pausing for sips of water.

As the sun made its descent beyond the horizon, its lingering rays casted a golden spotlight on the outdoor hot tub. Evelyn's silhouette blurred against the steam rising from the water, her skin kissed by the fading light. Her hair, a cascade of disobedient curls, crowned her head and softened the contours of her face. The night air nipped playfully at her heated skin, a refreshing counterpoint to the liquid warmth that welcomed her as she dipped into the water.

As her gaze lifted, her room came into view--the curtains drawn, the soft glow of lamplight seeping through. But then she turned her head, and there he was.

Hotch stood on his balcony, his gaze fixed on her. His expression was inscrutable, and for a moment, Evelyn's heart raced. She could sense it--the unspoken command that she should be in her room resting. But her half-wave was genuine, a flicker of happiness at seeing him. He acknowledged her with a curt nod. Evelyn's gaze returned to her book, her fingers tracing the book's creases, her focus slipping. 

A stranger's appearance disrupted her quietude. He had a tailored physique, the kind that hinted at gym memberships and expensive cologne. His eyes, though--too probing--made her uneasy. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, easing into the water.

Evelyn's responses were polite, but she kept her distance. Yet, he persisted, inching closer with every comment. Evelyn's spine prickled, a frosty warning that crawled from nape to tailbone. The book now lay abandoned on the tub's edge. The distant city lights blurred as she feigned interest, but his nearness--his breath, his questions--made her skin crawl. 

Evelyn's eyes scanned the balcony, hoping to see the reassuring figure of her unit chief. But it was empty--the moon's glow casting eerie shadows on the tiles. 

And then, as if summoned, he materialized. Hotch stood there, his expression unreadable. The moon's glow painted his features--sharp jawline, a hint of stubble. But it was the swimsuit--a sinuous second skin--that stole her breath. The fabric of his shorts traced every contour, leaving little to imagination. Evelyn's gaze lingered on his chest, the hair that spread across of it, the rugged masculinity that defied office walls. Her mouth went dry, pulse racing.

"There you are, babe," she murmured, her tone laced with artificial sweetness. Her pulse raced, her eyes seeking Hotch's with an intensity that begged him to read between the lines.

Confusion creased Hotch's forehead as he processed the scene, his eyes flitting from Evelyn to the stranger, the gears turning. "Sorry honey," he said, his voice a low rumble as he approached the water's edge. "Had to take a call. Work stuff."

The word 'honey' lingered in the air, sweet and potent, leaving Evelyn lightheaded. She felt a flutter in her chest, a realization dawning that with the use of such a word, she'd gladly drawn in paperwork if he asked.

With Hotch's arrival, the water created ripples that reached Evelyn. His eyes, deep and searching, locked onto hers with an immediacy that bridged the distance between them. As he settled next to her, the subtle heat of his presence enveloped her. She nestled against him, her whispered explanation cut off by his lips grazing her ear. 

"I know," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down her spine. Evelyn's heart stumbled over itself, a drumbeat out of sync. "You look so good tonight, honey," he announced, ensuring the words reached beyond their intimate circle. His eyes darted to the supple swell of her breasts on display, a quick, silent exchange that left her heart fluttering wildly, even as her mind reminded her it was just an act.

The man's eyes widened, bouncing from Evelyn and Hotch like a pinball. "Oh," he stuttered, a hint of embarrassment coloring his tone, "I didn't realize you were with someone."

"Yeah," Evelyn said, her voice a soft murmur as she settled into the curve of Hotch's lap, her ass planted firmly against his front. The warmth of his body seeped through the thin veil of her bathing suit, causing her cheeks to set flame. Her heart skipped, reveling in the proximity she knew was off-limits. Hotch's arms, both protective and dangerously intimate, encircled her waist.

"This is my husband," she introduced, the word foreign on her tongue. "Aaron, meet...?" His first name rolled of her tongue, a sweet liberty taken in a moment of pretense, as she left the space open for the stranger to introduce himself. 

The barest hint of a smile threatened to disrupt the stoic lines of Hotch's mouth, a silent admission of pleasure of the sound of his name from Evelyn's lips. The intimacy of the act, hidden behind the guise of necessity, wasn't lost on him. He should have been irked by the ruse, yet he found himself savoring the moment. He cleared his throat, a quiet struggle for detachment, even as her voice echoed in his ears.

"Nathan."

Hotch extended his hand with a blend of authority and subtle warning, introducing himself, "nice to meet you," with a tone that cloaked none of his conviction.

Meanwhile, Evelyn's touch traced a path over his chest, a touch that betrayed the unfamiliarity of the act. Her other hand tangled gently in the hair at his nape, a tender exploration that drew an involuntary shiver from him. 

Hotch's voice was hushed against her ear. "You're laying it on thick," he murmured, his breath a warm caress that belied the sternness of his words. His grip on her hip tightened imperceptibly.

Evelyn's lips quirked, a silent acknowledgement of her tactic. "Necessary," she whispered back, her voice a playful lilt. "For my safety." 

Nathan persisted, undeterred. "So, what are you two down here for?"

Hotch's face remained impassive. "A work conference," he stated, the intensity of his eyes fixed on Evelyn.

"So you both work together?" Nathan asked, his tone probing. "Is that how you met?"

Evelyn's smile unfurled like a victory flag. "Oh, yes," she purred, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "He's my boss actually--totally inappropriate, I know. But bless him, the poor man never stood a chance from the moment he laid eyes on me. He just couldn't help himself. It was a HR disaster, of course, but it all worked out."

Hotch's brow furrowed in disapproval, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curling into a reluctant grin. "That's true," he conceded, his voice gruff. "She's... something else, a handful to say the least."

"That's what hands are for!"

Nathan fidgeted uncomfortably as he gave the couple a tight-lipped smile. "Well, I ought to head out," he declared, darting glances between Evelyn and Hotch. "Aaron, you've hit the jackpot, my man."

Hotch's voice was tight, barely containing his exasperation. "No doubt," he managed, "I'm living the dream."

Once Nathan had disappeared, Evelyn leaned closer, her voice a soft, playful murmur. "Guess I owe you one," she teased. "You really sold that doting husband role."

Hotch's response was a single raised brow, his face a mask of feigned solemnity. "Necessary," he echoed, the word rolling of his tongue with a hint of irony. "For your safety."

"You caught the weird vibes he was giving off, right?" she prodded, her elbow gently jabbing his side. "I mean, talk about strange, huh?"

"You're like a magnet for guys like that," Hotch observed, his mouth curving into a half-smile "but, yes, you made the right call."

Her grin was infectious. "Always do," she said with a wink. "You know we make a pretty good team, don't you think? Maybe we should look into undercover work."

"A good team, yes," Hotch agreed, his tone dry. "But undercover? I'd have to start practicing my 'shushing' gestures now."

"Aaron Hotchner, did you just make a joke? Where's my notebook?" Evelyn's giggle rang out, loud and unrestrained as she clutched his shoulders. "And if I talk too much, it's only to balance out your brooding silence."

Her laughter was a living thing, wrapping around Hotch, nudging at the corners of his usually impassive facade. The sheer delight in her voice, planted a seed of contemplation in Hotch, a consideration that maybe, just maybe, a joke here and there wouldn't be such a bad thing, especially if it elicited such a reaction from her.

For a fleeting moment, a genuine, toothy smile flashed across Hotch's face, an uncommon display that he quickly concealed with a downward shake of his head, not wanting to boost her ego any more than necessary. 

"You know, aren't you supposed to be resting up in your room?" 

Evelyn's gaze lingered on him, savoring the rarity of his wide smile. She couldn't help but marvel at the sight and it stirred in her an urge to see it again and again.

"I don't know, Hotch," Evelyn replied, her voice as light as the air around them. A stray lock of hair drifted across her face, and she huffed it away with a puff of breath. "I'm quite content right here."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, disbelief playing on his words. "Oh, really?"

Suddenly, Evelyn's casual demeanor crumbled, replaced by a flustered clarity as she realized her position, perched unceremoniously upon his lap. "Oh, um," she murmured, her voice trailing off into a stammer as a warm flush of embarrassment spread across her face. "I mean, not in an inappropriate way! That came out wrong, sir. I just meant the hot tub is relaxing--like a warm hug for my muscles. Not that I'm hugging you. I mean, I am, but not intentionally. It's just the--"

The shrill ring of Hotch's phone sliced through the air, a timely interruption to Evelyn's frenzied monologue. He leaned subtly to the side, his hand extending towards the intrusive device, his movements fluid and composed. Meanwhile, Evelyn's departure from his lap was anything but graceful; her cheeks burned with a fiery blush as she mumbled an apology, her limbs betraying her as she hastily disentangled herself.

"Sorry," she stammered, her words trailing off into the chaos of her movement. "I'll just--"

With a simple lift of his hand, Hotch stilled her spiraling apologies, his attention shifting seamlessly to the caller on the line. Evelyn perched beside him, her cheeks still painted with the flush of embarrassment, feeling the residual heat from their embrace. His voice was the epitome of calm and control, his gaze lingering on her as he spoke into the phone.

"Hotchner," he announced into the phone, his voice a steady command. Evelyn breath steadied, her hands playing at her bikini strings as she willed calm to wash over her. The call ended with a decisive click, and she tensed anticipating his next words. "We have a case. We're going to meet the team in Somerville, Massachusetts."

NEXT

taglist: @aceofspades190 @nonamevenus @lukesaprince @doigettokeepyou @tequilya

[sweetdulcets]

Josie: What time is it?

Emily: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Emily: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Derek: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Emily: It’s 2 am

[juliaswickcrs]

oops another oc :: marissa montgomery mastermind ( s1-s12 )

Marissa Montgomery has never truly known peace. She thinks the last time she felt anything like it was the years before she turned eight years old, living in a London townhouse with her mother and stepfather and baby half-siblings. 

But death seemed to follow her, and it took everything from an eight year old girl as it snatched up her mother in the form of a man with a missing finger on his right hand, Marissa watching helplessly as he promised to give her a good life until her stepfather broke down the door and fought the killer off. 

And as Scotland Yard handed her hot chocolate and a blanket while they carried her mother’s body out on a gurney, she made a promise. She would not let death win. For every life that he took, Marissa would save one to keep things in balance. An endless war that sent her not only to America for university but to John Hopkins for her medical training. 

The most important part of that promise would be staying far away from the FBI.

Until Erin Strauss and Agent Aaron Hotchner ask her to join the BAU as a consultant. Her medical expertise providing a unique insight that the rest of the team lacked. They told her what to expect, that she would need to be trained in firearms and take a few classes to make up for her lack of training. 

They didn’t tell her she would be working with Jason Gideon.

And that one fact alone is almost enough to send her walking. Until Agent Hotchner asks her for just one case. 

And so she agrees. 

Just one case. 

But the world is filled with masterminds set on helping death win, and Marissa will be damned if they beat her at her own game.

BONUS

tag list: @bisexualterror​ @foxesandmagic​ @booty-boggins​ @iron-parkr​ @jvstjewels​ @camiemendes​ @a-song-of-quill-and-feather​ @arrthurpendragon​ @villain-connoisseur​ @starcrossedjedis​ @drbobbimorse​ @noratilney​ @stanshollaand​ @kingsmakers​ @elmunson​ @darth-caillic​ @mystic-scripture​ @lizziesxltzmxn​ @misshiraeth98​ @chrissymunson​​ @asirensrage​