I’ll Spend The Rest of My Life Making it Up to You Series
Summary: You were in an abusive relationship. Problem was, you had been in it for 10 years before coming to terms with your abuser. It took one special person to help you. That special person had a significant role in your life before you met your husband, your abuser. What happens after years of not seeing them? What’s going to happen to you? Will you survive the cycle of abuse? Will you get help? Will you get out? Are you strong enough to break the cycle?
Buckle in, you’re in for a rough ride folks, but you’re in for a rewarding treat.
summary: while hunting an unsub out of state, you’re injured during a raid, forcing Aaron Hotchner to confront how close he came to losing you. When you wake up in the hospital, he abandons his carefully planned proposal and asks you to marry him right then and there
Aaron Hotchner x Reader
authors note: I’m away for a few days this week so unfortunately won’t be able to upload or publish anything but I will be writing ready to upload once I’m home. And if you have any ideas they would be much appreciated! 💗💗
The hotel room in Richmond, Virginia smells like stale coffee, gun oil, and exhaustion.
Very BAU.
You’re sitting cross-legged on one of the beds, your laptop balanced on your thighs as you scroll through victimology reports for what feels like the hundredth time. Three women abducted in ten days. Two recovered bodies. One still missing. The unsub is escalating, and everyone feels it.
Across the room, Aaron Hotchner stands near the mirror, adjusting the black FBI vest over his white dress shirt; his tie still somehow perfectly straight despite the fact that none of you have slept in nearly thirty hours.
And somehow, unfairly, he still looks devastating.
He catches you staring in the mirror.
One brow lifts.
“See something you like, sweetheart?”
You nearly choke on your coffee.
“You’re aware we’re hunting a serial killer right now, right?”
Hotch turns toward you fully, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips—that rare expression you guard like treasure because almost no one else gets to see it.
“I’m aware,” he says calmly. “I’m also aware that you’ve been staring at me for the last thirty seconds.”
“I was profiling.”
“Of course.”
You narrow your eyes. “I can absolutely still embarrass you in front of the team.”
His smirk grows.
“I’d love to see you try, honey.”
Your heart does the same stupid little flip it’s been doing for two years.
Two years of secret smiles over case files.
Two years of stolen kisses in empty conference rooms.
Two years of carefully keeping your relationship private from the team—
which lasted all of three months because Penelope Garcia noticed everything.
Apparently sneaking longing glances at your unit chief was not as subtle as you thought.
Your phone rings before you can fire back a response.
Hotch’s expression shifts instantly back into work mode.
“Go.”
You answer.
Morgan’s voice comes through sharp and urgent.
“We got a location. Reid found a property tied to the unsub’s father. Rural farmland twenty minutes outside the city.”
You’re already standing.
“Is SWAT moving?”
“They’re en route. We’re moving now.”
Hotch grabs his weapon.
And just like that, the softness disappears.
This is what the two of you do.
Love each other quietly.
Run toward monsters loudly.
—
The farmhouse looks abandoned.
Paint peeling.
Windows boarded.
Too quiet.
You and Hotch move side by side toward the back entrance while Morgan and Prentiss circle the perimeter. Local police stack behind you.
Hotch glances at you.
“You stay behind me.”
You give him a look.
“We’ve had this conversation.”
“And I keep having it because you never listen.”
“Because I’m an FBI agent.”
“You’re also my favorite person.”
Your breath catches.
He says things like that so casually sometimes, as if he doesn’t realize the effect they have on you.
Then—
A scream.
Female.
Inside.
Everyone moves.
Hotch kicks in the back door.
Chaos erupts.
An unsub bolts from the hallway.
Gunfire explodes.
You move toward the scream while Hotch tackles the unsub.
Then pain.
White-hot and blinding.
You collapse.
The world tilts sideways.
Someone is screaming your name.
No—
not screaming.
Hotch.
You’ve never heard his voice sound like that before.
Panicked.
Terrified.
He’s suddenly above you, dropping to his knees.
There’s blood.
Too much blood.
Your blood.
“It’s okay,” you whisper weakly.
His hands shake as he presses pressure against your side.
“No,” he says harshly. “No, honey, stay with me.”
You try to smile.
“Still bossy.”
His eyes are glassy.
And then, to your complete shock—
he laughs.
A broken, disbelieving laugh mixed with tears.
“Please don’t do this right now.”
“You’re ruining my dramatic exit.”
“You are not dying.”
His voice leaves no room for argument.
“You hear me? You are absolutely not dying.”
The EMTs arrive.
Everything blurs.
The last thing you remember before blacking out is Hotch kissing your forehead and whispering—
“I need you to come back to me.”
—
When you wake up in the hospital, your entire body feels like it got hit by a truck.
Garcia is crying.
Morgan looks stressed.
JJ hugs you so carefully you nearly cry yourself.
Reid awkwardly informs you that statistically your recovery outlook is “extremely favorable.”
Prentiss tells him to stop talking.
It feels normal.
Comforting.
Family.
But Hotch isn’t there.
Your chest tightens.
“Where is he?”
The room goes suspiciously quiet.
Then Garcia smiles.
Oh no.
“What did you all do?”
Morgan grins.
“Not us.”
The door opens.
And there he is.
Aaron.
Still in his suit.
Tie gone.
Exhaustion written all over him.
But his eyes immediately soften when they land on you.
The team begins filing out far too quickly.
Garcia whispers, “Oh my God this is happening.”
Prentiss physically drags her out.
The door closes.
Silence.
Hotch walks toward your bed.
“Aaron?”
He reaches into his pocket.
And suddenly your brain completely stops functioning.
Because—
that is very clearly a ring box.
“What are you doing?” you whisper.
He kneels beside your hospital bed.
Aaron Hotchner—who never acts without certainty—looks emotional enough to completely fall apart.
“When I thought I lost you…” his voice breaks.
You start crying instantly.
He laughs softly through his own tears.
“I had a better plan than this.”
“You planned this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
Your jaw drops.
“Three—”
“I was waiting for the right time.”
He gently takes your hand.
“But then I saw you lying on that floor, and I realized there will never be a perfect time.”
He opens the box.
The ring is stunning.
But not nearly as stunning as the man holding it.
“You make impossible things feel safe,” he whispers. “You make dark days feel survivable.”
Your tears won’t stop.
“I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone.”
He presses a trembling kiss to your knuckles.
“So honey…”
That tiny smile appears.
The one meant only for you.
“Will you marry me?”
You’re fully sobbing now.
“Yes.”
His entire face crumples with relief.
“Yes?”
“Yes!”
He slides the ring onto your finger before kissing you like he’s been waiting forever.
Soft.
Desperate.
Adoring.
When the door bursts open—
the entire team had absolutely been listening.
Garcia is openly weeping.
Morgan yells, “FINALLY.”
Reid looks confused about why everyone is crying.
Prentiss throws her hands in the air.
JJ is recording everything.
Hotch groans into your shoulder.
“They’re all fired.”
You laugh against his lips.
“No they’re not.”
He kisses you again.
“No,” he murmurs. “Probably not.”
He rests his forehead against yours.
And for the first time in your life—
after all the darkness.
After all the violence.
After every terrible case—
forever feels possible.
And it looks a lot like Aaron Hotchner calling you honey for the rest of your life.
for the valentine’s day requests, i am immediately picturing aaron getting called away right before valentine’s day and he knows reader will understand, but ellie, whom he asked to be his valentine weeks prior, absolutely does NOT and is all pouty when he comes home the next day 😭 light angst but super fluffy!! i love their family 💗
february sixteenth
stop i LOVE THAT 🥺 cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, domestic fluff, small hurt to comfort <3 wc; 1k
"Honey?" Aaron’s voice came from somewhere inside the house. The front entryway, if you had to guess.
"In here." You called out in response, throwing the last bunch of laundry into the dryer.
Faint footsteps echoed down the hall, slow and steady against the hardwood. He entered the room, and you turned around to greet him with a smile, "Hey-"
Before you could finish your hello, Aaron interrupted by pressing his lips firmly to yours, drawing a small squeak of surprise from you. He kissed you deeply, his hands working a mission of their own and guiding you by the hips to press against the washing machine.
A laugh escaped you as you bumped into it, softening into a sigh against his mouth. He responded by leaning in just a fraction more, effortlessly intensifying the kiss.
When Aaron finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, the sound of uneven breaths filling the silence. The day had passed over forty hours ago, but to his credit, he had called you on the actual date. Still, it felt late. His lips lifted upwards, "Happy Valentine's Day. I love you."
You returned the sentiment, running your hand through his hair. "Happy Valentine's Day."
His smile lingered, softened by the gentlest look in his eyes. A look that said everything he didn’t have words for.
"I already spoke to Jess, and she's promised to watch the kids." He was quick to offer, eager to prove that he had made plans, that the fact that he’d been called away was the only reason they hadn’t happened. He knew you understood - you’d always understood - but he wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror if he didn’t do something to assuage his guilt. "The restaurant was able to accommodate us and move our reservations. And afterwards," he smirked, "we’ll come back here for dessert.”
“Sounds perfect.” Your lips turned up into a playful smirk, already anticipating what was to come. After giving him one last kiss, you turned back to the laundry. He wasn’t ready to let you go just yet, pressing his face into your neck and trailing warm, teasing kisses across the parts of your skin that were exposed.
"You know, you have someone who's not very happy with you." You informed him as you folded one of Jack's sweaters.
Aaron’s head lifted abruptly, turning you around and wrapping you into his arms again, determined to make you believe in his efforts. His eyebrows furrowed into a worried line, "I told you I'd make up for it."
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Nope, not me."
As if on cue, Ellie appeared at the door. Rather than throwing herself at her dad like usual, she stood there with her little arms folded across her chest, a sullen - and slightly brokenhearted - pout on her face.
Realization washed over Aaron instantly; the concern in his eyes softened, and the tension in his features melted into something gentler. His arms loosened around you, shoulders falling as he let you go. "Hi El Bel."
"You missed Valentines," she stated, the quiet disappointment in her eyes twisting his stomach.
This was the first year Ellie had really understood what Valentine’s Day meant. Appreciating the ones you loved, everything pink and heart themed. And when Aaron had promised he’d be her very first valentine, she was practically buzzing with excitement. All that excitement only for him to disappoint her.
Aaron crouched down to her level, his own eyes apologetic. "I know honey, and I'm sorry. I wanted to be home to celebrate with you, but people at work really needed my help."
"Even on Valentine's Day?" she asked, her words soft and forlorn.
"Even on Valentine's Day," he confirmed. Sadly, serial killers took no mind to a father wanting to be with his daughter. He picked her up so he could look her in the eye. "Are you upset with me?"
"You promised I was your valentine and you weren't here." she mumbled sadly, her brown eyes full of hurt and dashed hope all at once. “I made you a card too.”
His chest tightened, a familiar ache settling in. Sure, he had a good reason to not be home, but Ellie was too little to understand the complexities of grown-up obligations, especially the ones that came with his job. All she knew was that she wanted him there - and he wasn’t.
You mirrored her pout in a show of sympathy. "Well, we were still valentines even though I was gone, right?" he offered. Ellie’s head tilted slightly, considering his point.
She let out a small, reluctant agreement - not because she necessarily believed it, but because she trusted her father wouldn’t lie. Still, she was unconvinced.
But luckily for him, Ellie was very easy to please.
"How about this? Tomorrow morning, you and I can go get donuts for breakfast,” Aaron suggested, tightening his hold on her. He knew she needed the hug after he’d been away for so long - though, truthfully, he might have needed it even more. “Just the two of us."
She thought for a moment, still a little unsure. Her eyebrows furrowed in classic Hotchner fashion as she asked, "can I get a pink donut?"
"Sure."
"With sprinkles?"
"Whatever you want.” He’d also stop and get the two of his girls flowers, and a treat for Jack as well, of course. Ellie’s eyes brightened, and Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. “So… am I forgiven?" She gave him a satisfied, enthusiastic nod, and he grinned at her. "Good. Thank you, sweetheart."
You let a beat pass in silence to let the exchange settle before you introduced a slight change of topic. "Hey Ellie, tell your father what you got at school." You prompted as you sidled up to Aaron's side, smirking lightly at him - you knew he would hate this.
Ellie perked up more, flashing Aaron an excited, toothy smile, "I got a special valentine!"
He paled slightly, glancing between the two of you before finally settling his gaze on Ellie. "Not from a boy, right?"
You had been in one of the bars in Quantico, a nice bar for locals, not college kids getting drunk everynight and trashing the place. This place was still fun, even though it had an older clientele. There was karaoke, couples went up and sang, friends were telling stories, it was just an interesting place to be around. You were sitting with your group of friends, talking about hospital gossip. You liked gossip, but sometimes it was too much to keep track of, and unlike them, you were trying to be the best of the best. The most elite.
A/n: I am so sorry for writing angst. This piece made me cry. I promise I’ll have some fluff in the future. Italicized are flashbacks
Warnings: Car Accidents, Blood, Death of a Child, Cemetery, funeral, casket, sad hotch hours (let me know if I missed something?)
WC: 4.8K // Masterlist
You walked into the BAU and for the first time since that night, you were scared. You were starting a new job in a state that you swore you’d never call home.
Well, it had been your home since the day you were born, but you never wanted to call this home. Your definition of home was different, you defined home as the place you found comfort in, that could be a house, apartment, person, or child. People talk about home being in the state you’re from, but you didn’t find comfort in Virginia, at least not anymore.
You looked around the office and made your way up to his office, you saw his name on the plack on the door. You read it about 10x before you were going to open the door. No one else was around, but Chief Strauss said that he’d be in the office early.
A/N: Today’s dose of Hotch angst was brought to you literally by a Disney song. Did I cry writing this? Maybe. Was my intent to make you cry? Of course not! 😉 Do I really hope you enjoy it? Absolutely!
Love,
Mal 🩶
Thank you for being so supportive and beta reading @cringeiknow
Warnings: Age gap of ten years, mentions of weight loss and poor eating habits, failed proposal, breakup??? Kinda, miscommunication and misunderstandings. One mention of unprotected sex that did not occur on page.
Tags: ANGSTTTTT, Fluff at the end, these two idiots are so in love, they just need a little help figuring it out. Reader is female. Appearance is nondescript.
WC: 8k
Ao3
Back to Mal’s Masterlist
It’d been two months since you’d broken Aaron Hotchner’s heart. Two months since you’d just stood there and looked at him, in complete shock and silence. Two months since you should have said something, anything! It didn’t have to be yes or no. Just “I love you, but I’m not ready.”
He would have understood.
Of course he would have! He was the most understanding and patient man you knew.
But you froze.
Panicked.
You had seen the light fade from his eyes, the smile fall from his lips. The tears that filled his eyes.
It hadn’t been a “no.” Just a “not yet.”
But you hadn’t spoken up in time, couldn’t get your heart, mind, and mouth on the same page.
You were… confused.
It had blind sided you, truthfully. You hadn’t ever suspected that he was even thinking about…
Marriage.
You certainly hadn’t been.
Sure, in the future, of course! But you had thought you had a few more years, not months. You were so much younger than him, your career was just starting, you had so much left to do and accomplish before settling down. You had definitely contemplated marrying him, someday, but you hadn’t been ready!
And now… things would never be the same.
He had gotten up and then he had walked away.
And you had watched him go.
You hadn’t known what to say. You still didn’t. So you hadn’t.
He hadn’t reached out either.
There were so many times, over the last few months, where you had thought about picking up the phone and calling him. Late at night when you were lonely and the only thing you had to comfort you was a white dress shirt of his that he’d misplaced at your apartment. He would’ve answered, you knew deep down that he would have. Not once in your entire relationship had he failed to answer your calls. But you were too afraid of the possibility that this time he wouldn’t, so you would put on the shirt and cry yourself to sleep.
One day, about three weeks ago, you had made it all the way to his office door. But if he had wanted to speak to you, if he had wanted to hear an explanation, or entertain your excuses…
He would have asked you, and he hadn’t.
So you had just stood there, fist raised, ready to knock. Staring at his name on the door and wishing you had a spine. For five whole minutes. You had been able to feel the team’s eyes on your back. Rossi had even come out of his office, leaned back against the railing and watched you.
Then you had chickened out. Shook your head, with tears falling down your cheeks, and walked away.
The two of you had ignored each other. Kind of. It wasn’t… hostile. It was passive. You were both hurting. That was obvious to everyone. However, you didn’t take it out on each other, you didn’t argue. You were congenial and polite. You still went to team events and get togethers if the other was going to be there. For the sake of the team, you hadn’t let things become bitter or angry between you.
You just didn’t go out of your way to speak to each other either.
You used to be his field partner, he would always pair you with himself, just so he could spend a little more time with you on busy cases. Unless there was something he needed to send you with someone else for. He would rest his elbow on the center console in the SUV and either hold your hand, or grip your thigh. Only when the others weren’t in the car.
Not anymore though.
The Monday after the night you’d said nothing, he had paired you with Morgan, and he had taken Prentiss.
That had cut you to the bone.
It had tipped the rest of the team off too.
When he and Prentiss had left, your knees had buckled, and you had collapsed to the floor. Or you would have, had Morgan not had great reflexes.
“Woah, easy there.” He’d said as he supported your weight, pulling you to his chest and holding you while you sobbed. “What just happened?”
He hadn’t been asking you. You were too distraught to respond.
“I- I think they’re fighting?” Reid had murmured, unsure and quiet.
“This isn’t just a fight…” Rossi had whispered. “Give her some space.”
So no one had questioned you about it.
Not when you cried at random for the next month–like when you would think of something funny and go to text him, only to realize you couldn’t just do that anymore—they just tried not to stare. Not when you’d cut and dyed your hair—because you couldn’t forget the way it used to look when he would twirl it around his fingers idly—they had just told you it looked nice. Not when you’d stopped eating lunch with them—you couldn’t stomach sitting across from Aaron and remembering how he used to squeeze your thigh under the table—they always asked though, you just said you weren’t hungry. They had given you space… but they still offered you companionship.
But nothing they did could fill the gaping hole that Aaron had left in your heart.
You’d memorized that night, that horrible ten minutes that had altered the course of your life for good. You’d studied it, picked it apart in your head, gone over all the ways that the outcome could have been different.
You wished you could go back and make it right, you wished you could go back and say yes.
Never in a million years had he ever imagined that you wouldn’t say yes. He loved you, and he had been so sure that you loved him just as much. So when you had just… stood there, blinking at him in… terror?
He was confused, for a moment, and then he’d realized that you weren’t going to say yes.
So he’d waited… for a reason, an explanation, a simple not yet!
But you hadn’t said a word.
His heart had felt like it had been ripped from his chest and thrown in a blender. Still beating.
And he hadn’t wanted to cry in front of you. Not because he thought that was something to be ashamed of—he’d cried in front of you many times before—but because he hadn’t wanted his emotions to manipulate your answer. You were a fixer, that's what you did, whether you meant to or not. If someone was hurting, you did everything in your power to make it right. He didn’t want you to say yes just because he would be hurt if you didn’t.
So he had left.
He’d had the ring for months. Dave and Jess had helped him pick it out, helped him plan the proposal and everything. When he’d come home that night without you, they’d both been waiting in his living room, hoping to congratulate you. So when he’d sat the ring box down on the kitchen table, and walked past them to his room, they'd known it hadn’t gone according to plan.
He’d gotten in the shower, and he’d cried. He didn’t even bother to completely undress. Just wanting the heat and noise of the water so he could cry in peace.
He cried until the water ran cold.
Then he’d pulled it together and he’d gotten redressed. He’d gone to the living room, where Jess and Dave were still waiting, and he’d just sat down in front of them.
“She said no?” Jess asked, in total disbelief. “What happened? Did she say why?”
“Jess…” Dave had laid a hand on her arm. “Give him a minute.”
So he’d taken a minute to figure out how to even explain, when he didn’t understand it himself. He’d been so sure…
“She didn’t say anything.” He’d murmured after a moment. “She just stood there and looked at me… like she was terrified. I didn’t know what to think. I waited for an explanation, an answer, anything. She just stood there, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t take it. So I left.”
“Oh Aaron, I’m sorry…” Jess murmured. “But she didn’t say no… so maybe??”
He’d just shook his head.
“You didn’t see her Jess. She didn’t say no… but it was in her eyes.” He’d whispered.
“Are you gonna try to talk to her, Aaron?” Dave had wondered. “I think you should, this isn’t like her… she loves you. I’m sure there’s a reason.”
“I might, I don’t know. I feel like I need to wait for her to come to me…” He reasoned. “She obviously wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.”
So he waited.
He waited all weekend and you never called, you didn’t even send a text. He checked his phone obsessively. It was the first time in four years you hadn’t told him good night and good morning. He barely slept, not wanting to miss it if you called.
That Monday morning, you hadn’t sat next to him at the briefing, or on the jet, and he’d thought… this is it, we’re over, she’s done. And he figured, you wouldn’t want to be alone with him, so he had assigned you to be Morgan’s partner for that case, and he’d taken Prentiss. He’d walked away with tears streaming down his face.
He’d flinched every time she spoke in the car, each word a stark reminder that you weren’t where you should’ve been.
Prentiss–at least at first–had the good sense to let it be.
But over the next few weeks he’d had to come clean and tell them all what had happened, his version of it anyway. He didn’t know what you’d told them. Apparently nothing, because they’d been confused and shocked as well. They checked on him constasdntly, asking occasionally if he was gonna talk to you. He had told them he was waiting for any sign that you wanted him to.
Then he’d noticed you withering away…
You were only picking at your food—when he saw you eat at all—even things he knew to be your favorite. He knew if he were to wrap his arms around your waist, it would feel thinner than it had the last time he’d done it. The day you had come in to work after you’d cut and dyed your hair he’d been speechless. Not because he thought it looked bad—you would always look perfect to him, no matter what your hair looked like—he was speechless because he’d always told you how much it soothed him to play with the ends of it when he was anxious or bored. And you’d cut it off. He’d wanted to tell you it looked pretty, or that it suited you. Even just ‘your hair looks nice,’ would do! Literally anything that gave him a single reason to talk to you.
But you didn’t seem to want any attention from him and now it had been two months.
He just wished he could go back to that moment, and ask some questions… Like, why are you so scared? Or is it me you’re scared of? (He knew he’d never given you a reason to be, but the obvious fear in your eyes had made him doubt.) He wished he'd given you more time, more understanding.
He wished he hadn’t walked away from you.
It was your anniversary. Or it would have been.
Four years since your first date.
You were on a case—just like you had been that day four years ago—and Aaron was looking so good. (Much like he had back then.) Which clearly made things twice as hard.
He was wearing that stupid fucking navy button up, with black slacks. His sleeves rolled up to mid forearm as he sorted through case files and evidence on the table in front of him. The glare of sunlight from the window kept reflecting off the face of his watch and directly into your eyes, drawing them where they shouldn’t linger.
Soon you found yourself staring at his face, studying him, wondering why you hadn’t just… said yes…
His brow was pinched in that way that you knew meant something wasn’t adding up to him. His jaw flexing and his eyes squinting, you knew what that meant. He was getting a tension headache from staring at the small font and jumbled handwriting on all these files. You wondered where he’d left his reading glasses—he was horrible about keeping up with them—knowing they would help him, if only a bit. You would have JJ offer him some ibuprofen and a bottle of water later. You could trust her to make sure he drank it. Knowing him, he’d only drank coffee for the last several days. Running on caffeine and sheer will, as was his specialty. He’d be dehydrated. You had always been the one to remind him to take care of himself during tough cases, otherwise he wouldn’t… Even though he still took care of you.
He cleared his throat, and you realized he was staring back at you.
“Problem?” He asked, his tone soft even though he kept his question short.
“Uh, no… it’s…” You scrambled for any reason as to why you were staring, when you no longer had that right. You couldn’t ask him where his glasses were, or tell him he should drink some water, that wasn’t your place anymore…“Your watch keeps blinding me, I was trying to come up with a nice way to ask you to step to the left a little.”
“A nice way?” He queried, his voice full of confusion and maybe a little hurt. “You could have just asked, I would have moved. It's not a problem.”
“I know… I just…” You stammered, great, now you’d upset him. “I didn’t want you to think I was being rude, or that I was angry over it. I– Nevermind, it's not a big deal, I’ll just move…”
You got up to switch seats, but he was already moving.
“No, sit, it's fine. I can move.” He stepped to the left, blocking the sunlight from his watch face.
“Thank you.” You murmured, and offered him a timid smile.
“Of course.” He mumbled back, his eyes going back to the table in front of him.
The smile fell from your face and you looked away. Noticing, as you did, that the entire team was looking back and forth between you… very uncomfortably. All offering you comforting looks. You felt tears welling up in your eyes. One escaped without permission, rolling down your cheek like acid.
You wouldn’t do this again. You wouldn’t cry in front of them. You refused to subject him, of all people, to your tears. This whole thing was your fault… you had no right to cry. Not in front of him.
So you left the room, making your way to the station’s ladies room.
You had only been alone for thirty seconds when JJ came in behind you. You wiped at your face, trying to hide the tears that were rebelling against you.
“You okay?” She murmured, walking up behind you and wrapping her arms around you in a hug. Resting her chin on your shoulder.
And that was all it took for the floodgates to open.
You rested your head against hers and you sobbed. Violently.
She just held you, letting you get it out.
“I love him.” You whimpered pathetically after several minutes. “God, I love him. I fucked up so bad, JJ…”
“What happened?” She asked.
“He didn’t tell anyone?” You returned.
“He did… but I want to hear it from you.” She said, “I think, maybe… you two have your wires crossed.”
“I just stood there.” You murmured. “He asked me to marry him… and I didn’t say a word. I was, I don't know… Stunned? Shocked? Definitely confused… I didn’t think we were… I didn’t even know he was thinking about marriage! I love him! And I want to be with him! Forever, if possible! But I panicked… because… I’m not ready… JJ, I'm ten years younger than him… and I am just getting started and I have so many things left to accomplish in life, and I’m just not ready to be… married. But when I am… I want it to be him and if he were ever to ask me again… I would say yes… I can’t live with myself for losing him.”
“Oh, honey, maybe you should tell him that.” She suggested, stroking your hair gently.
You shook your head.
“No, that’s not fair to him. He’s obviously choosing to move on.” You disagreed. “He’s had two months to process his emotions and if he wanted an explanation he would have asked, he’s never been afraid of hard conversations. So I won’t force him to deal with my regret, I can move on like a big girl, I made my bed and I’ll lie in it.”
“Sweetie, you know I love ya… But that's a really stupid reason not to try…” She admitted. “I think if the opportunity presents itself, you should try.”
“I’ll think about it.” You told her, as if that hadn’t been the sole focus of your mind for the last two months.
“Good.” She squeezed you a little tighter, then let you go. “You ready to head back in there?”
You nodded, but then caught sight of yourself in the mirror.
“Oh God, I’m a mess.” You groaned and she smiled.
“I’ll help you.” She offered and together you set about fixing your makeup.
Today was harder than most, and he knew it was because of the date. Your anniversary.
On this day, four years ago, he’d finally decided that the reward outweighed the risk, and he’d asked you to go get a drink with him at the hotel bar. He hadn’t intended to end up in your bed that night—he wasn’t one to make a trip around all four bases on a first date—but he had never regretted it. His only regret was walking away.
He’d planned to take you on a trip for this anniversary, he had planned to tell you about it this morning and whisk you away for the week, having already approved your time off. But that was before…
And now here you both were, having awkward conversations about watches and sunlight, walking on eggshells like one of you might break if a wrong word was spoken.
He guessed that was fairly accurate actually, and apparently, ‘of course’, were the wrong words to say to ‘thank you.’
Because those words seemed to have caused you to flee the room in tears and he felt helpless.
He had tried to go after you, he’d taken two steps toward the door.
“Aaron.” Dave had said quietly. “Let her go. She doesn’t want you to see her cry, that's why she left.”
He hated that he was no longer the person you allowed to dry your tears. He used to kiss them away, then pepper your cheeks with kisses until you started to laugh instead.
But you didn’t want that from him anymore…
So he nodded and then he sat down, dropping his head into his hands on the table.
“What did I say wrong?” He murmured, to whoever could provide him with an answer.
“Nothing…” Prentiss offered quietly.
“Then why-”
“It wasn’t what you said, Hotch.” She interrupted. “She smiled at you… and you didn’t smile back. You always used to smile at her, even when you were stressed.”
He had… Your mere presence had always been enough to bring a smile to his face.
“I didn’t see it! If I had, I would have smiled too. God, I’ve been waiting two months for her to show any sign that she wants me to talk to her! I just didn’t see it!” He explained.
You had smiled at him? You hadn’t done that in months. Not since the night that started this mess. Maybe… maybe there was hope?
“Should I go to her?” He asked. “Tell her I didn’t see…”
“Well, she went into the women's bathroom…” Reid pointed out. “The one place you legally cannot follow her. So I would say, no…”
“I’ll go Aaron…” JJ offered, “Just to make sure she’s alright?”
Hotch nodded, and then murmured, “Please, I- I can’t stand that she’s in there alone. Not when I know she’s hurting…”
JJ nodded and followed you without another word.
“Ya know, if you’ve been waiting for a sign… You must be pretty blind… cause that girl has been throwing up flares and screaming sos.” Derek said bluntly.
The room went silent, and Aaron looked at Derek.
“What do you mean?” He asked, and he was not offended. He was too desperate for answers to worry about his own ego at this point. Too desperate to have you back in his arms, where you belonged.
“Look at her Hotch, she dyed her hair, she cut it. She’s noticeably lost weight. She's not eating lunch with us anymore, she never smiles—Christ, that was the first one I’ve seen from her in two months—she cries like six times a day. Not that you would know that, she hides from you when she cries. She follows you with her eyes, constantly… like a kicked puppy. She is a walking cry for help. Just freaking bite the bullet and go talk to her man! If it goes well—Halle-fucking-lujah—this whole mess is over! If it doesn’t, at least you tried.” Derek preached, each word a blow to Aaron’s heart.
He knew you’d dyed your hair, cut it, he could tell you’d lost weight… he knew you weren’t okay… but the other things, the signs that the help you wanted was still his to give… he’d missed them. He hadn’t noticed the toll it was taking on the team either…
“Amen!” Emily seconded as though this were church or something.
Hotch glanced over at Dave, wanting his opinion.
“I’m with them, actually.” He crossed his arms, “Just let her get her emotions under control first.”
“Okay…” He murmured. “I’ll talk to her.”
You and JJ were gone for nearly forty minutes.
In that time, they’d gotten a possible credible tip on the tip line. So he’d sent Morgan, Rossi, Reid and Prentiss to check it out. The press had gotten wind of it in the first five minutes somehow.
The first thing he noticed when you entered the room was that your face was bare, red and a little puffy. You’d cried so hard you’d had no choice but to wash your makeup off.
He cleared his throat and you looked toward him.
“JJ, I need you to manage the press, we’ve got a leak somewhere. They haven’t released anything yet, but they’re blowing up my phone.” He told her, without ever taking his eyes off of you.
“Yes sir.” She murmured and then left the room just as quickly and quietly as she’d entered it.
You and he just looked at each other for a moment.
In that moment he could see the regret and the grief and the longing in your eyes, and he knew…
The others were right, he’d been blind.
This was the first time you’d been alone with him in two months. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as he just looked at you. His expression unreadable, even to you.
You cleared your throat and looked away briefly, blinking back new tears.
“Where are the others?” You asked, anything to keep his piercing eyes from discerning too much.
“Checking a tip we got that might be credible.” He answered you quietly.
“Is- is there anything I can do?” You asked again, then looked back at him.
He was still just watching, studying.
“Yes, actually, I was going to ask you to help me run out to grab dinner for the team. I’ll need help carrying everything and I’m pretty sure Prentiss was about to gnaw her own arm off. She might sacrifice Reid if we don’t have food when she gets back.” He joked, and he almost sounded nervous.
So you laughed.
And he smiled.
“Of course.” You said through giggles, and then he walked at your side all the way to the SUV.
Where he opened the door for you and offered you a hand to help you inside, and you hoped it wasn’t just a habit.
The silence in the car was loaded. Both of you anxiously fidgeting in your own way. This felt so wrong. It had NEVER been this weird when you were together, even at the beginning. You used to make food runs like this all the time, sometimes chatting, others just enjoying the comfort of sitting together in silence. This was different, there were so many unsaid words hanging in the air between you…
“How have you–”
“You look nice tod–”
You both spoke at the same time.
“I’m sorry–”
“I’m sorry–”
It happened again. You looked over at him and scrunched your face up like, ‘this is so weird…’
“You go first.” He suggested, offering you a soft smile.
You blushed… What you were going to say had been… risky.
“I- uh- I was just gonna say that- ya know what, it wasn’t important. What were you going to say?” You fumbled, looking anywhere but at him, and picking at a loose thread on your pants.
“No, go ahead, I want to know.” He insisted. “I spoke over you, you know I hate doing that.”
He did… He always made sure that he waited patiently until you had completely finished your thought. Even if what he had to say was logically more important. He never treated it that way.
“Actually I’m pretty sure I spoke over you…” You murmured softly, absolving him of any guilt. “But I was just going to say that you look nice today, that was always my favorite outfit of yours.”
“Oh.” He said quietly. “You never told me that.”
You’d never told him because it embarrassed you that an outfit affected you the way this one did… and you definitely couldn’t tell him that now. The silence grew too tense and you didn’t know what to say so you changed the subject.
“What were you going to say?” You asked.
“How have you been? We haven’t really… talked.” He questioned, so, so carefully.
You glanced over at him, his eyes were on the road, but every ten seconds or so they would flit your way.
“I- Um.” You wet your lips and then bit the bottom one. “I’m alright.”
“Are you?” He asked again. “Truthfully.”
You nodded.
“Yeah, I’m good, Aaron. Really.” You insisted.
“Please don’t lie.” He whispered quietly. “I can take it.”
You felt a sharp pain in your chest, he had never accused you of dishonesty before.
You looked back over at him fully this time and there was this… agony, on his face.
“What makes you think I would lie to you about that?” You asked a little defensively. “I’ve never lied to you before, and even if I was, it's my problem, not yours.”
You saw the hurt on his face, as though you had physically struck him.
“You aren’t eating.” He said through gritted teeth. “And even though I’m not your… anymore. I am still your unit chief. So yes, it is my problem, you’ve noticeably lost weight and it’s my job to make sure that you’re fit for duty.”
Had you really lost weight? You hadn’t noticed… but for him to question whether or not you were fit for duty, it pissed you off. More than it should’ve.
“Is that what this is about? The job?!” You demanded. “You're gonna play that card?”
He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
“If that’s what I have to do to get a straight answer out of you and know whether or not you’re gonna be okay, then yes! I will play that card!” He insisted, his voice tense and quiet.
He wouldn’t yell at you. You knew that, he never had before and even now that wasn’t going to change. Even if you wished he would.
“Fine.” You muttered. “No, I am not eating much, I can’t. It makes me sick pretty much every time.”
His eyes grew wide and he immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked.
“Are you pregnant?” He blurted, studying you even closer now.
“What?!?” You looked at him as though he were insane. You didn’t even know what to say about that.
“Four nights before I proposed, we had sex in the hotel during the case and I didn’t have a condom.” He said as though that cleared everything up. “And now it's been two months, you don’t have an appetite, you’re crying six and seven times a day and suddenly you’re watching me with this look! Like you have something to tell me but you’re scared! So what am I supposed to think?”
“Not that!” You exclaimed. “I’m not pregnant Aaron! I swear, I just got off my period.”
“Then why aren’t you eating?” He asked.
He was so thick headed sometimes.
“Because Aaron! I’m grieving! I know you probably don’t think I have the right to do that. But I cannot help it!” You knew you were raising your voice at him and you knew that wasn’t fair while he remained calm but you couldn’t help it.
“Grieving?” He whispered, that pained look crossing his face again and making you wish that you still had the right to smooth it away…
“Yes Aaron! Our relationship died overnight and I’m grieving it! I’m sorry that it's taking me longer than you to get over it, but some people can’t just walk away and not look back!” You accused, fighting back tears again.
You knew that wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t fair of him to do this to you either. It felt like he was torturing you. Acting like he still cared, when he hadn’t reached out to you… When he had been the one to walk away… You knew that at the root of it all, everything was your fault. He didn’t have to act like it wouldn’t affect you though.
“I can’t.” You muttered and got out of the car, slamming the door and walking back toward the station that was only about a mile back down the road.
Aaron got out of the car and followed you, closing his door much more gently than you had. You were angry at him now… good. You’d always been bluntly honest with him when you were angry, and he needed to know exactly what was going on inside your head.
“Where are you going?” He called, not letting his voice rise above a conversational tone.
“Back to the station.” You answered flippantly, not bothering to look back.
“No you aren’t. It’s a mile away. Get back in the car.” He said softly, but you didn’t stop. “Stop, please, and get back in the car, it's dangerous to do this on the side of the road.”
You kept trudging forward, gait a little unsteady as you walked on the uneven ditch bank.
“We’re not doing this at all Aaron, I thought we could, but I can’t. Not if you only care because it’s your job!” You tossed back over your shoulder.
He was stunned.
“Is that what you think?” He asked, how had you gotten that impression?
He had been trying to tell you how much he still cared this whole time!
“It's what you said!” You insisted. “You said, you had to make sure I was fit for duty!”
“That is not what I said! Not all of it!” He felt his voice rising, felt himself getting frustrated. “I said that if I had to play that card to make sure that you were okay, I would! That's entirely different!”
“Well I’m not okay, Aaron! Are you happy?! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” You shouted, marching down the side of the busy highway.
Traffic was zooming by and you were making him nervous, he couldn’t focus on the conversation when you were one wrong step—one distracted driver—from a fatal accident. He ran to cover the last few feet between you.
“Of course not!” He snapped back, finally catching up and grabbing your arm, pulling you away from the edge of the road to safety. “You think it wasn’t torture for me all these weeks, not being able to ask you myself how you were doing? Having to send the others back and forth to check on you!”
You didn’t fight him, just let him drag you up the other side of the ditch bank. Trusting him instinctively, as if this were a normal fight, and you hadn’t almost completely disappeared from each other’s lives.
“Why didn’t you just come talk to me?” You asked him, tears streaming down your face. “I waited for you to call me! To ask for an explanation! To want to talk to me about it! Why didn’t you just ask me yourself!”
Is that why you’d pulled so far away from him? Because he hadn’t brought it up?
“I was waiting for you!” He exclaims. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it, you obviously didn’t that night!”
You had that look in your eyes now, the one that said you were about to blow a gasket. You had only looked at him like that once, but if you were looking at him like that now, then it meant there was something left worth fighting for.
“You walked away from me! You left me standing there confused!” Your tears had soaked your cheeks, and were dripping down onto your blouse. He would’ve given anything to make them go away, especially knowing he was causing them.
“I waited for nearly five minutes in silence! I stood there, waiting for you to say something! Anything! And you just stood there! You clearly weren’t ready to discuss it and I needed some space! I poured my heart out to you and you just stared at me!” He could feel tears of his own running into his nose and mouth.
“I didn’t say no!” You yelled and the sound was so rage filled and agonized that he froze. “I was scared Aaron! I’m in my twenties! You’re nearly forty! I have not had the same amount of time as you to live! I still have things I want to do, places and things I want to see! Marrying you right now would probably end my career! Or at least put it on hold! We had NEVER talked about marriage seriously! I thought it was YEARS away! I was shocked, you blindsided me, I had so much to think about and you only gave me five minutes and then you walked! I agonized over it all weekend and I waited for you to call me and check in! Demand an explanation! Ask to talk! Ask me LITERALLY ANYTHING! You didn’t! So I figured you needed space! And then that Monday, you didn’t choose me! You chose Prentiss and then you walked away and left me with Morgan! That made it pretty clear to me that you were done with me! So of course I never said a goddamn thing!”
He couldn’t- were- were you… serious?! How could he ever be done with you? You were his whole world, you were EVERYTHING!
“I was not done with you!” He heard the disgust in his tone that his heart felt at that phrase. “I will never be done with you! I thought you needed space! You stopped sitting next to me, you wouldn’t even look at me during the briefing or on the jet! I tried to get your attention so many times! I did want to talk to you about it, but I didn’t want to corner you! When you started avoiding me I thought that you were done with me! And in my defense, I proposed to you and you didn’t say yes! That’s usually a pretty good indicator that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with someone!”
You threw your hands up in the air.
“And I fucking hate myself for it!” You screamed. “If I could go back I would say yes! A thousand times I would say yes! Because I cannot live without you, Aaron! I don’t know how! So I am stuck here in this HELL, where I am so in love with you, but we’re not together and it’s all my fault because I couldn’t just open my mouth and say words!!!!”
“You still love me?” The breath left his lungs in a rush, and he wouldn’t draw another one until you answered.
“Of course I do!” You snapped, panting heavily, tears steadily falling.
He didn’t know when he’d decided to move, but before he registered the motion, he had you in his arms and was kissing you with all the built up longing and desire he’d been holding in for two months.
All you could taste were tears. Yours and his.
You couldn’t bring yourself to care as you tugged him closer, parting your lips for him and letting him kiss you breathless. On the side of the road.
“I missed you so fucking much…” He murmured against your lips, threading his hand into your hair and pressing you closer with the other. “I missed these lips, I missed this hair—no matter what color, or length it is—I missed your laugh, I missed your smile, I missed your hands, I missed touching you, I missed talking to you, I missed fighting with you! I just missed you!”
He punctuated every confession with a kiss and your heart was singing in your chest.
You whimpered into his mouth, and sobbed harder.
“I missed you too.” You whispered. “I’m so sorry!”
You would apologize a hundred times–a thousand times–if that's what it took to make things right.
“No baby, I’m sorry!” He murmured between kisses, holding you tighter. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you and especially not without making certain we were on the same page. Clearly we weren’t. I wish I could go back and do that differently. If you don’t want to get married, we don’t have to get married. It’s just a piece of paper and a few legalities. You’re all I want.”
You pulled your head back and framed his face with your hands. Looking into those warm hazel eyes that had haunted your dreams for the last two months.
“I. Didn’t. Say. No.” You emphasized each word. “I just needed some time to think everything through.”
Tears were streaming down his face one after the other and you could feel them pouring down yours as well.
“Are you saying yes?” He breathed.
“I have some conditions…” You murmured.
“Such as?” He asked and he was trembling.
You stroked his cheek tenderly and he leaned into your touch, as though he were desperate for it.
“From now on, we always talk it out. Immediately. No matter what it is or how awkward it may be. Because I cannot do this again, the last two months were torture.” You whispered.
“Agreed.” He said kissing your forehead. “Anything else?”
You nodded.
“I want a long engagement, I do want to marry you Aaron, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. But I’m still just a Special Agent. I want to at least make SSA before we get married, otherwise I won’t be able to unless I transfer to another unit and I don’t want to do that. I want to stay with the team, they’re our family.” You explained.
He nodded, taking your hands from his cheek and kissing your palm.
“I completely understand, Sweetheart. Your career is just as important to me as mine and I want you to know that. Is there anything else?” He asked again.
“Just one…” You murmured quietly, leaning in to him and he rested his forehead against yours.
“Anything baby, you name it. I’ll make it happen.” He swore.
“That’s a big promise, Mr. Hotchner.” You teased, but you knew he meant it.
“I mean it.” He insisted. “I will do anything for you, Sweetheart.”
“I want you to ask me again.” You whispered. “When we get home, I want you to ask again, so I can do it right this time.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong last time, baby.” He murmured. “Not a single thing. But if you want me to, I will.”
“I really do.” You admitted giving him a teary smile. “I love you, Aaron. So much.”
“In that case.” He said, and then he stepped away from you, digging in his left pants pocket and pulling something small out.
He got down on one knee, right there on the bank of a ditch, beside a busy highway.
You gasped in disbelief as he held out a ring. The ring.
“Y-you were just- just carrying that around??” You stuttered.
He nodded, giving you a sheepish grin.
“I’ve had it in my pocket every day since the first time I asked you.” He confessed.
“What? Why?” You asked, heart racing and breathless.
“I don’t really know…” He shrugged. “Hope, I guess.”
“Hope?” It was more of a sob than a question.
“I thought that maybe if I just held onto hope that you still loved me, then you’d come back to me.” He explained. “I think it worked…”
He had never given up on you…
“I never left, baby.” You were still crying, and now you were crying harder. “But I think it worked too.”
“Will you marry me? Not right this second, not even this year or the next… but someday, someday, Sweetheart, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He asked, with tears and hope in his eyes.
“Yes.” You murmured, biting back a sob. “A million times, yes!”
He slid the ring onto your left hand and then you pulled him to his feet and kissed him again, and again… and again.
And again.
Aaron was on cloud nine.
He could not stop smiling and looking at you… and touching you.
The thing he found himself doing the most though, was kissing the back of your left hand—which he had barely let go of since you’d both gotten back in the vehicle—and staring at the ring that looked so much prettier on your finger than it had off of it. You smiled everytime you caught him.
God, had he missed that smile.
Together, you had gone and gotten plenty of chinese food for the whole team and while he remembered everyone’s orders from years of making these trips, it warmed his heart that you were quietly reminding him of the little details in his ear. Like how Emily liked the spicy sauce with her sushi and JJ didn’t. And how Rossi liked General Zhao’s chicken while Spencer liked the Orange, and Morgan’s absolute favorite was crab rangoon.
On the ride back, you had looked over at him with mischief in your gorgeous eyes.
“I know that look.” He murmured, with a smile. “What’re you up to over there?”
You giggled and his heart felt like it was going to combust.
“I was thinking…” You murmured, that mischief filling your voice too. “Should we tell them? Or… should we see how long it takes them to notice the rock, and the fact that we’re not making them incredibly uncomfortable with our pining and yearning and moping anymore.”
He chuckled.
“Hmmm, let's really put them to the test.” Aaron hummed, smirking at you playfully and kissing your hand again.
“Oh? What did you have in mind?” You asked, your eyes glowing with mirth.
“I’ll start a timer, and we’ll judge them based on how long it takes them.” He suggested.
You cackled maniacally and it made him laugh. He missed that sound.
“Wait, is this really fair? You technically have a rule where we’re not allowed to profile each other…” You reminded him.
“Yes, the rule that only I seem to follow…” He joked.
You scoffed.
“Yeah right!” You called him out. “You are literally the worst of us when it comes to that rule! You break it all the time!”
He chuckled guiltily.
“Okay maybe you’re right.” He admitted.
“Of course I am.” You preened.
Ten minutes later, you were walking beside him and carrying two bags full of food, while he carried the other two. There may have only been six of you, but the team ate enough to feed a small army. He still managed to get all the doors for you, and when you went into the conference room ahead of him he braced for the questions he knew were coming. Sitting down the bags he started a timer. He didn’t dare look at you for too long as you set about passing out food, drinks and chopsticks. He thought surely everyone would notice the ring as you rigged Spencer’s with a rubber band so he could actually use them.
No one said a word.
By the time you’d passed out all the food it’d been five minutes.
You tossed him a quick glance and he couldn’t help but smile at your ‘what the fuck?’ expression. As he looked away, he caught Emily watching him suspiciously. He just raised an eyebrow at her and then looked down at his own food gathering a bite to pick up with his own chopsticks. She narrowed her eyes, then leaned over and murmured in Morgan’s ear, who’s brows rose on his forehead.
It wouldn’t be long now.
“Did the tip pan out?” Hotch took a shot at distracting them.
“No…” Emily said slowly, not buying it. “It didn’t…”
He shrugged.
“Well they rarely do this early, we’ll keep looking.” He said easily.
You sighed contentedly across the room, pulling his attention.
Your left hand was wrapped around the box of takeout and the ring was sparkling in the light from the window… and he just couldn’t resist looking at it.
Apparently neither could you, because you were purposely flashing the light from the reflection in JJ’s eye. Who couldn’t seem to figure out where it was coming from.
“Sweetheart?” He murmured in amusement.
The room stood still, no one even breathed… waiting for tears or a fumbled apology from him.
They’d be waiting a while.
“Hmmm?” You hummed back, looking up at him with joy in your eyes.
He raised his eyebrow at you and flicked his eyes down to the ring. No one reacted but you, smirking mischievously as you blushed at having been caught playing with the ring. Everyone else was too busy looking back and forth between you and him. Holding their breath and waiting for it to all fall apart.
“Can you put your hand down? You’re gonna blind JJ.” He teased softly.
“Oh… You mean, this hand?” You asked, playing along by setting the box down and lifting your hand so the ring caught the light again. “My left hand?”
“Yes, that hand, the rock on it is shining light right in poor JJ’s eyes.” He said playfully.
And then you both waited… for the moment of realization to dawn on any of them.
“WAIT A MINUTE!” Emily leapt from her perch and was across the room in under a second. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?!?!?!”
That got everyone else’s attention and they all jumped up to look too. Except for Dave, who already knew what it looked like and was looking at Aaron with a tear in his eye.
“She said yes?” He asked quietly, over the excited chatter from the younger agents.
Aaron looked at you through the cluster of agents and smiled, he found you already smiling back at him as JJ and Emily turned your hand in a million different angles.
summary: aaron hotchner's phone is always on do not disturb. apart for a single contact on his phone.
wc: 2k+
cw: talks of violence (someone hit r!), hurt/comfort(?)
Aaron Hotchner’s phone is always on do not disturb. At least, that is what the team has learned from working with him, the little moon symbol on the corner of his phone’s screen unforgettable. He turns the feature off when walking towards the elevator at the end of the day, or once they finally return to the jet after a long case.
So when his phone rings in the conference room, vibrating on the wooden table, everyone on the team is taken aback when he immediately picks it up, excusing himself from the room.
Aaron Hotchner’s phone is always on do not disturb.
Except what people didn’t know is that he allowed calls from one person.
You never call your dad during work hours. After all, you are aware of how demanding his job is. He has important things to focus on — he works to save lives. Every night, when he comes home, you find yourself speaking to him on facetime, unless you have the chance to actually see him, which is rare, given the fact that you're a university student with an FBI agent as a dad. So it’s a given rule that if you ever call him during his average work hours, it’s urgent.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Aaron says into the phone, leaving the door to the conference room open behind him as he rushes towards his office. You don’t speak immediately, but he can hear you sniffling on the other side of the line. Aaron can feel his heart rate speed up, a pit growing in his gut, and he’s already picking up his car keys, ready to find you wherever you are. Were you at university? At home? What on earth had happened?
“Daddy,” You finally start mid sob, “I didn’t know what to do.” Your hand is shaking, and you reach up to touch the side of your face, where your cheek feels tender and swollen. “Where are you? Are you safe?” You nod to yourself, heaving a heavy breath as your free hand tightens around the steering wheel of your parked car.
“I’m on campus. In my car.” And then finally, taking a deep, shaky breath, you add “I’m safe.” Aaron notices the hesitance in your voice, and he pats his holster, making sure his gun is strapped to him as he rushes out of his office, car keys and wallet in hand, leaving the rest of his belongings in his office.
The team follow his movements with their gaze as he speeds down the stairs and into the bullpen, exchanging worried gazes. Rossi stands up and chases Aaron, but by the time he reaches the bullpen, your father is already entering the elevator. Aaron abandons his coworkers in the office, phone pressed tightly against his ear despite the bad service in the elevator. He makes you speak to him, even as he drives to your university campus, fifteen minutes away. Rossi tries calling him, but Aaron's work phone buzzes on the desk of his empty office, laying abandoned.
Aaron makes you recall the story to him. How your project partner had been rambling to you about his stress with his classes, and you’d laid a hand on his shoulder, attempting to relieve him of his worries. I know it’s difficult right now, but I’m sure you’ll manage to sort things out. You had said. You’re a really smart guy.
But your classmate hadn’t let your words soothe him. Instead, he turned towards you, arms gesturing widely as he started telling. You don’t understand! You don’t know how difficult it is!
And when you tried apologising, he had grabbed you by the fabric of your shirt, shoving you against the cement wall, continuing to yell at you. Your hands had come up in surrender, your bag slipping off your shoulder and crashing on the floor with the movement. Then, finally, as though the sudden look of fear on your face had triggered him, he lifted his hand in a closed fist and swung at your face. You had cried out in pain, and he let the force of the punch sway you off your feet. He walked away, still cursing as he left you on the parking lot’s floor, disoriented and trying to make sense of what had happened.
Of course, the first thing you did after you locked yourself in your car was call your dad, hands still shaking. And of course, he dropped everything to come find you. Now, the familiar black SUV of the FBI rolls into the half empty parking lot, Aaron Hotchner scanning the cars around him until he spots your familiar figure sitting in the white BMW he had gifted you when you had graduated, finally ridding you of the second hand car you'd bought with the money you made from your part time job.
He parks his car in the nearest parking spot to your car, narrating his own movements to you through the phone. “I see you. Parking two cars away from you sweetheart, stay where you are.” Of course, you listen to him, heart beginning to beat a little faster as he swings his car door open, quickly making his way over to you. You hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet, you were afraid of what he would say — or rather, wouldn’t say — when he finally saw you.
You open the car door as he finally gets to you, a frown etched on his face. You turned your body to face him, eyes instantly tearing up again at the sight of your father. A gentle hand comes up to cradle your face, lightly assessing the damage before he shakes his head and opens his arms wide to welcome you into a hug when he's sure the damage isn't too bad. Your sobs are quick to return as you hide your face in your dad’s chest, feeling like you are ten again, running to him after falling and scraping you knee.
“My darling girl.” He murmurs, bringing a hand up to the back of your head. It’s easy to sense the silent rage radiating off him. You know his ideal first course of action is to punish whoever had done this to you. But his first priority is giving you what you need, and that is comfort, not confrontation. “We’re going to sort everything out, okay? But first, we’re going to get you out of this parking lot. Come on.”
“Do I just leave my car?” You ask, already locking your car and leaving it there as you climb into the passenger seat of his car. “I’ll have someone come pick it up later. Is it alright if I bring you to my office for now? I have some paperwork to do, but you can rest on the couch and take a breather.” You nod wordlessly, watching the streets fly past you as you drive away.
“I’m going to send the dean an email when we reach. This is unacceptable.” You shrug, and one of Aaron’s hands leave the steering wheel to grip your hand, resting motionless on your lap. You honestly don’t care about the dean right now, or the consequences your classmate should face. But for a moment, you remember that you have to actually finish your project with your attacker, and a chill runs through you as you sink deeper into the car seat, a sense of dread overcoming you. “Okay.”
He squeezes your hand, only letting go when he finally has to park the car. Like the perfect gentleman your father is, he walks over to your side of the car as you gather your bag, opening the door for you and easing your bag from your arms for him to carry. He keeps a protective arm around your shoulders as you stand in the elevator, glancing towards you every now and then, eyes glued to the purple and blue bruise that has formed on your cheek bone, around your eye. It’s darkest where the knuckles had made contact with your face, but the bruising has bloomed around it too.
When the elevator doors open, Aaron shoots a warning look to his team, all of whom turn their eyes towards you the second you enter the bullpen. They avert their gaze politely, but your eyes stay on the ground as your dad guides you up the steps and into his empty office. Just as he’s about the close the door, a voice calls out “Is that y/n?”
Derek, Emily, Spencer and JJ turn to stare at Rossi, who begins making his way up the stairs, having just returned from the kitchenette with a steaming mug in hand. “Dave, now’s not a great time.” But Rossi pushes past your dad and enters his office, spotting you on the couch. It’s impossible for you not to smile when you see him, especially as he says “What happened to your beautiful face?”
“I don’t even know, Dave.” You answer with a shrug of your shoulders, bringing your legs up to your side on the leather couch. Rossi places his mug on the table, folding his hands on his lap. “I thought your days of rebellion ended when you were a teenager.” He says with a grin, reaching out of brush his fingers against your jaw. He leans forward to take a good look at your face, then frowns slightly.
“I’ve got some anti-inflammatory cream at my desk. Do you want to come with me, or should I bring it up here?” You answer his question by standing up, wordlessly following him out the door. You’ve always loved going on adventures with Rossi, no matter how little or extravagant they are. So much so that you barely notice the eyes following you to Rossi’s desk. The team finally gets a good look at you, a good look at the emergency Aaron had left for without warning. Whatever happened clearly took a toll on your confidence, your head dipped low but posture still perfect, eyes trained on Rossi's back.
As you turn, side facing them, the bruise on your face becomes exposed, and everyone straightens up, sitting just a little taller. What happened? And more importantly, who are you? Derek shamelessly spins around in his chair to track your movements, watching as you lean on Rossi’s desk, peeking into his drawers as he searches for the lotion.
Aaron follows you, and he doesn’t bother telling his team off for staring, too busy looking out for the way Rossi gently spreads the strong-smelling cream on your face. It immediately has a cooling effect, and Aaron sighs as you nod along to something Rossi tells you. “I’ve sent a very passive aggressive email to the dean. I’m sure he’ll be in touch soon.”
“Okay. Thank you, dad.” It’s as though the bullpen loses all movement, everyone freezing at the name.
Dad?
“No worries, sweetheart.” You really do feel ten again, with your favourite one of your dad’s friends entertaining you to lift the weight off Aaron’s shoulders a little. But Aaron always comes looking for you again. He’s found you sitting next to Dave before, a colouring book between you as you poorly filled in the lines with saturated colours. Or, outside during a barbecue, with Dave teaching you how to throw a proper punch. Then, months later, with Rossi congratulating you after you got sent home for getting in a fight. He gave you a fist-bump that day.
Today, he caresses a hand between your shoulder blades, encouraging you to take a couple of steps towards your father, who wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you upstairs again. As you pass by Spencer’s desk, he hears you say in a low whisper “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.” as though you hadn’t been the one sucker-punched in the face. He doesn’t know what happened, but he can see from your spotless knuckles and shaky hands that you weren’t in a place where you had to apologise.
And for the first time, Spencer feels genuine pride for what his boss says with unmistakable truth.
“Don’t you dare apologise to me for having to be your father.”
pairing: aaron hotchner x ex!reader
summary: hotch swears he's listening to rossi, except he can’t focus on a single word when you’re at the bar with another guy, based on this request.
warnings: hotch is turning greeeeen from jealousy!! pining, hotch just wants his baby back
word count: 0.6k
✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar
Aaron was trying to listen to Rossi—really, he was. Something about a plot of land and investment potential and tax benefits or… God, he’d lost the thread ages ago. He nodded here and there, tossed out a half-hearted “yeah?” or “makes sense,” but his focus wasn’t anywhere near the conversation. Neither were his eyes.
They were glued to the crowd, more specifically to the gap in it. The spot where you used to be.
You’d disappeared ten minutes ago, and so had the guy who’d been flirting with you. Some twenty-something whose fingers grazed the side of your waist like he had any right to be even within six feet of you.
“And what exactly is your plan for tonight?” Rossi asked, swirling the last bit of his bourbon.
“What?”
“The staring? Gripping your glass like it can breathe?” Rossi lifted his brows. “What’s next? You going to challenge him to a duel?”
“I’m just watching,” Aaron muttered.
“Mmm,” Rossi said, which was Italian for you’re full of shit but I’m going to let you dig this hole a little deeper.
Aaron didn’t respond, his eyes doing their seventh sweep of the minute. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for the most, that you’d look back and catch him, or that the guy would spontaneously combust under the weight of his scowl. But for any of that to happen, he had to see where you were.
And he knew that he had no right. That it wasn’t his business anymore, that the only real authority he had over you these days was inside a briefing room with a suspect on the board. Because this? A bar, a night off, your clothes, your smile, a stranger’s hand on your waist? This wasn’t his jurisdiction. This was your playing field now. And Aaron was a benched sub who’d already had his shot and fumbled the pass, reduced to a spectator at best. A ghost, more likely.
“She’s allowed to dance, you know,” Rossi continued, not unkindly. “Even allowed to enjoy it.”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”
“Good,” Rossi said, far too breezily. “Maybe she even left with him. Can’t see her anywhere.”
Aaron’s head whipped towards the exit so fast, it stirred a breeze around him. For a moment his stomach dropped in that cold, involuntary way it did when something went wrong on a case as he considered the possibility that, maybe you did go home with him.
“I’m kidding,” Rossi chuckled. “Relax. She’s by the bar.”
And there you were. Using a stack of napkins to fan yourself, the golden lights catching on your exposed skin, the small specks of glitter scattered across your bare shoulders gracefully. He could still remember the caramel-like scent that came with it, relying on memory alone now, because he no longer had the right to be close enough to smell it again.
The lights shifted, dimming, then bleeding into a soft pink, the kind that made everything—you—look dreamlike. You gasped excitedly, grabbing Penelope’s arm where she stood beside you. She lit up just like you did, and Aaron didn’t even realise he was smiling until you were already pulling her towards the dance floor, placing a hand on the guy’s chest and yelling, “I’ll be back. This is our song!”
He hoped you wouldn’t be back, not to him, anyway. Not really. He hoped you’d stay somewhere close instead, just within reach, orbiting near enough for his eyes to find you and no one else’s.
He was grateful no one around had mind-reading abilities, because if you knew how often he thought about you, you’d probably never speak to him again. Or maybe you would. That was the thing about the two of you, the friendship had held, maybe too well. And maybe that was the problem.
Summary: Aaron Hotchner’s world shifts when he gets the call—you’re in labor. Dropping everything, he rushes to the hospital, never leaving your side as you bring your son into the world. Holding him for the first time, Aaron is overwhelmed with love and promises to protect him always. Later, the BAU team arrives, showering the newest Hotchner with affection. As Aaron looks at his family—at you—he realizes that, through everything, it was always you.
Pairing: Reader/Aaron Hotchner
Aaron Hotchner was never one to leave a case unfinished. He was a man of duty, responsibility, and unwavering focus. But when his phone buzzed in the middle of an intense briefing, his entire world shifted.
"Aaron, it's happening. The baby's coming."
The message from you sent a jolt through his body. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs as he stood up abruptly, causing the rest of the BAU team to glance up in concern.
“Hotch?” Rossi frowned.
Aaron was already grabbing his coat. “Y/N’s in labor. I have to go.”
There was no hesitation. No deliberation. The case, as important as it was, suddenly paled in comparison to the thought of you in a hospital room, needing him.
“You need anything?” Morgan asked, standing as if ready to help.
Hotch shook his head, already moving toward the door. “Just cover for me. I’ll update you when I can.”
And with that, he was gone.
By the time Aaron arrived, you were already in a hospital gown, gripping the side of the bed as a contraction rippled through you. A nurse was adjusting the IV, offering soothing words, but the second your eyes landed on Aaron rushing through the doorway, you exhaled a breath of relief.
“You made it,” you gasped, voice slightly strained from the pain.
Aaron was at your side in an instant, his warm hand wrapping around yours, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Of course, I made it,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. “Nothing would keep me from this.”
Your grip tightened on his hand as another contraction hit. Aaron didn’t flinch. Instead, he smoothed his free hand over your hair, whispering quiet reassurances, grounding you.
“You’re doing amazing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”
You tried to focus on his voice, on the steadiness he exuded even in moments like this. It helped.
Hours passed. The pain intensified, but so did Aaron’s presence, unwavering and strong. He never left your side, not even for a second.
At one point, after a particularly grueling contraction, you looked up at him, your eyes glassy with exhaustion. “I don’t know if I can do this, Aaron,” you admitted in a shaky whisper.
His forehead pressed against yours, his grip on your hand tightening. “You can,” he assured you. “You already are. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
The warmth of his words wrapped around you, giving you the strength to push forward.
The delivery room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the encouragement of the nurses, and Aaron’s unwavering presence.
“One more push, Y/N,” the doctor urged.
Tears pricked your eyes, exhaustion seeping into your bones, but then you felt Aaron’s forehead press against yours again. His voice was steady, firm, and full of love.
“You’ve got this,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”
And with one final push, a sharp cry filled the air.
Relief crashed over you as the doctor lifted your newborn, and you let out a soft, exhausted sob.
Aaron’s grip on your hand trembled as he looked at your baby—your baby—with a rare, unguarded expression of pure awe.
“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced, placing your son against your chest.
Aaron exhaled shakily, his hand ghosting over the tiny bundle in your arms. His dark eyes, so often hardened by the weight of the world, softened completely as he took in the tiny features.
“He’s perfect,” Aaron whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
You smiled tiredly, reaching for his hand. “We did it.”
Aaron leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then another on your son’s tiny head. “You did it,” he murmured. “And you were incredible.”
As the nurses worked around you, Aaron didn’t move an inch. He stayed by your side, one arm protectively around you, the other gently resting on your son’s back as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real.
For the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t thinking about a case, a criminal, or a mountain of paperwork.
He was simply here.
With you.
With your son.
With his family.
And there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
A Few Hours Later
The hospital room was quiet, dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaos of the last several hours. You were resting now, nestled against the pillows, while Aaron sat beside you, cradling your newborn son in his arms for the very first time.
He was so small. So impossibly small.
Aaron had handled thousands of case files, taken down some of the worst criminals imaginable, held a gun with unshakable confidence. But here, holding his son, he felt… delicate.
A tiny yawn escaped the baby’s lips, and Aaron let out a breathy chuckle, completely enchanted. His large hand gently cupped the baby's head, his fingers tracing over soft tufts of hair.
“Hi, buddy,” Aaron murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
The baby stirred slightly, tiny fingers curling into a loose fist.
Aaron swallowed, emotion welling up in his throat. “You don’t know it yet, but you have the most incredible mom in the world,” he continued, his eyes flickering toward you as you slept peacefully. “She’s strong. Brave. And she’s going to love you more than anything.”
His gaze returned to his son. “And I… I’m going to protect you with everything I have.”
The promise settled in his heart, unwavering and absolute.
A soft knock at the door interrupted the moment, and Aaron turned to see Rossi peeking in, followed closely by Morgan, JJ, and Garcia.
“We come bearing gifts,” Garcia whispered excitedly, holding up a stuffed bear.
Morgan grinned. “So, where’s the little Hotchner?”
Aaron hesitated, then with careful hands, he passed his son to Rossi, who took him with practiced ease.
“Damn, kid,” Morgan chuckled. “He’s got your serious face already.”
Rossi smirked. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit the Hotch glare.”
Aaron rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips.
JJ stepped forward, brushing a gentle hand over the baby’s tiny cheek. “He’s beautiful, Hotch.”
Garcia sniffled, dabbing at her eyes. “Ugh. Why is he already making me emotional?!”
You stirred then, your eyes fluttering open, and Aaron was instantly by your side, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“Hey,” he murmured. “The team’s here.”
A tired but content smile spread across your lips. “Figures they wouldn’t wait long.”
Morgan chuckled. “No way we were missing this.”
The room filled with quiet laughter, soft words, and the warmth of family.
As Aaron looked around at the people who had been through everything with him, then back down at you and his son, he realized something.
For the first time in years, he wasn’t just leading a team.
Drabble request—trying to explain to Hotch posting him on Instagram/making it Instagram official!
The Hard Launch [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Drabble]
Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 600
TW: Age gap, social media use, non-BAU reader, Aaron Hotchner POV
Aaron Hotchner had never been one for social media. Not one bit.
To him, the value of a private life far exceeded the lure of likes and comments.
However, as he sat across from you in the soft glow of your living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way your fingers danced with nervous energy over your phone screen.
Penelope, who lived next door to you, had been the architect of your meeting. Her intuition had proved impeccable, as usual. Despite the age gap of twenty years between you and Hotch, the connection was undeniable. It was your youthfulness that breathed new life into his structured world, and in turn, he offered a grounding stability you cherished.
Although, in this moment, he felt from an entirely different generation.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hotch's voice was laced with caution as he watched you meticulously select a photo from your gallery.
You nodded, biting your lip in concentration. "Yes, but it has to be perfect. This isn’t just any post, Aaron. It’s us...going public. Officially."
Hotch’s brow furrowed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in thought. "And this is important because…?" His tone wasn’t dismissive, merely inquisitive. He genuinely sought to understand this slice of your world.
You paused, the selected photo of the two of you from Dave's retirement party displayed on your screen—both of you caught mid-laughter, a snapshot of genuine happiness. "It's about crafting the narrative we want to share. This," you gestured to the photo, "tells a story of joy. Of us. It’s not just for my friends but for anyone who comes across it. I want them to see the happiness we share, not just the age difference."
Hotch took the phone from your hands, studying the image. He had always been protective of his private life, especially after the tragedy with Haley and the constant threats that came with his job. But looking at the photo, the happiness evident in his usually reserved expression, he felt a rare surge of pride.
"You make a compelling argument," Hotch admitted, handing back the phone. "So, how do you make it ‘perfect’ then?"
You smiled, a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. "It’s about the caption too. It sets the tone." You started typing, your thumbs moving swiftly. "'A new chapter begins with endless possibilities,'" you read aloud, then looked up at him for approval.
"Poetic," he commented dryly, but his small, affectionate smile betrayed his appreciation. "You really think this is necessary?"
"It’s like marking a milestone," you explained, your gaze softening. "It's telling the world that this is my choice, our choice, and we’re happy. It's setting boundaries too, declaring that what matters is the narrative we choose to share and nothing else."
Understanding dawned on him then. It was a declaration, a way to control the story before others had the chance to define it for you. In his line of work, control was everything, yet here he was, learning a different kind of control—over personal perceptions and societal narratives.
"Okay, post it," Hotch said finally, the protective instinct giving way to support for your happiness. You looked at him, a mixture of relief and love washing over you, before pressing the share button.
As you set your phone aside, Hotch reached for your hand, a silent acknowledgment of the new step you both were taking. "How long until the world knows?"
You chuckled, "Give it a few minutes. Penelope probably already has the notifications on."
True to your words, within minutes your phone buzzed with Penelope’s enthusiastic approval and a stream of comments that followed. Hotch couldn’t help but feel a sense of rightness about it all. Maybe, just maybe, this social media thing had its merits, especially if it meant the world would know how proud he was to have you by his side.
aaron’s wife going into labor on his birthday or the day before and gives birth on his birthday?
only more reasons to celebrate
happy birthday aaron 🥰 & the abridged version of ellie's debut!! (now it's official she and aaron share a birthday <3) cw; fem pregnant!reader, (sad) references to 9x5 and takes place end of 9x6, vague childbirth talk with no specific details, fluff!!! wc; 1.3k
"Happy almost birthday. I'll keep it on the DL." You heard Penelope utter to Aaron, faintly as she walked past him.
"Thank you." He replied, finding your eyes and offering a wink.
Come tomorrow, he was confident it would be anything but on the down low. He knew you, and although you were about ready to pop, you would go all out for him as much as you possibly could.
And he was right - you and Jack had already planned his day out to a T, beginning with a birthday banner and all.
"Okay everybody, I guess it's time-" Penelope spoke to the group, embracing her role as hostess, holding the team's very first Day of the Dead party.
You smiled to yourself at their brief exchange, your eyes flicking between the two of them. Your heart warmed, especially when Aaron sidled alongside you, a hand finding your lower back.
After the last few weeks, after what Aaron had endured, there was only more of a reason to celebrate. His close proximity; the heat radiating from his body, the smell of his cologne, choked you up immediately.
Sole reminders he was in fact, here.
Undergoing emergency surgery, fighting for his life - all of which nearly sent you into an early labor - once again he had defied all odds. It could've been very likely you could've been celebrating his birthday without him, talking to him through a candle as he and Jack did to Haley.
You immediately pushed the thought from your mind. It petrified you. Losing him. Bringing your baby into the world without him. Jack losing another parent. Life without Aaron. You couldn't afford to think like that.
And now, with that in the past, it finally felt as if life were settling back down. As much as it could, at least. The newest Hotchner addition soon to make their arrival into your family.
"Hey," You said softly, mumbling underneath Penelope's spiel. "I love you."
His hand moved from your back to your shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze. "I love you."
But despite your want for a bit of normalcy, it was interrupted by twinge erupting in your body. It wasn't your first little pang either, but you figured - it couldn't be. Not yet.
JJ, on the other hand, was keyed in onto you. She's been studying you all night long, throughout all of Penelope's planned extravaganzas - appetizers, the remembrances, enjoying the party. From every movement, reaction, facial expression.
It wasn't until the strongest contraction hit, and when you were beginning to seriously question it. She, out of all people, would know. She nearly did the same thing herself.
"What?" You innocently asked, despite the fact you knew, as her intensifying stare hadn't lifted from you in a fair few minutes. You flinched slightly, pain written across your face. You lowered your hand, deciding against the hors d'oeuvres you had been reaching for.
"How far apart are they?"
That was all JJ had to say, causing an instant standstill in the room. Aaron's eyes widened as they shot to you, realization filling them within a second. The rest of the team's conversations came to a halt, anticipating eyes on you. An excited squeal escaped Penelope.
Everything after that was a blur. Aaron getting you to the car in a frenzy; a very calm, and collected frenzy. Getting to the hospital, checking in, and experiencing the highs and lows of childbirth. At one point, you certainly cut off the circulation in Aaron's hand.
Come mid morning and an epidural later, she was here.
"Sorry for overshadowing your birthday." You took a break from admiring the little one swaddled in your arms to glance at your husband. It was hard to tear your gaze away. She was perfect.
And not only did you feel an outpouring amount of love for her, but Aaron as well. Viewing him in a different, lovingly light. It felt as if your chest could burst with infatuation. She was half you, half him. The two of you brought this bundle of joy into the world, together.
"Are you kidding?" Aaron gave you an almost offended look from where he was seated beside you, before a smile overtook his face. He pressed a kiss to your temple, gazing at your daughter too. "This is easily, easily the best birthday I could ever imagine. You've given me the greatest gift. Thank you for making it even more special, sweetheart."
The happiness on your face grew, and he immediately gave you a kiss. You could feel his smile.
"Thank you for making me a Dad again."
Later in the day, Jack's head poked through the crack of the door, a grinning Jessica behind him.
"Hey," Aaron beckoned the two of them in, both entering slowly. Jess had a plastic tray of cupcakes in hand. Celebrations were in order, times two.
"Hi Mom, Dad."
Jack hesitantly approached, surprisingly shy. You imagined Jessica had given him the quiet talk on the way up. Either that, or maybe he was still a bit weary from when he visited Aaron in the hospital a few weeks ago - there was the smallest bit of worrisome furrowed in his brows.
Jess stepped off to the side, allowing the four of you to have your moment.
"Hi buddy." You greeted as your eyes immediately welled up, the emotion clear in your voice; overwhelmed from enduring childbirth, your hormones everywhere, and the pure happiness coursing through your veins. "Wanna meet your sister?"
It was surreal too; Jack finally meeting his little sibling. After months of excitement, preparation, talks of what life would be like with a new addition. The time had finally arrived.
Right now. Right now was the beginning of their bond that was sure to be the most special thing.
"Sister?" His face lit up, any remaining hesitations aside as he made it to your bedside, attempting to lean over to get a clearer view. "She's a girl?"
"Here, careful." Aaron's hands extended forward, helping him onto the hospital bed. You were sore, multiple IVs were poking into you, and to make certain the baby wasn't disrupted by any of the movement.
Jack nestled gently into your side, peering at her in absolute awe. The smallest of breaths left him, you could feel his exhale on your arm. "I can't believe that's really her. She's so tiny."
"Isn't she? Can you believe you were this small once?" You asked, adjusting the blanket to expose a bit more of her face. At the action, Aaron's posture straightened, ready to assist if needed, or to simply do it for you. He was definitely worried you'd somehow overexert yourself. "Are you up for holding her?"
Jack's expression widened, nodding vigorously as Aaron did help this time - moving her from your arms to his, and ensuring the back of her head was supported. The classic pillow-under-the elbow strategy.
Once settled, her eyes opened for a moment, blinking up at her big brother, as if she knew she was being held by him. Jack's gaze lifted in shock, glancing between you and Aaron. Once again, cue your tears.
"What's her name?"
"Eleanor." Aaron answered proudly, another smile tugging on his lips. You met his gaze, grinning.
"She shares a birthday with you Dad." Jack stated, using the side of his index finger to brush her cheek. "That's so cool. You guys are like twins."
"Yeah well, we'll see how much Eleanor likes it as she gets older."
You playfully rolled your eyes, your reaction causing a chuckle to exit Aaron. His hand found the back of your head, lovingly smoothing your hair down.
"It's very cool." Aaron still confirmed, his heart full. "I was just telling Mom, this is one the best presents I could ever receive."
"And two birthdays mean two birthday cakes." Jack looked up at his father, grinning from ear to ear. "Ellie will love it."
Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.
Notes: Descriptions of DA scenario, mentions of drug use
You tried to go over every thing you did throughout your day that might've caused your boyfriend to be so upset but couldn't think of anything. Maybe it was because you didn't stay up to wait for him to get home last night, even though you gave him till midnight. Or maybe you left some dishes in the sink that he had to clean up.
Either way, his anger was inconsolable and you knew better than to even utter a word as he slammed the doors and walked around the house with a hard set scowl on his face. You just took shelter in the kitchen as you nervously cleaned out the fridge, tossing the expired condiments away.
"This house is always such a fucking mess! You spend at least half the day here, you'd think it would look spotless!"
You knew he wasn't really mad about the cleanliness. You deep cleaned the house every single day till it was shining, he was just projecting. You weren't sure whether to respond to his outburst or just let it go but didn't even have time to make a decision once he came walking into the kitchen. The hairs on the back of your neck raised and your face heated up in anxiety as he stood there staring at you.
That's when you noticed the all too familiar state he was in. Dilated pupils, rapid breathing, slight sweat forming around his brows. He was high.
"What are you doing, huh? Throwing shit away? He said, grabbing the box of leftovers you had saved from a few days ago. "What if I still wanted to eat this? Were you going to bother to ask me?"
"I- uh- it's from a few days ago. I didn't think-
"Exactly! You didn't think! Just fucking throwing away whatever you want!"
You weren't expecting the box of expired food to be thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest, sticky noodles getting in your hair and falling into your lap.
"This is my fucking house! My fucking food! You don't get to throw away anything unless I say you can!"
You had barely recovered from food being thrown at you, you didn't realize he made a moved in on you and grabbing your arm tightly, jerking you up to your feet and pushing you towards the other side of the kitchen, the momentum causing you to lose your footing and fall to the floor.
Your senses were kicking into overdrive as you scrambled to your feet just as he grabbed a jar of pickles and launched it in your direction. It shattered on the wall besides you and you felt the sharp pain of small glass pieces cutting your skin.
You had never seen him this out of control before. There was something behind his eyes that scared you more than normal and you knew you needed to get out of his path of blinding rage. You made a run towards the hallway, him chasing you close behind but you managed to close and lock the bathroom door just in time.
"Oh, you wanna play this game now? Ok."
Your breaths were heavy, so much adrenaline flowing through your veins it almost made you woozy. There was a moment of silence, making you think he had walked away but was completely mistaken once you watched the whole door shake at the impact as he attempted to break it down. Another slam and you saw small cracks forming in the middle of the only thing keeping you safe.
You made a split second decision to escape through the window, sliding it open and trying your best to undo the screen that didn't want to cooperate. Another slam.
You looked behind you at the battered door and knew it could only hold maybe one more before he was able to get through- so like a rat trapped in a corner, you began banging on the screen until it popped off, quickly pulling your body to climb out, scraping your hips on the ledge in the process.
The gravel floor did no favors for you as you landed awkwardly, but at this point you couldn't feel anything. Or at least your brain wasn't giving you any time to register the pain. Springing to your feet, you ran out to the front of the house, your first thought to take the car but realized the keys were inside.
That's when you saw him.
He was standing on his porch going through his mail, seemingly looking like he had just gotten home from somewhere. You had heard rumors from some of the neighbors that he worked for the government or something, giving you some hope.
You began running over to him, not daring to look back to see if your boyfriend was chasing you or not.
He has seen you coming over and immediately looked concerned, putting his mail back in the mailbox and practically catching you in his arms once you reached him.
"Please. Help me- my boyfriend. H-he's gonna kill me."
You were crying now, trying to form sentences when he asked you what happened but couldn't.
When you spotted your boyfriend walk out the front door of your house and look over in your direction, a bat in hand your heart stopped.
"Please. Please," you pleaded, hiding behind his tall frame and holding onto his quarter zip for dear life.
"Here, get inside," he said, opening his front door, the both of you entering as he walked over to his kitchen counter where a gun, badge and handcuffs were set. He grabbed the gun and cuffs, clipping both of them on his waist band and turning to you.
"Stay here."
You nodded obediently and watched him walked back out. He didn't close the door so you were able to watch everything from the moment your boyfriend began waving the bat around crazily towards your neighbor to him pulling out his gun and pointing it at him.
"Get down on the ground!"
For a second you thought your boyfriend wasn't going to listen as he stared at your neighbor with fury but seemed to be coherent enough to drop the bat and put his hands in the air, looking over at you.
"Just you wait, bitch. You'll get yours."
By now, everyone was either peeping through their windows or standing on the sidewalk, nosey to see what all the commotion was about as your neighbor pushed your boyfriend to the floor and handcuffed him.
It wasn't long before multiple cop cars showed up, taking over the scene. Your neighbor made his way over to you and offered you a hand, making you realize that you were sitting on the floor, frozen to the spot, hugging your legs.
"The officers are going to want a report but I want you checked out by the paramedics first."
You took his hand but relied all on him to pull you up as your legs felt like jello. The feeling of relief and sadness overtook you as you fell into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Instead of being pushed away and teased for it like you were used to, you got pulled in tighter and long strong arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in a warm protective embrace.
He let you cry like that for a little until you calmed down enough to walk with him outside to the ambulance that was waiting. He didn't leave as they had you climb inside and lay on the stretcher so one of the paramedics could clean up the small cuts around your arm caused by the glass jar.
"How long have you lived there?" he asked, from besides you on the bench. You hoped he didn't feel guilty for not catching the abuse sooner.
"Not very long. He's been there for years but I just moved in about a few months ago. I don't usually leave the house since I work from home so that's probably why you didn't see me too often," you answered, wincing as the antiseptic touched your raw skin.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Hotchner....I'm actually busy at the moment but you can reach out to my Communications liason, Jennifer Jareau at the office....yes of course....goodbye."
"So you're names Hotchner?" you inquired, wanting to talk about something to keep your mind off the stinging pain.
"Aaron. Hotchners my last name."
"Nice to meet you Aaron. I'm Y/N," you greeted, offering your hand for a shake. He took it with a small smile and shook it gently.
"I wish it was under different circumstances but I'm glad you're safe."
"Thanks to you. I appreciate you by the way. You handled the situation really well."
He did that half smile again and played with his hands, almost nervously.
"Well unfortunately I deal with a lot of high stress situations like that so it was almost second nature."
"Cop?" you prodded, wanting to know if there was any truth to the rumors.
"FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit to be specific."
He didn't go into anymore detail than that but that was more than enough for you. So he's an Federal Agent. You literally couldn't have picked a better neighbor to run to.
- - - -
After the paramedic was done cleaning you up and you gave your report to the officer, Aaron came over, hanging up the phone.
"I know the house is technically not yours but he won't be back anytime soon and I'm sure you need to get cleaned up and everything. I'm gonna give you my card, I wrote my personal cell number in case you need anything but also feel free to come over if my car is in the driveway."
You took the card, reading his slightly sloppy writing and nodded with a smile.
"Thank you again Aaron. Really, you're a lifesaver."
He pulled you in for another hug, surprising you but you accepted it happily.
"No strenuous activity until those cuts and bruises heal," he advised seriously, making you laugh. You both pulled away and it took you a second to actually walk away, not really wanting to leave the comfort of his safe presence but you did and went back into the house, ignoring all of the mess and taking a long needed shower, thinking about everything that happened.
The only thing that Aaron could think of as he was driving was getting to you. He needed to tell you how he felt before him and Jack had to leave tomorrow, he knew he needed to, he just didn’t know how. The two of you had been on a couple of dates whenever he was home for long enough and things had been going great. He’d been working up to telling you how he felt; but he’d just run out of time.
It wasn’t long until he pulled up in front of your house, quickly getting out of his car and making his way to your front door, knocking quickly.
‘Hey,’ you exclaimed, smiling when you saw Aaron standing in front of you, your smile faltering slightly when you saw the look in his eyes and the way he was panting, as if he’d rushed to you. ‘Aaron, is everything - ’
You were cut off by Aaron’s hands cupping your cheeks and bring his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate and quick, as if he couldn’t get close enough to you fast enough. Walking you backwards, he kicked the door shut with his foot, not taking his lips from yours once. One of his arms wrapped around your waist as the other tapped your thigh, telling you to jump. With your legs wrapped around his waist, Aaron walked you through to your bedroom, laying you down on your bed before breaking the kiss, hovering over you.
‘I love you,’ Aaron said simply, watching as your expression morphed into one of surprise.
‘What?’ you asked, not fully registering what he was saying to you, your mind still on that kiss.
Aaron chuckled lightly before gently pressing his lips to yours in quick succession. ‘I love you,’ he said in between kisses, making you giggle and hum happily.
‘I love you too,’ you said, cupping his cheeks and pulling his face until he was looking into your eyes, watching as they softened the second they landed on yours. Instead of replying, Aaron simply leaned down to press his lips gently to yours again, his tongue sweeping against your bottom lip, groaning when you gasped into the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip inside.
His hands roamed your body, impatiently tugging at the waistband of the thin sweat pants you were wearing, slipping his hand inside and moaning when he felt that you weren’t wearing any panties on underneath. ‘It’s like you knew I was coming round,’ he said with a smirk.
‘What can I say, I just had a feeling I’d be seeing you tonight. And tomorrow night, and the night after,’ you replied in a teasing tone. Any other day this would have made Aaron let out a soft chuckle as you referenced the amount of times he stays round yours. He wanted nothing more than to be able to keeping coming round every night but he knew that tonight was the last time he was going to see you; most probably for good. Early tomorrow morning, Aaron and his son, Jack, were being put into witness protection to keep them safe from Mr Scratch who had begun to stalk them. He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this tonight, that he should just tell you; he just didn’t have the heart to look you in your eyes and tell you he was leaving.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ you asked, a smile playing on your lips as he just stared at you for a while.
‘Nothing, you’re beautiful,’ he said, his head then ducking down to leave a trail of kisses down your throat.
The next morning, you woke with a smile playing on your lips as you remembered the events from last night before taking stock, figuring what aches or not. Rolling onto your front, your arm came out to rest on Aaron’s chest, only to find his side of the bed cold and made.
---
Opening your eyes with a frown, you looked over to see that you were alone in the room. ‘Aaron?’ you called out, wondering if he’d simply woken early and gone downstairs. Before you had the chance to go and look for him, your eyes caught on a small piece of paper sitting on your dresser. Walking over, you felt tears gather in your eyes as soon as you started reading:
(Y/N), my love,
I’m sorry I’ve done it this way, I know it’s the cowardly thing to do, the mean thing to do, but I couldn’t stand the idea of seeing how much I’ve hurt you. Jack and I are being put into witness protection. I won’t go into why, the most important reason being to keep you safe. Believe me, it’s the last thing I wanted to do but it’s the safest thing for Jack and he needs to be my priority, I know you understand that.
Part of me is happy that I’ve told you this way, because now, the image of your face when you told me that you loved me too is the thing that I’m going to hold onto while I’m away. I’m sorry I only told you last night, I should have told you sooner, I just didn’t know how and I ran out of time.
I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I will come back for you I promise, I don’t know when, but I will. Until then, there’s something downstairs for you to remember me by. I’m not expecting you to wait for me and if you don’t I’ll understand, but I really hope you do.
I’ll be waiting for you.
I love you.
Aaron
Without wasting a second, tears still streaming down your cheeks, you raced downstairs. Another frown appearing on your lips when you saw a teddy sitting on your sofa that you knew wasn’t there the night before. The moment you picked it up, you were engulfed in the scent of Aaron’s aftershave and a quick squeeze to its paw allowed a message to play in Aaron’s voice.
‘I love you,’ the bear said over and over again as you continuously squeezed the paw, tears flooding from your eyes as you wondered when you’d see him again.
Requested by Anon: Hi can you do one where the reader is pregnant and she comes to visit Hotch at work and when she’s getting ready to leave she trips on the last step and hotch and the team rush to her side and hotch force her to go to the hospital to get checked out
Notes: Okay, I know I don’t do requests, but this just seemed like such a nice break after finishing part one of The In-Betweens S3. I’m not opening requests, but thank you for sending this in because I had fun writing it. I’ve never written for Hotch before, so it was nice to branch out! I hope you like it.
More Criminal Minds: HERE
-
He hadn’t been expecting you, otherwise he would have told you not to come. It was chaos in the bullpen, FBI and CIA scrambling about to finish wrapping up the case- a rogue agent on a kidnapping spree to get information on his family’s deaths.
Aaron couldn’t help but pity him. The man’s wife and two daughters were killed in a car accident, but the nature of his work made him paranoid enough to convince him of foul play. And, while the CIA had been reluctant to cooperate, the working teams were able to reach a peaceful conclusion, the agent facing trial and the victims sent home to their families and lives.
You were surprised to find the BAU so busy. Of course, your husband hadn’t been allowed to disclose anything about the case, but you suspected it must have been big to require all this manpower.
“Mrs. Hotchner!” A friendly voice called over the commotion.
Agent Jareau’s smiling face appeared from a sea of serious scowls.
“JJ,” you smiled, relieved to finally see someone familiar. “What’s going on, Strauss’s retirement party?”
She laughed and made a face of ‘I wish.’
“Big case. Long story.” She took your hand to lead you through the wall of suits. “Hotch is in his office.”
“I think I see him.” You stood on your tiptoes to get a glimpse into the elevated office but there were just too many people. “Where’s the team?”
JJ laughed and pointed to the conference room. “Hiding.”
Sure enough, you could just spot the lanky form of Dr. Reid standing in front of the board, solving some long and complex equation. Agents Morgan and Prentiss were discussing something about the file in front of them and Dave Rossi looked like he just wanted to go home.
While you watched them, another agent barreled by you, hardly noticing that you were even there, let alone that they’d almost knocked you over. Stumbling back, you reached for something to grab onto.
A hand took hold of yours.
“Careful,” Aaron, despite his cautious tone, gave you a small smile. “It’s a circus in here.”
“So I noticed, Mr. Ringleader,” you beamed, kissing his cheek.
“Is everything okay? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” His eyes flicked down to your middle, worry growing with his words.
You held up a to-go bag with your free hand.
“Lunch emergency. Code red, Agent Hotchner.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, come on.” Keeping hold of your hand, he guided you through the mess to the somewhat quiet refuge of his office. He closed the door behind him, sighing with relief.
“You have no idea how nice it is to see you.”
“I should hope so.” You gave him a mock pout. “You’ve been holed up here for two days. I missed you.”
“I know.” He leaned down, kissing you sweetly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” You rustled his hair. “Hence, lunch.” You set the bag of pasta on his desk. “Mariano’s.”
Aaron smiled, leaning his head back with a happy sigh. “You’re a saint.”
“I know.” You took the containers from the bag and placed them on his desk. “The team looks tired.” You handed him a fork.
“It’s been a long few days.” Aaron took on his serious work-voice. He gazed out over the bullpen. There was a tension you knew all too well built up in his shoulders. Like he held the weight of the world on them.
“Seems like it.” Tearing off a piece of garlic bread, you watched him watch the world. He stood there for a while before you gently grabbed his hand. “Aaron.” You brought his hand to your lips. “Eat.”
Like snapping out of a trance, your husband returned to himself, his eyes softening and the hard set of his mouth lifting into a smile.
Aaron moved his chair around his desk to sit beside you rather than across, his leg grazing yours. You passed him the garlic bread.
“So,” you started, popping a piece into your mouth, “anything not super-secret-classified about your day?”
He thought for a moment. “Reid recited three pages of Freud from memory, Garcia continues to scare me with her hacking ability and my beautiful wife brought me lunch.” His leg nudged yours again affectionately. “What about you?”
“Nothing special,” you shrugged. “I just got assigned the Brunner case.”
Aaron coughed, nearly choking on his chicken parm.
“The ADA’s giving it to you?”
Your face broke into a wide, excited smile. You nodded. “She said, and I quote ‘You’re the only one I trust to get that bastard behind bars.’” You beamed.
Aaron set his food aside and pulled you into his arms. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips.
Your husband wasn’t one for PDA, so any exception always made you feel like a blushing schoolgirl.
“I start prep on Monday,” you said as he sat back again. “Then maybe you’ll be the one waiting up for me.” You stole a bite of his meal. “Lot of late nights in my future.”
His excitement slowly morphed into concern.
“Before you say anything, I already spoke with Dr. Brown, and she said I'll be fine as long as I still get plenty of rest.”
“And do you actually plan on getting plenty of rest?”
You raised a brow, teasing, “Are you the pot or the kettle in this scenario?”
He snorted. “Well, honey, I’m not four months pregnant.”
“I could still kick your ass in court and you know it, Agent Hotchner,” you smirked.
“I don’t doubt it.” He picked at his food, seemingly lost in pleasant thought.
You, content that you’d won the potential argument, glanced back out at the office. A harsh tension still hung in the air, the two agencies clearly not thrilled to share their success with the other. Familiar faces emerged from the other room, prompting your question.
“Have you told them yet?”
“Told who what?” Aaron asked, pretending to be more focused on his food than what was on his mind.
You rolled your eyes. “The team. About…” You pointed at your almost-showing belly.
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No.”
“You should.” You looked at Reid’s fidgeting hands and Prentiss’s tired frown. “They look like they could use some exciting news.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. You may not have been a profiler, but you knew your husband.
Telling them made it real. Real meant the real world. The real world meant danger. Danger meant loss. The longer you could both live in the beautiful, safe, fantasy world, the easier it seemed.
“Aaron-” You started, but were interrupted by an awful shrill mechanical shriek. You grimaced, putting your hands over your ears. “Don’t tell me there’s a fire drill.”
Aaron shook his head, worry settling into his expression.
“Stay close to me.”
You made no argument there. Regretfully abandoning your meals, Aaron kept an arm around you as you reentered the chaos. People were cramming around the staircase doors, shouting and grumbling at each other.
“So much for ‘calm and orderly fashion’,” you muttered.
Aaron gently tugged on your arm. “This way.”
One of the doors had a shorter line, but only slightly. By the time you made it through the door, the stairwell was packed with people hurrying down, paying no attention to the people around them. At some point, Aaron lost hold of your hand.
“Y/N?” He called out.
That’s when he saw you fall.
You didn't even see who ran into you. They just rammed into you from the side, pushing their way down the stairs. Your foot caught on the wall, your arms reeling for something to grab onto, but unlike last time, you weren’t fast enough. You tumbled forward. The people in front of you kept moving, leaving a set of hard stone stairs to break your fall.
“Y/N!” Aaron yelled.
You hit the ground and were pretty sure someone stepped on you. Catching yourself with your left hand, you felt a sudden, painful snap. You bit back the scream of pain, but it escaped nonetheless.
“Everybody move!” Aaron’s commanding, panicked voice took over the stairwell, joined by other voices.
“Mrs. Hotchner, are you okay?” Dr. Reid appeared in front of you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“It’s my wrist,” you winced, trying to move your fingers. “But I think I’m okay.”
Someone lifted you up.
“We need to get her to the hospital,” Aaron said. His dark eyes were wide and frantic and focused on you.
Morgan rushed by. “I’ll get the car.”
“Aaron, I’m okay,” you said again, but he ignored you.
“Prentiss, find out what’s going on,” he ordered. “There shouldn’t be a drill.” He feared the worst. This was planned. Someone was waiting outside to gun everyone down. Someone was after you.
“On it.” She hurried off as well.
“I didn’t get a chance to examine it fully, but it looks like it might be broken,” Reid added.
“Aaron-”
“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke more to himself than to you. “You’ll be okay.”
-
You were, in fact, fine. A broken wrist, sure, but all together could have been worse. But then came his second concern. One you could clearly see on his face as he spoke to the doctor.
“You really freaked him out,” Agent Prentiss said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”
“I told him everything was fine,” you sighed, laying a hand over your middle. You didn’t know how, but you could just tell everything was alright. It had to be. But he needed to be sure. “Thank you, Agent Prentiss. For getting to the bottom of it all.”
“Please, call me Emily.” She smiled. “He must have thought it was something planned and sinister.”
Someone had put a fork in the microwave. Apparently, agents are definitely not geniuses. Except for Dr. Reid, of course.
You laughed. “The dangers of your job, huh?”
She shrugged.
A moment passed.
“So are you going to tell everyone?” She blurted.
Your mouth fell open.
Emily raised a brow. “It isn’t hard to guess by the way he looked at you. And you haven’t taken your arms off your stomach since you got here.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms fully. “Profilers.”
She laughed and put a hand on yours. “I’m sure everything is fine.”
Aaron walked into the room with the seriousness he usually reserved for cases. But when he looked at you, he let out a sigh of relief.
“Dr. Brown said everything is fine.”
“I told you.”
You wouldn’t admit it, but for a second you were terrified. But seeing him happy and relieved made it all go away.
He was at your side in seconds, kissing the top of your head.
“You thought Brunner was after me, didn’t you?” You asked, realizing why he’d been so interested in the alarm.
“It crossed my mind.”
“Yeah, well,” you gripped his tie and pulled his lips to yours. “He’s going to have to try harder than a spoon in the microwave.”
“That’s not funny.”
You kissed him again. “It’s a little funny.”
-
The whole team was waiting, each looking more worried than the last.
“Guys, I didn’t get shot,” you teased. You held up the cast on your arm for emphasis.
“We know.” Reid gulped, fidgeting with his sleeve. “You just seemed to fall pretty hard and-”
“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” JJ said.
You peered at each of them and put your good hand on your hip.
“Alright, how many of you know?”
The pretend confusion on their faces told you all you needed. You cast an exasperated look at your husband.
“Damn profilers.”
The group laughed. Dave gave you a hug and Morgan shook Aaron’s hand.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Hotchner.” Dr. Reid said, smiling through his usual timidness. He turned to Hotch. “I’m really happy for both of you.”
“Thank you, Reid,” Aaron said. The two embraced, the sight warming your heart.
You wrapped your arms around your husband. Aaron kissed your temple.
hotch playing tea time with his daughter and he’s forced to wear tiaras, sit in a small chair, and drink his imaginary tea with his pinky up and mom!reader is just laughing and sneaks a picture to send to the team
- 💗
💗 anon, you shall get a hundred kisses <3
Tea time
Cw: fem!mom!reader, fluff, girl dad Aaron, no use of yn, Aaron being a complete pushover
Word count: 1.2k
----
His knees ache.
Come to think of it, so does his back. Sitting cramped in a plastic pink chair, folded nearly in half will do that to him, Aaron thinks.
His stuffed companions don’t seem to suffer from the same fate. They’re happily drinking their tea and enjoying their biscuits, much like Aaron is supposed to be doing. He almost envies the way their furry legs rest comfortably on their matching pink chairs.
“Purple or pink?” Olivia asks him, holding out two tiaras.
Aaron eyes the sharp combs at the end of them with mild terror. He opens his mouth to decline—he almost does, really—but Olivia’s eyes are wide and impatient, exactly like yours.
The protest gets trapped in his throat.
“Uhh, don’t you have a blue one?” He asks, mentally kicking himself. “I seem to remember buying you a blue tiara.”
“Nope! Purple or pink?” Olivia asks again. Her own tiara rests lopsidedly on her head, its purple jewels catching the sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. The color matches with her Princess Rapunzel dress he’d gotten her at Disney World.
Well, at least nobody else is gonna see him in it.
“Purple,” Aaron decides. “So I can match with you, won’t that be nice?”
“But you won’t be the princess, too,” his daughter says. A small frown pulls her brows together, exactly the same as his—and way too stern for a four-year-old. Aaron gently touches the scrunch until it fades. “I’m the only princess.”
“Of course,” Aaron agrees softly. He adjusts her lopsided crown. “I’ll be the prince, is that okay?”
“No.” Olivia giggles, two of his dimples appearing in her cheeks. “Silly Daddy. You’ll be the king!” She says as she grabs the purple tiara and rises on her tiptoes, trying to reach the top of his head.
Aaron bends his neck down, a hand going to her waist to steady her until her heels touch the ground again. “How could I have forgotten,” he murmurs, his small smile turning into a wince when the combs of the tiara dig against his scalp. He bites down on his tongue to trap the hiss in his throat, forcibly stretching his lips into another smile as he looks up at Olivia with mildly watering eyes.
“How do I look?”
“Kingly.” His daughter giggles. Aaron blinks back the blurriness in his vision, smiling as Olivia picks up her purple fairy wand and waves it around theatrically before she clears her throat, “And now I dec—del…delcare—”
“Declare.”
“—declare it’s time for teatime!”
She sets down her wand and pours the very strong concoction of tap water into Aaron’s teacup, her tongue peeking out as she holds the lid of the teapot to keep it steady. Some of the faux tea spills over the rim and splashes onto his sweatpants, turning the fabric into a darker gray as Olivia hands him a plate of plastic cake when she’s done.
Aaron accepts it graciously. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He places the plate next to his tea and fumbles for the teacup, struggling to hook his finger through the handle.
“Y’welcome,” Olivia mumbles, too busy with pouring the rest of her guests’ tea.
Did they poke the hole with a needle? Aaron resigns himself to picking up the teacup from its sides. It gets swallowed up by his hands, his fingers overlapping around its circumference.
“Being a hostess is hard work, isn’t it?” He asks as he watches her hand out cake slices to their stuffed companions.
“Mommy does it an’ she’s good at it.”
“She is,” Aaron chuckles, “guess you got that from her, huh?”
“Mhm.” Olivia finally plops down onto her chair, tilting her crown again as she reaches for her own teacup with a deep sigh.
“So how have you been ruling over your subjects?” Aaron asks seriously. He turns to the stuffed animals lining the table; her teddy and Jack’s orca and a battered unicorn from Penelope, “Are you all satisfied with the way Princess Livvy is treating you?”
“Princess Olivia, Daddy.” She corrects, frowning a little and continuing again before Aaron can remedy his mistake. “They say we go t’bed too early,” Olivia pouts.
“Do they? Well,” he brings the teacup to his lips again, pretending to take a sip, “I say—”
“Daddy, y’have to do this,” Olivia interrupts, picking up her own teacup and sticking out her pinky. She looks at Aaron expectantly.
“Oh, forgive me.” Aaron says and sticks his out, too. “Is that better?”
A muffled laugh catches his attention. That in itself makes him smile, but when he hears the not so subtle click of a camera, his eyes flick to you.
Caught.
You bite your lip and throw him a wink, disappearing behind the door frame with your phone held in your hand.
Aaron turns back to Olivia as he sets down his teacup. “I’m so sorry, your highness, may I be excused for a moment?”
“You’ll come back?” She frowns, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Aaron stifles a laugh; his daughter through and through.
“Yes, baby.” He promises.
Her frown clears. “Okay.”
Aaron eagerly gets up from the cramped chair, his knees cracking when he straightens. He stifles a wince and leaves Olivia’s bedroom, immediately finding you in the hallway just outside. There’s a grin on your face as you look down at your phone, thumbs flying over the screen.
You hear him and look up, your smile turning sheepish as you click your phone shut and slide it into your back pocket.
He crosses over to you, his arms wrapping around your body, hands dipping into your pockets to search for your phone.
“Delete that.” Aaron murmurs.
You slap his hands away. “Delete what?”
“The picture.” He lifts his brow. Your mouth drops open, no doubt to deny it, and he cuts across you, “I know you took one, honey, don’t play dumb.”
The corner of your lip pinches as you try to hold back a wider smile. “That’s a cute crown. But sorry, your majesty,” you bow, “it’s already been sent to the group chat.”
“Jesus Christ.” Aaron groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
A grin splits your face in half. You pull his hands away from his eyes, gently holding them in your own. “So does that make me queen now?”
“It makes you a traitor. I’ll call Garcia about this.”
You blow a raspberry in his face. “Please. She’s the first one to back it up on all her devices. You’re too late, bossman,” you straighten his tiara.
Aaron winces as the combs dig in deeper. He gently holds your wrist, his scalp just shy of weeping blood.
Your eyes shine as you press your lips together, the corners of them turning up as you try in vain to hold back a smile. “You look very kingly, your majesty.” The edges of your voice quiver with a laugh.
Aaron sighs. “Your daughter said the same.” He drones flatly.
