Len (she/her) | 23 | Slytherin 🐍 | ♓ | Link to my MASTERLIST REQUESTS are open! 💌 Mainly writing for characters of the MCU, Harry Potter and Knives Out.
Aaron Hotcher/Female Reader (9.4k words)
Also available on AO3
Summary:
You blamed it on the alcohol.
The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.
OR
Five times you regretted telling Penelope your secret crush and the one time you didn’t.
You blamed it on the alcohol.
The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.
Thankfully, it had only been the two of you in her apartment when you blurted out your long-held thoughts on the BAU’s unit chief.
Penelope, of course, had been delighted to hear that you were smitten with the boss-man and wasted no time in plotting and planning your confession to him.
To which you had laughed heartily and patted her hand conciliatorily—and perhaps a bit patronizingly at such a silly idea—because there was no way in this great big beautiful world of ours that you would ever say those words to Agent Hotchner’s face.
Because then he would hear them and then he would know and then what would you do?
You supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to pack up and move to someplace like Timbuktu, or Wales, or New Zealand, never to speak with anyone ever again. You’re sure you could find a way to make a living wherever you ended up.
Because you knew that confessing to him could only lead to one thing and you weren’t up for that level of rejection, no matter how gently he tried to deliver it—and you knew he would be as kind as possible. That was an interaction you could live without, thank you very much.
You had planned to keep your burgeoning feelings tucked safely away in a hidden corner of your heart, only to be brought out on special occasions and holidays like fine china. Or, if you were being honest, after every interaction you had with the man and sometimes late at night when the loneliness was at its peak.
But you had never planned on telling anyone, let alone your co-worker turned friend who was notoriously bad at keeping secrets and a world-class meddler.
Thus began a war of wills between you and your friend; Penelope, determined to help you find love and happiness with a man she was convinced was just as smitten with you as you were with him, and you, ready to thwart her at every turn because there was no way a man like him would ever be interested in you.
***
The first skirmish happened a few days after your drunken divulgence.
You were standing in Penelope’s lair, taking notes on the tasks she needed your help with.
Like her, you were a technical analyst, though you worked in another department. You were nowhere near the caliber of Penelope—few were—but you were capable at your job. That was how you met her, in fact. You had been called in to help with some background checks and surface-level research while Penelope had been tasked with a deep dive that needed her full attention.
That was also how you met Agent Hotchner.
You had been hurrying out of the elevator and down the hall to the office your supervisor directed you to, focusing on finding the correct door—both nervous and excited to be assigned to help the prestigious BAU—when you accidentally bumped into a tall man exiting said office. Though bumped into was a gentle way of saying that you rammed your face straight into his chest at full speed.
You heard a low oof as the head-on collision caused you to bounce backward on your heels and you could feel yourself teetering before a large, warm hand steadied you.
You looked up—and up, he really was impressively tall compared to you—into dark eyes set in a rather stern face. The imposing man stared down intently at you with a furrowed brow and for one panic-fueled moment, you felt as though those eyes could see into your very soul.
But then rationality returned and you realized you were standing incredibly close to a stranger that you had literally just run into.
You had backed up immediately causing his hand to drop from your arm and your traitorous brain had quickly noted multiple things simultaneously; namely that his chest was appealingly firm, that he smelled amazing, and that his hand had felt comfortingly warm.
Any one of those thoughts would have been enough to make you blush, but the combination created an almost overwhelming heat that quickly flooded your cheeks.
“I am so sorry,” you blurted as you straightened, regaining your balance. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and didn’t see you and I didn’t mean to nearly bowl you over. Are you okay? I really am sorry—”
“Yes, I’m fine,” a low, gruff voice interrupted. “Are you? You hit pretty hard.”
Your face was positively flaming now.
“I am so sorry.” You shook your head. “I’m okay. No pain beyond excruciating embarrassment. I promise I am usually much more aware of my surroundings.”
The hint of a smile softened his features. “No harm done. Was there something I could help you with?”
You smiled, relieved that he wasn’t upset with you and more than happy to change the topic. “I’m looking for a Miss Garcia? My supervisor Agent O’Neill sent me.”
“Ah, yes. I was expecting you. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, I asked Sam to send me her best.”
The blush that had finally started to recede reared back to life as you grinned sheepishly. “Rest assured, my computer skills are much better than my coordination.”
And that’s when your life as you knew it was changed forever because Aaron Hotchner had the audacity to smile at you. Dimples and all.
Then he chuckled. Lowly and gruffly and insanely attractively.
And you were instantly smitten, with no hope of reversing the damage that had been done by the proverbial Cupid’s arrow that he’d just launched at you.
With no regard for your sudden life-altering moment, Agent Hotchner had unceremoniously guided you into Miss Garcia’s office, performed a quick introduction, and then sauntered off without a second glance, unknowingly carrying away a tiny piece of your heart in his hands.
It had taken you a few moments to focus on the task at hand, but Penelope had been patient with you, and once you were able to shake off the effects of meeting Agent Hotchner, the two of you got down to business.
You and Penelope had worked well together that day and you had since been asked back multiple times. Hence your summons to her domain today.
The two of you were wrapping up when a knock sounded at the door and Agent Hotchner entered.
“Garcia, I—Oh, good she’s here. I was just going to suggest you call in some reinforcements if you needed any help but seems you beat me to it.” He smiled at Penelope and acknowledged you with a nod. “Nice to see you again.”
It took you a second to realize he was speaking to you—as focused as you were on his incredibly distracting smile—causing you to rush out your response in a moment of embarrassment. “Oh, yes sir. Nice to see you too, Agent Hotchner.”
His eyes did a cursory scan of you, something you noticed he did every time you saw him, though you guessed that was something ingrained in him at this point after all his years as a profiler. “You can call me Hotch, if you’d like. Everyone else does.”
You prayed your face was not glowing as pink as you thought it was. “Oh, I… Thank you, but I…”
You sighed, frustrated with how you were stumbling over your words.
Thankfully, his phone rang before things became even more awkward and he excused himself. You could hear his curt “Hotchner” as the door closed behind him.
You kept your back to Penelope, but you could practically feel the elation radiating from her.
“Saved by the cell, huh?” Her teasing tone was only a tiny bit irritating. You couldn’t really blame her. You’d be teasing her if the situation were reversed.
You pressed your hands to your burning cheeks and turned to look at her. “Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how bad was that really?”
“Oh, a solid five.”
You groaned.
“But there is a silver lining.”
“How? I completely forgot the entirety of the English language and I’m sure I could heat the room with my face.”
Penelope chuckled and leaned forward. “Don’t think I didn’t notice him taking a good look at you. Those eyes lingered on their way back up, too.” She smiled smugly. “I told you that skirt was fire.”
“No, I seriously doubt that’s what he was noticing. He was probably just reading my incredibly awkward body language.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’d love to study your body in every language.”
“Penelope!”
***
It was two weeks later, and thankfully you hadn’t had another awkward encounter with Agent Hotcher.
Though, you knew it was likely you were living on borrowed time.
You were arriving to work with Penelope, having met at her favorite cafe to grab breakfast together before heading in. You each had decided to surprise your respective teams with their own treats as well, so you both were juggling your drinks and a large box of delicious-smelling pastries.
As you approached the entrance, one of the guards spotted you and kindly held a door open for you to enter. Not wanting him to wait, you hurried up the steps only to trip on the last one, nearly dropping everything as you stumbled about, trying to regain your balance. You managed to save the pastries, but your half-full coffee tumbled to the ground, the lid popping open and spraying you with the contents.
Penelope turned back to check on you. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just tripped.” You looked down to see your new heels completely soaked.
Bending down, you quickly dabbed at the coffee staining your shoes with the napkins you’d grabbed at the cafe, hoping the liquid would just wipe off. It did not.
You huffed as you stood. “Well, fuck. I just bought these.”
Good thing you kept an extra pair of shoes in your office.
Penelope blinked. “Did you just cuss?”
You blinked back at her. “Yes?”
She gasped dramatically. “I’ve never heard you cuss before!”
You resisted rolling your eyes as you continued past her into the lobby, thanking the guard who was still gallantly holding the door. You spoke over your shoulder to Penelope. “Oh, come on. It’s just a word.”
“I know but I can’t believe my little Cinnamon Roll just used an expletive!”
“Your Cinnamon Roll? I thought that was Morgan.”
“Nope. He’s my Chocolate Thunder. Or Hot Stuff. Or Angel Face. You are my Cinnamon Roll.”
You snorted as you walked through the metal detectors, gathering your items again on the other side. “How am I the cinnamon roll when you’re here?”
“Because that’s what you are, sugar.” She blew you a kiss as she grabbed her things.
You eyed her suspiciously. “This is going to be what you call me from now on, isn’t it?”
She smiled gleefully. “Yep!”
“Well, if I’m going to be Cinnamon Roll, then I’m calling you Cupcake.”
“Cupcake?”
“Yeah, because cupcakes are all bright and colorful, fun and sweet. Like you.”
Penelope grinned. “Aw, thanks.”
You wrinkled your nose at her. “You’re welcome.”
You balanced the pastry box in one hand as you pressed the elevator call button. “And I guess I’ll accept being your Cinnamon Roll. Makes a bit of sense, actually. They may not always be the best looking things but they are sweet and a little spicy. Maybe a bit dry sometimes but always enjoyable.”
“What’s dry but enjoyable?”
You startled at the deep voice coming from behind you, turning to see Agent Hotchner looking between the two of you. Beside you, Penelope was grinning mischievously.
“Cinnamon rolls.” She chirped, looking much too pleased at the turn of events.
You could feel the blush coming as you heard the ding signaling the arriving elevator.
Being the gentleman that he was, Agent Hotchner reached forward to hold the doors, gesturing for the two of you to enter. He followed you in and hit the buttons for both of your floors.
Penelope glanced at you with a smirk. “You like cinnamon rolls, don’t you sir?”
Agent Hotchner hummed in agreement. “I do. They’re my favorite breakfast treat, actually.”
“Your favorite, huh?” Penelope waggled her eyebrows at you and you thanked everything that was good that Agent Hotcher was standing in front of her and didn’t look around to see her display or the ever-persistent blush on your face his mere presence caused.
“Good thing I grabbed some to share this morning then.” Penelope winked at you.
Agent Hotchner looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes darting to you briefly. “I wouldn’t say no to a cinnamon roll.”
He faced forward again while you tried your hardest not to die on the spot.
Penelope nudged you with her elbow, her face more gleeful than you’d ever seen it.
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open to your floor, saving you from more of Penelope’s not-at-all subtle teasing.
Agent Hotcher stepped to the side, allowing you to exit, which you did with a nod, forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. “Have a good day, Pen. Agent Hotchner.”
“You, too.”
You closed your eyes at the sound. Did he have to say it all low and raspy like that? Didn’t he know he should be careful how he wielded that voice of his? It was dangerous, to both your heart and your knickers.
You rushed down the hall without a second glance.
An hour later, you received a text from Penelope, and you couldn’t help but laugh. She’d sent a photo of the team enjoying their pastries, with a heart drawn around Agent Hotcher as he took a large bite from one of the cinnamon rolls. See, her accompanying text said, he looooves cinnamon rolls.
***
A few days later, you were in the BAU bullpen chatting with Penelope and Morgan before heading home for the day.
You were chuckling at the back-and-forth banter between the two when a bright voice cried, “Miss Penelope!”
The three of you turned to see an excited Jack Hotchner rushing towards you, his beleaguered aunt not far behind.
You had met Jack a few times and always enjoyed seeing the cheerful boy, who was now giving Penelope a fierce hug.
“Hey, mini Hotch! How’s it going?”
Jack beamed up at Penelope. “I did it! I got an A on that presentation you helped me with. The teacher liked the design and everything! She said it was very creative.”
“That’s awesome!” Penelope cheered.
“Way to go, little man!” Morgan gave Jack a high-five while you and his aunt Jessica shared a grin.
“I was going to take him home like usual,’ Jessica said. “But he insisted he had to tell Miss Penelope immediately.”
“What was the presentation on, Jack?” You asked.
He turned with a grin. “Darth Vader: From Hero to Villian to Heroic Anti-Villian.”
Your lips curled into a matching grin. “That sounds amazing actually.”
“The teacher even let me do part of the presentation in my mask!”
“You have a Darth Vader mask?”
He nodded. “It’s a full mask that lights up and everything.”
“That’s so cool. Does it augment your voice and do the—“ You mimicked Darth Vader’s breathing as best you could. It was a poor imitation, but it made Jack giggle, so you counted it as a win anyway.
“It does! My dad got me the full costume for Halloween.”
“That sounds like the best costume ever. I’m sad I missed seeing it.”
“Oh, Aunt Jessica videoed it. I can show you, if you want.”
“Yeah, I’d love that.”
You looked to Jessica with a smile as Jack blurted out. “Okay!”
And with that, he spun and dashed towards his dad’s office.
“Wait, Jack! Don’t… Aaand he’s gone.” You looked towards Jessica, Penelope, and Morgan, who all just shrugged.
Moments later Jack returned, pulling a confused Agent Hotchner behind him. He stopped beside you and looked up at his dad. “I need your phone please.”
Agent Hotchner blinked. “What do you need it for?”
Jack pointed at you. “So I can show her that video of my Vader costume,” he said in a tone that implied he thought the reason was obvious.
“The video that your aunt, who’s standing right beside her, also has on her phone?”
“Yeah.” Jack replied.
“Then why did you need my phone?”
Jack shrugged. “I dunno. You always let me use it when I ask.”
With the long-suffering sigh of a father used to his son’s antics, Agent Hotchner pulled out his phone to pull up the video, then handed it to Jack. “Here.”
“Thanks, Dad!” Jack smiled sweetly at him.
You could feel your biological clock screaming at you as you witnessed Agent Hotchner completely soften and smile down at his son fondly, all the irritation from a moment ago forgotten.
Holy moly, but fatherhood was a good look on him. You’d never really been interested in the concepts of DILFs, but you certainly were now.
With your ogling, you nearly missed the start of the video when Jack held it a bit too closely to your face in his eagerness to share it with you. You steadied it with your hand and lowered it so you could watch it together.
You grinned as you watched Jack having the time of his life, fully decked out in the coolest Darth Vader costume you had ever seen, as he wielded his lightsaber and used the Force to ‘open’ a set of elevator doors.
You listened as he explained all the features of the costume and lightsaber, and how he still liked to put it on sometimes at home.
“Dad said the next free weekend we have, we can watch all of the movies together.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun. I used to watch them with my mom and we’d stock up on candy and popcorn. Of course, there were only three movies back then.”
“Really? Which is your favorite movie?”
“Return of the Jedi.”
Jack gasped. “That’s Dad’s favorite, too!”
You glanced at Agent Hotchner, shooting him a quick smile, before Jack drew your attention again by asking another question. “Who is your favorite character? I like Darth Vader but Luke is cool too.”
“Princess Leia.”
“Oh,” Jack said sounding a little disappointed. “But she didn’t have a lightsaber or use the Force or anything.”
“No, but she is a princess with a blaster, and she’s just as tough as the guys. She took down Jabba with a chain. And she’s really clever.”
Jack tilted his head and squinted his eyes in thought before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s actually pretty cool for a princess.”
“And her second favorite character is Han Solo.” Penelope chimed in. She turned to you with a much too innocent smile. “Isn’t he the one who inspired your admiration of tall, dark, and handsome men?”
If death by glare were possible, Penelope would become its latest statistic.
Jack spoke excitedly beside you while you kept your lethal glare focused on your friend and pointedly did not look at anyone else. Especially the tall, dark, and handsome man standing nearby. “Dad! She likes Han Solo, too!”
Agent Hotchner chuckled. “Yeah, I heard buddy.”
“She likes your favorite movie and your favorite character!”
“She must have good taste, then.”
“Oh, she does,” Penelope agreed. “Impeccable taste. In fact, you might be pleasantly surprised by the things she loves.”
You couldn’t bear to look at Agent Hotchner’s reaction to that, so you dropped your eyes to your hands, fiddling with the phone you were still holding.
His phone.
You squeezed your eyes shut before looking back up at him, only to find him already looking at you.
“Oh,” you breathed and quickly offered the phone back to him. “I’m sorry Agent Hotchner. I forgot I was still holding on to this. Thank you for letting us borrow your phone.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled as he took the phone, his hand brushing against yours and it was just as warm as you remembered. “And it’s Hotch, remember?”
You fought against the urge to drop your head again to hide from his piercing eyes and forced yourself to nod nonchalantly, though your words came out more breathy than you liked. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes seemed to darken at that and you found yourself torn between losing yourself in his gaze and fleeing before he caught on to your desire to do just that.
Luckily, you were saved from having to decide by Jessica’s phone ringing loudly and drawing your attention. She gave an apologetic smile before giving a quick goodbye kiss to Jack and a fond pat on Agent Hotchner’s arm. “Sorry, I have to run. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Seizing the opportunity, you quickly followed suit. “I need to head out, too. I’ll walk with you.”
You gave everyone a short wave and spun to follow her, not looking back until you were at the elevators. A subtle peek provided you one last view of Agent Hotchner smiling down at his son, prompting your own soft smile.
You had only meant to steal a glimpse, but you could never resist it when he smiled. Before you could tear your eyes away, he glanced up and caught you watching, his warm smile now directed at you.
You jerked your head forward, embarrassed at being caught and hoping Jessica hadn’t noticed your crimson cheeks.
If the grin on her face was anything to go by, she had. Thankfully, she was kind enough not to tease you about it.
Even when you darted into the elevator before the doors were fully open and wedged yourself in the corner out of view with an unflattering squeak as you pressed your hands to your flaming cheeks.
***
You were making your way to the cafeteria to grab a quick lunch when you heard the rapid staccato of high heels behind you.
“Hey, Cinnamon Roll!” Penelope scurried to catch up with you. “Fancy seeing you here.”
You chuckled. “You mean here at the cafeteria where I almost always grab lunch around this time? What are the odds?”
She swatted at you with a tsk as she linked her arm with yours. “Don’t be cheeky.”
“Please. You love me being cheeky.”
“Yeah, but not when it’s directed at me.”
“Whatever you say, Cupcake.”
You made your way into the queue, peeking to see what was on offer for the day. The food was generally good, but sometimes the options were limited. You ended up settling for a sandwich while Penelope went with a salad.
You chatted while you ate, your lunch break going by much more enjoyably with your friend there.
You were discussing the recent episode of a show you both watched when Penelope looked up. “Huh. What’s he doing here?”
You followed her gaze to find Agent Hotchner in the queue. “Well, using my astute powers of deduction, I’d say he’s getting some food, just like everyone else here.”
She huffed. “You’re at full capacity cheek today. I meant, that he doesn’t usually come to the cafeteria.”
You shrugged. “He did today.”
Penelope hummed and then that mischievous grin you had learned to be weary of crept across her face.
Your eyes widened because you knew she was about to do something meddlesome.
And you were right.
Before you could stop her, she waved wildly and called out, “Hotch!”
His head swiveled in your direction and you could have sworn his face actually lit up just the tiniest bit when he saw you. He quickly paid and made his way over to your table.
“Hey, you two. Enjoying lunch?”
“We are,” Penelope replied with that puckish grin. “Would you care to join us?”
“Oh,” Agent Hotchner’s brows creased slightly. “I have a meeting soon so I have to run. Sorry.”
Was it just your endless hopefulness regarding him, or did he sound disappointed?
“That’s alright, Agent Hotchner. Don’t let us keep you. We were almost done, anyway.”
His eyes did his now routine scan of you before the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile that almost seemed wistful. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Hotch?”
That ever-constant blush warmed your cheeks yet again. You never knew what to do with yourself whenever he looked at you. This man always made you flustered beyond reason.
You could see he was waiting for you to respond so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “At least once more, Agent Hotchner. As always.”
To your dismay, his eyes seemed to dim as the quirk of his lips dropped a fraction.
“Right,” He breathed out.
He studied you for a moment longer before glancing at his watch and giving a quick wince. “I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”
He pivoted on his heel and was halfway to the exit before either of you could reply.
You watched him leave, barely aware of the open longing on your face. Once he was out of sight, you turned back to Penelope to see her biting her lip to hide a smile and her eyebrows well above her frames.
You tilted your head. “What?”
Her eyes shined merrily as she asked, “Did you just quote the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie at him?”
You didn’t know what to say as you felt heat flood your entire face.
“OMG, you did!” Penelope cackled.
“I panicked, okay? I’m fluent in movie quotes and it just slipped out!” You buried your burning face in your hands.
That only made Penelope laugh even harder. “This is why I love you so much, Cinnamon Roll.”
“I can’t help it! I get so nervous around him.”
“Is that why you refuse to call him Hotch?”
“I don’t refuse to. I just… I don’t know. It feels safer to just call him by his title. Less chance of me slipping and saying something we’d both regret.”
Penelope looked at you thoughtfully. “I’ve known Hotch for a long time and I’m positive he wouldn’t regret hearing that. In fact, I’d bet my favorite fluffy pink pen that he’d welcome it. Be overjoyed by it, even. He might even smile.”
You sighed. “Not this again, Pen. I love how supportive and encouraging you are about everything, but on this, you’re wrong. He does not see me that way and probably never will.”
“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try. You should start by calling him Hotch next time you see him and watch his little frown turn upside down.”
“Not gonna happen,” you declared with a petulant shake of your head.
“So you’re just going to call him Agent Hotchner for the rest of your life?”
You crossed your arms defiantly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
She smirked. “Are you gonna call him Agent in bed? Not my kink, but I can see the appeal.”
You gaped at her. “‘Penelope!”
She cackled again.
***
Your workday was finally over and not a moment too soon.
You slid into your jacket with a huff and snatched up your things, taking yet another deep breath when yet another ping came from your phone as yet another text was received.
They had been increasing in frequency for the last hour.
You stomped down the hall, jabbed the elevator call button, tapped your foot impatiently until it arrived, and darted in the moment the doors opened. Thankfully, it was empty so no one had to bear witness to your increasing frustration at the slowness of the elevator.
When it finally reached your desired floor, you stalked down the hall to your destination.
Your eyes dropped to the phone in your hand when another text came through as you burst into Penelope’s lair without knocking, already mid-rant. “Penelope Middle Name Garcia! Why have you been spamming me with DILF memes all afternoo—”
You looked up from your phone expecting to see a grinning Penelope, only to find Agent Hotchner there looking at you with a raised brow and bemused smile.
You jerked to a halt, torn between wanting the floor to swallow you whole in your embarrassment or plotting out the imminent demise of your meddlesome friend.
Both seemed like great options at the moment.
Then Penelope leaned out from behind her boss, wearing the most impish smirk you had ever seen.
You narrowed your eyes at her and she batted hers right back.
Problem solved, then. Plotting her imminent demise it was.
But, unfortunately, that would have to wait until after you’d recovered from your latest display of awkwardness in front of Agent Hotchner.
Who was still watching you and looked to be enjoying the moment nearly as much as Penelope.
Mortified, you scrambled to say something, anything, to redeem yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner!” You squeaked—a sound that was high and breathy and not at all attractive.
Now you were rethinking your choice.
Yes, having the floor open beneath you and saving you from this sounded like the better outcome now.
Why, oh why couldn't you ever act like a normal human being around this man?
Determined to get out of this as unscathed as possible, you cleared your throat and tried again. “I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting with Penelope. Please excuse me.”
You began to turn when he took a step towards you, his hand partly raised towards you. “No, no,” he said in a rush.
His hand clenched and he stuffed it into his pocket. “You didn’t interrupt anything. We were already done.”
“Oh, that’s good. I’m still sorry for bursting in unannounced.”
He chuckled and your heart raced in delight. “Well, it sounds like you had justified cause.” He looked at Penelope over his shoulder. “Maybe refrain from spamming memes during work hours, okay Garcia?”
Penelope smiled and saluted. “Aye aye, sir.”
Agent Hotchner shook his head and turned back to you with a grin you couldn’t help but return. His eyes locked with yours and for a moment, you lost yourself in their depths. You would have been content to remain like that but the moment broke when he cleared his throat. “Well. I’ll leave you ladies to it. I have a bit more work before I can head home.”
He nodded to Penelope and made to leave, pausing at the door. He looked back at you with a sly smile. “Oh, and it’s Grace.”
You tilted your head. “Pardon?”
“Garcia’s middle name. For the next time you want to yell at her for sending you DILF memes.”
Then he did something that you were in no way prepared for and would never forget in your lifetime.
Your eyes widened almost painfully as your face flushed.
He winked.
At you.
Agent Hotchner winked at you and was out the door before your brain caught up.
You stood frozen for a long moment before exhaling a shaky breath. You dazedly shuffled to the chair Penelope had acquired for the times you needed to work alongside her and plopped down, your eyes still trained on the door.
“Did…” You slowly turned your head towards an enthusiastically grinning Penelope. “Did Agent Hotchner just wink at me?”
Penelope was nearly bouncing in her seat as she clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! He most assuredly did! And he teased you! Oh, this is the best day ever. I never thought I’d live to see the day Hotch teased a woman about DILF memes. And he winked! I didn’t know he could do that.”
You continued to stare in her direction, but all you could see was a replay of him winking at you. With as flustered as it made you, that wink should be labeled a deadly weapon. You would never be the same. There would be the you before the wink, and the you after.
Scratch that.
There very well may be no you after. Because you’re pretty sure you died. That was it. You were dead and your tombstone would read death by wink and tales would be long told of your tragic demise.
Because there was no way you were going to survive knowing that Agent Hotchner teased you and then winked, after saying the word DILF, of which he was the prime example.
You knew exactly why Penelope had been sending you increasingly inappropriate memes about DILFs. And it was because of the man that just left you as a puddle on the floor whom you were absolutely besotted with.
But then a horrifying thought struck you.
“Pen?”
“Yeah?”
“How likely is it that he knows those memes were about him?”
Penelope hummed in thought. “Honestly, maybe 20 percent?”
You looked at her skeptically.
“Look, Hotch is a brilliant profiler. One of the best I’ve seen, but when it comes to things like this, he can be completely oblivious.”
You shook your head. “I doubt that.”
“Trust me. He’s often the first to notice when a person is crushing on someone, but never if he’s that someone. He never sees it. Maybe he just doesn’t want to but I think he just can’t imagine anyone finding him attractive.”
“Seriously? Does the man not own a mirror?”
“I know. It’s crazy but he never picks up on it whenever he gets hit on. It’s like he has blinders up just for that.”
“Oh.”
“But,” she grabbed your hand and squeezed gently. “I’ve never seen him act the way he does around you. I’ve told you before but hopefully, you’ll believe me this time. I think he’s interested in you. I think if you were very clear with him, told him straight out that you’re attracted to him and interested in getting to know him, asked him on a date, he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”
You worried your bottom lip, anxiety rushing through your veins at the mere idea of confessing to him. “I don’t know, Pen. I’m not… I’ve never done that.” You sighed. “I’ve never been any good at this and the thought of telling him how I feel terrifies me.”
She smiled kindly. “I know. But don’t you think he’s worth it?”
Of course, he is, was your immediate thought. Who could ever think otherwise?
He was handsome, of course, but that wasn’t what truly attracted you to him.
It was all the little parts of him that caught your attention and drew you in.
It was his kindness, bravery, and strength. It was seeing glimpses of his humor and light-hearted moments. It was witnessing him being a good leader, a better friend, and the best dad.
It was all the things you knew about him and all the things you still wanted to learn.
It was the fact that he was a decent man, an admirable man, a good man.
Yes, you thought. He is absolutely worth it.
***
You sat at the bar, your chin resting in your hand. You glanced at your phone, checking the time again. Penelope had stopped by your office earlier that day, demanding that you meet her for dinner and drinks that night. As you had no plans, you readily agreed.
However, she was late so you were restlessly waiting in the lounge of the restaurant, sipping on a fruity cocktail.
A few minutes passed and you looked towards the entrance again, hoping to see your brightly dressed friend.
She wasn’t there, but someone else you recognized was.
Agent Hotchner was standing there, scanning the room like he was looking for someone.
Even in the low lights of the lounge, he caught your eye. He stood a head above the other mingling patrons, his dark hair softer than he normally kept it at work. He was dressed casually, for him, in a black button shirt and dark jeans. His sleeves were partially rolled, drawing your eyes down his arms to see his fingers tapping on his leg.
You looked up in time to see him notice you. He tilted his head with a smile and made his way through the crowd to you.
”Hello,” you breathed out when he was close enough to hear.
”Hello.” His eyes ran over you in that familiar pattern, lingering for just a moment where your legs crossed as you sat on the stool. “You look lovely.”
Your cheeks flushed, as was their habit when he was near, and you thanked your earlier self for taking the time to dress up a little for the evening. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”
He grinned as he shuffled closer to you in order to let someone pass. “Thanks. It’s nice to be out of the suit for the weekend.”
You had to agree. While he was distractingly attractive in his suits, he was devastatingly handsome dressed like this.
You’d have to remember to thank Penelope later for picking this restaurant. You were very much enjoying the view.
“It’s a pleasant surprise, running into you here.” He looked at the empty stools beside you. “Are you meeting someone?”
“Ah, yes. I’m meeting up with Pen, but I guess she’s running late. You?”
He nodded. “Same. Meeting a friend. Looks like he’s not here yet, either.”
You felt a flash of relief. He’s not on a date then. That’s good.
You smiled, looking up into his eyes as he stood beside you. So far, this had been the best interaction you’d had with him. No awkwardness on your part and no meddling friends nearby.
It was nice, being here with him. You wanted the moment to last.
Gathering all your courage, you decided to take a chance. “I was just having a drink until our table was ready. You’re welcome to join me while you wait.”
His smile grew, his dimples coming out to play. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
He sat on the stool beside you, his long leg nearly brushing yours as he adjusted.
You took a sip of your drink, peeking at Agent Hotchner as he flagged down the bartender. You couldn't keep your eyes from running up the length of his arm, watching his muscles flex and move.
You nearly startled when your phone pinged, buzzing against the bartop and drawing his attention. You shot him an apologetic smile as you reached for your phone, meeting his eye when his own phone buzzed.
You shared a grin at the coincidence, before you both checked your phones.
Sorry Cinnamon Roll, the text from Penelope read. I’m not going to be able to make it.
Is everything alright? You asked her.
Yes, everything’s fine. A thing came up. Sorry, sugar. You should stay and enjoy yourself though.
You held in a sigh as you began to type your response, stopping when another arrived from Penelope. Maybe you can find someone else to enjoy the evening with. A certain tall dark and broody someone, perhaps?
Suspicion flared within you and your lips flattened into a thin line. You already know he’s here, don’t you?
Hotch is there? WOW, what a crazy random happenstance!
You glared at your phone, hoping she could feel your wrath on the other end. Penelope Cupcake Garcia! Did you set this up?
You know my middle name’s Grace.
Your lips pressed together even tighter. PEN!
You waited impatiently until her replies came in rapid succession.
I plead the fifth.
Take a chance. He’s worth it, right?
Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!
But definitely do everything I would. 😏
It was moments like these that made you both love and hate Penelope Garcia
You chanced a peek at Agent Hotcher. He was bent over his phone, rapidly typing away. Maybe it was the lighting, but you could have sworn he had the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.
He huffed and glanced at you. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay. My night with Pen has been canceled. She can’t make it.”
He hummed. “Dave just canceled on me, too. Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“Does he do that often?”
“Rarely, in fact.”
“Oh.”
“I think our friends may have set us up.”
You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, no. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner. Pen probably planned this whole thing and roped poor Rossi into it and…”
“You call him Rossi but still won’t call me Hotch?”
“I… I don’t… I’m sorry, Agent Hotch—” The look on his face stopped the words in your throat. His head tilted in a way that seemed stern, his eyebrows raised expectantly, but the quirk of his lips looked playful. Impish, even.
Was he teasing you?
“You’re getting closer,” He smirked. “Just drop the Agent and you’ll be there.”
Yep. He was teasing you.
And now you were blushing so hard you were sure he could feel the heat from there.
You pressed your lips together in a small pout. You weren’t sure what to do with a playful Agent Hotchner, but you couldn’t deny you liked it. Still, being teased by the object of your affection was not something you felt equipped to handle at the moment.
You took a fortifying drink of your cocktail, thinking back on Penelope’s encouraging words. You could do this. He was worth it.
“H-Hotch.”
“There you go. Wasn’t so hard after all.”
You huffed a laugh. “Actually, it was harder than you’d think.”
He ran contemplative eyes over you. “And why’s that?”
You finished off the last of your drink and turned to face him, leaning against the bar. It was your turn to study him. “Surely you know how flustered you make me.”
The corner of his lips turned down. “I had noticed, yes. I know I can be intimidating, but I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“I never said I was uncomfortable.”
His eyes brightened. “Just flustered?”
You hummed. “I know you try not to profile your coworkers, but I’m betting it’s hard to just turn that off. So, what have you noticed about how I act around you versus everyone else?”
He straightened in his seat, bringing his glass to his lips as his eyes stayed focused on you. He took a slow sip before speaking. “You display signs of discomfort and hesitation with me, while you are more open with others, especially Garcia. You only make direct eye contact with me enough to let me know you are acknowledging me, but you often look down or to the side when we speak. You fidget and sometimes stumble over your words. I don’t see you do that with anyone else.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“I assumed it was due to my role as unit chief and the perception that I’m a hardass who never smiles.”
You grinned at that. “Now, we both know that’s not true. I’ve seen you smile countless times.”
His cheeks pinkened and your grin grew. “Yes, well. That doesn’t change the fact that others think I’m incapable of it.”
“It’s their loss then. I happen to like seeing you smile.”
His eyes dropped almost shyly and that was definitely a blush spreading across his face. “I… Thank you.”
You watched in awe as he shifted in his seat, exhibiting all the signs you knew you normally did when he was around. Could it be that he was the one flustered now?
You felt a well of confidence spring up inside you. You felt powerful in a way you never had before. You had somehow managed to affect this stoic man enough to fluster him.
You smirked. “You’re wrong, by the way.”
He blinked. “Wrong?”
”That’s not why I acted that way around you.”
”Oh.”
”Can you guess why?”
“Normally, I would think that you didn’t like me. That I had done something to upset or offend you, but if that were the case, I don’t think you’d still be here talking with me.”
”Correct. I definitely don’t dislike you.” At the tilt of his head, you could tell he still didn’t understand. “If you had seen me act that way towards someone else, what conclusion would your observations lead you to?”
He swallowed. “Normally, such behavior would signify attraction or some depth of feeling towards the other person.”
”Did it really not occur to you that was the case here?”
”Honestly, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Didn’t want to assume you felt the same way.”
”The same way?”
The corner of his lip quirked up. “Attraction and some depth of feeling.”
You couldn’t keep the pleased smile from brightening your face. “Oh.”
You shyly tucked some hair behind your ear, his eyes following the motion. “Is… is that really how you feel about me?”
He stayed silent for a long moment, his focus firmly on you as if he were contemplating your features like one would fine art. ”Do you know why I kept asking you to call me Hotch?”
The abrupt change of topic threw you and it took a few seconds for you to respond. ”I thought you were just being nice.”
He shook his head with a soft smile. “It was because I hoped you’d feel comfortable enough to call me by my name someday. If I could get you to call me Hotch, then eventually, I might be able to convince you to call me Aaron.”
Your breath caught when he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours as he quietly spoke words meant only for you. “But what I’d really like, is if someday you’d call me yours.”
You were pretty sure you had stopped breathing and that all the blood in your body was rushing to your face. Surely you didn’t hear that correctly. “W-what?”
He pulled back, his cheeks attractively flushed. “I apologize if I overstepped. I’m a bit rusty at it, but Dave suggested I try flirting. I’ll admit I got a bit nervous and that just came out.”
“Flirting? With me?”
He must have read something in your face because he smirked. “Yes, flirting with you.”
He leaned closer again. “Is it working?”
You’re sure your face is red enough to stop traffic. “Yes,” you managed to squeak out.
“Good.” He ran his hand down your arm, wrapping his fingers around yours and bringing them up to his lips, pressing a barely there kiss to your knuckles. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
“Yes,” you breathed out.
He smiled down at you, dimples on full display and you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Not here, though.” He glanced around the bar. “I wouldn’t put it past Garcia to hack into their network to watch us.”
You chuckled and nodded knowingly. That was exactly what she would do.
He turned to wave down the bartender. “Please put both our drinks on the tab for David Rossi.”
You gaped at him and he shrugged with a grin. “He comes here all the time and he would have paid if he had been here. Besides, it’s the least he can do for plotting with Garcia.”
With a giggle, you conceded. “That’s true.”
He stood from his stool, offering you his hand to help you from yours. “Come on. I know a great Italian place nearby.”
He laced his fingers with yours once you were on your feet and led you out of the restaurant.
“It’s only a few blocks away. Since it’s a nice evening, would you like to walk?”
You nodded and allowed him to guide you down the sidewalk, noting that he took care to walk between you and the street.
You walked in companionable silence for a while before he spoke, his eyes trained ahead. “You know, I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”
“Really?”
“Since the moment we met.”
You looked at him skeptically. “You mean when I barreled into you and almost knocked you off your feet?”
He grinned down at you. “No almost about it.”
You gasped playfully. “I didn’t make you fall.”
“Sure you did. And all it took was your smile.”
You ducked your head down. “You’re teasing me again.”
“I’m not.” You shot him a leveled look. “Okay, yes, maybe a little. But I’m pretty sure I fell for you the moment you smiled up at me after you finished rambling and were more concerned about me than yourself even though you faceplanted pretty hard. I was worried you might’ve broken something.”
“Hey! I didn’t hit that hard.”
He chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze. “Sorry sweetheart, but you did. I’m surprised there wasn’t an imprint of a button on your face afterward.”
The endearment surprised you but in the most pleasant way. You weren’t sure if it was just a slip of the tongue or a calculated move, but either way, you hoped you’d get to hear it again.
Despite that, you wanted to bury your face—preferably in his chest again, but in a much gentler manner than the last time—to hide your discomfiture. “I’m always so awkward around you. It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s endearing.”
“Oh, stop teasing me. There’s no way you find that even the least bit attractive.”
He stopped and you paused alongside him, looking up at him. His expression was serious but his eyes were soft. “I do. I find everything about you attractive. I think you’re beautiful, especially when you smile. Even more so when you’re blushing. You’re kind and sweet and funny. You might be the most charming woman I’ve ever met.”
You could feel your blush creeping down your neck to your chest. At this rate, you would soon be red from head to toe. “Pretty sure it’s you who’s the charming one.”
His lips lifted in a soft smile as his eyes took in the spreading warmth he always caused. “I’m glad you think so. Makes this easier to ask. I know I should wait until the end of the night but…”
He gently cradled your face in one of his hands, warm even against your flushed cheek. “May I kiss you?”
“Please.”
The hushed word was barely passed your lips before his were there, stealing the last of it for himself.
The kiss was achingly gentle, a soft press of lips that left no doubt as to his burgeoning feelings for you. It was a slow wooing, a tender plea, a solemn promise. A declaration that this was only the beginning of his intentions towards you.
It was a kiss full of hope.
Hope that this was only the first kiss of many, that this was the beginning of something wonderful, that you would accept what he was only too happy to offer. Himself.
You slowly broke apart, both breathing heavily.
That was, by far, the best kiss of your life, and you knew that they would only get better from there if Aaron Hotchner was the one kissing you.
That one kiss had conveyed so much and you needed to let him know that you got it, you understood, and you wanted the same.
“Aaron.” His name came out as a shaky sigh, but it was enough for him to freeze before dropping his forehead to rest against yours.
“Yes,” he asked just as quietly, his voice deep and husky.
“I feel the same.”
You felt him relax against you as he let out a stuttered breath.
“I never thought I’d have the courage to tell you this. You’re the brave one. But I just need you to know how I feel about you.”
You swallowed and met his eyes that were watching you intently.
“I’ve been yours since I crashed into you. You stole a piece of my heart with your kindness that day and I’ve happily given you a little more of it each day since. You make me happy every time I see you, and even though I’m flustered and awkward around you, you make me feel safe. You’re a gentleman, you treat your team like a family, and you’re an amazing dad. And you’re handsome. Like, distractingly good-looking. It’s a problem.”
He chuckled and you were pleased to see a blush brightening his cheeks.
“I like you quite a lot, Aaron Hotchner. And I’d really like it if—if I could call you mine.”
Your answer came with his lips brushing against yours once, twice, before they were insistent in their acquisition of yours.
This kiss was deeper. The celebration of a long-awaited victory that had your toes curling. You lost yourself to it and would have continued to do so were it not for the honking from a passing car.
Aaron gave you one more soft kiss before pulling away, his lips delightfully pink and plump.
“As much as I’d love to carry on, this may not be the best place.”
Despite his words, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and then another to your forehead. You grinned at him and for a moment, he seemed ready to lean right back in.
Instead, his eyes flicked quickly left and right, stopping on something behind you. With a squeeze of the hand that was still holding yours, he guided you to a recessed section of wall that provided a bit more privacy.
He positioned himself in front of you, his free hand coming to rest on your hip. He ducked down to kiss you once more, a tease of his lips that left you wanting more.
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
“Never apologize for that. You can kiss me all you want.”
His grip tightened on your hip. “You called me a gentleman, and yet here you are tempting me to prove otherwise.”
You shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Just being honest.”
“Well, since we are being honest with each other,” he said, the words rumbling in his chest, “I feel I need to let you know that while I plan to do this right and take things slow, there is one important fact you need to know about me.”
“What’s that?”
He leaned in, his breath low in your ear. “When granted the liberty to do so, I’m going to show you just how much I love having cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”
You blinked, the words sinking in. “Cin-cinnamon rolls?”
“They are my favorite, after all.” He hummed as he pressed a kiss beneath your ear. “My little Cinnamon Roll.”
You gasped and pulled back, narrowing your eyes at him. “You heard Pen call me that, didn’t you?”
He chuckled. “Everyone’s heard you call each other Cupcake and Cinnamon Roll. Was it supposed to be a secret?”
“No, I meant that day at the elevator.”
“You mean when I told you I wouldn’t say no to one?”
“You…you did hear us!”
He smirked unrepentantly. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but you weren’t being that quiet. So, I just used it to my advantage.”
You swatted his arm. “I was so embarrassed and you’re saying you were teasing?”
“In my defense, it was Garcia who was the one teasing you. I was flirting.”
You pouted at him. “Everyone’s wrong about you. You’re not a stoic hardass. You’re a menace. All these months pining away for you, all the times I was awkward, and now you tell me you were flirting.”
“If it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, I was pining for you too.”
“It does.” You huffed, only a little begrudgingly.
He chuckled again and dipped down for one last lingering kiss.
You were breathless by the time he pulled back, smiling dazedly when he guided you back onto the sidewalk and resumed your walk to the restaurant.
Despite it having started because of a plot by your friends, your first date with Aaron Hotchner was everything you dreamed it could be. It was romantic, he was charming, and you were finally able to hold a conversation with the man.
It went so well in fact, that you soon had a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. And after the fifth date, you found out personally that Aaron Hotchner really did enjoy having cinnamon rolls for breakfast.
In fact, he enjoyed it so much, he went back for seconds.
A fic where reader likes Aaron but is like 20 years younger than him (I checked the math, even at the start of the show, he was 43 so that wouldn't have been weird. Unless u find that weird? Pretend i said 10 years if that weirds u out) and she thinks she doesn't have a chance with him and that he wouldn't even consider her. And so she just pines over him with the unrequited crush blues. Maybe hotch seems to "baby" her and be extra protective of her so she chalks it up to being the baby of the team. Meanwhile he does not view her as a baby. At all. And maybe he doesn't even realize he treats her any different. Angst welcome! Definitely romance
She/her pronouns for the fic if u want to do it please 🙏 and thank u 😁
– Zee
MY DARLING ZEE
I have been SO excited to post this one, so thank you for requesting it. as usual, I got carried away, but it's daddy hotch so I apologize for nothing
enjoy ;)
warnings: swearing, lots and lots of angst
word count: 4.5k
baby.
Furious didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt currently. The entire cabin of the jet was thick with tension radiating from your barely concealed rage, and for a split second you felt guilty, because the team’s discomfort was more than palpable. But as your gaze wandered to the opposite end of the jet and you caught sight of the culprit of your vexation, brooding heavily in your direction, any sliver of remorse evaporated from your pores and your eyes instantly hardened in response.
Fucking Aaron Hotchner.
Hotch’s thick dark brows were pinched together, creating a crease of annoyance right between them, and his lips were pressed in a line that was harsher than usual, causing his frown lines to settle even deeper into the skin around his mouth. His deep umber eyes were void of any warmth, and there was no evidence of faint mirth creasing around them. Instead his lethal gaze was cold as steel, and as rigorous as stone.
You had seen a more intense version of that look several times before whenever he interviewed unsubs that made monsters look like fairytales, and normally it sent a chill down your spine. Not because you were scared of your boss; quite the opposite actually. Every time you watched him stare down the worst of humanity with an aura of disinterest and a hard glare that showed he was completely unimpressed, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. Especially on the rare occasions when he lost his temper and ended up slamming his hands on the table while yelling in their face. You found that incredibly hot.
From the day you met Hotch for your interview, you had found him attractive. Intimidating as hell, but attractive. The fact that he was your boss didn’t deter you from developing a little crush on him, or the fact that he was a widower with a six year old son. None of that stopped the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach every time he gave you a tiny bit of praise in the form of a “good job”, or a simple nod of approval. In fact, the more Hotch warmed up to you, the worse your little crush got.
You found yourself grinning whenever someone made him crack the tiniest of smiles, and nothing fueled your ego more than his quiet snort whenever you said something he seemed to find funny. Hotch surprisingly had a great sense of humor when the stress of being the unit chief of the B.A.U. wasn’t looming over his head. He could be stubborn and closed off sometimes, and he wasn’t always the best with words, but you could tell by his actions that he truly cared about his team. Unfortunately for you, his treatment revealed exactly how he saw you.
The baby of the team.
It was no secret that’s how the rest of the team saw you too. Derek had been teasingly, but affectionately, referring to you as “Baby Spice” since your first day because you were by far the youngest member of the team and beyond feisty. Spencer even joined in with the nicknames, jokingly calling you “kid” with a proud grin now that he was no longer the youngest, even though there was less than a five year gap between the two of you, which Rossi constantly reminded him of with a smack to the back of his head. At a certain point you realized that Rossi just enjoyed messing with Spencer, but you still grinned at him in appreciation every time he came to your defense.
Even though you were far from being a child, Hotch still treated you differently than the others, which did not go unnoticed by anyone. He was far more protective of you, not allowing you to go anywhere alone when the team was working a case, and he hardly ever wanted you in the interrogation room with unsubs. Only after Emily backed you up, insisting it was important to your training, did he finally allow you to interrogate. But it was under the strict condition that he was always the one in the room with you. He never allowed you to enter a crime scene or a suspected location of an unsub first, and the first time you got injured while on a case, resulting in the tiniest of a cut above your eyebrow, Hotch forced you to take a leave of absence for two weeks.
You made it three days before you burst into his office and demanded that he end your leave.
He didn’t.
Because of the way Hotch seemed to “baby” you, it resulted in the rest of the team doing it too. Emily and JJ weren’t as bad about it, but they definitely put themselves in front of you anytime a situation got dangerous. Derek and Hotch were by far the worst and the most obvious about being overprotective, but Spencer and Rossi weren’t far behind. The only one that ever treated you as an equal was Garcia, and that’s why she was your favorite.
And the only one you confided in about your little crush on your boss. Although, you were sure Emily and JJ had caught on by now. They always flashed you a teasing smirk and a little wink anytime they caught you silently pining.
But that was what seemed to solidify that you would never have a chance with Hotch. Not that he was your boss, or that he had traumatically lost his wife, or that he had a young son, or even the fact that he was a good twenty years older than you. It was that he seemed to view you more as a helpless child than a capable woman.
As soon as the jet landed, you were the first one off. You could hear Hotch’s shoes stomping along the floor of Headquarters right on your heels. While you stopped at your desk to drop off your go bag, fully prepared to get your shit and leave, his angry march continued up the stairs towards his office, but he never once took his irritated glare away from your figure.
“Y/L/N, my office. Now.”
Gritting your teeth hard, you turned your head to shoot daggers in his direction, but he had already disappeared into his office. Disregarding the sympathetic concern from your coworkers, you furiously made your way up the stairs and made a dramatic show of slamming the door to Hotch’s office forcefully behind yourself, which in turn made his eyes narrow into vehement slits as he looked at you. He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders while he stepped around his desk to stand a few feet away from you. He looked absolutely pissed, but you were too lost in your own rage to care.
“You were completely out of line-”
“Oh, bullshit! I was doing my job-”
“I gave you a direct order and you ignored it, putting yourself and the entire team at risk.”
Hotch’s voice rose in volume when you combated his critique, and even though you had spoken over him first, the fact that he was now doing it to you only fueled your anger further. You took a bold step forward and glared up at Hotch as you grit your rebuttal out through your teeth.
“I saved that kid’s life-”
“By being reckless! You could’ve gotten him killed. You could have gotten killed. Don’t you get that?”
“But I didn’t! No one got hurt, so what the fuck is the issue-”
“The issue is you.”
Hotch’s comment quickly halted the verbal punch you were about to throw, and as you glared up at him, you noticed that his nostrils were flaring with fury and that his darkened eyes were wild and blown open with pure unbridled rage. The sting of his words caused the wildfire flaring inside of you to shrink to the dull roar of a fireplace blaze. Crossing your arms over your chest in a sign of defiance, you lowered the volume of your voice and layered it with acidity.
“You’re a fucking hypocrite.”
Hotch narrowed his eyes, which seemed to be glowing with resentment, as he took another step towards you, faintly cocking his head to the side.
“Excuse me?”
He was giving you an opportunity to correct yourself. But one thing Hotch hadn’t seemed to learn about you was that you could be just as stubborn as he was, and once you reached a certain stage in your wrath, you didn’t back down. You went straight for the jugular.
“If it had been you, you wouldn’t have called it ‘reckless’. But because it’s me, you flip out and blow the whole fucking thing out of proportion because you treat me like I’m a goddamn child-”
“I wouldn’t treat you like a child if you didn’t fucking act like one.”
At this point, there was barely an inch of space between you and Hotch, and you had to tilt your head back slightly just to return his scowl. He might as well have thrown gasoline on the fire with that comment, and you were suddenly completely fed up with no one in this goddamn building viewing you as a grown fucking woman.
“If it had been Derek, or Emily, you wouldn’t be giving them shit like this. You would’ve given them a slap on the wrist, but still acknowledged that they got the job done. So why do I get treated differently-”
“Because you’re not as good as you think you are, and you’re certainly not as good as them.”
That simple statement hurt worse than if Hotch had physically struck you across the face with the back of his hand. All the fury within you suddenly fizzled out, and you stood there dumbstruck while Hotch let out an exasperated exhale through his nose and turned away from you to walk around the corner of his desk and plop down angrily in his chair. He opened the file currently sitting in front of him and directed his irritated attention solely to the pages, reaching for a pen from the holder to his right to wrap his fingers around. He didn’t even look up as he barked out his next order.
“You’re suspended for three weeks. When you return, we’ll discuss your behavior and your future here at the B.A.U.”
Everything felt like it had suddenly come crashing down around you, and you found yourself wondering if it was all worth it. The stress of the job, the never ending hours, the horrors you saw day in and day out, but especially the treatment you received from Hotch and the others. You started to wonder if you had tricked yourself into believing it wasn’t harmful and had all come from a good place, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. For the first time since joining the B.A.U., you found yourself wanting out.
Swallowing the pieces of the lump that threatened to form in your throat, you lifted your chin slightly and spoke in a quiet but firm voice.
“No.”
Hotch quickly lifted his gaze to glower up at you, the thickness of his brows making him appear angrier from where you stood above him. However the second he caught the look on your face, his eyes softened considerably and he sat up straight, the semi permanent frown on his lips vanishing into a subtle line. His eyes followed the movement of your hand while you pulled the gun from the holster at your hip and sat it down in front of him on the desk, along with your badge. There was a brief flash of panic in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at you again, and his lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“I quit.”
Turning around to solemnly leave his office, you ignored the gentle pleas of your name leaving his lips. As you descended the stairs, the team’s heads perked up in curiosity, their gazes darting between your melancholic movements while you gathered your things, and the sight of a frantic Hotch rushing down the stairs like a man on a mission.
“Agent Y/L/N, do not walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”
Realizing that he was getting nowhere by being authoritative, Hotch let out an exasperated deep exhale through his nose and lowered the volume of his voice, speaking in a far gentler tone.
“Y/N we have to talk about this, you can’t just leave.”
You didn’t bother looking at any of them as you began your walk towards the elevators. You could still hear Hotch following closely behind you, and all of a sudden Derek’s large figure appeared in front of you. He dipped his head slightly to capture your eyes, the confusion on his features melting into pure concern as he glanced over your shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you. He held his right hand out towards you as if he were extending an olive branch and tilted his head to the side slightly.
“Whoa, what’s goin’ on Baby Spice? C’mon, talk to me.”
Derek was speaking to you in that gentle manner that he used when he wanted to show a victim that he wasn’t a threat. There was no doubt he could see the sadness and defeat glistening in your eyes, but you didn’t have the energy to rip open the wound any further.
“I’m going home. Please move.”
That was all you could manage to weakly get out as you attempted to step around him. But Derek, being Derek, wasn’t having it. He reached out to gently place his hand on your shoulder.
“I’ll drive you.”
“I can drive myself.”
“Baby-”
“I’m not a child, Derek. I don’t need your help, can you back off?”
Derek’s warm gaze widened considerably, and his neat onyx brows rose up his forehead in complete shock. You had never exploded on him like that, or any of the others for that matter. But right now all you wanted to do was get the hell out of there.
“Let her go.”
Derek glanced over your shoulder to look at JJ in pure confusion, but she gave a slight shake of her head while holding his gaze with a firm look in her ocean blue eyes, giving him a nonverbal cue to sit this one out. After a moment of hesitation, Derek removed his hand from your shoulder and took a step to the left to unblock your path.
The entire team was silent while watching you disappear behind the elevator doors.
»»——— ———««
A subtle but firm series of knocks at your door roused you from your sleep. Squinting at the clock on your bedside table, the lime green numbers read ten twenty-three pm. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. As soon as you had walked through the door of your apartment hours ago, you kicked off your shoes and crawled in bed, your mind spiraling about what you had just done and what it meant for the future.
When the knocks grew more impatient, you threw your comforter off with an irritated huff and got out of bed, exiting your bedroom to make your way to the living room to figure out who the hell was knocking on your door this late. However when you swung the front door open, your unexpected visitor was the last person you expected it to be.
Aaron Hotchner.
The darkness under his eyes was more prominent than usual, and his neatly cropped hair looked messy, as if he had been stressfully running his fingers through it. The permanent scowl he normally wore was missing from his lips, and there was a faint flicker of concern highlighted in his eyes. The first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, and his merlot colored tie hung loosely around his neck.
He looked exhausted.
Instead of speaking, you arched one of your dark brows, silently asking for the reason for his impromptu visit. As he shifted awkwardly to his other foot and cleared his throat, you realized you had never seen him look so unsure of himself.
“May I come in?”
Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, but a bigger part of you was curious to know why your former boss had shown up at your door unannounced at ten thirty at night. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you stepped aside to allow Hotch to pass by you. The second the door shut with a soft click and you turned around to face him, there was already a blanket of irritation tugging his features down. He didn’t even give you a chance to question his presence before speaking.
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
A dry laugh instantly escaped your lips, and a soft furrow settled between your brows while you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Wow, you’re really good at this whole apology thing, huh?”
“I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to be honest with you, and the honest truth is you’re a huge pain in my ass. You’re stubborn, emotionally reactive, not to mention combative-”
“Then why the hell did you hire me-”
“I’m not finished.”
Hotch was speaking in that firm authoritative voice he used whenever he wanted to make it crystal clear he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit or push back. Despite your burning desire to lash out again, you bit your tongue and settled for glaring at him instead.
“You are constantly acting like you have something to prove-”
“Because you make me feel like I have to, Aaron. You, and the rest of the team, make me feel like I have to prove my worth every fucking day. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Or how much that makes me doubt myself?”
“Do you ever stop talking long enough to listen to someone else speak?”
Tension hung in the small space of your living room like a heavy and dense fog. Hotch observed you silently for a moment as your frustrations lingered in the air while you refused to meet his eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face, and he seemed to wait until he could tell your emotions had leveled out slightly before speaking again.
“I admired your compassion.”
Perplexity twisted up your features as you stared across your living room at Hotch.
“What?”
“You asked why I hired you. That’s why.”
He made it sound like it was the most simple statement in the world, but it only added another layer to the cryptic labyrinth you were trying to navigate.
“I don’t understand-”
“When I reviewed your case work with you in your interview, I was impressed by your attention to detail. But I was even more impressed that when I asked you questions about the victims you had worked with, you gave me personal details about them, not just black and white facts that were in their file. You remembered things about them. You humanized them instead of speaking about them like a statistic.”
All you could do was blink at him in surprise. That was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. Sensing that a calmness had settled over you, Hotch took a cautious step forward and continued.
“You know just as much about the victims of notorious serial killers as you do about the serial killers themselves. Every solution you have to a problem is led with people in mind, trying to minimize casualties. You speak about victims like people, not numbers or objects. You put everyone’s feelings, and safety, before your own, and that is both the best thing about you and the worst.”
The sincerity in Hotch’s voice caught you off guard, and for a moment you weren’t sure what to say. He spoke to you in the soft voice you had once overheard him speaking to Jack in on the phone, and that caused a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. But it also added to your confusion. If he thought so highly of you, then why did he treat you the way he did?
“Why are you so different with me?”
Hotch let out a deep exhale through his nose, dragging his palm down his face slowly before loosely gesturing to you with his hand.
“Because it’s my job to protect you.”
“No it isn’t.”
It was Hotch’s turn to stare at you in puzzlement, his thick brows knit together in the center of his forehead. Running a hand through your hair in slight irritation, you shook your head slowly.
“I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I applied for this job. I knew it was dangerous-”
“My job as the unit chief is to keep my team safe-”
“No, Aaron. It’s to lead us. We all knew the risks when we joined. There is only so much you can control, you of all people should know that. I know you try to look out for us, but you don’t treat the rest of the team like you treat me. And I get it, okay? I am the youngest on the team, but I’m not a child-”
“I don’t think you’re a child.”
Hotch looked even more perplexed by your words, his head tilted to the side slightly while looking over at you.
“Y/N, your age has nothing to do with the way I treat you-”
“Then what is it?”
That uncertainty was once again shining in his eyes. It looked like Hotch was struggling internally with which version of his truth he wanted to give you. The revelation about your age not being a factor in his treatment filled you with a sense of relief, but also left you with more questions than answers. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Hotch’s face softened considerably as he took a few steps closer towards you.
“I…I care about all of you, and I don’t want to see anything happen to any of you.”
The intensity of his eye contact caused a slight shiver to nip at your spine, and it seemed like there was a hidden meaning to his sentence; something deeper.
“You…care about me?”
The tiniest of smirks tugged at the edge of Hotch’s lips, and his eyes had lightened in color with pure amusement.
“You know, for one of my most brilliant profilers, you’re pretty bad at this. Should I be concerned?”
Warmth bloomed in your cheeks hearing the faint tease lingering at the edge of his question. Hotch had never been this laid back and playful with you before. It almost sounded like he was…flirting?
Your eyes widened slightly while staring up at him, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.
“Was that…a joke? Did you just make a joke? Are you feeling alright? Should I call a doctor?”
Deciding to test the waters, you brought your hand up to place the back of it against his forehead before moving it downwards to place against his cheek, as if you were checking his temperature. All of a sudden, a huge tooth bearing grin stretched across his lips, and your breath caught in your throat.
He was smiling.
Aaron Hotchner was smiling.
He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, his grin fading to a miniscule smirk while his gaze became a little more intense.
“Actually, smartass, I’m having a bit of a rough night. One of my best profilers quit on me earlier. Although in her defense, I was kind of being a dick.”
“Kind of?”
“Don’t push it. I’m already doing something I normally don’t.”
“Which is?”
“Begging for forgiveness.”
Hotch hadn’t let go of your wrist, and either your mind was playing tricks on you, or he had somehow gotten closer. There was barely a centimeter separating your chests. Him telling you not to push it only made you want to do it that much more, and since you had already technically quit, you decided to throw caution to the wind.
“I don’t hear any begging.”
The mirth in Hotch’s eyes darkened into something you hadn’t seen before, and for a moment you were nervous that you had crossed a line. It felt like he was staring directly into your soul, searching for some answer that would determine his next move.
“You are by far the most frustrating woman I have ever met.”
Woman.
Hotch thought of you as a woman, and that caused a bright grin to stretch across your lips.
“Well, you’re no ray of sunshine either, but I still like you.”
Hotch’s grasp on your wrist tightened slightly at the end of your sentence, and a look of surprise flashed across his face before his eyes returned to that darkened look you couldn’t decipher.
“Is that so?”
His voice was low, but firm, and the sultriness of it nestled comfortably between your inner thighs. All you could do was subtly nod while staring up at him, watching as he leaned in meticulously and painfully slow.
“If I’m reading this wrong-”
“If you’re reading this wrong, you’re a terrible profiler.”
You weren’t one to wait for action, so before he could respond, you reached up to grab onto the back of Hotch’s neck and pulled him down to press your lips against his in a tentative kiss. At first he tensed up, but then you felt his body physically relax, and a soft hum sounded in your throat when he snaked his arm around your waist. Reluctantly pulling away, he gently brushed his nose against yours and whispered.
“So, I’ll see you in the office Monday?”
“Mm, no.”
Hotch pulled back so he could stare down at you in pure perplexity, and you grinned at his facial expression.
“No?”
“I’m suspended, remember? Three weeks, I think it was?”
Hotch’s lips formed into a thin line as he stared down at you, the amusement previously lingering in his eyes completely gone. You couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving him away from you with your palms against his chest.
“Hey, you decided my sentence.”
“You were being a brat-”
“And now this brat has a three week vacation. I’ve been meaning to take a trip anyway-”
“Actually, I haven’t filed any paperwork, so you’re not officially suspended, and you’re still a current employee. I’ll see you on Monday, Agent Y/L/N.”
The demanding tone of his voice made you bite down on your bottom lip, and you leaned back against your kitchen island while arching one of your brows in challenge and crossing your arms across your chest with a playful smirk on your lips.
“You don’t wanna see me before that, sir?”
The way you used his title clearly had an affect on him, and you suddenly realized that the emotion eclipsing his eyes was pure lust. He slowly reached his hand up to tug at the loose knot on his tie until it came undone around his neck completely, and he slowly approached you with a wolfish grin.
oooooo how about reader obsessed with hugging hotch !! like he's so big and warm and it always makes them feel safe and cared for <33
my love this isn’t exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it! I could write a hundred fics about hugging Hotch <3 fem!bau!reader
You’re addicted to Hotch’s hugs. It’s a crude metaphor, but you don’t use it lightly. Without his hugs you feel unbalanced and unsettled. It’s strange to think just a few months ago you hadn’t been able to hug him at all, though you’d sorely wanted to, and now you can do it whenever you like.
Within reason. You aren’t awful, you don’t try to pin them on him during work when he’ll be seen by high-ups and law enforcement — you would never undermine his professionalism like that, or your own. Though there are exceptions.
Like lunch time.
The team usually eat and work at the same time, but legally you’re allowed an hour a day for lunch, and Hotch wouldn’t get mad at anyone for wanting to take it in a more relaxing fashion. That being said, you usually have lunch like this; takeout around the same table, notebooks open, Reid barely picking at his, Morgan and Emily too busy eating to speak, JJ taking ten minutes for herself somewhere quiet, and Hotch hard-pushed to order anything in the first place. You sit way too close on his left and cut your sandwich in two with a plastic knife.
“Here you go,” you murmur, more to yourself than him as you pass over the bigger half.
“Honey,” he says, “no.”
“It’s okay, just eat it,” you insist.
You sound as fond as you feel, you always do. Everybody’s used to how much you like Hotch. Not just love him or care about him, like him. You like how he’s quiet and stern and assertive. You like his suits and his short-cropped hair and his frown. Everything about him makes you smile, which is amazing considering the severity of your job. Nobody resents your being sweet on him, though Morgan still makes his jokes.
“Do as the lady says, boss,” he advises. “We all know how it ends otherwise.”
Hotch frowns at him but takes your offered sandwich. You eat in silence, listening to the click of the computers in the bullpen through the open door, the warbling voice of the precincts police chief, and the rattle of keys as a janitor makes his way past the conference room you’re holed up in. Reid flicks through a map of the area, trying to narrow down his geographical profile, his pencil tap-tap-tapping.
You pass a big wad of napkins onto Hotch’s thigh, and put what’s left of your sandwich back into its wrapper. He squints at you inquisitively. You’re only standing to stretch out the nagging ache that’s coiled between your shoulders and around your neck. You click, the sound like a gunshot, and make everybody in hearing distance flinch.
Hotch abandons his food not long after you have, seeing an opening you hadn’t meant to give. He wipes his hands on a napkin, then his face.
While he’s not looking, you take a step closer. Another and another. Morgan grins at you knowingly.
You slide your arm behind Hotch’s neck, standing slightly behind him, and bring your face to the side of his head. He wraps an arm around you in turn, movement rigid with reluctance.
“It’s my legal lunch break,” you say softly. “What do you always say about breaks?”
“You can spend it however you want,” he says, sounding very much like the Hotch you get to adore outside of work, joking and light, a great surprise. “But I can spend mine however I want.”
“And you don’t want to be hugging me?” you summarise.
You’re joking in that you kind of know he doesn’t want this, not because he doesn’t want you. He’s rather shy, your Hotch. He loves hugs, but in front of others he requires a little persuasion. If you thought he truly didn’t want one you’d keep your hands to yourself, but…
“That’s not what I said.”
Pleased, you curl your second arm around his collar, hand diving into the soft hair at the back of his head. You pull with the lightest pressure, pressing a secret, soundless kiss to the end of his unhappy brow. And then, because you love him and you don’t want to embarrass him too much, you spring away from him like it never happened.
Later, when dark has enveloped the city and you’re making your way out to the SUV that’s gonna take you to the hotel for the night, you fall into step with your lovely boyfriend and sigh. You’ve felt the guilt of your hug all day.
“Thank you,” you say.
It takes him a second to emerge from his thoughts. “For what?”
He doesn’t add a pet name, but his tone implies one.
“For letting me, uh, climb all over you at lunch. I know public displays aren’t your favourite.”
He tilts his head toward yours without looking at you. “It makes you feel better.”
He doesn’t need to say the obvious. You both work a hard job emotionally.
“I don’t want to make you feel worse,” you say, voice sticky with bashfulness.
He laughs, tipping his head back in the open air, and it’s odd enough for him that you gawp, worse when he wraps his hand around yours and swings them mildly forth and back.
“In what world would a hug from you make me feel worse, honey?”
You smile in fits and starts for hours. In the SUV, in the hotel elevator, in the hallway outside of your room. You smile as you and Hotch get changed into lounge clothes for the night, and as he twines your fingers together under the sheets.
He’s far from stupid. He knows why you’re smiling, and while his mind is on the case, he takes the time to say, “You don’t have to be so quick to move away. In front of the BAU.”
“Think we could get away with it in front of Strauss?”
“…No.”
You laugh, and Hotch evidently likes the sound of it. He lets you hug him like a straight jacket until 5AM.
hotch coming home to find pregnant reader and jack asleep and both of them starfishing and taking up the whole bedand him waking reader and whispering gently " and where am i going to sleep " and her answering " jacks bed" and falling right back to bed just for him to take the small corner and her waking up and pulling him up in to whereshe layed and cuddling up
"Sweetheart," Aaron's large hand rested on your shoulder, jostling you slightly as you slept, "Scoot over."
"I'm pregnant," You lazily mumbled, "You scoot over."
'i'm not even-" Aaron frowned from his place beside the bed, shaking his head slightly with a chuckle, "I'm not even laying down. I can't, you guys are taking up too much room."
He once again scanned the bed for any available room, but Jack was sprawled out over your side, his head on your chest while his hand laid protectively on your belly, and your arms were thrown out in a starfish position, taking up the entire mattress. There was nowhere for him to sleep.
"We're comfy," You groaned, "'M not moving."
"Well where am I supposed to sleep?"
"Jack's bed." You kept your eyes shut, waving lazily in the direction of your son's bedroom.
Aaron snorted at the mental image of him trying to curl up in his son's toddler bed, the covers barely draped over his torso as his feet pressed against the board. He bit his lip, gently sliding your foot a few inches over on the mattress, freeing up a vaguely-human-sized space for him to sleep.
He carefully crawled onto the bed, curling himself this way and that, tighter and tighter, until he was able to rest on the small corner of the mattress he'd claimed. You didn't seem to mind, either, that his head came to rest on your thigh, pillowed by the soft flesh.
He fell asleep embarrassingly fast, cushioned by your thigh, his nose up against the heated skin, and didn't wake at all when you shifted. You hazily blinked in the dim room, peering downwards to see that Aaron was curled up on your thigh, clearly uncomfortable with how little space he had.
"You stubborn piece of-" You grumbled, raising your arm (subsequently freeing up half of the mattress) and tugging at his underarms, "Aaron, come up here."
He blindly followed your orders, hazy from sleep and lazy after a long day at work. He settled at your side, once again curling into you while you laid on your back.
His hand came to rest unconsciously over his son's much smaller one, the two of them holding onto your baby just as familiarly as they held onto you, their faces both tucked into your neck as they snoozed.
The four times you don’t know, but Aaron knows
Criminal Minds - Aaron Hotchner x You
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x You
Genre: Fluff.
Warnings: Brief mentions of drinking / being drunk.
Length: Drabble
The four times you don’t know, but Aaron knows.
You don’t know the exact moment in which he falls in love with you, but Aaron knows.
You had come back to your apartment to find him seated on the couch in front of your coffee table pouring over paperwork which he had spread open in front of him, his go bag by the door, suit jacket and tie hanging on the back of a nearby chair, the top button of his shirt popped open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
hi! i saw you reblog a prompt list and saw that you asked for some requests, so i was wondering if you wanted to write a Hotch imagine based on #35? only if you want to though, no pressure 🥰❤️
‘Ello friend!!! I wasn’t sure which #35 you meant so I went with fluff (which isn’t at all fluffy but I tried lol) I kinda want to do something for general #35 so I might do that one as a longer one shot next 😍
Prompt: “You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of me just yet did you?”
Word count: 416
Link to prompt
He could feel his heart beating in his ears. The loud thumping drowned out the yelling of the police officers on the scene. Louder than the ambulance that pulled up behind him and pushed their way through the crowd of agents and officers. He couldn’t see you yet and he knew he wouldn’t be able to calm down until he did. This was why he paired you with Dave. He couldn’t be with you in the field because he could hardly keep it together. All he wanted to do was run to you and ignore protocol. He wanted to push those officers and Morgan out of the way and cup your face in his hands but he couldn’t do that right now. The police chief was trying to talk to him, trying to debrief him on the situation but he wasn’t focused. Aaron briefly registered Dave coming over and asking the police chief to follow him, leaving Aaron alone in his plight while he waited for the paramedics to bring you back to the ambulance. The only movement he made was the tapping of his fingers against his thighs as he scanned the crowd to watch for the white uniforms or the red stretcher. When he finally saw some movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned towards you and let out the breath he had been holding. One of the paramedics held a towel against your lower abdomen, where he could see the blood pooling down towards your back. The only thing holding him back from spiraling into a full out panic is the way your eyes light up as they reach him. A half hearted smile pulled one corner of your lips up as you gritted your teeth through the pain. The worst case scenario thoughts leave him as you hold a hand towards him as the paramedics load you into the truck. He takes the invitation to join you and seats himself at the back of the ambulance, behind your head as the paramedics pull back the towel and start to assess the damage done. With a sweaty palm, he pushes a strand of hair out of your face and lingers, his fingers stroking your cheek with the lightest touch. You push your head up slightly to catch his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm as you tilt your head up to face him.
“You didn’t think you could get rid of me just yet did you?”
Summary: Getting paid for a date? Your first run as an escort turns into something far more exciting as your client appears to be anything from what you had anticipated.
Word count: 2.443
Warnings: strong language, powerplay, sexual innuendo’s and oysters. Yes. Oysters.
(Link to my Masterlist)
Click clack, click clack.
Your stiletto heels echoed on the smooth deep black marble floor of the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up the appearance that you belonged here. That you had control of the situation and that it was the most normal thing in the world to ask for..
‘Good evening. I’m to be expected by Mr. Walker.’
Your voice hovered in the air as the receptionist gave you a quick look up and down, his head slowly nodding as his fingers were quick to dial a number on the phone. A professional smile glued to his cheeks while he inquired about Mr. Walker, his eyes occasionally drifting back towards you.
Warnings: NON-CON, vampire!Avengers, Peter x reader, bloodplay, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af
divider by @firefly-graphics
! By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut !
summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.
warnings: injuries, sparring, mention of blood and bruises, angst, fluff, and banter
word count: 3.7k
a/n: i am a simple woman. i think of a hurt/comfort concept and am morally obligated to write it. (this is a repost from the other day so if you saw it before, no you didn’t)
if you’d like to be added to my taglist, click here! as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3
Episode Summary: Two years post the violent death of your Alpha, your travels lead you to Stark Wood, a small village in Montana. Looking for a place to stay, you ask around and find yourself being directed to the Avengers Ranch, a working Cowboy Farm run by Steve Rogers.
Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. A wee bit of angst.
Episode Pairings: Alpha Cowboy Steve Rogers x Omega Reader.
W/C: 4.3k
A/N: SUPRISE!!!! Yeah, I know I said a week but…I can’t wait.
So, here we go. My foray into the Alpha/Beta/Omegaverse. And Cowboys. I’ve got no idea how this is going to translate from my head to the page but…suppose we will see. This will carry a lot of Avengers type references, so I suppose it could be considered and Avengers AU in some ways…hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think- comments and reblogs always appreciated.
Massive thanks to @nixakimbo for the edit in the banner, which sparked this entire idea…
Based on a request from a lovely nonnie! We get two new characters.
As a reminder, I do not have tag lists any longer but please follow @synths-library and turn on notifications as i reblog my new content from there.
One, Two
Word Count: 3.1K
Ransom Drysdale x Reader
Warnings: 18+ ONLY - Heavy angst, language and Ransom being up to something.
Summary | After your divorce, Ransom Drysdale realizes that your clean break from him wasn’t as easy as he thought.
It’s been a whirlwind three months, fall beginning to settle in Boston as Leah and Carter run around Harlan’s compound under Ransom’s watchful eyes. Harlan doesn’t say a word as he takes his seat across from him, the crisp air swirling around the trees while Leah squeals for Carter when he gets distracted by a pile of leaves that he jumps into as Leah follows.
“They’re going to tire themselves out before dinner,” Harlan observes with a slight shake of his head. “To be young again.”
Ransom is silent, watching his son and daughter continue to play. The frosty reception is something Harlan is used to nowadays. The more responsibility Ransom takes on, the more he resents Harlan from hiding his children from him.
“I don’t expect you to talk to me much,” Harlan continues, pulling his gaze away from his grandchildren. “Nor do I expect you to accept the praise I’m about to give you. You’ve grown up in these short months, Ransom. I didn’t expect it but you’ve proved me wrong.”
“I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
“Maybe so.” Harlan leans back in his chair, giving Ransom a hard stare. “But your time is mostly spent with the twins these days. Did you ask for more visitation?”
“No,” Ransom answers. “She opened up the schedule so I get them three days a week, sometimes four if I ask for it.”
“So you’re talking again.”
“No.” Ransom swallows hard. “It still goes through her lawyer.”
“Ah,” Harlan answers, noting Ransom’s somber expression. “I take it you haven’t had a conversation since that night at her apartment.”
Ransom shrugs, playing with his signet ring.
“She says nothing but two words to me unless it’s instructions on the kids.”
“Do you want her to talk to you?”
“It would be nice,” Ransom snaps, losing his cool. “She kept my kids from me and you’re complicit in it as well and now everyone wants to pretend I’m the bad guy in this situation when I didn’t know they existed.”
“Ransom, I know this hard for you. But I did what had to be done to protect them. To protect her. She doesn’t owe you a single thing except what you asked for, which is to see your children and you have. I know you said that you would have changed had you found out that you were going to be a father but I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you would have changed. Honestly. You tell me that you would have stopped cheating on her, made amends and became the man you should have been from the beginning.”
Ransom can’t bring himself to look his grandfather in the eye, slumping back down in his seat with a hard sigh. He would be different now. This much he knows, remembering how you spoke your instructions for him and what time you would home for him to drop them off, like you were reading the weather.
“I thought so,” Harlan answers. “We can’t change our past. No one can do that. But we take those lessons and we apply them to the present and the future. You already have. But you cannot expect her to give up a piece of herself that you broke.”
“Daddy!” Leah shouts, Ransom’s attention going to her as she holds up a golden leaf. “Look! Pwetty!”
“It is,” Ransom agrees. “You wanna come inside yet?”
“No!”
Both of them shake their head before they take off running again.
-
With Ransom taking the twins, you were free to finally get your grocery shopping done. And with it, your stubbornness to not make two trips was in full effect, your fingers throbbing with the bags in your hands while you made your way toward the door slowly. Usually it was three trips, sometimes four if they didn’t want to cooperate.
You heard the slip of the bag crash to the ground while you found your keys, looking down in despair as the contents of it rolled out into the hallway.
“Great,” you mutter, placing the bags in front of your door.
“Let me help you.”
A golden haired handsome man crouches down to help you, leaning the bag up as he places the contents of it back inside. There’s nothing you can do but let him help, watching as he places the bag close to the others. He’s dressed in gym clothes but you can make out almost every single muscle under his tight shirt.
“Thank you,” you murmur, giving him a grateful smile. “Sorry you had to see my stubbornness on display. I hate making two trips.”
“Stubbornness? I think some would call that efficiency,” the man says, standing at his full height as he holds out his hand. “Steve Rogers. I just moved in down the hall.”
As you shake his hand, his grip is powerful and he smiles once you tell him your name. A genuine smile that makes you feel at ease.
“Welcome. I’ve been here for about three years. It’s a nice place.”
“Seems like it. I’m a pediatric doctor, just opened up a new office down the street. Within walking distance so it all works out.”
“Pediatric doctor, wow, that’s great,” you reply, realizing that you still need to get inside to put your things away. “Now I know if I need any advice, I’ll come to you.”
It’s a light joke but Steve takes the bait anyway.
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” you answer. “I have three-year-old twins.”
“That sounds adorable.”
“They are,” you agree with a smile at the thought of them. “So I apologize if you ever hear any screaming. They’re going through their not wanting to share phase. And sometimes oversharing their feelings.”
“I assure you I won’t mind.”
Once you get the door open, you pick up the bags, hesitating for a moment before you turn around.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Rogers. Thanks for helping me. I appreciate it.”
“Steve,” he replies with a smile. “And don’t mention it.”
-
It’s a new office, something you aren’t familiar with and you realize that for the past three years, Scott’s office has been your solace, a place to vent and to cry when your world gets too heavy. But a new job opportunity presented itself and you were happy for him, knowing he would get more recognition and with another baby on the way, his wife wouldn’t have to work, something she’d told you she was excited about, to be a stay at home mother for a little while.
Which is how you found yourself in Andy Barber’s office, a close friend of his that was more than happy to take on your case. Ransom’s visitations include overnights, even though you’re nervous that he’ll bring someone over. But as your children like to report back, they’ve had fun spending time with him and they end up coming back home with more toys, clothes and shoes than they would leave with, no other people mentioned.
When Andy finally enters, he places a cup of coffee in front of you.
“Two sugars and a splash of cream like you requested,” he says quietly, returning to his seat as he studies you for a moment. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” you reply. “He hasn’t asked for anything else, has he?”
Andy flips through your file.
“As far as I know, he hasn’t. That could change, considering Scott let me know you have the okay for overnights and his visitation increased from one day to three. If he did request joint custody, would you be okay with that?”
You swallow hard at his question.
“No.”
Andy’s blue eyes flicker up to yours as he places his pen down.
“Scott told me that you’ve been communicating through him and Mr. Drysdale’s lawyer. Is there any interest in having a mediated discussion to decide what you want to do?”
“No interest,” you answer quickly. “I don’t want to speak with him. I’m sure Scott told you everything I’ve gone through.”
Andy nods slowly, closing the file.
“He did,” Andy acknowledges. “But in a perfect world, what would this look like for him and seeing his children? I’m on your side, I want you to know that. But I’m getting the feeling that you aren’t really happy with the arrangement.”
“I have to be.”
“Says who?”
“Me,” you admit. “I can’t keep him from the kids. Even after everything he did to me. The arrangement can stay.”
Andy is silent for a moment before he scribbles down some notes.
“Alright. Then it stays. But promise me that if you feel any different, that you’ll let me know.”
“I promise.”
“I’ll speak with Mr. Drysdale’s lawyer tomorrow. Nothing major, just introducing myself and we continue on as before. Sound good?”
“Yes.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” Andy promises you. “I know people don’t like hearing that they are brave in circumstances that they can’t change, especially because you don’t have any other choice but it’s admirable that you still want to do the right thing.”
-
Ransom hears laughter when he knocks on the door, waiting as he hears little feet pounding toward it.
“Wait, wait,” you remind them. “What do we say?”
“Who is it?” Carter bellows.
“It’s Dad,” Ransom answers with a laugh.
“Mommy! It’s Daddy!”
“I heard,” you answer, opening the door.
Ransom doesn’t expect to see you dressed like you are, wearing a black cocktail dress with matching black pumps.
“Come in,” you tell him, opening the door wider.
Once again, he knows that is the extent of what he’ll get from you. But he can’t help but stare. You look good – gorgeous – and he knows that he has zero right to ask you anything but he does it anyway.
“Date?”
You pretend to ignore him, leaning down to kiss Leah and Carter as they bounce around you and Ransom with their backpacks stuffed to the brim.
“I wan’ watch a movie,” Leah announces, pulling on Ransom’s pant leg as she lifts her arms to be held.
“And ice cweam,” Carter adds.
Another knock at the door breaks Ransom’s concentration, watching the sway of your hips while you answer the door.
“Steve!” the twins shout at the sight of him, Leah squirming to get down as they run toward him.
Steve picks up the twins as they shriek, only to look back at Ransom as he places Leah and Carter gently back down onto the carpet.
“Steve Rogers,” he introduces himself with a nod. “You must be Ransom.”
Ransom’s jaw clenches at the sight of him as he nods. He didn’t expect this. It takes every ounce of restraint not to lash out, even though he knows he has no right to. He can see it in your eyes, the way you look at Steve.
You used to look at him that same way when you first started dating.
But he can’t blame you, even if jealousy threads through him at the sight of the man that is standing too close to you. Maybe if he hadn’t ruined his relationship with you, you would talk to him and he would have known about Steve, this man who seems to hold your attention.
And his kids.
“Got your stuff?” Ransom asks the twins.
“Yeah!”
“Okay, let’s go.” He herds them toward the door, waiting for you to say anything.
Something.
“Bye sweethearts,” you call out. “Be good.”
When the door closes, Ransom stands outside for a minute, trying to cool down from what he’s just witnessed. It’s bad enough that he’s heard your new lawyer seems to have a thing for you but now to see someone else in your life, even if it’s just a new thing, makes him want to demand for something more.
But he’s hurt you enough.
“Let’s go,” Leah orders, pulling on his hand.
He continues down the hallway, still thinking of you before he presses the button for the elevator. Ransom remembers how you used to look at him. Stealing glances across the table, falling asleep with your head on his chest because as you told him once, ‘it was the perfect place to fall asleep’. His fingers twitch at the thought of how you used to grab his hand, pulling him through random parks because you loved walks in the fall. When the elevator doors close, he can remember how nervous you were meeting his family, wanting to protect him after he’d told you about his family. To the tears in your eyes when he asked you to marry him and the tears that followed when you were walking down the aisle.
All now distant memories.
“No sad, Daddy,” Leah says softly, pulling on his sweater.
It isn’t until he feels a tear roll down his cheek that he realizes that he was crying. He blinks, shaking his head for a moment.
“Okay?” Carter asks, both of the twins looking up at him with sad eyes.
“I’m okay,” Ransom soothes, forcing a smile as they relax at his gentle tone. “Just something in my eyes.”
-
“The end,” Ransom finishes, watching Leah cuddle up against her teddy bear.
“Night-night, Daddy,” Leah whispers as Ransom kisses her cheek.
“Goodnight. Tomorrow we’ll make pancakes, okay?”
“Kay.”
He stands, closing the door slightly as she settles back into bed.
When he reaches Carter’s room, his son is still wide awake, playing with his toys as Ransom leans against the doorway.
“Bedtime, bud,” Ransom reminds him as he looks up at his father, shaking his head.
“I miss Mommy.”
Me too, Ransom thinks.
It’s been three weeks since he last saw you with Steve, the twins telling them all about how he takes them to the park. How he has a ‘big job’. And then there is Andy, your ‘friend’ who came to baby-sit them when you had a scheduling conflict. He let them watch their favorite cartoons and eat ice cream.
Ransom wonders if the twins ever mention him to you.
“You’ll see her tomorrow,” Ransom finishes. “Time for bed though.”
“Mommy gets sad,” Carter says with a shake of his head. “Wan’ Mommy.”
“Sad?” Ransom asks, lowering himself to Carter’s level.
“Mommy gets sad,” Carter repeats. “She hides her face.”
“Does Mommy cry?”
“Uh huh,” Carter tells him, picking up his toys. “I make it better.”
“I’m sure you do, bud,” Ransom praises. “You’re brave.”
“I know,” Carter replies, climbing into his bed. “Mommy tells me.”
Carter yawns as Ransom plucks out his favorite bedtime story from the bookshelf.
“You ready?” Ransom asks, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying not to think about you crying.
“Yeah.”
-
Andy sits across from you while you look over the menu. You’re supposed to be keeping your options open and this option is not one you expected. Steve has been busy with work but he understands that you can’t commit, not right now. Nor can he, with how involved he’s been with opening a new office. But the desire is there, for something more one day, possibly, even with little dates here and there.
But Andy is a different story. This upscale restaurant is exclusive, taking months to get a reservation that he was able to snag within a few hours. Even after you’ve told him the truth, that you can’t commit to anything serious until you figure out your life and that you’ve already been seeing someone, that didn’t deter him from asking you to dinner.
“Order whatever you want,” Andy reminds you as the waiter pours you a glass of wine. “I figured it would be nice for you to get out and be pampered for a little.”
“This is nice,” you admit. “I’m still floored that you got a reservation but I appreciate this.”
“Don’t mention it,” Andy says with a smile. “No client talk tonight.”
“Is this even allowed?”
Andy raises an eyebrow as he smirks.
“You said it yourself,” he begins, taking a sip of his wine. “You aren’t looking for a commitment and I respect that. Nor am I trying to take advantage of your situation. But I think this is the most I’ve seen you smile in weeks.”
“That didn’t answer my question,” you tease, liking the sound of his laughter.
“It isn’t not allowed,” he answers finally. “Maybe I’m being a little selfish. I wish you could see yourself the way others do. I know your boyfriend, Steve is it? He sees it.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you reply with a shake of your head.
“So you’re available,” Andy flirts back.
“Andy Barber,” you admonish before you both start laughing. “I’m a mother of twins who can’t believe that people are interested in getting to know someone like me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think it’s the other way around. The rest of us can’t believe you would grace us with your presence.”
“I’m not that special.”
“Don’t do that,” Andy tells you, his voice low. “Don’t let whatever he did to you make you feel like you aren’t worth it, that you aren’t special. This dinner may very well be just a dinner and I’d be fine with that. But you don’t get to think that you aren’t worthy when you are. He didn’t deserve you and he’s lucky that he has the twins in his life. That’s all he deserves. You decided you wanted better for you and your children and you left because you decided that you were worth it and better off without him. Don’t think any differently. Understand?”
You give a short nod as you try to ignore the tears brimming in your eyes.
“I may have to fight Steve over many things but I think we can agree on that,” Andy finishes. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I feel like he’s done enough of that.”
“It’s okay,” you reply before you take a sip of your wine. “You’re right.”
-
Ransom places their backpacks on the counter as Leah and Carter grab onto your legs, talking over each other as they replay everything they did over their last weekend before Leah remembers her question.
Based on a request from a lovely nonnie! This may go longer than three parts because I’m a trash human so I’m changing it haha. I wasn’t going to post another chapter like… within hours but here we are.
As a reminder, I do not have tag lists any longer but please follow @synths-library and turn on notifications as i reblog my new content from there.
Previous
Word Count: 3K
Ransom Drysdale x Reader
Warnings: 18+ ONLY - Mentions of cheating, language, heavy angst, mentions of sickness (small mention of throwing up), mentions of an almost miscarriage.
Summary | After your divorce, Ransom Drysdale realizes that your clean break from him wasn’t as easy as he thought.
Scott looks up at you, trying to smile as you feel the weight get heavier on your shoulders. You can tell the news he’s going to give you won’t be something you want to hear.
“Ransom is not asking for joint custody,” Scott begins, watching your lip tremble as he pauses. “But he is asking for visitation.”
“I don’t have options, do I?”
“It could play out one of two ways. You can go the route of assuming he is not the father but he’ll pursue testing to verify paternity, potentially countersuing in the process, even asking for joint custody. Or we agree to what we already know and allow for visitation.”
“He didn’t even know they existed until a few weeks ago.” You feel your chest getting tighter, your breaths shallow. “This isn’t fair.”
“It isn’t, I know that,” Scott agrees, watching you wipe away angry tears. “But he has rights.”
“But he shouldn’t. I didn’t ask for anything in the divorce. I just wanted to be away. And he was fine with it.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. We play nice and maybe he’ll back off.”
“He won’t,” you sniffle, the tissue box in hand as you pluck one out. “It’s Ransom.”
Based on a request from a lovely nonnie! I’ll admit, I had fun writing the kids.
Word Count: 1.5K
Ransom Drysdale x Reader
Warnings: 18+ ONLY - Mentions of cheating, implied smut, divorce, language, surprise pregnancy.
Summary | After your divorce, Ransom Drysdale realizes that your clean break from him wasn’t as easy as he thought.
“Just get out,” Ransom seethes, his voice gaining volume as the woman in front of him finally slips on her dress.
“I’m going,” she cuts back, her lip trembling. “Didn’t think you’d kick me out right after you got your rocks off.”
“I said get out!”
The brunette lugs her purse over her shoulder, giving him the middle finger as his eyes narrow in response, his jaw clenching. At his stare, she flees the room, the door slamming while he cards a hand through his hair, blowing out a hard breath.
Shaky fingers open the nightstand drawer, his wedding ring still nestled in the box, three years gone since he’s worn it, placed upon the stack of the divorce papers that he hasn’t looked at since it was finalized. The condoms on the left, easy access for him and no one else to see.
It would have been fine had she not asked questions. He was still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, mind everywhere else but on the one who used to warm his bed.
Pulling himself out of bed, he slams the nightstand drawer closed, the force of it swaying back and forth while his eyes follow the rhythm for a moment. There’s zero trace of you and yet he still remembers your clothes mingling with his own, shoes neatly stacked in the massive closet. He had to hand it to you. You’d caught him off guard when he came home late, intent on seeing you asleep when everything you owned had disappeared.
Hey! Love your words ☺️ just wondering if chosen is still in progress? I’m a sucker for a royal Steve fic
Hey! Thank you so much! 😊
I've answered an ask similar to this one quite recently - I'm not that happy about the chapters I've written and posted of "Chosen" so far and kinda got stuck.
However, I'm currently rewriting the story and an update should follow soon! 😊
TW: Mentions of usual CM case-related violence, mentions of Haley’s death, insecurity, and cursing
Well, this is new, innit? (And, yes, I am referencing The Beatles with the title). I wasn’t sure if my usual tags would be interested in this, but I’ve included it just in case - I’m sorry if I tagged you and you’re not interested in this! Hope you like it! xx
Profilers are strange creatures. A bizarre breed of human, truly. Not bad, per se, just…odd. Charmingly odd, in most cases, as you’d discovered upon joining the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. The team were a fascinating and brilliant bunch, but also unerringly loyal and empathetic (highly desirable and important qualities in your line of work). However, being able to read people also equips profilers with the infuriating ability to make themselves impossible to read. They know all the tricks of the trade to hide their tells and never give away anything. And now, nearly a year into working with the BAU, you’ve managed to crack nearly everyone…except your boss, Aaron Hotchner. The most intimidating man in the world. And why do you consider him the most intimidating man in the world? Because you’re not at all sure where you stand with your boss…ever. At any time. You have absolutely no idea how he feels about you or perceives you. Which is unsurprising considering the mixed messages you get from Hotch.
