I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!
pairing: Aaron Hotchner x liaison!fem reader
summary: In the bustling halls of the BAU, you’re the witty subordinate who’s been secretly crushing on Aaron, the stoic unit chief with a recently single status. For years, you’ve balanced your admiration with sharp banter, but things take a turn when your support starts to melt his icy exterior. As he navigates his newfound freedom, he’s blissfully unaware that your ability to make him laugh is turning into something deeper. With tension simmering between playful camaraderie and unspoken feelings, will he finally realize that the real mystery isn’t just in the cases you solve, but in the spark that’s been right under his nose? Buckle up for a charmingly complicated case of unspoken feelings!
warnings: boss x subordinate, age gap, mutual pining, mentions of divorce/murderers/alcohol (just basic criminal minds stuff)
the new chapter of the hotch series…. first of all, let me just say, thank you from the bottom of my heart i really needed that. also, qowiwbrijrjeowoqjqh!!!!!!!! that was SO GOOD, i feel like i’m 13 again and spending all night reading fanfiction and i mean that with the HIGHEST of compliments!! <33333
goshh🥹 this is the highest of compliments i’ve ever gotten, so thank you thank you!!! it really means so much <333
summary: When Hotch finds out you’ve been receiving flowers at work, an unexpected twinge of jealousy bubbles up, prompting him to snap at you for the first time. But when he catches you with the charming guy behind those flowers, he can’t help but let his irritation fly, determined to crash the moment and reclaim his territory. Flowers, apologies, and unspoken feelings swirl in the dimly lit office, and as the elevator doors close, one thing is clear: in this office, stakes are high, banter is sharp, and those flowers might be just the beginning of your troubles.
warnings: some angst and a little more of jealousy, hotch fighting his feelings for you, boss x subordinate
I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!
The tension in the atmosphere had thickened to an almost tangible weight in recent days, an oppressive silence that hung over the office like a storm cloud. Everyone sensed it, you felt it strongly enough to avoid the bullpen as much as possible.
It was a simmering fury that bubbled beneath the surface—fury aimed not just at Hotch, but at yourself, too. You had found yourself ensnared in a predicament that felt increasingly inescapable.
Yet alongside this anger, there lingered a peculiar, unsettling sensation gnawing at your insides. Was it simply the sting of disappointment at witnessing your boss’s disapproval for the first time, and for the stupidest reason, or was there something deeper at play?
~
When Aaron glanced through the blinds of his office window, which framed the bullpen like a living portrait, his eyes instinctively landed on you. His gaze followed as you stepped into the bullpen, focused on navigating the familiar space, your heels echoing softly on the floor. The sleek ponytail of your hair was swaying rhythmically with each confident step as you made your way towards Emily’s table, a bouquet in your hands.
You wore a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into a black leather pencil skirt, Aaron noticed— a combination that was both professional and undeniably striking.
His gaze fell on the delicate collar framing your neck and a rush of admiration mixed with something more primal surged within him, fighting to keep his focus.
Unbeknownst to you, Aaron’s gaze lingered, and an involuntary gulp caught in his throat—unaware of the effect you had on him; a reaction to the undeniable presence you exuded.
When Hotch had entered your office earlier that morning with the expectation of seeing you, he was met with an unexpected sight that sent his mind reeling. Lately, he had noticed the influx of flowers adorning your workspace—each bouquet seemingly more extravagant than the last.
The first bouquet, the third, the seventh… and yet he had remained silent, a spectator to your blossoming attention. However, upon entering your office and discovering that, he needed to take action.
Surprised, although not for the same reason Emily might have been, or you, or any other woman, but because those bouquets of flowers were scattered across every available surface—a riot of colors on your desk, the sofa, the cabinet, the floor. Even the damn floor.
It was a sight that would have delighted anyone else, but for him, it sparked something else entirely.
He stopped in his tracks, his gaze darting around the room, landing on the largest bouquet of roses. A surge of urgency propelled him forward, and he reached out, fingers brushing the delicate petals. But just as quickly, this moral compass deep within him compelled him to retract his hand, leaving the note unread among the blossoms. Why did he do that?
There was restlessness fluttering inside him — his heart quivered, his thoughts stirred, his hand clenched into a fist. All this unconsciously, without his knowledge and even less without his permission.
Frustrated, he exited the office, anger directed inwards rather than towards you. He was so consumed by his own turmoil that he failed to notice Derek humming a casual tune as he passed by. Those stolen glances, late-night conversations, and shared moments in silence—did they mean nothing to you? Why was he acting like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away?
Now, as he watched you out of his window, you just presented Emily with one of the many bouquets, placing it gently on her worktable. The moment was met with surprise; a rosy blush crept across Emily’s cheeks as she leaned down to inhale the fragrance of the blooms, the only touch of color on her otherwise sparse desk. It was a simple gesture, yet it ignited a warm laugh that bubbled from her lips, a testament to the joy that flowers could bring.
Women very simple creatures sometimes. You gave them flowers and their whole day was made. They were more than just a gift; they conveyed a sense of thoughtfulness from the sender — someone showing them they cared.
As Aaron contemplated this, a nagging feeling tightened in his chest, the thought of you receiving those haphazardly arranged bouquets gnawing at him. What did it feel like to be the recipient of such attention? He shut his eyes, frustration mingling with confusion. Without thinking any further, he left his office in a hurry, propelled by emotions he couldn’t quite grasp, desperate to confront the swirling thoughts that haunted him.
Firstly, he called out your name with a brusqueness that cut through the chatter, and then he commanded you into his office with a tone that brooked no argument. The collective shift of gazes from your colleagues was palpable, each person’s curiosity piqued by the sudden tension. Emily, noticing your bewilderment, shrugged her shoulders. Derek let out a playful whistle, adding to the atmosphere of uncertainty. You excused yourself, the weight of unspoken questions heavy in the air as you made your way towards Hotch’s office.
“Yes?” You closed the door behind you, stepping cautiously into the space that felt suddenly charged. He stood behind his chair— indirectly telling you there was no need for you to sit either.
Aaron scrutinized you, his gaze piercing, as if trying to unveil layers hidden beneath your calm facade. The intensity in his eyes sparked an unsettling fire within you. His stern expression left little doubt that you were about to receive a lecture.
When he finally spoke, his voice was unyielding. “This is a workplace.”
You glanced sideways, replying through a hesitant smile. “Yes.” You weren’t sure what this was about. Looking back at him, you confirmed. “I know that.”
You couldn’t remember if Hotch ever called you out on something. There was a reason everyone referred to you as his soft spot, and you were very well aware of that.
“I’ve started to doubt it.“ he replied, his gaze drifting momentarily to his desk, eyebrows knitting together in frustration before snapping back to you. It was clear that this situation was unfamiliar territory for him, too.
“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrowed, challenging his assertion.
“I’m talking about your office.”
“Why? It’s just some flowers, Hotch.” Your defensiveness edged your words, a forced casualness clashing with the discomfort bubbling beneath the surface.
“It’s not just some flowers. It’s a whole flower boutique.”
You huffed, exasperation creeping in. “Why are you acting like this?”
His brows furrowed even further, his head tilting slightly as if he were trying to comprehend your question. “Acting like what?”
“Frustrated. Over some damn flowers.”
“I’m your superior.” He snapped, imbuing the air with an undeniable authority, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt a stab of regret. It hurt you, he could see that, and the realization left him unsettled. Did he truly believe that hierarchy justified his reaction? Or was he simply hiding behind his title to mask his deeper feelings? The very idea made him feel foolish.
Aaron stood still behind his chair, but inside, a storm of conflicting emotions raged. He couldn’t comprehend why he was so worked up over something as trivial as flowers. It was an irrational reaction, and yet, every time he tried to dismiss it, another wave of frustration washed over him.
There was a flicker of something deeper in him—a protective instinct perhaps, or something more complex. He could feel it pulsing under the surface, but he didn’t have the clarity to name it.
You stood there, disappointment washing over your features, and he felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Why did he care so much? As your boss, he was supposed to keep the team aligned. He was supposed to be your boss, an ally, not the one causing this rift between you. Instead, he found himself obsessing over the sight of your office flooded with blooms, the vibrant colors contrasting starkly with the serious nature of their work. He was acutely aware of how the team was watching, how the tension between you both had become the elephant in the room. It was like a charged magnetism, drawing attention and whispers, and he hated that it felt like a distraction from their mission. But the emotion tangled within him, leaving him more confused than ever. It was new territory for him, and he was unsure how to navigate the storm brewing between professional duty and the undeniable connection he felt towards you.
The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, the tension in the air thickening with every heartbeat.
A sudden rush of something unnameable surged through you at his dismissiveness. Adding a quick but firm “Sir,” you turned on your heel and left his office, a swirl of emotions churning within you.
Once you were gone, he maintained a calm facade until the door clicked shut behind you. With a heavy sigh, he released the tension that had coiled in his chest.
In the sleek, metal elevator of the FBI office building, you stood beside Nathaniel, a charming colleague, exchanging playful banter as the elevator smoothly ascended. His laughter filled the small space, and you found yourself leaning in closer, sharing a joke that had him chuckling, completely at ease. The way he smiled—that kind expression always so infectious that you felt your own lips curling.
Just as the banter reached a peak, the elevator doors dinged and slid open to reveal your boss— Aaron, standing there, hands in his pockets, he was all sharp suits and commanding presence, but now—now his expression a mix of surprise and something deeper.
He cleared his throat, his gaze switching between you and your companion.
“Morning, everyone,” he managed, his voice tight.
The men exchanged wary glances but the shifting emotions in Aaron’s eyes made it hard for you to decipher what he was feeling. You could sense a shift in the air as he stepped inside — it was thick, charged with an unspoken tension that hung between the two of you like a taut wire, ready to snap. You managed to greet him back, but his eyes remained fixed on you and Nathan, an unmistakable frown creeping onto his face. Aaron’s lips pressed together a little tighter.
The elevator continued its journey, but the mood had changed. Hotch stood close to the elevator doors, his back to you, shifting uncomfortably as he sensed the playful energy behind him. As he heard a soft and familiar chuckle escape you, his jaw tightened, and his knuckles whitened inside his pockets. It was apsurd, he knew he had no right to feel possessive over you. Unfortunately, you didn’t belong to him. Yet, he couldn’t shake the deep-rooted urge. He felt immobilised, tormented by the sight that you were looking at another man with such fondness, and not someone else… Not him.
Turning around, he glanced between you and the man, who remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within Aaron. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, his tone softer than usual, directed at you but layered with an undercurrent of curiosity.
“I’m good…” you replied, darting your gaze between the two men, unsure of where this was heading. “Why d—”
“I saw you throw all the flowers from your office in the trash yesterday.” His tone was deliberately casual, but you sensed the underlying challenge. He feigned ignorance, yet he knew very well that Nathan was the one who had sent you those flowers. How he found out didn’t matter; what mattered was that he knew you were oblivious to the fact.
Your heart raced, warmth flooding your cheeks as you shifted your gaze between Aaron and Nathan, acutely aware of the latter’s confused expression. This was not the best moment for your boss to bring it up, especially not in front of the sender. “Hotch, you said—” you began, desperate to defend yourself.
“I didn’t say you should throw them away.” He stared into your eyes, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t want something so nice.” The way he phrased it felt like a direct jab, and you couldn’t shake the feeling he was relishing the moment.
Nathan glanced between you and Aaron, his brows furrowing. “Wait, you didn’t like them?” he asked, genuine concern creeping into his voice.
Aaron’s eyebrows raised expectantly as he studied you, waiting for you to answer. Caught between the two men, you felt the heat of embarrassment rise in your cheeks. Aaron turned to the elevator’s display as the digits changed, muttering, “Alas.” He glanced down at his watch just as the elevator dinged. “Just in time.”
You turned to Nathan, wanting to explain, but Hotch stepped outside, turning around to address you. “I need you.”
You raised your brows, waiting. He added, “In the conference room.”
When you stood frozen in place, his expression hardened, voice leaving no room for argument. “Now.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, murmuring an apology to the other man as you stepped forward. Hotch strode towards the bullpen, a faint smile playing on his lips, and you followed, your thoughts swirling with the unsettling desire to wrap your hands around his neck. To say you wanted to choke him would be an understatement.
After a long day spent wrapping up a challenging case, you returned to the office, welcomed by the familiar hum of the building. The lighting in your workspace was soft and muted, casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls, creating a cozy yet intimate atmosphere. As you stepped inside, the air felt still, almost charged with anticipation.
Your gaze landed on your desk, where a stunning potted plant awaited you. Its lush green leaves unfurled like delicate hands reaching for the light, creating a vibrant contrast against the muted backdrop of your office. A smile crept onto your face, and you assumed it was the same sender again, delighting in the thought of his thoughtfulness. The sweet, earthy aroma enveloped you as you leaned closer, savoring the moment.
Nestled beside the pot was a card. You picked it up, turning it over to find a message penned in a well-known handwriting.
I’m sorry.
Your heart raced, and a smile instantly spread across your face.
Just as you admired the plant, a sharp rap echoed through the room. Two knocks. You turned to find Hotch standing at the doorway. The low light accentuated the sharp lines of his jaw and the slight furrow in his brow.
“Hey,” he said, stepping inside. He scanned the room, as if searching for the right words that wouldn’t come off wrong or selfish. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day.” His gaze dropped to his hands, fiddling with his phone as shadows flickered across his face. “I was out of line. I may have not handled myself like a Unit Chief should.”
When he met your eyes, the corner of his lips turned down, revealing a hint of vulnerability. The soft glow illuminated the intensity in his dark eyes.
You tilted your head, intrigued by your boss’ almost shy demeanor. Your eyes softened as you offered him a warm smile, genuinely appreciative of his sincerity. “Thank you, Hotch. I really appreciate it.”
He nodded, shifting his gaze to the plant behind your back. “And the gift…it’s from me.”
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your playful smile unwavering. “Don’t say?” You turned around to take the pot in your hands.
“I thought you deserved something better. And I promise, it’s just this one plant. I know how you feel about your office turning into a flower shop.” He replied, a hint of humour laced in his tone.
You knew he was talking about the way you had discarded of the flowers — how you put them in a big black trash bag and threw them in the containers behind the building. Just the thought that he might have spied on you, seeing you do it, danced on top of your heart.
Leaning down, you inhaled the fresh scent of the leaves, their vibrant green appearing even more vivid in the dim light. “Well, let’s hope it is just this one plant.” You said, trying to sound serious before looking at Hotch over the top of your plant, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “As much as I might not like it, my boss despise it.”
There was a glint of mirth dancing inside your eyes. “This is not a botanical garden after all, is it?”
Aaron watched you for a moment before his stoic facade cracked. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he glanced down at his hands before meeting your gaze again, trying to return some seriousness to his expression. “Exactly. I can only handle so much floral decor.”
“I mean, yellow hyacinths would definitely clash with your suit, don’t you think?”
Yellow hyacinths— the flowers of jealousy.
Aaron raised an eyebrow, clearly not picking up on your implication. “I suppose so,” he replied, but there was a fleeting shadow across his expression that hinted at something deeper.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside your office faded away, leaving just the two of you locked in this shared moment. You could see the warmth in his expression, the way his eyes held a depth of feeling that hinted at unspoken emotions illuminated by the dim glow of the lamp beside you. Your heart raced, an undeniable connection sparking between you.
You glanced at the plant again, blushing, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Thank you, Hotch. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He gave a nod as he met your gaze, a small smile appearing at his lips. He never knew how you managed to make him smile with just a comment, just one look. “I’m glad you like them.”
There was softness in his gaze, a flicker of vulnerability that caught you off guard.
“Good night,” he finally said, breaking the silence that crackled with electricity between you. He turned to leave before you could respond.
“Good night,” you whispered, stepping into the hallway after him, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him go. You relished his figure, the way he moved, the confidence in his stride.
When he disappeared behind the glass doors, you sighed, your gaze falling down to the plant in your hands.
The flowers, though beautiful, were ephemeral; a fleeting moment of beauty that left only memories in their wake. This plant—it felt like a promise, a symbol of something lasting in a world filled with fleeting moments. You would care for it, would cherish it, regardless of what anyone said. You would treasure it.
*can be read as a standalone but is a bonus scene for the Unknowingly series in honour of celebrating Aaron’s birthday🥹
MASTERLIST
pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader
summary: your boss is drowning in paperwork when you burst in with a birthday cake and a cheerful serenade, determined to rescue him from his serious face. Your playful spirit turns the mundane into a mini-party and the weight of his responsibilities fades. In that small, cozy space, laughter and connection blossom, transforming an ordinary night into a memorable celebration filled with joy and unspoken wishes. Who knew paperwork could come with cake and a side of chaos?
warnings: boss x subordinate, mutual pining, some fluff and flirting, of course
Aaron Hotchner sat alone in his dimly lit office, the clock ticking softly in the background, marking the late hours of the night. The weight of paperwork loomed over him like an unwelcome cloud, his loose white shirt hanging comfortably around his neck, the collar slightly askew. His tie lay abandoned on the desk, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that hinted at both strength and exhaustion. The flickering light from the desk lamp cast soft shadows across his focused expression as he scribbled notes on a report.
You peered through the slightly ajar door, a smile breaking across your face at the sight of him buried in work. It was a familiar scene—one you had come to appreciate. There was something about seeing him so immersed in his tasks, yet so human in his dishevelled attire, that made your heart flutter. The way he concentrated, the faint lines of stress etched on his brow, made you want to lighten his burden.
You pushed the door open wider, stepping inside with a piece of cake held delicately in your hands, a single candle flickering atop it like a beacon of cheer. Taking a deep breath, you began to sing, “Happy birthday to you…” Your voice echoed softly against the walls, a playful melody breaking the stillness.
Aaron’s head snapped up, confusion flashing across his face for a split second before it transformed into a genuine but tired smile, softening the stern lines of his jaw. He looked at the unexpected sight before him, momentarily caught off guard by your vibrant presence. Weaving your way around the desk and towards him, Aaron turned his chair to face you fully, his brow furrowing in surprise before softening with gratitude. “How did you know?” he asked, the weight of his day momentarily lifting.
“Do you really think you can keep secrets from me?” You set the cake down with a flourish, leaning against the desk, your playful demeanor a breath of fresh air in the still office. “I have my sources,” you replied, your voice teasing and light. “Every birthday deserves a little celebration, don’t you think?” You winked at him, your smile infectious.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head, clearly both flattered and amused. “I usually keep my birthday under wraps to avoid… this,” he said, gesturing towards the cake, a hint of bemusement lacing his tone. “I prefer to keep it low-key. Too many people would make a big deal out of it.”
“Good thing I’m not ‘too many people’,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you grinned down at him. “Just the right amount of fun for the birthday boss.”
As your gaze locked, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. The flickering candlelight danced between you, casting a warm glow that highlighted the softness in his eyes. “You’re full of surprises,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent, as if acknowledging something sacred.
“Aren’t birthdays meant for surprises?” you replied, your brows lifting in playful challenge. The candlelight danced in your cheerful eyes, enhancing the intimacy of the moment. “Now, close your eyes, make a wish, and blow out the candle,” you urged, clasping your hands beneath your chin, your heart racing in anticipation.
Aaron sighed, knowing you wouldn’t let go until he did it, knowing too well he couldn’t resist your charm. So he closed his eyes, focusing on the flame that flickered before him. In that stillness, his thoughts turned inwards, settling on a wish that felt profound—a desire that had stirred in his heart for longer than he dared to acknowledge. The truth settled in his heart: you were the source of his joy, the light that pierced the shadows of his long hours.
When he opened his eyes again, he found you watching him intently, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Well? What did you wish for?” you teased, leaning closer, your curiosity brightening the room.
He smirked, the playful banter returning, but he felt the weight of his unshared truth. “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “After all, you have your sources.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, pulling plastic forks from your suit’s pocket and offering one to him. As you both shared a slice of cake, Aaron looked up at you, his expression softening. You were perched on the edge of his desk, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes as you dove into the cake, savoring each bite. But as he glanced back at the clock, a question nagged at him. Why were you really here, choosing him over the festivities? He couldn’t shake the thought. While others were out enjoying the night, you had willingly stepped into the dim light of his office, sharing a slice of cake and laughter instead.
“Shouldn’t you be out with the team, enjoying your night off?” he asked, a hint of curiosity threading through his tone. His gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking away, a reminder of the lively night happening elsewhere.
“Because,” you replied, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’d much rather celebrate with you than be in a crowded bar where no one knows how to appreciate a good cake.”
A teasing smile crept across your lips, surveying the neatly organized office as if contemplating a grand scheme. “I could say I was worried about you, but honestly?” You paused for effect, cocking your head to the side with a playful smirk. “I couldn’t resist the chance to bring a little chaos and cake to your perfectly organized life.”
Hotch leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin creeping across his face as he watched you. It was rare for him to let his guard down in the office, but here you were, radiating a lightness that cut through the heaviness of his responsibilities like a beam of sunshine. You were animated, lost in the joy of the moment, and it reminded him of how much he valued your presence—your ability to infuse laughter and warmth into the often-grim world of the Bureau.
You didn’t just bring chaos; you brought something deeper—a sense of connection, a reminder that even in the seriousness of his job, he wasn’t alone. He appreciated how you lightened his burdens, even if just for a brief reprieve. The laughter and shared cake were small acts, but they brought a brightness that pierced through the usual shadows of his responsibilities.
In that fleeting moment, he felt a swell of gratitude that you had chosen to stay, even if it was just to share a slice of cake. He felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t just about the cake; maybe it was about you choosing him.
“Did you wish for another piece of cake?” you teased, breaking the comfortable silence, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes revealing your hidden intentions as you enjoyed your bite.
“No, but I should have,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone as the corners of his lips lifted slightly. “What I wished for might be a little more… complicated.”
“Oh? Now you have to tell me, or I can’t help,” you insisted, leaning closer, your voice dropping conspiratorially. “I have my sources. Was it something about the case? A promotion? Or maybe that I’d bring you cake every year?”
He raised an eyebrow, maintaining a teasingly serious expression. “Let’s just say it was a wish for happiness.” His gaze lingered on yours, and in that moment, a soft connection sparked between you—an unspoken understanding that hung in the air, almost tangible.
You felt warmth blossom within you, the moment stretching as you shared that knowing smile, nodding. “Well, then, I think we have to make that wish come true. Starting with more cake,” you declared, laughter bubbling up as you reached for a fork, your enthusiasm infectious.
The night was far from over, and in that small office, surrounded by scattered papers and the gentle ticking of seconds on the clock, something unspoken began to bloom—a shared wish, yet unvoiced, hanging delicately between you.
As you both indulged in the cake, the storm of paperwork faded into the background, replaced by an easy warmth that enveloped the room. The simple act of celebrating—a birthday, a connection—infused the atmosphere with a sweetness that even the weightiest cases could not overshadow. Each bite of cake felt like a small victory, a reminder that joy could be found in the midst of chaos.
