https://www.tumblr.com/criminalskies/731836741173018624/literally-no-shame-to-anybody-that-enjoys-it-but
i think this is soooo true and it would hit harder if it’s hotch x reader who’s been mistreated in the past or just been with people who were more rough on them so that’s their perception of how relationships are supposed to be and hotch is like 🥺🥺 omg no and he’s so gentle with them
OKAY PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING LIKE. 15 MONTHS TO RESPOND TO THIS BUT I FINALLY DID IT IN A WAY I AM ALMOST PROUD OF. I have loved this request for as long as I have had it. Please enjoy!!!!!!!
Company.
Aaron Hotchner x Reader / Aaron Hotchner x Y/N. Gender Neutral Reader.
TW: this story heavily alludes to previous abusive relationships/dates/partners and to specifically past sexual encounters that have stuck with reader. If this sounds like it is not the story for you, please do not read it. It is not my intention to upset anybody. also use of y/n, possibly horribly unnatural dialogue. I'm sorry I have not written in like a year. I'm doing my best <3
Word count: 2,800ish
Four months. You had been dating Aaron Hotchner for four beautiful months since he finally plucked up the courage (courtesy of Dave’s pestering) to straighten his tie, take a deep breath and ask you out. You distinctly remember thinking he must have mistaken you for another agent in your department, surely, someone as successful, attractive and alarmingly handsome as SSA Hotchner could not have intended to ask you. But he did. Since then, he has proven time and time again just how adamantly he intends to romance you. You’ve shown him all of your favourite places, your favourite coffee shop, your favourite gardens at the park, the best hole-in-the-wall pizza place in the city. Each time, you thought, maybe he won’t fit in there. Maybe the dry-humoured, tight-browed agent would look somehow out of place in your little life, just as partner after partner before him had proven to. They had all changed shape, from a kind stranger into somebody that you trust, and then become someone angry who you couldn’t even recognise. But he never did. It’s amazing how a man so distinctly beautiful has managed to blend in with all of that scenery. How he has stayed so unwaveringly careful and calm.
There is really only one other place you need to show to him. Your place. The problem being, you’ve always found inviting a man to your place to be a little challenging. There are too many expectations and suddenly things always seem to be moving too fast for your liking. This was always the point at which things would change for the worse. The point at which you realise that the person you grew to trust may want more of you than you could hold in your own two hands. The moment they began to pick pieces of you from your body themselves. You snap yourself from the thought of what awful marks even the most trusted hands have left on you, and find yourself staring at your own hands on your keyboard. You check the clock to see that you had drifted a little too far with that train of thought, having stayed thirty minutes past the end of your work day. Desks around you seem to have emptied on their own, only stray jackets and sticky notes reminding you that people had once been present here, warming the seats just as you are now. You make a quick effort to turn off your computer, grab your keys from your drawer and begin meandering over to the door.
“Y/N!” A calm voice you so warmly recognise calls to you. “Are you heading out for the day? There’s no one else here, wait for me and I’ll walk you out, please? It would make me feel better if you weren’t alone in the dark.” Aaron pleads from the doorway. Such a profiler, he seems to have noticed very soon in your relationship that you are much more receptive to such offers if he adds that last part. Making it about his peace of mind instead of your need for company, he knows you don’t like inconveniencing anybody. “Oh, sure, I didn’t realise you’d be leaving so soon. I thought you had a reputation for logging more hours in this office than anybody.” You tease, as he reaches behind the door for his coat and switches off his cold office lights. You love the way the lower light catches his eyes, the softness in them. “That’s true. I do have that reputation, but I think it was unfairly formed when I was fighting to prove myself here against Strauss. I don’t have that eagle circling me these days.” He takes broad strides towards you as he reaches out a hand for yours. A habit you’ve noticed he only exercises away from any wandering eyes of other agents, whether that is for your benefit, or his, you are unsure. But you do appreciate how he extends his hand slowly, palm,facing inwards, towards you. Almost as if he knows how to soothe your nerves. You think, however, that this is just the speed Aaron Hotchner works at, meaningful and reserved. That notion seems to fill you with a flash of confidence you don’t often feel these days. “Any plans tonight, Hotchner?” You raise an eyebrow trying to mask your shaking lip as you work up the courage to ask the next question. “Not unless you count cleaning out my fridge.” He notes, dry as ever.
You turn to him fully, stopping in both of your tracks. “Well, if your fridge is patient enough, did you want to grab some dinner with me? I know an awesome vietnamese food truck is stopping on my street tonight. Only if you’re interested, though, and maybe we could take it up to my place and you could pick a movie to watch?” Shit. Way too unsure. He is going to smell fear on you like stink on a pig. “Interested? In seeing you or the vietnamese food?” God. Profilers and their probing questions. “The food, silly, and, going to my place, because we can totally go to you prefer. I’m great at cleaning out fridges.” Oh my god. Who says that. Did you really just say that. “I’m happy to go to your place, Y/N. It sounds sort of perfect, actually. My place is like an ice box on cold nights. We would probably freeze. Plus, this way I know you get home safe. It makes me nervous when you take the train at night.” Okay, this is it. This is the big step you needed to take to see if he is really as perfect as he seems. “Perfect, then. As long as you like Phở?” You continue walking to the elevator as Aaron recalls his college days when he lived right above an old vietnamese couple, renting their spare bedroom and being fattened up on Banh Mi and desserts.
The drive to your place is tense, or, your side of the car feels tense, Aaron drives with your stuttered directions as calmly as you’ve ever seen him behind the wheel. You can feel a lump growing in your throat and trying to rise into your mouth with every corner and street light you pass through. Swipes of his thumb on the back of your hand where they intertwine over the middle console are making leaps and bounds to bring you back to earth, but you feel like your body is seizing up on you. You finally arrive at your designated parking spot for your unit as he gazes at you, putting the car into park. “Alright, do you want to walk to the food truck with me and order? Or would you prefer to go upstairs and get changed while I get the food?” Damn him and his considerate nature. He knows you are never comfortable in your work clothes, you find a belt and a starched shirt too imposing for you to fully relax. You warm at the thought of him wanting to go and get the food in the cold winds while you bundle up in woolen socks and your college hoodie, but as his hand leaves your own to button up his coat, you realise that you are surprisingly more comfortable with him than you’d be with all of the soft, fresh-out-of-the-dryer clothes money could buy. “I’ll come with you. Otherwise you might be adopted by Mrs. Duong and force-fed until your tummy bursts.” You let out a laugh imagining a nineteen year old Aaron politely watching a fourth serve of Fishcake being pushed onto his plate. His cheeks swell with laughter as he begins trying to defend himself, saying that he has since learned how to say no to people, even when they mean well.
The two of you make your way to the truck, hand tightly clasped in hand as you fight the gusts of wind making the tip of your nose freeze over. You both order, Aaron doing it with much more grace while some of the food names are still unfamiliar to you. You both hold onto the hot containers of soup as you march like two noble penguins back towards your apartment. You nearly drop your keys with how icy they are, emerging from your work bag. You are thankful Aaron is behind you as you steel yourself, opening the door to your humble little abode for him, and moving aside to let him enter. His gentle hand against your back as you both defrost moving down the hallway nearly frightens you, but you hide it as a shiver and you drop the food carefully onto the kitchen counter. You turn to face him, trying to get a read on the set of his face as you move to flick on some more lamps, the space coming to life. You perch your back against the kitchen counter, right by the utensils, and you find yourself a little paralyzed, trying your hardest not to panic about having just brought another man into your safe space. Your home. Aaron swallows thickly as he levels his brow, you know the face he makes when he is assessing a volatile situation, trying to find his safest way forwards. You’re staring at it, waiting for him to do something, anything to tell you how to react here. Your feet feel frozen in place but similarly like if he stepped towards you too hungrily or demanding, then you’d be able to run into your laundry and call 9-1-1 faster than a speeding bullet. You’re not doing this again. You’re tired of being pushed around and flat-out used. You promised yourself you wouldn’t find yourself in that situation ever again.
“Okay. I’m not sure what I may have done wrong, if I was too pushy to take you home or if I implied I was in any way trying to pry myself into your life here, I assure you that was never my intention. You’ve been tense every time we’ve made a plan together recently and I had hoped it was just nerves, but I can see you’re afraid. If you don’t want me here Y/N just say the word, or point to the door and I will leave. I will follow your lead, from now on, okay?” He has his hands outstretched either side of his waist, in the air. His eyes are darting from your pounding pulse in your neck to your wide eyes waiting for you to say something or to show him a sign.
“Okay. Just, just please stay there, for right now. I’m not afraid- well, I’m not afraid of you, Aaron. Just of this? I think.” You put a hand to your racing heart, trying to ground yourself, keeping one hand behind you on the counter just in case you need to grab something to defend yourself. Not that you will. Just. You’ve been wrong before.
“I won’t move until you’re comfortable. It’s okay.” He can see your eyes welled up with tears you didn’t know had appeared. “It’s okay.” He repeats.
“I just, I don’t like when you get to. To the part of dating where people can’t cover up who they are anymore. Can’t control what they want. When they finally get what they always wanted-” You can feel tears falling down your face as a cry rips from your chest, you thought you were ready for this, but clearly you aren’t. You won’t be able to handle this, losing Aaron or watching him change. He’s been so lovely just as he is, you don’t want things to change.
“Y/N, please, please look at me, look me in the eyes when I say this.” You turn your shaking head to look at the soft-eyed man before you, with his hands high where you can see them. “I have never pretended to be anything with you, this is me. I only want to spend time with you, but in ways that make you comfortable. Eating nice, hot noodles on the couch and watching movies that make you laugh. That was why I came over. I never hoped for anything different tonight. And- and if I could spend every night eating on the couch with you and laughing, that would be exactly what I want. I don’t want anything from you you don’t want to share with me willingly. If you would prefer I leave and never mention wanting anything of the sort again, I can. I will.” His eyes are searching yours as you try to find a flaw in what he is saying. You try to find a tell, anything to make you think he is lying, now, before it is too late because you are starting to believe him. You pull your hand off of the counter and wipe your eyes, in disbelief at the scene you have just created as you regain control of your body and snap from the zone you were stranded in.
“I’m sorry, Aaron, I’m so sorry, I. I wanted that, too. I want that, too. I feel like I’ve ruined this.” “Y/N. No. No, no. You have not ruined a thing. The food is still hot and we are still here. We can do whatever you want to with tonight.” The poor man still has his hands raised in surrender to you, an FBI agent negotiating a date. This is just terrific. He probably thinks you’re crazy. “I might just go change after all, you can start eating if you want. I want. Well, I’d like you to stay, if you’re interested?” You plead with him, trying to fix the night as his hands lower to his sides. “Sounds perfect.” He reassures you. He looks like he is itching to reach out and embrace your shaky form, but as always, his every move is careful and measured for your comfort. He stays right where he is. You move to turn on the space heater by your couch, and shuffle towards your bedroom, feeling heavy from your outburst. Standoff? You’re not sure how to describe the events of this evening. ‘Freakout’ seems apt. You hear Aaron carefully opening cupboards and retrieving plates, spoons, forks, and cups for the Lotus tea he insisted you try.
When you emerge from your room, draped in your comfy clothes, face washed to hide your tear streaks and swollen eyes, you see Aaron, having set both of your food down on the coffee table. He is sitting propped up on the short end of your couch, having left you the longer portion, draped with a blanket, nearest the heater, a good two feet of space between the two of you. “I’m still sorry for that, Aaron. I do trust you.” You try weakly reassuring him. “I know, Y/N.” He sounds as sure as ever. The man is sturdy as a rock when he wants to be. But thank goodness he is. You fear any man less iron-clad in their courage would have run out of your door, out of your life, seeing how much care you need to open yourself up to somebody.
You take your seat, bunching your feet up under yourself, seeing Aaron smiling at you with a genuine warmth in his eyes as you each pick up your bowls to finally dig in. You look at the TV, seeing he has chosen one of your favourite childhood comfort movies to watch tonight. The one you mentioned on your first date with him. You sigh a breath of relief, shuffling a little closer to him on the couch, as you soak in the tender moment. You can’t believe how different it feels to not just be heard, but to be known. The two of you enjoy your meal together, as Aaron makes lighthearted conversation throughout the movie comparing it to Jack’s and his own childhood favourite movies. His refusal to move a muscle in a way that might frighten you does not go unnoticed, in fact, it makes your heart swell. You will reach out to pull him closer when you are ready, he knows that. Until then, the two of you will just bask in one another’s company, your presence being enough to warm him from the inside out. Well, that and the copious amounts of tea and broth he has downed tonight. His eyes dance between the screen and your face as you tell him about your respective crushes on the characters throughout your younger years. He lets out a boyish trail of laughter when you draw comparisons from your on-screen crush at sixteen resembling him, actually. And you have never felt so comfortable in your own space, alone, as you do now with his beautiful, glowing presence helping you to feel at home.
