Summary: Aaron Hotchner x fe!Reader -> Your friendship, and working relationship, with Hotch starts to feel like something more.
Disclaimer: mentions and descriptions of in-field injuries, flirting, friends/co-workers to lovers, domestic fluff, hotch wants to date you, slow dancing.
It was odd, really. Being friends with the guy who was also your boss.
Well, Unit Chief.
Yourself and Aaron Hotchner had bonded over day-old take out, dressed in paint splattered clothes, whilst sitting on your very empty living room floor.
You were relatively new to the team at the time so you didn’t exactly feel like you could ask for their help in decorating your new place. Hell, they didn’t really know you’d bought your new place to begin with.
But Hotch did.
Which was something you didn’t know until there was a knock on your front door one day; he brought supplies and beer.
“I know what it’s like to move in and do…all of this. Figured you could use some help.”
From that day on, you seemed to be one of the select few who got to know more about Aaron outside of work. The guy who he was when he wasn’t Agent Hotchner.
Truthfully, there was really only one issue with it.
When you got hurt, and tried to hide it, the one person who you wanted to confide in…was also the guy you had a duty to tell due to the nature of your work.
“Why are you standing like that?” Hotch had chuckled a little, waving his pen at you as he accepted your finished paperwork.
But the second you hesitated in your answer, his gaze was snapping back to you and he was standing to close his office door.
“Are you hurt?” He asked. “Tell me quickly.”
“Nothing too bad.”
With a deep sigh, the door closed and he turned towards you. “Show me.”
“Hotch-”
“I’m not being your boss, right now,” he said, although his tone was ringing alarm bells in your head. “Show me.”
Keeping your eyes on his ones, that were slowly turning to daggers, you sighed and carefully lifted your t-shirt.
Your collared shirt had torn whilst in the field. And, in your defence, you did go to the medic and he cleared you.
It was a simple cut that just had to be cleaned. They did warn you that it probably would continue to bleed, but it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches or even glue.
All of which you told Aaron, whilst his fingers delicately reached out and ran across your exposed skin.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.
Although his tone sounded brash, he also sounded hurt.
“I’ve got it handled,” you shrugged, your voice quiet.
His gaze softened as he looked up at you, from where he was crouched at your side. But that same gaze quickly hardened when he looked at your scar. It was still bleeding.
Not that the deep navy blue t-shirt you were wearing showed it visibly.
There was a damp patch, but nothing drastic.
“It just…”
“It's just, what?” Aaron asked.
You shrugged, trying to hide the grimace of your face. “Hurts when I stand a certain way.”
Aaron noticed the deeper breaths you were taking through your nose, trying not to concentrate so much on the pain when that’s all you could do.
“Okay, sit down.”
“I can’t.”
“Then lean on my desk,” he told you as he stood. “But stay here.” He looked at you directly, making sure you were listening to him. “I’ll be back.”
And he was. With a first aid kit.
Shutting the door behind him, he laid the box down and removed his jacket.
“Lift your shirt, again.”
Following his orders, you did as he told you and sat in the quiet of his office whilst he cleaned your wound, covered it in a couple of adhesive bandages before wrapping a full bandage around your middle.
“A little over-excessive, don’t you think?” You asked as he leaned into you, unfurling the bandage in his hands as he ran it around your back, across your middle and back around again.
You tried to ignore the way he leaned into you so close that you could smell his fading cologne, made you feel.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not.”
Then, tying off the bandage but remaining close to you, his gaze fell on yours. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“It didn’t start bleeding till a couple of minutes ago,” you admitted. “I had it handled.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Slowly, you nodded. “Because I didn’t want you to worry. Because the first thing I did was check with the medic and get it sorted. Because I was okay.”
Aaron sighed, hanging his head. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
You nodded. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I always worry.”
“I know. Hence, why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“You should have.”
You nodded. “I know. And, I would have.”
He looked back at you. “When?”
“Eventually.”
“Y/n-”
Before he hanged his head again, you held it in your hands and made him look at you.
“You spend your days working with your team, and then you spend your nights doing all of the paperwork about the day. You barely take five minutes to breathe, let alone just…be still,” you told him. “So, even though I might have to tell you of my injuries, I also know you’re my friend. And my friend, like the rest of us,” you pointed out, “has had a very long day and is somehow managing to make it longer. So, if me not telling you about my injury gives you one less thing to worry about, then I’m not going to tell you.”
“But I found out anyway.”
You hummed. “I think I failed to take your profiling skills into account.”
For the first time in thirty seven hours, you heard Hotch laugh. Again, he dropped his head, but your hands lay loose on his face before moving to his shoulders.
“I’m sorry I ruined your masterplan.”
You shrugged. “It’s alright. I had a secret plan to get you away from your desk. I didn’t fully think it out, but you patching me up seemed to do the job.”
As you watched Aaron physically calm down, his gaze locked on yours softly, he smiled. “Yeah, I guess it did.”
Rather than deal with the quiet but tension-built moment that followed, as you and Aaron didn’t move from his desk and just kept your eyes on each other – you broke it.
“Make me a promise?”
“Anything.” He said, before quickly adding, “Within reason.”
You smiled. “Tomorrow, you don’t come into work.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
You nodded. “And I know you.”
You had him there, and he knew it.
“Don’t come in tomorrow,” you repeated. “And don’t think about work. And, if you get bored, come to mine. I’ve got a shed that needs building and it’s not a one woman job, no matter how many times I attempt to balance the roof board on my head.”
Aaron chuckled a little. “Okay. How about ten?”
“Bring coffee and you’ve got yourself a deal,” you told him.
With a smile, he nodded. “Okay, then.”
By mid-day, yourself and Aaron were finishing your garden tool shed. And you couldn’t help but notice as the sun got higher in the sky, the more layers Aaron had ditched by your backdoor.
First his jacket, then his fleece, and then his collared shirt.
Which just left his t-shirt.
That he lifted from his front in order to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
An hour or so later, the shed was finished and you were sitting inside your cooler kitchen with Aaron as you made fresh lemonade and zapped the ice inside your blender to make it smaller.
“And your dating life?” Aaron asked since you’d covered all the other topics.
You forced a smile. “Oh, you know. Stale – as usual.”
“Dating apps not working out?”
You grimaced. “I deleted it after three weeks. That amount of information that anyone can have about you? That’s scary enough. Nevermind the amount of guys that are ‘looking for a girl with no sense of direction’.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a profiler! And even I don’t know what the hell that means!”
Aaron chuckled a little. “If it helps, I don’t either.”
You nodded, your chuckle soft, as Aaron looked at you. “Ever thought about finding someone…naturally?”
You looked at him. “If this is a ploy from Garcia to get me back to that ‘singles-only-fun-night-extravaganza’ thing then you better stop talking unless you wanna find yourself locked inside that garden tool shed out there.”
He wanted to laugh, but his curiosity and slight concern overruled his expression. “The…what? No. This is me– I’m asking.”
“Oh.” You stood back a little. “Uh, if I’m being honest, I didn’t think it was possible.”
“You didn’t?”
You looked at him with sincerity. Since the moment you met Hotch, you’d understood many things about him. One of those things was that he was a gentleman. He knew to buy flowers, and not just for special occasions. He knew when a woman said she was ‘fine’ she probably wasn’t.
And he wasn’t ashamed to buy period products from the store. That was something you knew first hand.
“Aaron, it’s not like I see the world as a safe place,” you told him. “Being a woman taught me that. And my job proves it. I don’t trust very many people in this world. Meeting someone out there, in the world, if it is possible…it’s most likely rare. And getting rarer every day.”
“That’s…sad.”
You nodded. “Tell me about it.”
Aaron didn’t ask you about it, again. At least, not in depth.
Not until his curiosity peaked one night, whilst everyone on the team was out for drinks one night.
Penelope had been whispering for weeks about how she thought you had your eye on someone. It took almost all of his control to try and not appear like he was completely invested in Garcia’s theories.
Except, as she had sat at the bar with JJ, trying to convince her of the new theory that it was someone inside the bar, Aaron’s eyes immediately found you amongst the crowd of Friday night patrons.
To him, it was like a superpower being able to find you in a crowd. The others had witnessed it so many times, whenever they lost you, they’d simply pull him by the arm and ask him to point you out.
You’d done some undercover work before joining the Bureau full time. It was something that you were excellent at because, for whatever reason, you had a natural talent at blending in with a crowd and disappearing right before people’s eyes.
Except Aaron’s.
When he found you, you were sitting at a tall table in the corner whilst a fairly handsome stranger approached you. But Aaron knew your body language.
You were polite, but he wasn’t the guy you were with.
Selfishly, he was relieved when you turned the guy down and he walked away.
“Hotch, has she said anything to you?” JJ asked him.
“Y/n?”
JJ nodded before Garcia jumped in. “Is she seeing anyone?”
“Uhh, no. I don’t think so. Excuse me.”
Somehow, in the time it took him to buy two beers, cross the bar and reach you, a further three people had approached you.
And you’d turned them all down.
“What did they want?”
“To dance, mostly.”
“And you said no?”
You shrugged. “I didn’t want to dance with them.”
Taking a leap he didn’t know he’d been preparing for, Aaron asked you: “Would you want to dance with me?”
You smiled at him. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Beers in hand, Aaron and yourself walked over to the sawdust covered dancefloor and simply danced together. It was mostly a relaxed two-step to the familiar country song that someone had punched into the vintage jukebox in the corner of the room.
It wasn’t long before the rest of the team were on the dancefloor doing the same. Emily with Spencer as Morgan called out for his ‘babygirl’ and brought her onto the dancefloor.
Will, very quickly with JJ, subtly showed off their ability to dance a two-step around the dancefloor as naturally as breathing.
By the time Shania Twain started playing, Penelope had pulled all the girls into the middle of the dancefloor as their lyrics were yelled out at the top of everyone’s lungs.
For a moment, you felt every guy in the place quake in their boots.
Soon enough, you found yourself back in Aaron’s arms, gently travelling across the sawdust covered floor.
“Garcia thinks you're dating someone, by the way,” he told you, quietly, against the shell of your ear.
“So I heard,” you hummed.
“Something I should know?”
You looked at him. “Is there something you want to know?”
He nodded, just a little. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Well,” you started. “To answer Garcia’s question for the thirtieth time this week, no. I’m not seeing anyone. I think that also answers your question, too. Am I right?”
He tried to hide his relief. “Yes.”
“Answer my question?” You asked him, watching him nod.
“Why did you want to know?”
“Because…” Aaron paused. “Because I’m your friend.”
Your brows furrowed a little. Not in contempt, but in curiosity. “Is that what we are?”
He nodded. “I’d say so.”
“Would you ever want to be more?”
You both kept dancing around the floor, but no words passed between either of you as he kept his eyes on yours.
“Yes,” he answered. “But it’s complicated.”
“And if it wasn’t?”
“Then I’d ask you on a date,” he told you, without hesitation.
“Then ask me,” you said.
Aaron paused, waiting for the punch line. But there wasn’t one.
“I think I’ve felt something changing between us for a while,” you said, quietly. “And, not to sound dramatic but, I know in my soul that we’re meant to be in each other’s lives. What capacity is that in? I don’t know. But I’d like to try and find out.”
“So would I,” he agreed.
“Then ask me,” you repeated. “Ask me on a date and we’ll see where it takes us.”
You spotted the playful scrunch in his brow. “Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of me asking if you’re telling me to?”
“Then ask me when you’re ready,” you told him. “There’s nothing against two agents dating. It can be a headache but, considering the amount of migraines we’ve suffered through, I’d be willing to risk it.”
Aaron nodded. “So, if I said that I would pick you up tomorrow at seven, to take you on a date?”
You nodded, “I’d say yes.”
Then he smiled. “Will you go on a date with me tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Leaning into him just a touch, you smiled. “Yes. I can’t wait.”
summary: drunk texting your new(ish) boyfriend while out with friends :)
includes: no use of y/n, no gender specific description of reader, reader is drunk/mentions of alcohol and drinking, fluff. just cute wholesome fluff
It was supposed to be a casual Friday–a few drinks with friends, stories swapped over bar food and music too loud to really talk through. But you hadn’t realized how tired you were. How little you’d eaten today. Or how fast whiskey sours hit when you aren’t paying attention.
You don’t mean to get that drunk.
You had meant to just check in. To send a cute text to your boyfriend of a few months–the man you’d worked with for years, who had somehow gone from boss to friend to something infinitely more terrifying: someone you could see yourself falling for.
Your messages start out… maybe a little embarrassing, but at least coherent..
“miss u. u would hate this place lol so loud”
“why do guys named brad always yell”
“ur tie looked good today. tell it i said hi”
And then someone had ordered a round of shots. And then another. And suddenly, your thumbs stopped obeying your brain–which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders either.
“emergency: i need cheese fries n maybe a hug. or both at once”
“hotsh hotc hotdch ur eyes are SO BROWN”
“ty for ur face and ur arms n ur … exist???”
You’ll be mortified by all of it tomorrow morning, but currently, you can’t find yourself caring about much, other than the fact he hasn’t answered.
You frown down at your screen, chin tucked into your hand, your other arm lazily draped around a half-finished drink in a sweating glass.
“What’s wrong with your face?” your friend asks, half-laughing at the childish pout on your lips.
“He left me on read,” you mumble, wiggling the phone at her as though it’s Exhibit A. “Aaron. He read it. Didn’t respond. He read it.”
She squints at your screen, then snorts. “How is he supposed to reply to ‘you’re the best jawline in the whole FBI’?”
You pout harder. “I dunno. Say thanks?”
Your friend just laughs at you, shaking her head. But you don’t think it’s funny.
Because even though you know you’re being ridiculous, even though the room is warm and the night is young, your chest hurts a little. Just a pinch. A flicker of doubt where certainty usually lives.
You haven’t been together long–just a few months–and it’s all new, still fragile. You’re not used to this part yet. The missing him in public. Needing him without permission. The strange, quiet way his absence can leave you feeling a little off-kilter.
You stare at your phone.
“Fine,” you whisper. “Leave me on read. Rude.”
You sigh and drop your head onto the table, face smooshed against your arm. “I’m going to die here. I’m going to become a ghost in this Chili’s-adjacent bar and haunt the bathroom.”
Your friend pats your head. “You’ll be a beautiful ghost.”
You groan.
And then–
He’s just there.
You blink, lifting your head too fast–definitely too fast, based on the way the room tilts. But it doesn’t matter, because your heart is already thudding, even before your brain catches up with your eyes.
Aaron stands by the door, scanning the room, his tie slightly undone, his expression unreadable in the dim bar light. His eyes find yours, and his whole posture shifts–like something softens behind his stern exterior. Relief, maybe. Familiarity.
Your mouth drops open. “Hotch?”
He’s already moving toward you, steady and sure.
“You stopped making sense,” he says calmly as he reaches you, slipping a hand under your elbow to help you out of the booth. “Figured I’d come get you after the third text you shortened ‘your’ to ‘ur’.”
“You read my texts,” you accuse softly, tilting your head back to look at him.
“I did,” he says as though it’s obvious, guiding you through the crowd like he’s done it a hundred times.
“You didn’t answer.”
“I figured showing up would say more.”
You blink.
Oh.
You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or just him, but your chest folds in on itself. You let him guide you out into the night, warm and solid at your side, and suddenly the rest of the world feels quieter.
A little less lonely.
The car smells like him. Clean, calm, a little like cologne and a lot like comfort. You curl into the passenger seat, his jacket draped over your legs, your shoes on the floor, bare feet propped on the dash despite his protests.
The window is cracked. The scent of pine and rain float in on the wind. The road curves gently away from the city, trees rising up like shadows on either side.
“I wasn’t that drunk,” you mumble.
Aaron hums. “You sent me a voice memo where you just repeated the word ‘eyebrows’ for thirty seconds.”
You groan, covering your face. “That’s not a crime.”
“I didn’t say it was. But it was… concerning.”
You peek at him—his profile bathed in the dim light of the dashboard, jawline sharp, mouth soft. That little tug of a smile plays at the corner, the one that always makes your heart do strange things.
You’ve known him for years. Shared cases. Late nights. Quiet grief. It took months to earn that smile, and when you finally did, you made it a mission to chase it every chance you got. And then—somewhere between burnt coffee and unexpected laughter—everything changed.
A kiss, in the kitchen after an especially tough case. A breathless “what are we doing?” followed by that smile and the softest, realest “I don’t know. But I want to keep doing it.”
It’s still new. Still precious.
But you can’t deny it already feels like home.
Outside, stars scatter across the sky. You tilt your head, watching them. A few drift–too slow to be shooting stars, too steady to be anything magical. Satellites, maybe. You squint, tipsy and thoughtful.
“Do they ever crash?” you ask, voice quiet. “The stars and satellites. Do they ever just–” you mimic an explosion with your fingers. “Boom?”
Aaron glances at you, like he’s deciding whether you’re serious. Eventually, he says, “No. They keep their distance.”
“That’s kind of lonely,” you say. “All that space between things. Nothing touching.”
He’s quiet again for a second, eyes back on the road. Then: “Or maybe it’s safe.”
You let that settle. Then smile, a little sad. “I think it’s sad.”
He glances over at you again. “You think everything is sad when you’re drunk.”
You pout. “Not true.”
He reaches over, hand brushing yours where it rests on your knee. “Alright. What’s not sad?”
You turn your head, taking him in. The clean line of his jaw, the focus in his eyes even as he drives, the quiet steadiness of his presence. Your heart softens, like it always does with him.
“You,” you say, a little too easily. “You’re the opposite of sad.”
He doesn’t respond right away—just gives your hand a quiet squeeze.
“When you’re like this,” he murmurs, “you forget to hold back.”
You smile, sleepy and honest. “I know. But you love me.”
A beat.
“I do.”
You blink.
The words hang in the air like mist, weightless and heavy at the same time. The quiet hum of the tires on asphalt, the wind brushing through the cracked window, the rustle of leaves as the road curves–all of it fades beneath two words spoken so simply that they almost don’t register.
You sit with it for a second. Like you’re not sure you even heard him right.
Almost.
But then they do.
“...You do?”
Your voice is barely a whisper, a fragile thing in the dark of the car. You’re staring at him now–more sober in this moment than you’ve been all night. Not just because the alcohol is wearing off, but because nothing snaps you into clarity like him.
Aaron’s hand is still on yours, thumb moving once, slow across your skin.
He doesn’t look over at first. Just exhales, the smallest lift of his brow, like he’s thinking back through the last thirty seconds and only now realizing what slipped out.
He gives a quiet, dry sort of laugh. “Suppose that’s not how I meant to say it.”
You just stare at him. “So… you did say it?”
His mouth twists–not regretful, just wry. That little pinch between his brows appears, the one you’ve come to learn means he’s sifting through something careful and important. “I did. Wasn’t planning to. Not like this. Not while driving you home after you sent me a bunch of texts about how brown my eyes are.”
You let out a tiny wheeze. “They’re very brown. Deeply brown.”
He huffs a laugh, but it’s quiet. Focused elsewhere.
“I mean it, though.”
You don’t breath.
He clears his throat, almost awkward. “I do love you. I was going to say it eventually. Preferably when you were sober. Maybe cook something. Say it over dinner. Something better than… a carfessional.”
You gasp. “Oh my god.”
“Don’t say it again.”
“A carfessional.” You bite your lip, barely holding in your smile.
He groans, but you can see it—his smile, finally unguarded. Like he’s letting himself have this.
And something about that makes your eyes sting. It's a shaky little moment, full of that strange, sacred feeling that only comes around a few times in life.
You turn back toward the window, toward the trees passing by like silhouettes, the stars still scattered like someone spilled silver across the sky. You’re quiet for a while. Letting your heart settle. Letting the words breathe.
Then, softly: “I love you too.”
Aaron doesn’t flinch but you see it–the way his hand pauses slightly against yours. The way his shoulders shift, like something’s unfulring inside him. He doesnt say anything, but you don’t need him too.
He brings your hand to his lips, presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.
You smile down at your lap, at the warmth tucked beneath his jacket, at the world outside that suddenly feels a little softer.
After a few moments, you sigh.
“... Still want cheese fries, though.”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“I’ll find you some,” he says. “But only because I love you.”
Your smile curls wide. Warm. Dizzy with the weight of it.
“Gross,” you whisper. “Say it again.”
He glances over, flashes another smile back at you.
summary: you and aaron have finally found your way to one another, relationship bliss has never felt so good
cw: reader has hair that can be tucked behind her ear! fem!reader, hotch is a clingy and needy drunk, emily teases reader a bit about hotch, inspired by ‘so high school’ by taylor swift <3 not proofread (sorry!) fluff fluff fluff <3
wc: 1.4k
author’s note: trying out a different format! let me know if you like it, i’ve been wanting to make a ttpd masterlist for a while just to write some stuff that i’ve been thinking about for a while, let me know if you’d like that to happen!
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵· ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵· ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧
“He’s staring at you again.” Emily remarks from where she’s standing next to you at the bar whilst you both wait for your drinks.
You turn towards her with a confused expression and she nods her head in the direction of the table where the rest of your coworkers sit.
Your eyes seem to haphazardly scan the group before you catch eyes with him. Aaron is staring at you whilst seemingly ignoring the commotion happening around him.
His gaze softens imperceptibly when your eyes meet. A smile blooms on your face. You fight the urge to giggle like teenage girl and instead bite your bottom lip, lifting your hand for a small wave.
He smiles softly, lifting his whiskey glass in response. Miss you he mouths and you swear you can hear your heart thudding in your chest.
Love you you mouth back and watch as his face lights up. He’s about to say something else when you’re interrupted by Emily still next to you.
“You two are sickening to watch” she says teasingly. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you turn to her.
The bartender drops off your refills, and you both gather them in your hands. You open your mouth to respond but you’re cut off by her, “If the next words out of your mouth are something equally as sickeningly sweet, I don’t wanna hear it.”
You scoff, knocking your shoulder into hers jokingly.
“You just hate that we’re in love.”
“Took you both long enough to get your heads out of your assess” she remarks as she pushes off the bar to walk back to the table.
“I resent that! We were not that bad!” you complain, following behind her.
The group seemingly catches wind of your conversation.
“What’s not that bad?” Spencer asks curiously.
You give Emily a look that she seemingly ignores as she answers Reid’s question. “How badly Hotch and y/n were in denial about their own feelings.”
You turn to look at Aaron, and you’re surprised to see him not affected by Emily’s statement.
If anything, he’s not even paying attention to the conversation. It’s like his gaze had never left your form from the bar from the looks of it.
You shuffle past Emily and JJ as they start bickering to find the seat next to Aaron pleasantly empty.
He’s passively nodding to whatever Rossi seems to be saying but the minute you’re seated, he turns his full attention to you.
“Hi.” You whisper as your hands find each other’s under the table, fingers intertwining and squeezing in reassurance.
“Hi Honey.” He says, his voice gravelly yet soft.
The lights of the bar twinkle around you, casting shadows around the table but they seem to light up Aaron’s face perfectly. They cast a warm glow over his fond expression which lights a fire in your gut.
I’m so stupid in love you can’t help but think to yourself.
Aaron’s face is flushed pink from the alcohol, and his pupils are slightly dilated. You think you might just be content to look at him forever.
Conversation around you flows freely, everyone having filtered off into their own. Which leaves just the two of you.
Emily’s not wrong, you’re both probably a walking hallmark movie ad. You’d both been dancing around your feelings for a far too long time. However, since a slight mishap with an unsub and what was later discovered to be an unloaded gun, Aaron had worked up the nerve to confess to you.
So, for the last couple of months, you could confirm that the both of you were existing in what could only be described as honeymoon bliss.
“You look as beautiful as the day I met you.” Aaron says, shaking you from your train of thought.
You smile as you bite your bottom lip shyly, “yeah?”
“You were called in for that consultation in Boston,” he says.
You light up and recall, “and I tripped over your briefcase!”
Aaron huffs a laugh, nodding. His arm lifts up in your peripheral vision as he grabs a piece of your hair to tuck it behind your ear. His hand hovers there.
“You spilt your coffee all over the precinct floor,” you both laugh.
“And you offered to get me a new one.” You finish off. He nods as he scans your face as if trying to cement it into his memory.
“I knew I loved you then.” He confesses. You startle slightly as you give him a confused expression.
“Not that I knew it was love then,” He corrects himself. “But I knew I wanted you in some capacity, I just didn’t know how much you’d ending meaning to me. At first it was just, ‘I should probably replace her coffee’ and then it just all started becoming, ‘I wonder what she had for breakfast’ or ‘she would probably like this book’ or ‘I wonder if she’s thinking about me’”
“Yes.” You speak.
He tilts his head in confusion.
“Yes. I was. Thinking about you I mean.”
He smiles before his gaze drops to your lips. The sounds around you seem to muffle and the only thing you care to pay attention to is the smell of whiskey on Aaron’s breath and the feel of his chapped lips on yours.
He groans into your kiss, as if it’s hurting him. You go to pull back but the hand that was idly playing with your hair tugs you back to him.
You muffle a laugh into the kiss, “Aaron—mmf! the team!” you giggle.
He detaches from your lips looking slightly debauched. You chance a look to the rest of the table, but everyone seems to be paying you both no attention. Except Rossi, who gives you both a look.
You smile, knocking shoulders with Aaron as you both rejoin the group in conversation.
It turns out that tipsy Aaron is a lot less strict that sober Aaron as he starts making light-hearted quips during conversations and cracking jokes. You don’t think you can remember the last time someone made you laugh that hard.
˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
A while later, when the conversation has somewhat lulled and you take note of Aaron teetering on the edge of slightly drunk, you decide to call it a night.
“I think Aaron and I are gonna head home.” You announce to the group. You’re met with various protests as you gather your things.
Aaron doesn’t stray far from you, keeping one hand or arm wrapped around you at all times. With scattered goodbyes, you’re pulling Aaron into the backseat of a taxi.
As soon as you’re finished rattling your address, Aaron has both of his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you into his lap.
Those whiskeys were probably a lot stronger than you gave them credit for.
Aaron nuzzles into your neck, “Missed you.” He mumbles into your neck.
You giggle at the sensation, “I was right next to you!”
His grip tightens slightly
“Couldn’t hold you and touch you the way I wanted to.”
You hum, stroking his arm with your nails, “We’re almost home.” You reassure him.
He hums into your back, rocking you both slowly.
˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
When the taxi pulls up onto the curb, you thank the driver and pay for the trip before exiting the car as Aaron tugs on your arm.
You’re all but pulled into the house, barely having time to take your shoes off before Aaron is tugging you onto the bed insistently.
“Baby!” you chide with a laugh as his tugs get firmer. “Aar, I have to take my makeup off, I can’t get makeup on the sheets—it’s a bitch to get out” you insist.
He grumbles but follows you to the bathroom. He sits not so patiently on the toilet seat as you wash your face, hands still attached to you.
You’d have never thought to use the word ‘clingy’ to describe Aaron Hotchner, stoic and well known hardass Chief of the BAU. It seemed there was always new things to learn.
Aaron had seemingly given up on waiting as soon as he saw you reach for your skincare, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you out of the bathroom despite your protests.
“I let you wash your face, you said nothing about skincare” he responds smugly as he snuggles into the covers as he essentially holds you hostage in his arms.
You swat at his chest half-heartedly, but you can’t deny how comfortable you feel.
The silence in the bedroom is complimented by the rustling of bed sheets, the whirring of the aircon that you had the foresight to switch on and the sound of yours and Aarons matched breathing.
kinktober day twenty two — sleepy sex + morning wood
ཐི♡ཋྀ — summary; Aaron wakes up with a wanting for you (Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader)
ཐི♡ཋྀ — warnings; established relationship, morning sex / sleepy sex, smut, minors do not interact!!!, unprotected p in v, creampie, some clit stim, allusions to another round after they wake up, some fondling through his t-shirt she’s wearing, soft!aaron, but that’s it? lmk if i missed any
ཐི♡ཋྀ — word count; 1,358 words
ཐི♡ཋྀ — a/n; louie is still trying, slowly losing her mind tho x
prev day | next day
kinktober masterlist | main masterlist
the bedroom was warm as a steady stream of light had started to shine in through the curtains and blinds, casting a golden glow to the otherwise dark room.
Aaron’s arm was drawn tight around your waist, holding you against his chest while your ass rested against his crotch.
it was nice, mornings wrapped up in each other with no worry about his work getting in the way.
his fingers trailed across your front, absentmindedly moving across your stomach and trailing lower.
the touch made your hips shift backwards against him, feeling the hardness of his cock already pressing against the swell of your ass.
he groaned into your shoulder, his hips rocking up into you to grind against your ass.
“Aaron..”
you trailed off, but he only pressed another kiss to your shoulder in response.
“how are you already hard?”
a muffled chuckle fell from his lips, his left hand reaching for yours to pull it to the front of his boxers, letting you feel how hard he truly was.
his hips rocked into your touch again, grinding his fully hard cock into your palm.
“just happens sometimes”
Aaron told, thrusting into your palm once more before another groan fell from his lips.
“please sweetheart”
the sound of his plea had heat stirring in your belly while your cunt soaked the centre of your underwear with your growing want.
you nodded slowly, letting him take what he needed.
he moved his hand away from yours and back down your front, easily slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts and underwear to toy with your clit.
you gasped, arching into him as he started to draw figure eights onto your clit, all while rutting against the swell of your ass to grind his bulge against your ass.
his touch continued, pulling moans from your lips and making his cock throb behind you.
“Aaron please”
you breathed out, glancing back at him again as he shoved down his boxers, freeing his aching cock before it rested against your ass, hot and heavily.
Aaron pressed another kiss to your shoulder, easily trailing his kisses down and along to your neck before he grunted.
his free hand pulled down your shorts and underwear, baring you to his wandering hands while the cool air hit your skin.
another gasp tumbled from your lips as his hand helped move your leg, twisting you into the comfiest position.
the feeling of him so close behind you made your cunt throb, already drooling with arousal from a mix of his touch and the feeling of him flush against you.
“i’ve got you sweetheart”
he murmured, his fingers leaving your clit to wrap around his cock, using your slick that coated his fingers to ease his strokes.
Aaron groaned into your shoulder, resting his forehead against the skin there while he swiped the head of his cock through your folds, soaking the head of him before nudging his cock at your entrance.
your hips pushed back against him as he slowly pushed in, making both of you moan out at the feeling while your cunt fluttered around him.
his breath was warm against your skin, his face moving to nuzzle into the crook of your neck while he sank inch after inch into your warmth until he bottomed out.
“it’s still early baby”
you whispered, reaching a hand back to comb through his sleep ridden hair, it’s usually brushed through and smart nature currently nowhere to be found.
he gave you a minute before he started to roll his hips, soft and languid thrusts that filled you just right.
“i’m sorry, i know it’s early”
Aaron told, his words still laced with sleep even as lust threatened to take over his tone.
his hips rolled in slow deep thrusts, each ridge of his cock dragging along your walls just right and easily drawing moan after moan from your lips.
nothing about it was rushed, it never was. lazy mornings in bed together like this was only about the two of you, the pleasure you both shared.
“feel so good”
he grumbled, face still hidden away in the nape of your neck.
your cunt fluttered around him as he rocked into you again, his hand still holding your leg to keep you opened up for him.
“so fucking wet too, did i do that?”
a soft moan tumbled from your lips before you could stop it, though you nodded in response, using your moan as a reply to his question.
slowly, your hand trailed a path down his forearm and to the apex of your thighs, copying his previous motions and circling your clit with a practised precision.
your walls fluttered around him again, pleasure thrumming through your body with every thrust he gave.
another moan bubbled up your throat and passed your lips, your hips pushing back against his and causing an equally desperate moan to fall from Aaron’s lips.
his hips continued, their pace consistent even as your cunt spasmed around him and the weight of your joint sleepiness still floating through your bodies.
you were already close, closer than you expected to be, but Aaron always managed this, especially when it was lazy mornings between the two of you.
he was always able to make you cum quicker than usual, you weren’t too sure what it was, but you definitely weren’t complaining.
not when he managed to hit that spot over and over with an expert precision that had your vision whitening with pleasure.
“close babe”
you moaned out, face knitted together in pleasure as he angled his hips, the head of his cock hitting that one spot with more force.
Aaron groaned, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear while his pace continued, causing your fingers to still on your clit.
his groans made your cunt clamp down around him, the pool of arousal in your belly ready to boil over with every thrust.
he knew you were there, could feel the telltale signs along with your verbal confirmation.
when your hips pushed back against his again, his fingers replaced your own on your clit, drawing tight figure eights onto the bud as you writhed against him.
“oh fuck..”
your climax was teetering on the edge, clinging on by a thin thread that was quickly snapping as he continued to rock his hips.
Aaron’s fingers on your clit doubled their efforts, circling with more force and precision, before sending you over the edge mid thrust.
“fuck baby”
a string of moans fell from your lips like water, your cunt clamping down around him as your climax hit in an explosive burst of pleasure.
your walls spasmed around him, pulling him in deeper and closer to his own climax, while your release soaked his thrusts, easing the few remaining thrusts he had to give.
his hips rocked into you once, twice, before he was following you over with a low groan.
“fuck sweetheart, that’s it”
he nuzzled into your neck again, his chest flush against your back as he rutted up into you, your walls giving another flutter around him as he spilled himself into your warmth.
his hand moved from between your legs and up your body to palm your breasts through his t-shirt you had on, his thumb and forefinger plucking at your nipple until you gasped.
Aaron grunted against your skin, rutting against you again as he emptied himself dry. he stayed buried inside your warmth, his chest still to your back as a sated look made itself across your face.
“i’ve got you love”
you hummed at his words, tilting your head to glance back at him, giggling softly as he leaned in to capture your lips in the first kiss of the day.
“sleep now, i’ve got you”
the sun had now fully painted the room in a golden hue, making your smile brighten as Aaron admired you.
his arm stayed tight around your body, holding you against him in his strong embrace.
“round two when we wake up again?”
he chuckled but nodded, stealing another kiss before he whispered against your lips.
“that sounds nice”
reblogs are highly appreciated !
if you want tagged for an upcoming kinktober fic, the taglist form can be found here. submissions for a day already posted will be ignored !!
pairing: Post BAU Aaron Hotchner x AFAB fem Reader
MDNI, NSFW 18+ Kinktober Masterlist Main Masterlist
wc: 1.7k
cw: Smut, Older hotch!, Age gap!!, established relationship, mentions of teenage jack, Hotch still got it, P in v, creampie, dirty talk, Breeding talk ofc.
You'd always loved babies. Their tiny fingers, the way they smelled like fresh laundry and promise. But holding your friend's newborn that afternoon at the park picnic? That hit different.
The little girl, All squishy cheeks and brown doe eyed, nestled against your chest like she belonged there…like a baby fit you so well. You cooed at her, rocking her gently in her baby pink blanket while your friend complained about sleepless nights and endless diapers.
Aaron sat beside you nursing an iced drink with one arm slung over your shoulder, Watching you with that quiet intensity he could never turn off.
"She's perfect," you murmured, brushing a finger over the baby's downy hair. "I've always wanted this, you know? To be a mom. It's just... one of those things that feels right."
It was an off-handed comment, slipped out between laughs and sips of iced tea. You didn't think much of it then, handing the baby back and turning to kiss Aaron's cheek. But you noticed the way his dark eyes lingered on you, something unreadable flickering behind them. He smiled, sure, but there was a heat there, a spark that made your stomach flip even in the middle of a sunny afternoon.
That night, back in the house you shared, the one with Jack's soccer trophies on the shelves and your books mingled with Aaron's law journals things felt charged. Jack was out at a friend's for a sleepover, the place unusually quiet.
You were in the kitchen, rinsing dishes from dinner, when Aaron came up behind you. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you back against his solid frame. He was still in his button-down from the day, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing those forearms that always made you weak.
"You were amazing with that baby today," he said, his voice low and rough against your ear. His lips brushed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.
You laughed softly, leaning into him. "Yeah? She's easy to love. Tiny and doesn't talk back yet."
His grip tightened, one hand splaying across your stomach. "You meant what you said? About wanting to be a mother?"
You paused, setting the plate down. There was something in his tone. possessive, almost urgent that made your pulse quicken. Turning in his arms, you looked up at him, at the silver threading through his dark hair, the lines around his eyes that only made him more handsome. He was older than you by a good margin, but in moments like this, that gap felt electric, like he carried the weight of experience you craved.
"Yeah, I did," you admitted, your hands resting on his chest. "Someday. With the right person."
His eyes darkened, and he kissed you then, deep, claiming, like he was trying to pour something into you. You melted against him, fingers tangling in his shirt as he backed you toward the counter. "You've been so good with Jack," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot on your skin. "He adores you. You're already a mom to him in so many ways."
Jack was 16 now, tall and lanky like his dad, with a smirk that said he was trouble maker but he was a kind kid. You'd stepped into their lives three years ago, after Aaron left the BAU behind for a ‘quieter consulting gig’.
Living together came naturally after the first year your clothes in his closet, your coffee mug next to his. And yeah, you loved Jack like your own, helping with homework, cheering at games, navigating those teenage moods with patience Aaron sometimes lacked after long days.
But this? Aaron's hands were everywhere now, sliding under your shirt, calluses rough against your ribs. He lifted you onto the counter with ease, stepping between your legs. "You'd be perfect," he growled, nipping at your collarbone. "Carrying my child. Our child."
The words hit you like a spark, igniting heat low in your belly. You'd never been on birth control allergies or something, the doctor said years ago so it was always condoms, careful and planned. But lately... okay, maybe you'd been a little lax, forgetting to remind him once or twice. But he’d always remember eventually. Or maybe it was subconscious, that pull toward something more permanent with him.
"Aaron," you breathed, arching as his mouth found your breast through your bra, teasing with teeth and tongue. "What are you—"
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression fierce, almost primal. "I've been thinking about it all day. Since the park. You with that baby... God, you looked so natural. And then you said that." His hand pressed flat against your abdomen again, possessive. "Maybe you've been wanting this too. Why else skip the pills? Just condoms... easy to forget, right?"
Your cheeks flushed. He wasn't wrong—you'd thought about it, fantasized in quiet moments about a life even more intertwined, a baby with his eyes and your smile. But hearing him say it out loud, voice thick with need, made it real. "Maybe," you whispered, pulling him closer. "What if I have?"
That did it. A low groan rumbled from his chest, and he kissed you harder, hands fumbling with your jeans. "Then I'm giving it to you," he said against your lips. "Tonight. No condom. I want to fill you up, put a baby in you. Make you mine completely."
The words sent a thrill through you, dirty and intimate and everything you'd secretly craved. You nodded, breathless, helping him shove your pants down. He was already hard against you, straining through his slacks. You reached for him, stroking through the fabric, earning another growl.
"Bedroom," you managed, but he shook his head, lifting you off the counter and carrying you to the living room instead, the couch where you'd watched movies with Jack, now about to become something else entirely.
He laid you down gently, but there was nothing gentle in the way he stripped you bare, eyes devouring every inch. "Look at you," he murmured, kneeling between your legs. "So ready for me. For this."
His fingers teased first, sliding through your wetness, circling your clit until you whimpered. "Aaron, please—"
"Tell me you want it," he demanded, voice husky. "Tell me you want my baby."
"I do," you gasped, hips bucking. "God, yes. Breed me, Aaron. Put a baby in me."
That word—breed—unlocked something in him. He shed his clothes quickly, efficient like always, and then he was over you, skin hot against yours. He was thicker than you remembered in moments like this, His cock pressing at your entrance without barrier for the first time. The thought alone made you clench, aching for him.
He pushed in slow, inch by inch, letting you feel every bit of stretch and him raw. "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, forehead against yours. "Gonna fill this pretty pussy. Make you swell with my baby."
You moaned, nails digging into his back as he bottomed out, stretching you perfectly. He started moving then, deep thrusts that hit just right, building that coil inside you. His hands roamed gripping your hips, your breasts, always returning to your stomach like he could already imagine it round.
"Imagine it," he whispered, pace picking up. "You pregnant, glowing. Tits full, belly growing because of me. Because I bred you."
The dirty talk was new, raw, and it drove you wild. You'd seen glimpses of this side of him—after tough cases, when he needed to reclaim control—but never like this. "Yes," you panted, meeting his thrusts. "Want your cum inside me. Need it."
He kissed you messily, tongues tangling as he drove harder, the couch creaking under you. Sweat slicked your skin, the room filled with gasps and the slap of bodies. You were close, so close, clenching around him.
"Come for me first," he ordered, thumb finding your clit. "Want to feel you milk me."
That pushed you over. You cried out, back arching as pleasure crashed through you, pulsing around his cock.
He followed seconds later, burying deep with a guttural moan, spilling inside you hot and thick. No pulling out, no barrier—just him, flooding you, claiming you in the most primal way.
He stayed there, weight on you comforting, as you both caught your breath. His hand stroked your hair, then down to your stomach again. "Think that did it?" he asked, voice softer now, almost tender.
You smiled, lazy and sated, tracing his jaw. "Maybe. If not... we can try again."
He chuckled, kissing your forehead. "Oh, we will. As many times as it takes."
Later, curled in bed with his arm around you, the house quiet except for the distant hum of the city, you felt it settle the possibility, the future. Aaron was older, sure, but he was yours. And if this led to a baby? Well, you'd make an amazing mom. He knew it. You knew it. Jack would be thrilled to have a sibling.
For now, though, it was just you two, tangled in sheets that smelled like sex and promise. He pulled you closer, murmuring your praises, and you drifted off thinking maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. And if it didn’t take? Aaron would never stop filling you until it did. Night or day. Event? vacations? Holidays? He’d fine a place to fill you.
Husband!Hotch who after his failed marriage to Haley vows to ensure he will be a better husband to you.
Husband!Hotch who you work beside at the BAU. So at least you’re more understanding of the incredibly intense and busy schedules.
Husband!Hotch who wakes up before you and makes you breakfast if you both have time before work.
Husband!Hotch who is extremely protective of you.
Husband!Hotch who vows he will never let what happened to Haley, happen to you.
Husband!Hotch who will often schedule time off of work, to sync with your time off work. So you can spend time together, and with Jack and your own children. When you eventually have children together.
Husband!Hotch who slow dances with you in the kitchen whilst dinner is cooking.
Husband!Hotch who agrees to working shorter hours so he can spend time with Jack more as well as you.
Husband!Hotch who cleans up after dinner only to find you and Jack asleep, cuddled up on the sofa. He kisses your forehead and picks Jack up to tuck him into bed. He then scoops you up and takes you to your bedroom. By then you’ve woken up and are begging him to fuck you.
Husband!Hotch who makes loves to you. And has a breeding kink. He desperately wants to get you pregnant. He knows you’d make an amazing mother because you’re already an amazing mother to Jack even though he isn’t biologically yours.
Husband!Hotch who becomes even more protective of you when you fall pregnant. He will kiss your belly every morning and every night. Place his hands on your stomach whenever you’re near each other.
Husband!Hotch who pulls you into his arms when he’s feeling stressed. Even if you’re at work and a case is frustrating him, you ground him. Keep him calm.
Husband!Hotch who is extremely protective of you in the field. Always making sure you’re stood behind him out of the line of fire.
Husband!Hotch who always checks you over after you’ve apprehended the unsub, making sure you weren’t hurt. When he’s satisfied he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and rests his forehead against yours. He then tells you how much he loves you.
Husband!Hotch who date nights with are rare and precious, but he goes all out making sure everything is perfect.
Husband!Hotch who loves tying your hands together with his belt.
Husband!Hotch who can be both rough and soft in the bedroom.
summary: Transferring to the BAU was neat, especially from where you transferred from. Your boss was an added bonus.
A written companion piece to the smau 'love is embarrassing' but also not really.
warnings/contents: fluff, in love with each other from the start. pining/longing. friends to ???. humour. angst. haley makes an appearance but she doesn't really talk. hotch talking about his divorce. no jack. brief dr robby x reader. sexual tension through the roof. brief bones cameo. inappropriate touching and conversations with your boss (do not do this irl). hotch teases reader about her sex dream about him. reader standing up for her man. humping on the couch. minors dni.
notes: plot holes in my smau and my work? happens more often than you think. i am aware she is a beast but i promise the future parts will be a little less shorter.
word count: 16k+ (reow, i was on a roll)
song inspo everything i know about love - laufey
hotch masterlist | masterlist | ask
the first year - the first week (june 2025)
“That’s SSA Hotchner,” you followed Strauss’ nod towards the man at the top of the stairs. You studied him as he briefly glanced over to you, a light tingling appearing in your chest as he gave you a small smile and nod. “He’ll be your Unit Chief.”
Following her as she walked up the stairs, you could feel the curious stares behind your back. You briefly glanced at the open office, a man who had a pen in his mouth already grinning at you from down below. Scoffing at him, you rolled your eyes and focused on Strauss.
“Agent Hotchner,” Strauss greeted as she stepped aside, letting the man look at you. “This is Agent (Y/L/N), the new member of your team.”
Agent Hotchner looked you up and down and an unusual feeling of insecurity surged through you, but you forced yourself to not fiddle with the hem of your blazer as you put your hand in front of you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard exceptional things about you and your team.”
Hotchner took your hands and gripped it firmly. You couldn’t help but take inventory of the callouses of his hands, the strong and natural firm grip, and finally just how right it felt encompassing your own hand.
“Likewise, Agent (Y/L/N), your Captain speaks highly of you. It was like fighting tooth and nail to get him to sign your transfer,” Hotchner let go of your hand but not before giving it another gentle squeeze.
“Well now that introductions are done, I’ll leave the two of you to it,” Strauss left without another word, and both of you watched as she walked down the stairs.
“Is she always like that?” You asked.
“She can be,” Hotchner responded diplomatically. “There’s usually a lot of stress with being a Section Chief.”
“Oh don’t worry, our old Section Chief was much like her,” you responded. “She’s a great woman.”
“Shall we?” Hotchner asked as he gestured towards his office, allowing you to go first. What you didn’t see was the brief but firm glare Hotchner threw to his team as he followed you.
“So, is this the part where you interrogate me, Agent Hotchner,” you inquired as you waited for him to go around his desk. “Because let me tell you, I’m a great interrogatee,” you winked as another small smile appeared on his face.
“Call me Hotch,” he spoke as he sat down, his eyes never leaving your face. He smiled at you and you felt that small flutter in your chest.
“Hotch,” you responded, a bigger smile on your face. “I think I’ll like working with you.”
the first year - the first week (june 2025)
“I need your number,” Hotch said in lieu of a greeting. He watched as you turned around, a spoon in your mouth, eyes wide. “For work. In case.”
“Don’t need to justify yourself to me, Hotch,” spitting out your numbers, you watched as he plugged it into his phone with laser point focus. He repeated the words to you, and you confirmed your numbers. “What do you have me in your phone as?”
“Your name?” He answered, confusion on his face. He turned his phone around and there it was, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) BAU.
“You got another (Y/N) (Y/L/N) running around?” You tsked, “You mind?” You gestured to his phone and he handed it over to you.
You smiled as you replaced your name in his phone, “Feel free to change it, but if you do, it has to top this one.”
Hotch looked down at his phone, your contact name being changed to (y/n) (hottie) >,< 🫶🏼. He couldn’t but chuckle fondly at your boldness. “I’ll message you now so you have my number.”
unknown number
Hello. This is Hotch.
you
hotch u don’t have to be so formal over text, ya know
unknown number
I don’t think I’m being formal. This is how I normally text.
you
i forget that you’re old
“That isn’t very nice,” Hotch scolded next to you, momentarily forgetting that he was there.
“I’m kidding, but it is a bonus to you, I like my men older,” you winked, attitude brazen as if you weren’t violating three HR codes right now.
“Get back to work,” Hotch replied firmly but you grinned as you saw the red creeping up his neck and flushing into his cheeks.
Naming him in your phone, you screenshotted your screen and sent it to him. You looked up from your desk, catching his gaze, even from this distance you could see the annoyance on his face. Grinning, you winked at him.
the first year - a month in (july 2025)
It was a month in and you weren’t getting antsy in your position at all - something that you fear would happen. You fit in better than you expected, more than the team expected. Maybe you were the breath of fresh air that they needed. Or the fact that you made them realise that it was okay to not be about work all the time.
“So what’s Hotch’s deal?” You asked as you looked at Derek and Emily, the three of you outside of the waiting room.
Emily grinned as she shared a glance with Derek. “What do you mean?”
“He single?”
“He’s your superior,” Derek piped in, a knowing look on his face.
“That won’t stop me,” you shrugged. Popping another piece of chip in your mouth, “So, is he?”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t told you,” Emily responded as she amusedly watched you from her spot. “Feels like he’s an open book to you.”
“What does that mean?”
Derek leaned forward, grabbing your snack, “It means that ever since you started, boss man has tried to make sure that you’re spending every moment with him.”
“I’m new, probably wants to keep an eye,” you reasoned out, though that didn’t stop the grin on your face.
“He’s getting a divorce,” Morgan supplied helpfully. “It’s almost finalised.”
“Oh shit,” with that you sat up. You looked between the two of them, trying to decipher if they were pulling a fast one on you. “Seriously?”
“What? Not interested in divorcees?” Emily grinned as Derek handed her your snack.
“Not interested in men that have not had their divorce finalised yet,” you cleared up.
“So Hotch is off the table then?” Derek asked.
With a perplexed look on your face, you looked towards Derek, “When did I say that? He’s off the table until his divorce is finalised.”
“If it’s any consolation, their divorce has been finalised since forever, it’s just the stupid legalities that’s taking forever,” Emily added.
the first year - three months in (september 2025)
It’s a rough case. The toughest you’ve had so far since you started at the BAU and that was saying something. Groaning, you rubbed your head hoping to make the headache go away.
“You doing okay?” The firm hand of Aaron Hotchner grasped your shoulder.
As subtly as you could, you leaned into his grasp. You knew that this was probably violating so many HR codes but at this moment you could not care. “Just a bit tough right now.” If you could feel the slight rubbing of his thumb on your shoulder, you won’t say anything.
“You’re doing well, you know that?” Hotch asked as he gave your shoulder another squeeze before letting go. Looking into your eyes, he frowned as he saw the exhaustion on your face. “I’m here for you if you need anything.”
Looking down at the papers in your lap, you glanced back up at him. “I know, Hotch,” moving aside so he could sit next to you. “Thank you.”
“You’re going to do your head in,” Hotch said softly as he looked at the same papers you were looking at back in the station. “Looking at the same thing won’t help you.”
“Says you,” you joked as you could feel his eyes glance at your face (again). “I just feel so useless,” you confessed. “I just, I feel like it’s in front of me and I just can’t see it.”
Shifting yourself closer to Hotch, as subtle as you possibly could until you could feel his body radiate off him. You could feel your thigh pressed against his, his arm slightly behind yours to allow you room. You couldn’t help but lean into him, basking in the silent and intimate moment.
Letting your head fall to his shoulder, you looked at Hotch, who was now looking at the same documents you had in your lap. You admired his jawline, the five o’clock shadow and if you leaned in just a little closer, you could tell where he sprayed his cologne. “You missed a spot.”
Hotch hummed in response. Softly touching his jaw, you ran your hand gently across the tiniest patch. “Right here,” you murmured, your fingers now drifting and tracing his jawline.
He looked down at you, a small smile on his face already before he even saw you. “I was in a bit of a rush this morning.”
“I like it,” you complimented. “It makes you human. I like that.”
If you were less exhausted you probably wouldn’t be doing this. You probably wouldn’t have the soft voice usually left for pillow talk. To be so vulnerable, let alone touching your boss. And if you weren’t exhausted you probably would have felt the little shiver that ran through Hotch.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Hotch suggested as he noted you slowly drifting off, your eyelids fighting sleep. He couldn’t help but run his eyes down your face. The soft glow of the light illuminating your features. He manoeuvred the arm you were leaning on, moving his hand to lay on your waist. Rubbing gently, a warm feeling spread across his chest.
“I’m fine,” you spoke as you yawned. “Okay, maybe I’m a bit knackered, but I’m here. I don’t think I can sleep well if I don’t look,” you took back the papers. Completely melting yourself to Hotch, you removed all semblance of actually looking at the papers. Instead, enjoying the calm moment that you managed to find yourself in.
“(Y/N)?” You answered him with a soft snore. Gently lowering his back to the couch, slowly as to not wake you, Hotch couldn’t help but look at you. Truly look at you. It was one of the rare moments where he allowed himself to take note of every feature.
It was that moment that Aaron Hotchner realised that you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and that he wouldn’t mind seeing this exact picture for the rest of his life.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice piped up behind him, and before Hotch could stop himself, he gave Spencer a mild annoyed look. “Oh, is she sleeping?” Spencer looked between the two of you. The way you seemingly fit with Hotch, and the unnatural softness Hotch had around him.
“Please keep it down, Reid,” he briefly moved, allowing you to burrow more into him. “What can we do for you?”
Spencer took note of how natural it was for Hotch to say ‘we’, “I just needed the blue files from the Sheriff,” he explained, his gaze falling to you. “Is she okay?”
“I think this case is taking a toll on her,” he answered, passing the notes to the man in front of him.
“It is a particularly difficult case.” Spencer understood, this case was frustrating even to himself. There was something they were all clearly missing and he hoped it didn’t take another victim for them to figure out. “I like her,” Spencer commented. His gaze still fixed on the two of you. “She’s a good fit for the team.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
“You’re fond of her,” Spencer said softly.
“Reid.”
“I’m just saying, Hotch. You’re more gentle when she’s around.”
the first year - four months in (october 2025)
“Your birthday is coming up, right?”
Grinning, you nodded, “You remembered. I always knew I was your favourite.”
“It’s in your file.”
“That’s like, so un-romantic, Hotch,” you pouted. “Are you getting me a gift?” You rounded his desk and perched yourself up. At his sigh and knowing look, you gently knocked his elbow with your foot.
“Of course. I think you’d light me on fire if I didn’t,” he grinned at you, gently shoving your foot back. “It’s not tangible, though, at least not now.”
At that you pouted, “But tangible things are nice. I like tangible things.”
“What’s even nicer is the fact that all your coffees and your breakfast burgers are paid for from your favourite spot for the next six months,” he commented.
At his words, you grinned at him, an action that he himself mirrored. “You are an amazing man,” you jumped off the table. “And you know my favourite breakfast place. Very romantic.”
“They do have a nice breakfast selection,” he agreed as he watched you roam around his office, eventually landing on bringing a chair next to his. “I haven’t tried it, but it seems delicious.”
“I got suckered into their marketing from Instagram and it actually paid off.”
“Instagram?” Hotch asked, as if the app was a foreign thing to him, which was probably correct.
You gasped and pulled out your phone, “Look,” pulling up their page, you moved closer to him. Scrolling through their photos, you could hear Hotch’s hum of approval but not realising that his gaze was flickering from the photos to your face.
“I have to take you there some time, I think you’d like it,” you allowed him to continue to scroll. “When we actually have some free time,” you groaned.
the first year - five months, one week in (november 2025)
“How are you holding up?”
Hotch glanced up from his paper as he gestured to come in. “I’m fine.”
“Hotch,” you closed the door and when you turned back, a frown appeared on your face. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” he responded and you tutted.
“Aaron,” you sat down in your usual chair, you wouldn’t be surprised if the chair had your ass permanently printed on it. “You’re tense, like more tense than usual.”
At your insistence and knowing that you won’t let this drop, postpone maybe, but never drop. “It’s the first birthday since we initiated the divorce,” Hotch looked at you, then back to his paperwork.
“Oh.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Hotch spoke but judging from the constant fidgeting of his pen and tell tale sign of him bouncing his leg up and down, you frowned at his lie.
Shrugging, you leaned forward and picked up the fidget you left yesterday. “I know this killer Mongolian place,” you said as you moved the toy between your hands. Looking at him, “Want to come? Last time I ordered, I realised that it is not meant for a lone soul.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“Pity, shmitty,” you rolled your eyes. “I like food. I like you. I want to eat food with you and it just happens to be your birthday.”
“If we don’t have a case, then yes,” he nodded and leaned back in his chair, eyeing you fondly. “That’s the first time you called me Aaron,” he commented.
“No,” you responded, racking your memory. It couldn’t be. Could it? “Seriously?”
Hotch nodded, “You’ve called me Hotch, Hotchner, boss man, that guy, the guy with the badge, but never Aaron.”
“It’s a nice name,” you complimented. “For a nice guy,” you winked, then scrunching your face, “yuck, that’s gonna ruin my cred. Don’t tell Morgan.”
Chuckling all he could give you was a smile.
the first year - five months, two weeks in (november 2025)
“Is that Hotch?” Spencer asked, causing you and Derek to pause your movements and stare at the couple in the restaurant.
“Who’s that?” You asked.
“His wife,” Spencer replied helpfully, not noticing the clench in your jaw.
“Ex-wife,” Derek corrected, briefly glancing at you. “But that is Haley. Don’t know why they’re there together though.”
The three of you watched as Haley smiled at something Hotch said, an uncharacteristic smile on his face. It suits him, you thought. You frowned as you saw him lean in, their bodies close until he lightly kissed her. It was a quick peck, one that you would have given your friends, but the difference was you weren’t married to them.
“I guess their divorce isn’t happening,” Derek whistled, his eyes flicking to see your reaction.
“I guess that explains why she was in his office last night.”
“She was in the office last night?” You asked, eyes still on the couple. It was domestic seeing them. You could see the light in Hotch’s eyes, the ease that you’ve never seen him have around the office. The familiarity between them that only happens when you’ve shared the same bed for years.
“Kid, what have I told you about keeping information like this away from me?” Derek playfully shoved Spencer. “That’s why we have phones for.”
Spencer looked at the two of you, “She was,” he confirmed. “She came in after you all left, and then they left together. It seems like he was dropped off by Haley this morning as well.”
You made a noise, eyes still not moving from the couple. Eventually the three of you moved on, walking down the streets. You were still in your head. If they were back together, you needed to back off. That was the right thing you needed to do. You were not going to be a homewrecker.
“You alright, mama?” Derek nudged your shoulder, as you both watched Spencer look at the vintage books in front of him. Scanning for something that he hasn’t read yet.
You shrugged, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Maybe it isn’t what it looks like.”
Again, you shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But I do know that it’s definitely not my business.”
Derek watched you with a knowing look, watched how you unknowingly closed yourself in.
He may have not known you for long but it was practically written on your face. The devastation on your face, no matter how much you tried to hide it.
the first year - five months, three weeks in (november)
There was nothing more holiday-inducing than being in Pittsburgh for a case, finishing said case and then finding out your plane is grounded until the next morning due to the snowstorm, and not being able to drive because of the ice.
You all gathered to the nearest pub by the hotel, tired and weary from the cold. Hotch and Rossi taking care of everyone’s orders, as you all sat by the biggest table that was offered.
Glancing around there were less people than you thought for this time of the night. Your eyes landed on a man hunched over the counter, nursing a beer and briefly glancing at the tv. Catching your eye, he raised his glass to you and you raked your eyes down his body.
He stared at you, waiting for you to finish checking him out, to do the same. Winking at him, he saluted his glass to you again before turning back to the game on the tv.
The moment Rossi and Hotch came back, the conversations lit up between the team. Noticing the space next to you, Hotch beelined to the spot, handing you the drink in his hand. Thanking him, you tried to subtly move yourself so you weren’t touching him.
“You did well tonight,” Hotch murmured, striking up a conversation with you. He felt hesitant to talk to you, which was unusual. There was a gap between the two of you, and he didn’t know what happened between his birthday and now that made you lean away from him. You were still you, you still teased him but there was a certain hesitation to it. A touch less personal, more akin to professional teasing.
You gave him a brief smile and thanked him. “It was mostly Pen, I’m just the guns.”
“You’re more than that,” Hotch urged, wanting to continue to talk to you.
Again, you gave him a brief smile but didn’t continue the conversation, and instead flitted in and out of other conversations. Hotch frowned as he looked at his drink, he momentarily looked at you then your hand which was fiddling with the glass.
Leaning over, you popped another wedge in your mouth, you flickered your eyes back to the man who’s been trying to discreetly stare at you since you got in (and trying to ignore Hotch’s body pushed against yours). He was older than you, that much was obvious and bigger as well. Salt and pepper dusted his beard and hair gracefully.
“You should go for it,” JJ encouraged, her voice low. “He’s cute.”
Hotch hearing JJ, looked towards where your eyes were focusing. Across the bar, he saw a man who was probably the same age as he was, carrying the same amount of stress on his face and body. He could see him briefly glance at you, the appreciation in his eyes even all the way from here.
Something dreadful landed on his chest. As discreetly as he could, Hotch glanced between you and the man. It seems like everyone else disappeared except the two of you, and Hotch helplessly had to watch this from the outside.
“We’re off the clock, aren’t we?” You inquired, eyes not leaving the man. Derek and Emily followed your gaze, grinning at each other.
“Alright, kiddo!” Derek gave you a wink.
“Technically, we are,” Rossi smirked, knowing exactly where this conversation was going.
“We so are,” JJ replied, drinking another glass of beer.
Nodding and without another word, you finished the last of your drink and stood up. If you felt Hotch’s hand briefly ghost yours, you didn’t think much of it.
“Where’s (Y/L/N) going?” Hotch asked as his eyes never strayed from your figure.
“I think (Y/L/N) is about to go get some,” Derek replied helpfully, noticing the way that Hotch’s hand clenched around his drink. “It’s about time.”
“Do you always stare at women or am I just lucky?” You spoke as you sauntered up to the bar. Leaning forward, you turned to the man and flashed him a smile.
“I wouldn’t say I was staring.”
Flagging down the bartender, you asked for another drink. “You’ve had your eyes on me since we’ve walked into the bar.”
“Are you even old enough to be in a bar, princess?”
Smiling at him, “Want to see my ID?” You turned towards the man, “I’m going to be very frank with you, I have,” looking at your watch, “probably the whole night and a bit of the morning until I leave Pittsburgh.”
“That’s a short amount of time, sweetheart.”
You leaned closer to him, “Sweet calling me already and you haven’t even bought me a drink,” you teased. “Men these days.”
“You’re asking me to leave with you and you haven’t bought me a drink,” he noted.
“And you haven’t even asked me for my name,” you pouted, sipping on your drink.
Turning his whole body to you, he leaned in, a small, playful smile on his face. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
You spoke your name, smirking as you watched his eyes drift down to your lips. “And yours?”
“Robby.”
“Nice name to be calling out tonight,” you laughed as you watched him choke on his beer. His eyes wide at your audacity. “Or moan, whatever you prefer,” you shrugged nonchalantly.
Gathering his thoughts, Robby eyed you appreciatively, “You’re something, you know that?”
“Look at her go,” JJ said fondly. They all watched you as you flirtatiously moved closer to the unknown man, your hand masterfully drifting down to the man’s thigh.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen her in action,” Derek whistled.
“She almost has you beat, Morgan,” Emily remarked. Watching as the man leaned, whispering something in your ear causing you to drift your hand higher.
“So my house,” Robby started, inching closer to you. “Has a very nice fridge that contains some of the finest Chinese takeaway leftovers.”
Dragging your hand up his thigh and once you got close to his hip started circling your fingers, “And your bed? Is it nice?”
“I’m trying to be polite here, princess,” Robby chuckled. “Want to sweet talk you for a bit before we do anything.”
“Robby,” pulling what appeared to be scrubs, you yanked him closer to you.“You can sweet talk me after you fuck me tonight.”
“You have a foul mouth for such a pretty girl,” Robby commented, his thigh now between your legs.
Grazing your hands from the bottom of his scrubs to the front of his pants, where a bulge was now forming. “Well it seems like you enjoy it.”
Finishing his beer, Robby leaned forward, his chest pressed against yours. Squeezing your hips with his hand, he whispered into your ear, “Say goodbye to your friends, baby.”
“Do you guys still need me?” You didn’t wait for their answer as you started putting your jacket on. Your face flushed, not looking at any of them.
“No, go ahead, bella,” Rossi give you a knowing look, refusing to acknowledge Hotch’s annoyed glare. “We’ll see you in the hotel at 8am.”
“Great,” without another word, you walked back to Robby, his hand automatically moving to your lower back. Guiding you out of the door and into his car.
Hotch spent the night nursing his second drink, the final drink that he’d have for that night. He occasionally glanced at the door that you left through, a small part of him hoping that you’d come back. Snow still in your hair, a flush on your face from the cold. But you didn’t.
Checking his phone under the table, he was expecting a message from you, something he’s become accustomed to. But there was nothing. No little message. No meme - as you call them, or even whatever you were thinking at that time.
“So, Hotch,” Spencer started, his words a little looser due to the drinks Emily kept passing him. “Are you and Haley back together?”
Whatever separate conversation the team was having completely stopped. They all turned to him, questions on their faces.
“Reid. You know,” sweeping his gaze across the table, “and as everyone else does that Haley and I are currently in the middle of a divorce.”
“Really?” Spencer tilted his head. “Because (Y/N), Derek and I saw the two of you in a restaurant kissing.”
Hotch snapped his head to Spencer, the latter man unaware of the bombshell that he just dropped. You saw what happened between him and Haley. The brief moment of lapsed judgement from the two of them?
“And I saw that the two of you leave together the night before, and her dropping you back to the BAU the next day.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like,” Hotch said tersely. “I would appreciate it if my private life wasn’t discussed between all of you.”
Not in the spirit to be around company anymore and he hasn’t been since you left with the unnamed man, Hotch excused himself to walk back to the hotel.
“Holy shit,” you panted, falling on top of Robby. Sitting back up, you winced as you slowly removed yourself from him. “Fuck, maybe I should move to Pittsburgh.”
Earning a chuckle from the man below you, you flipped yourself over to his side. “I’d love that, I can just keep you in here,” placing another tender kiss to your lips, you couldn’t help but make it deeper by wrapping your arms around his neck.
Kissing Robby was nice, very nice. He obviously knew what he was doing and he was giving - something that you enjoyed. Deepening the kiss, you slithered your tongue into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“I need a moment, princess,” Robby flushed, his face turned away in embarrassment.
Turning his head so he was looking at you, “That’s kinda hot.”
“You’re weird,” he chuckled as his head dipped to your neck.
“You like it,” pecking his lips again.
“How long do we have?” He asked as he rolled off the bed. Standing up, you saw him walk to what you assume was his bathroom, as he walked out with a towel in hand.
Looking over at the clock on his bedside table, “Another eight hours, I think.”
“Great,” he spoke as he finished cleaning you up. “I can go for one more round and then I can take you to my favourite pierogi place.”
“Only one?” You arched a brow. “Old man.”
Throwing the towel into the hamper, Robby moved up the bed, caging you in his arms. “Thought you liked that.”
It was after ten pm that Hotch had enough of looking at the paperwork when he heard the telltale sign of your keycard ding. He walked to the door, wanting to at least talk to you when he heard your giggles. Opening the door, he was greeted with seeing you pressed up against the door, the man from the bar deeply kissing you.
He couldn’t help but stare at the two of you for a moment, trying to gather everything that he could see. You weren’t in your usual attire, instead clothed in a pair of well-worn sweats, a sweatshirt and a hoodie that didn’t belong to you.
Hotch didn’t stop there, he looked at how the man’s hand was on your waist, drifting every so often to the curve of your ass, your leg in between his and if he squinted, he could see you grind against the man’s thigh. Your hands wrapped around the man’s neck, pulling against the small hair there.
A low groan from the man broke Hotch out of his reverie and having had enough of seeing you and the man practically dry hump in front of your door, and refusing to acknowledge the pit in his stomach, he cleared his throat.
“Hotch,” you greeted, a bit startled. “Why are you still up?” You pulled away from Robby, the man's hand resting on your hip. Your face flushed and lips swollen.
“I was just finishing up some paperwork,” his hand still on the doorknob. “Are you guys turning in for the night?”
“No,” you shook your head. “Oh shit, you guys haven’t met. Robby, this is Hotch, my boss. Hotch, this is Robby, he’s a doctor.” You gestured between the two men, and Robby reached around to shake Hotch’s hand.
If Hotch shook Robby’s hand a little bit too hard, well that was between him and God.
“We’re actually just grabbing my stuff, then we’re gonna have some dinner,” you gestured to the man behind you, and Hotch really tried to not notice how dishevelled the man looked, or the bite marks he could clearly see.
“It’s late,” was all Hotch stated.
You furrowed your brows, “Well, then we’re grabbing some late dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before the jet leaves,” you winked at him. “I’ll even bring some doughnuts.”
“Otherwise, I can just drive her back up to DC,” Robby piped up, his hand rubbing the small of your back.
Hotch knew what you were saying. You were staying with Robby for the whole night. And a little bit of the morning. He’d probably be dropping you off at the jet. Without another word, and wanting to finish this excruciating interaction, he nodded.
“Night, Hotch, I’ll see you in the morning,” with a final smile, you tugged Robby into your room.
“How was your night?” Emily asked, a saccharine smile on her face as you walked onto the jet. “We didn’t see you back in the hotel.”
“What I do in my private time is no concern of yours, Emily Prentiss,” you pointed a finger at her.
“Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Derek whistled as he saw clothes on you, that was definitely too big and definitely not yours. “Nice clothes, mama.”
“Shut up, Derek,” you pinched him as you walked by.
Stopping you, Derek peeked curiously at the bag in your hand, “What’s that?”
“Pierogi and doughnuts,” you jostled the bag, removing it from his reach as Derek tried to get at it. “I would have given you all some, but I only have a few, sorry.”
“Have a good night?” Hotch asked, his eyes never leaving the papers in front of him.
Feeling the slight tension, you lowered your things slowly. “Uh, yeah?”
“Those aren’t your clothes,” he stated simply, eyes flicking once to your body. “I thought you grabbed your bag last night.”
“Nothing I brought felt comfortable,” you explained, uncomfortable in the detached way he was interacting with you. Sitting down slowly, you winced as your ass touched the chair, you glanced at Hotch who noticed your discomfort. Raising a brow, you shook your head. “I think I pulled a muscle.”
“A muscle,” he commented under his breath. Making a contemplative noise as your phone buzzed on top of the table. His eyes flicked to it.
“You good?”
This time he paused his scratching and looked at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re being so clinical,” you gestured. “You’ve never been like that.” Not getting an answer, you shrugged and looked at your phone, causing you to smile softly.
michael ‘raw’ robinavitch
If you’re ever in Pittsburgh, let me know. I’d actually like to show you around.
you
i mean you showed me a killer pierogi place last night and your house. definitely enjoyed your house and your bed
michael ‘raw’ robinavitch
Yeah, I enjoyed you in my bed too, sweetheart.
“We’re taking off soon,” Hotch piped up, and you nodded, not taking your eyes off your phone. “You need to put that away.”
you
flying now. i’ll text you when i land <3
michael ‘raw’ robinavitch
Safe flight.
Locking your phone, you made a show of it being turned off to Hotch. Pulling your book from your bag, you pointedly ignored Hotch for the rest of the flight.
In the meantime, Hotch occasionally looked at you. He took notice of the red marks around your wrist, the bite marks and hickeys littering your neck. And not that he would admit it, but if he sniffed the air a little bit harder, he could tell that the body wash you had on you wasn’t yours.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hotch this tense before,” Spencer muttered to JJ, and they both looked at the man.
“I think it has something to do with a certain someone last night,” JJ replied back, and she nodded towards you.
Spencer gazed at you. “Do you think he’s jealous?”
JJ shrugged, “Hard to tell, but fifty bucks say he is.”
After the debrief in the conference room, you heard Hotch call out your name. The team glanced at you, curiosity in their eyes. You turned to Hotch who was still compiling his papers together.
“I need to talk to you in my office,” Hotch nodded.
“Ooo, someone’s in trouble,” at Emily’s taunting tone, you accidentally swiped her shin with the toe of your boot. “Ow!”
Walking side by side with Hotch, you walked in first, turning around as you saw him close his door.
“(Y/N), about what you saw,” he started and when he saw your confused face, he elaborated. “With Haley, when you were with Spencer and Morgan.”
“Hotch, no offence but that’s really not my problem,” you interrupted, as you started to run your eyes across the back of his office. “What you do with your wife isn’t really my business.”
“She’s,” he shook his head. “She’s my ex-wife,”
“Again, Hotch. Not my business,” you reiterated. “That’s your business.”
“Haley and I have been together for a very long time, we just,” he looked away from you, trying to find the right words.
“Fell back into something familiar? Hotch, I get it,” you understood. You truly did. “Like I get it, get it.”
“But we’re done,” Hotch’s words had a finality in them, like he was believing them for the first time. “I’m sorry that you had to see that and that you were dragged into this.”
You shrugged, “It’s fine.”
“We’re not getting back together.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
That stopped whatever you were about to say. You looked at Hotch, your brain not catching up what you wanted to say. “Why don’t you want me to get the wrong idea?”
Hotch swallowed, “I just want to be clear about everything.”
Opening your mouth, you were interrupted by your phone buzzing loudly. Hotch’s eyes flicked to it and his jaw clenched. “It’s fine, Hotch, like I said, we’re fine.” Without another word, you gave him a smile and left his office.
the first year - five months, four weeks in (november)
“Excuse me,” Penelope cleared her throat as she looked down at you. Her arms crossed against her chest. “You hooked up with a doctor and you didn’t tell me?”
“Pen!” You glanced around the bullpen, everyone too busy in their own work to notice.
“I’m practising celibacy right now, I need to vicariously live through people,” she bent down and grabbed your arm. “Tell me everything. And I mean everything.”
You laughed and stood up from your desk, entangling your arms together, you walked to the kitchen. “He’s nice. Sweet, actually.”
“And according to JJ and Emily totally smoking,” Penelope winked.
“He is,” you agreed immediately. “Good in bed too.”
“Tell me,” Penelope grasped to your arm. Your laugh caught in your throat as Hotch came into view from behind.
“Pen, this isn’t really work appropriate,” you coughed into your hand.
She waved her hand around, “We talk about dead bodies, it’s about time we talk about something nicer. Are you going to see him again?”
You made a noncommittal noise, “I mean, maybe? He has a few days off apparently, and he’s coming up here.”
“That good?” Penelope’s eyes widened.
You smirked, filling your mug with coffee. “He’s nice,” you repeated.
“Oh, so he is good,” Penelope gasped.
the first year - six months, three weeks in (december)
You frowned at your phone, cussing under your breath as you typed out your response. “Fuckin snow.”
“You okay?”
“Holy fucking shit, Aaron,” you jumped in your seat, looking at said man who had an unnatural grin on his face. You looked around noticing no one was in the office except the two of you. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”
“Language.”
“Language,” you mocked him. Spinning in your chair, you looked at him, noticing the ease of his body, the softness in his eyes. “Getting intel are we?”
“I’m just curious as to why you’re still in the office,” at his statement you looked around and you only saw a couple of agents milling around, everyone in your team gone for the day.
“You’re still in the office,” you remarked and you saw a small tired smile on his face.
“I usually am,” Hotch answered. “Why are you still here? You should go home.”
“Tired of me already?”
He shook his head, “Never.”
You sat there for a beat just staring at Hotch, there was something soft around him. He looked at you in a way that you’ve never seen. Before you could answer, the soft buzz of your phone made you tear your eyes away from him.
Groaning softly at the message, you blew out a loud puff of air and placed it back on the table.
“You okay?”
“I’m just waiting for someone but there’s a jam on the streets cause of the snow,” tapping your fingers on the table, you wondered if it was better to just go home and meet him there.
“Robby?” Hotch asked and the pit in his stomach that’s been there since November made itself known. “I didn’t realise that you were still seeing him.”
“We’re seeing each other,” you said carefully. “And it’s nice.”
“Nice,” Hotch repeated and you arched your brow. Coughing into his hand as he realised he said it out loud, “Is he treating you well?”
You smiled softly, “Yeah, he’s kind and good.”
“That’s good,” he repeated again, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that came out of you. “We’re good though as well, right? I just feel like we’ve been off.”
You took another moment to answer, “We are, Hotch,” you replied truthfully. “Think I just had a bit of a weird patch a couple weeks back but I promise we’re okay,” you nudged your foot with his, and by the look on his face, he seemed to hesitate to believe you. “We’re fine, Hotchner,” holding out your pinky finger, you urged him to do the same. “I promise.”
“I’m happy he’s treating you well,” Hotch muttered between still lips.
“And if he wasn’t?”
“I have a lot of leeway as Unit Chief,” he smiled.
You laughed loudly, and the other agents looked at you, ducking your head a bit, you smiled teasingly at Hotch. “You’ve got jokes, Hotchner?”
“An arsenal full of them,” he looked towards the window. “You should go before we get snowed in.”
You looked outside, and then looked at your phone.
michael ‘raw’ robinavitch
I want to say ten minutes out? It’s hard to tell, but I’ll be there soon, baby.
Gathering your things, you felt Hotch’s eyes watch you. Once you got everything, you turned to him, gentle smile on your face. Leaning up on tip toes, one hand wrapped around him, you brushed your lips against his cheek.
“Have a happy Christmas, Hotch.”
Feeling his arm encircle one side of your waist and instinctively you stepped closer into his embrace. Fully hugging him now, it didn’t occur to you until now that it was probably his first Christmas alone since his separation. Letting him have this moment, you tried to separate this moment as a co-worker needing a shoulder for a moment and not anything else.
For Hotch, he allowed himself to cherish the small affection that he hasn’t been permitted for the last couple of weeks. Tightening his grip on you, Hotch momentarily leaned and pressed his head against yours. Memorising the scent of your shampoo, the way that you felt around his body.
He wanted to keep you there with him. Wanted to keep the conversation going but he didn’t know how to. Hotch wanted to know your plans but he didn’t think that could bear knowing what the two of you were planning.
Pulling away, he looked down and all he wanted to do was press his forehead against yours. Feel your breath against his skin but instead he grinded his jaw and let you go.
“Have a good Christmas, (Y/N).”
the first year - seven months, two weeks in (january 2026)
“I can’t believe their divorce is finally finalised. Great way to ring in the New Year, I guess,” Morgan said as he handed the drink to you. “Now you can finally make your moves on him.”
“Moves?!” You feigned as you gratefully took your drink. “I’m not you, Morgan.”
“Oh, but you are, mamacita, but just a different type of font,” winking at you, you both cheered your glass.
“Seriously, though,” Derek implored. “Anything?”
“I’m with Robby,” you stated simply.
“Sure,” Derek shrugged. “But don’t tell me that you wouldn’t drop everything if Hotch came through that door asking for your hand in marriage.”
You sighed, “You make me sound like I’m using Robby, Derek.”
“Sorry, kid,” Derek apologetically nudged your foot. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
You tilted your head, “I guess. I mean, Robby isn’t a replacement for Hotch or anything but I won’t lie and say that seeing Hotch and Haley didn’t spur me to do something.”
Derek held his hands up, “I’m not blaming you, kid. That’s healthy and all that, instead of stewing in your own feelings.”
“I like Robby,” you admitted. “I’m also pretty sure that we’re both on the same page that it’s not going to go anywhere serious. I mean I’m here and he’s there,” you took a deep breath, feeling a weird weight of relief off your shoulders.
“I don’t want to push him,” you mumbled. “Don’t want a once-off thing with him. Kinda in it for the long haul, you know? Wanna wait until he’s ready.”
Derek said nothing but he watched you intently. “But when he’s ready,” you fiddled with your drink. “Then I’ll be right there for him,” you nodded, finality in your tone.
“Well, well, well,” Derek said as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
“What?”
“Someone’s in love,” he teased.
Rolling your eyes, you kicked his shin under the table, “Shut up, Morgan. As if you’re not in love with Garcia.”
The man shrugged, “You didn’t deny it.”
“I would be a big idiot if I didn’t fall in love with Hotch,” you reasoned out.
“He’d be up for it, you know,” Derek voiced out, taking another sip of his beer. “Whenever you’re ready to make your moves on him.”
“I don’t know, Derek, I mean what happens if I’m just reading into things? Like, that would be so embarrassing,” you scrunched your face at the thought of it actually happening. “And he just got divorced, I don’t want to be the young rebound before he settles down again. I think that may actually kill me.”
Derek tutted and shook his head, “Listen, kid, you’re getting in your head again. You’re thinking of the worst possibilities for this situation. Think about it, do you think Hotch is the type to have a pretty young thing that he’ll just fuck and dump?”
At his coarse words, you grimaced. “He’s still a man,” you deadpanned.
“Hotch isn’t that kind of man, no way,” Derek shook his head again. “He’s been into you ever since he saw you walk in with Strauss, or maybe he’s been pining for Strauss this whole time,” Derek laughed.
Bumping your shoulder with his, “You do know you’re going to have to make the first move, right? He’s openly fond of you but actually acting on his feelings?” Derek pursed his lips.
“I’m gonna have to be patient, Derek. I don’t want to spook him.”
“You’re the most impatient person I know.”
“You’ve known me for seven months,” you rolled your eyes. “But I can be patient for him.”
the first year - seven months, one week in (february 2026)
You and Hotch sat outside on the bench, overlooking the forest outside of Quantico. There was a slight chill to the air, but the sun was shining and you were content. There wasn’t a case yet, you were caught up with paperwork and the dish you made last night turned out well.
“You good?” Passing a bit of your lunch to Hotch, the man took a bite, humming appreciatively. “How are you feeling?”
“I think that it’s been going on for so long that I don’t feel any different,” Hotch confessed. “Is that wrong for me to say?”
“I don’t know,” you replied. “I’ve never been divorced, Hotch.”
“Someone would be the biggest idiot to divorce you.”
You turned to him and smiled, “That’s sweet, Hotchner. But I can be a handful.” You observed him, “Seriously, Aaron. You okay?”
“To be honest, I’m fine,” taking another bite of your lunch. “I’m fine. I just never thought I’d get divorced but then again I never thought I’d be a Unit Chief.”
Watching him take another bite, you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Would you do it again?”
Hotch turned to you, his eyes soft, “Do what?”
“Get married?”
He took a while to answer, instead enjoying the winter sun dance across your face. It’s been a while since the two of you were like this, the small intimate moments that the two of you managed to fit in between the real world. He cherished these moments.
“With the right person.”
“Right person?”
“Haley and I, we, were high school sweethearts. I grew up thinking that the first person you fell in love with was the love of your life, the one that you married. Everything came so fast, my career as a lawyer, then the BAU, and then Haley’s career. I loved her,” Hotch choked out. “But I think along the way love wasn’t enough, and she loved me more than I could love her.”
You didn’t respond. You’ve never been in a position like Hotch had been in before. Placing your hand on top of his, all you could offer him was the comfort of your touch.
“I loved Haley, but I don’t think she was the one, no,” he shook his head. “What about you? Do you ever want to get married?” Hotch kept his eyes on your hands, the slow circular movements relaxing him.
Looking at his side profile, you catalogued the creases by his eyes, the small lines near his mouth, “Yeah, Hotch, I do.”
“Got anyone in mind?”
“Do you?” You nudged his shoulder.
The two of you didn’t reply, the air was calm. He studied you in a quiet way, the way that he would look at all the evidence on a case before coming to the right conclusion. “I think when I do it again, I want -,” he looked at you, in a way that made you breathless. “I’m going to do it right, you know? I’ll fight for her. I don’t want her to think that I could love anything above her.”
Coughing slightly, hoping whatever you were feeling wasn’t showing on your face. “Do you think she’s going to be the one?” You teased.
Hotch stared at you, and without another beat, “Yes.” He turned back to your lunch, grabbing another bite, hoping that you didn’t see the heat creeping up his neck. “What about you? Do you have anyone in mind? Like Robby?”
Chuckling, you shook your head, “I actually broke things off with him a few weeks back. I can’t do distance, even if it is just in a different state.”
“If it wasn’t for distance, do you think he’d be a candidate?” He knew that he was prodding know, that’s why he kept his eyes from you, something that he hated to do.
You thought about it, and hummed, “No,” you shook your head. “I only have one candidate in mind.”
“Jeremy from the cafeteria?” Hotch proposed, smiling as he watched you giggle.
“My one and only,” you spoke lovingly, a hand to your heart to affirm your words.
Hotch looked at you, and in the winter sun, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Thank you, sweetheart,” stroking your hand lightly, he allowed you to interlock your fingers together.
the first year - eight months, two weeks in (february 2026)
Knocking on Hotch’s door, you looked at your phone again. Looking through the information, you waited for his confirmation and when you received it, you wasted no time striding in.
“Hotch, I need you,” you announced, not bothering to close the door and instead beelining to him.
“Well, hello to you too, bella,” Rossi grinned as he flickered his gaze between the two of you.
“Dave,” you nodded and then turned to the man who was looking at you intently. “Look,” you passed over your phone to Hotch who took in and scrolled through the details Seeley sent. You looked with him, bits of information jumping out.
Too engrossed re-reading through all the details, you didn’t notice Rossi’s eyes studying the two of you. The way it clocked to him how at ease Hotch was with you, how said man moved back so his shoulder was touching your chest. The fact that your hand wasn’t on the back of his chair, but his shoulder instead - giving him the gentle assurance of your touch. He raised his brows as the two of you exchanged knowing glances before Hotch locked and passed you the phone back.
“We need to head to DC,” Hotch stated, finally looking at Rossi. “Agent Booth and his team needs us.” You leaned back, your hand trailing down his back as he stood up. “We’ll drive out in five.”
Rossi nodded, knowing that now wasn’t the right time to bring up whatever was going on between the two of you. Nodding his farewells, he walked back to the bullpen.
“You okay?” Hotch asked as he started gathering up his bag. “I know Agent Booth means a lot to you.”
“He’s like a brother to me,” you bit your lip and took a deep breath. “He’s looked after me since he’s met me. I know this is killing him and I don’t know how else to help him other than this.”
“We’ll help him,.” Hotch said firmly, his tone booking no room for any other answer. “We’ll get Dr Brennan and Dr Hodgins back. I promise.”
“I thought you didn’t make promises when it comes to cases,” you said lightly, trying to take your mind off just how dire this situation is.
“It’s different for you,” Hotch replied softly, his hand itching to comfort your current tense one.
“Hey,” Hotch called out softly, he pulled on the sleeve of your blouse. “You okay?”
“You’ve been asking me that a lot, Hotch,” you sighed.
“It’s taking a toll on you,” he replied softly, tugging your sleeve again, “come here for a second,” you stood in front of him, wondering what he needed. Hotch moved his hand from your sleeve and gently wrapped his hands around your body. “It’s okay,” he whispered as you instinctively melted into his body.
Placing one of his hands on the back of your neck, he rubbed softly at the base, “We’ll find them, okay? We have some of the most brilliant minds here, we’ll find them.” Pulling you even closer, he felt your arms around his hips. “It’s okay, honey.”
“Hotch,” Booth called out. “Wait up!”
When Hotch turned around, Booth held out his hand, “Thanks. I don’t know if we would have been able to do this without you.”
“You have a very capable team, I’m sure that you would have figured it out as well,” Hotch replied.
“You still came though, I didn’t even have to ask.”
“It wasn’t me,” Hotch spoke. He turned to where you were standing, still conversing with Temperance, he nodded to you. “She asked.”
“She asked and you came,” Booth finished. Booth looked at Hotch, who was still staring at you, a fondness on his face that he knew all too well. “Look after her.”
“What a shitty valentine’s day,” you threw your bag on the couch as soon as you stepped into Hotch’s office.
“It could be worse,” Hotch followed you. Closing the door, he walked over to his small table. Pouring your glass and then his, he sat down next to you. Loosening his tie, he leaned back, allowing you to be more comfortable.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Aaron,” you clinked your glass to his.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, (Y/N).”
the first year - ten months, two weeks in (april 2026)
“Can you believe that I’ve almost been here a year?” Passing your paperwork to Aaron, you began to start on another one. The unknown joys of working as an agent.
“2nd of June,” Hotch added. “That’s when you first started.”
“You remembered?” You briefly glanced at him.
“That was the day I learned what a cruffin was, so yes.”
“What a momentous occasion for you,” you teased, passing another piece of paper. “Seriously though, it feels like I’ve been here since forever.”
“I feel the same way.”
Arching your brow, you relaxed back into your seat, “Oh, really? And why’s that?”
Hotch glanced at you and shrugged, “It just seems like you’ve always been here. It’s hard to think of what the team was like before you.”
“Oh, I am so your favourite.”
Nudging your shoulders with his, “It’s actually Reid.”
“And here I was going to say that you were my favourite, but I guess that isn’t reciprocated,” you dramatically moved your chair away from him. “Here I am helping you with paperwork but I don’t see Reid doing that.”
“You barged in here and wanted to spend time together,” Hotch reasoned out, pulling your chair back to its original position.
“Yeah, and I don’t see your so-called favourite coming in here to spend quality time with you.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s my favourite.”
“Fine,” you fumed. Standing up, you gathered your one pen and made your way to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to spend time with someone that actually wants to be with me,”
“(Y/N), I’m kidding,” you almost felt bad that you were pulling his chain. “Please come back.”
You turned around, arms crossed against your chest, “That was mean, Hotch.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologised, everything else forgotten except the woman standing in front of him who appeared furious with him. “That’s why I don’t make jokes.”
“It’s your tone, Hotchner,” you rolled your eyes. Sitting back down, pointedly moving your body from his, something that made Hotch feel uneasy.
“You know though right?”
“What?” You hummed, focusing (and failing) on the paper in front of you.
“That you’re my favourite.”
Turning your head, you looked at Hotch who looked earnestly at you. Nudging his foot with yours, you pushed your chair closer to his. “Yeah, Hotch, I know.”
the first year - eleven months, three weeks in (april 2026)
It was humiliating. Here you were laying on the ground, eye thumping in pain. It was almost cartoonish, you running around the corner chasing the unsub then getting hit by a 2x4 by said unsub.
“Motherfucker,” you groaned in pain. Clutching your eye, you tried to get up. “Of-fucking-course,” you swore as you felt the telltale run of a bloody nose.
“(Y/L/N), you alright?” Emily asked, coming around the corner.
“Yeah, Morgan’s after him,” you gestured west where Derek and the unsub ran off too.
“(Y/N)?” You could hear Hotch ask through the earpiece. “You okay?”
“She got hit by the unsub, nosebleed and I can see a bump forming. Possible concussion,” Emily answered for you, assessing you as she talked to Hotch.
“I’m fine,” you gritted out.
“She’s not,” Emily supplied.
“(Y/L/N), stay there,” Hotch commanded.
“No,” shoving Emily’s helpful hand off, you began to jog to Derek. “Morgan’s alone, and I’m not leaving him there.”
“(Y/N), I’m serious,” Hotch bit out. “I’m about two minutes away, just stay there. Prentiss will go.”
But it was too late and you were too stubborn, knowing that Derek was in trouble. Running as best you could, you caught up to where Derek’s already apprehended the unsub.
“You good?” You nodded to Derek.
“Yeah, kid, don’t think you are though,” pointing towards your nose.
You could hear the rest of the team starting to arrive, Hotch in the front, JJ, Rossi and Emily in tow.
“What were you thinking?” Hotch snapped as you came into view, gun lowering and heading straight to you. “I told you to stay.”
“Morgan-,”
“Morgan had it handled,” Hotch bit out, his eyes running across your body. “An order is an order, (Y/L/N).”
“You didn’t know that,” you snapped back. Moving too quickly, you winced as you held your head.
Whatever Hotch wanted to say or snap at you died in his mouth as he quickly strided over to you. His hands gently running over the wound, thumb running under your nose to get rid of the blood.
“Are you okay?” He whispered, annoyance and any anger gone from him.
“Head hurts,” you complained.
“Come on, let’s go to the medics,” wrapping his arms around your waist, Hotch guided you.
“She should be fine, no need for an overnight stay,” the medic stated as she finished looking you over. “No signs of subdural hematoma,” the medic turned to Hotch who was hovering behind her, looking at you with concerned eyes. “But it’s best that someone stays with her. Any signs, bring her in. I’d also recommend that when you go home that you go to your usual doctor, just to make sure everything is okay.”
“I’ll look after her,” Hotch replied with a definitive tone. Like there was no room for anyone else to look after you.
“You’ve got a good one,” the medic winked at you. “It’s rare that those come by.”
“He’s not,” you started but stopped as Hotch walked over to you.
“Thank you,” Hotch looked at the medic thankfully, a rare smile appearing on his face. “Come on, sweetheart,” guiding you down, you pushed your weight to Hotch, who was all too happy to provide the support you needed. “We’ll go back to the hotel.”
If the team saw the way Hotch’s hand stayed glued to your lower back as he escorted you to the car, none of them said anything.
“In the bathroom,” Hotch directed as the two of you went into his hotel room. “I got JJ to grab all your belongings from your room already.”
Walking to the bathroom, you squinted your eyes as he turned on the light. Whispering apologies, he dialed down the brightness. “I need to clean your wounds,” he murmured, looking at your head.
“I’m not a baby,” you moaned out, removing Hotch’s hand from your face.
“You,” he started and you could see him clench his jaw. He made a fist and looked away from you, “Do you know how stubborn you are?”
“I’ve been told that,” you responded cheekily.
“I need to clean your wounds,” he repeated, this time more firm. He moved you to sit on the bathroom counter. Gathering the first aid kit that he always kept in his bag, Hotch stepped between your legs.
“Just let me,” Hotch murmured. You looked up at him, the focus in his eyes, getting the dirt, grim and blood off your face. The gentle touch that you could feel on your forehead. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and you knew that he could feel yours.
“There,” he whispered, as he placed the final bandaid on your head. “All cleaned up.”
“You know, some people believe that kissing the wound will make it heal faster,” you supplied, as you gazed up at him. Your hands finding home on the lapels of his jacket.
He grinned down at you, “Oh really?” Brushing your hair away from your face, Hotch couldn’t help but stare at you. The emotions in your eyes, the way you clung to him, the subconscious lean into his hands, Hotch wanted you to touch him forever.
You hummed. Gently grasping your head in both of his hands, Hotch leaned down to flutter a kiss on your wound. Then another, then another, until he was peppering kisses down your cheek. He skimmed his hands to your side and you flinched as his lips touched your head a little harder than he would have wanted.
“I’m sorry,” he apologised instantly, pulling away from you and looking at the wound.
Tugging his lapels lightly, you pulled him to you, “Don’t you ever apologise for kissing me, Aaron Hotchner.”
Laughing he tenderly kissed your forehead, then your cheek, his lips hovering your own, so close that the two of you felt each other’s breath. “You’ve got to sleep,” he whispered against your lips. Craning his neck, he placed another tender but long kiss to your forehead. “Come on, we’ll change you out of your clothes and take your meds.”
Picking you up from the counter, he placed you down on the ground. Hands on your hips to steady you. “Did you need help getting changed?” He asked, his eyes suddenly not on you.
You grinned, “Aaron Hotchner, I got hit in the head, a mild injury mind you.”
“I’m just asking,” he replied, his tone close to a whine. “I’ll get your clothes,” he said but made no move to get them, instead standing in front of you, your back pressed against the counter. He pressed himself to you, his hands on your waist, as he gazed at your wound again.
“It’s just a little bit of a knock on the head, Hotch,” you placed your chin on his chest, looking up at him. “I’m okay, I promise.”
“Still,” Hotch stated. “I don’t like seeing you injured.”
“Alright, you okay?”
You rolled your eyes, “Yes, Hotch.”
“Where are you going?” You demanded sleepily as you saw his figure walk away from you.
“I need to finish these up, and then I’ll sleep on the couch,” he held up the papers and you frowned at him.
“No, you’re sleeping here,” you replied stubbornly, you patted the spot next to you, and scowled at him until he sighed and came over.
He laid on the bed next to you, back flushed to the headboard. Hotch opened up the case files, watching you from the corner of his eyes as you tried to get comfortable. Seeing your distress, he pushed the file aside and moved your upper body until you were laying on him.
He looped his right arm from behind your back, hand splaying across your stomach. “Better?” He heard you hum in response, and the next thing you knew, you were out.
Gently rubbing his thumb across your stomach, he watched from above as you turned, hands burying under his shirt, hands curling against his chest hair, your face burrowed into his stomach and your leg thrown across his. There was a content look to your face, your body melting into his as if you were one.
the second year (june 2026)
“Happy Anniversary,” Hotch commented as you came into his office. “It’s officially been a year since you transferred to the BAU.” He nodded to the brown paper bag in front of where you usually sit. “I got you a cronut.”
Normally you would have beamed at him, hugging him (as professionally as you could within the precinct) and thanked him. But there was tension between the two of you today. Well, more on your part than his. He didn’t know anything about the inner turmoil you had. It wasn’t bad tension, but it was tension that you felt in your stomach. Tension that seeps into your dream, and all you can think of when you wake up is how nice the weight of your boss on top of you would feel really nice.
You’ve thought about this before, of course you had. You weren’t silent in your attraction and affection for Hotch but this was the first time that your subconscious did anything about it.
“Are you alright?” Hotch asked, a concerned frown on his face when you didn’t move from where you were standing. Your eyes not even drifting to the bag. “You feeling okay?”
You looked at him and you groaned. You hated the fact that you couldn’t hide anything from this man. It’s not because he was a good profiler, or anything, it was the fact you didn’t want to lie to him. That you had the urge to tell him the truth no matter what because you never want to keep anything away from him.
“I had a sex dream about you,” you shyly confessed, your tone laced with something Hotch has never really heard from you.
“What?”
“Oh my god, Aaron!” You threw up your hands, “I had a sex dream about you, okay?”
“Okay,” he responded dumbly. He looked at you then cleared his throat. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We work together an awful lot, so it’s only natural that you find yourself in that kind of position.”
Rolling your eyes, “I work with a lot of people, I have never had this problem.” You practically stay rooted in your spot. “This is so embarrassing,” you buried your face in your hands. “I sound so childish.”
You could hear the creak in Hotch’s chair as he stood up and walked over to you. Running his hands down from your shoulders, you mumbled, “This doesn’t help you know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” You balked at his suggestion. “It may help,” he shrugged. Hotch was spouting bullshit, both of you knew it. When has talking about a sex dream, with said person who starred in it was ever a good idea?
Hotch knew that you were smart. You knew what he implicitly wanted. “I promise I won’t make fun,” but the grin on his face told a different story. “Come on.” Pulling you to his couch, he sat on the table in front. “Tell me.”
“Uh, it was a sex dream,” you started eloquently and he nodded.
Coughing into his hand, Hotch asked, “Were we together in this?”
“Considering you wanted to knock me up, I’d hope so,” you mumbled quietly, shifting in your seat.
“Knock you up?”
“Are you going to repeat everything that I say? Cause if so, that isn’t helping.”
“I’m just trying to make sense of everything.”
Rolling your eyes again, you shuffled yourself further down. “I don’t know, the beginning’s hazy, but I remember you on top of me, there was kissing involved,-”
“Of course,” at his interruption you glared at him, and all he could do was give you a reassuring smile.
“As I was saying, there was kissing involved and touching, and you called me-,”
Hotch watched your breathing become deeper, he looked at your fists which were clenched on top of your thighs. Hotch gritted his teeth as he saw that your thighs were clenched. “Called you what?”
You turned to him and what he saw on your face made him almost gasp. Your eyes were almost black in this light, your lips flushed and swollen from you biting them. You were ravishing.
“Good girl,” you replied hoarsely. “Specifically, your good girl.”
Hotch has never been happier until now that he had the self-restraint of a monk. All he wanted to do was kiss you silly on his couch, the team downstairs and professionality be damned.
“My good girl,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement as he looked at you. And the moment those words left his mouth, it was like you were a sleeper agent as your eyes trained on him. “And how did I, how did that make you feel?”
You glared at him, “Is this fun for you? Is my embarrassment fun for you?”
Touching your knees, Hotch leaned forward. “Not at all. I’m learning about you, and I want to help you out. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable around me.”
Looking at his hands, his big hands on your knees, you bit your lip harder. “You could never make me feel uncomfortable.”
“So it wasn’t uncomfortable for you?”
Shaking your head, “The opposite,” you confessed thickly. “I liked that you called me that.”
“Interesting,” Hotch hummed as he looked at you. This was completely different. Usually you would be the take-charge, hard-headed woman that he cared for. Brazen, loud and unabashed but sitting here in front of him was completely different. This was a different side to you. Something he wanted to explore. “So let me get this straight; we were together, I was trying to knock you up and I was calling you my good girl.”
“That’s basically the gist of it,” you murmured, face flushing at the words being repeated back to you.
“That sounds normal.”
You stared blankly at him, “When has that ever been normal? When has having a sex dream about your boss, trying to breed me and calling me a good girl be normal?”
At the word ‘breed’, you could feel Hotch squeeze your knees. “Don’t tell me you’re getting turned on right now,” you scoffed.
“I am not,” he denied, having the audacity to have a perplexed look on his face.
“Then there’s something wrong with you,” you rolled your eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s something wrong with you,” you repeated, this time slower. “What kind of man wouldn’t be turned on with me saying that.”
And there she is, he thought. The fire in your words, the self-confidence that he wished he could possess.
“You’re unbelievable,” Hotch shook his head, fondness in his smile at you. “Do you want me to get turned on?”
That question took you aback, pouting, you thought it over. “Yes.”
“I don't think this is work appropriate,” despite his words, Hotch slid closer to you, one of your knees slotting between his legs.
“You’re the one who wanted me to talk about my sex dream,” you responded, leaning in as well.
Too lost in each other, you didn’t hear the knock on his door, or JJ walking in. “Am I interrupting something?” JJ looked at the two of you, one of her brows arching. Her eyes went straight to Hotch’s hands still on your knees, the man slowly removing them from your body.
The two of you cleared your throat, and Hotch answered. “No, what do you need, JJ?”
“We have a case, we’re setting up the room now,” with one last knowing look she left his office.
Turning back to him, you glared playfully, “This stays between us, Hotchner.”
Squeezing your knees, Hotch drifted his hands up your thighs to your hands before pulling you up with him. “Of course, can’t let my good girl down.”
Hitting him on his chest, you groaned as you began to walk out of his office.
the second year - one month in (july 2026)
It was like Hotch’s left hand was now stitched to your lower back. Like the only place that it can ever belong was on your body. Ever since you confessed your sordid dream about him, it was like he was a new man.
The confession allowed the two of you to be more comfortable with each other. Maybe Hotch was right in the way that it helped the connection between the two of you. He was more open with his touches (when it was just the two of you), open with his compliments and praise in front of the team.
It started with a small touch. Hotch was just passing by and he placed his hand on your waist as he moved behind you, a whispered excuse falling from his lips as he moved behind. You flinched at first, thinking it was a random man, until you smelt the familiar cologne. Leaning back, you basked in the small but intimate moment.
Your reaction gave him the courage to be more forward. Well, as forward as Hotch could be. When no one was watching, his touch on your back was longer. More intimate. He never just had his hand on your back. It was a small movement of his thumb, grounding you. Moving his whole hand across the span of your lower back, or from your shoulder and then looping around your hips.
You didn’t think any of it. In fact, you were probably worse. You liked to touch him on his back and then run your hand up and down, until it landed on his waist, or his belt. You needed to be near him; your arms and thighs touching when you sat next to each other, your fingers twiddling with the fabric that you could reach.
It didn’t go unnoticed by the team; Derek and Penelope never missing a moment to tease you, JJ and Emily exchanging knowing glances, and Spencer not mentioning anything after you both threw stern glances his way the first time he noted it publicly.
And Rossi? Well, Rossi was Rossi about the whole thing. Watching the two of you keenly, refusing to say anything except a nod and a small grin thrown at the two of you.
It was another case, Missouri this time and the team was barely hanging on a thread. Hotch specifically as he kept butting heads with the Sheriff. Another tense exchange between the two left Hotch practically huffing as he exited the small room.
Knocking on the door that you saw Hotch walk in, he snapped at the door, “What?”
Raising your hands up in the air as you walked in, Hotch’s once irritated face softened into something that was only reserved for you. “You okay?”
“Their own personal biases and bigotry are affecting this case, are affecting the victims,” Hotch bit out, his hands clenching by his sides. “They’re believing what they’re being fed by the news they see and won’t look at the actual evidence.”
Walking closer to him, you allowed him to vent about the past couple of days. “They’re affecting the case and if they won’t get over it, I don’t know how we can help them. They’re going to frame someone because that’s what they believe.”
Without a thought, Hotch sat down on one of the tables, a hand pinched across the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“That’s new,” you stated. “You not knowing what to do,” walking up to him, you stood between his legs, his hands automatically going to your hips despite his annoyed look at you.
“It’s frustrating,” he confided in you, head falling to your shoulder. You rubbed the sides of his neck.
“You’re Aaron Hotchner,” you started. “You don’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to a case.” Leaning closer you pressed your body flushed to his. “You’re going to walk back in there and tell him who’s boss, because you are. You’re going to take charge of this, disregarding whatever he says along the way because you know what’s right.”
“You’re a good man, Hotch, that’s why this is frustrating for you, because you care about everyone, regardless of who they are.”
Rubbing your hips, he pulled you closer, his head burrowing into your neck. You leaned your head against him, dotting kisses along his cheek and neck, your hands easing the tension from his shoulders.
Pressing a kiss to your neck, Hotch pulled back staring up at you. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Don’t know how I can do this without you.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, “You’ve been doing this for almost two decades, Hotch, I’m sure you could have managed.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to do this without you,” he confessed.
“You won’t. I’m here for you, forever.” Kissing his cheek and pulling his belt, you pulled him back to his feet, “Now, come on, cowboy, you got a Sheriff to put in place.”
The two of you walked back to the conference room, the smug sheriff smiling conceitedly making you already clench your jaw. The team watched the two of you walk in, poised and ready to have Hotch’s back as he stood in front of the Sheriff.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Hotch commanded, feeling renewed with you behind him. “We are going to look at the facts, stick to the facts, and not let our personal opinions colour this case,” with those words he threw a very pointed look to the local police department. “We don’t have any reason to think the person is a suspect, apart from how they carry themselves. We’re going through the case again, we’re going to look at this from a very detached perspective.”
“How’re you goin’ about that, hotshot?” The Sheriff looped his thumbs over his belt loops. “This is my department, you can’t do nothin’. We got a suspect. We’re chargin’ that thing.”
“Last I saw, this was a federal case,” Hotch stated, not biting the low hanging fruit.
The Sheriff laughed and looked at his cronies, “That’s the thing with you city folk, you don’t get how these small towns work. We run this town. We know our people. We know who don’t belong.”
“Just because they’re different to you doesn’t mean that they don’t belong,” Hotch informed. “Though I don’t think you’d understand that, considering your world view is quite small, being stuck here and all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean boy?” The Sheriff narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, his hand moving towards the butt of his gun.
Hotch straightened up, “I’m saying that you’re not educated. In the matters of the real world. You’ve been stuck here since you were born, and will still be here until you die. Everything you have ever known has been within the town's limit. You don’t care for people that break the status quo.”
You could see his actions before the Sheriff actioned them, swiftly moving to Hotch’s front, you glared at the sheriff, venom in your eyes, “Do not.” The sight was probably laughable, you practically growling at a man a good foot taller than you.
“What’re you goin’ to about it, princess?” The man leered, craning his neck down and you grimaced at the nickname.
“Watch your mouth,” Hotch snapped, his patience with the department out of the window.
“I will gut you,” you gritted out. “But before I do that, I’ll break every single fucking bone in your body if you dare to lay a hand on him, do you understand me?”
“That’s cute, girlie, but this is a man’s fight,” before he could touch you, you grabbed his arm, spinning his dense body and pinning him to the floor, breaking some of his fingers in the process.
“You can hit me if you want, but touch any of them or him, I swear you’ll be begging for me to kill you,” you threatened against his ear, too low for anyone to hear you. Unaware of the scrapes of chairs from the local police quickly standing up and the team blocking them.
Gripping his fingers in your hand, you twisted, the knee on his back digging harder, “What you’re going to do is listen to what Aaron is going to say, agree with whatever he says, and we solve this case. Otherwise, when my team flies home, I’ll stay, and I promise I’ll make you pay. Got it?” The man whimpered in pain and you tightened your grip when you didn’t see or hear confirmation. “Got it?” This time he nodded.
Letting him go, you stood up back to Hotch’s side who watched you with fascination and fear. You watched as the Sheriff cradled his hands and nodded to Hotch. Everyone dispersed from the room, afraid to say anything more in the charged atmosphere.
Derek whistled as he looked at you, “Damn, mama. Who knew?” He shook his head and grinned, pointing at you, he said, “You are going to show me how you did that.”
You rolled your eyes and moved closer to Hotch. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “Am I in trouble?”
“With what, bella?” Rossi asked, an amused smile on his face. “I didn’t see anything,” winking at you, “If you don’t buy that girl a drink, Hotch,” Rossi commented before he left the two of you.
“I’ll fill out the paperwork when we get home,” you nodded. “And I’ll tell Strauss that I was the one who broke his fingers. You think I’ll get suspension with pay?”
“Hotch?” He was still looking at you, this time the fear was gone from his eyes.
“I didn’t know that you could do that,” was all he said.
“Years of being in the military will teach you things,” you shrugged. “Seriously, you think I’ll get suspension with pay?”
“You didn’t have to do that,” and you rolled your eyes.
“He was going to hit you,” you raised your brows at him. “I’m not letting anyone hit you.”
“Honey, you could have gotten hurt,” this time Hotch moved forward, hands already reaching for yours. Looking at the small red blemishes, he rubbed his thumb over them.
“I’ve taken bigger targets down, Hotch.”
“Thank you,” kissing your knuckles, you couldn’t help but graze your knuckles against his cheek.
Kissing him on the cheek quickly, you ran your hands down his shirt, landing on his belt. “Seriously, suspension with pay? Gonna visit me when I get grounded?”
Hotch laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “You won’t get in trouble. I won’t say anything and I doubt the team will.”
Turning around, you feigned a gasp, “You’re breaking the rules? Since when does Aaron Hotchner break the rules?”
Pinching your waist, he gave you a grin, “You just bring it out of me I guess.”
the second year - two months, one week in (august 2026)
The soft crooning of Laufey wrapped around your ears as you focused on the form in front of you. You made a face as you realised you didn’t know what the fuck Section 2.15, paragraph 13-14 from the second volume of blah, blah, blah was.
The soft tap on your shoulder briefly distracting you from the allure of paperwork, you took out one earbud. “Hotch? Everything okay?”
“It’s seven pm.”
You glanced at the clock on your desk and inwardly groaned, “Fuck, I didn’t realise it was that late.”
“This can wait,” he tapped on the piece of paper, frowning as he saw your answers. “This isn’t correct.”
“I’m gonna kill myself,” you groaned, your head falling back dramatically. “I thought I had this down pat.”
“They changed it a couple of years back,” Hotch explained. “The Unit Chief’s had to review all of the forms to make sure it fits the current legislation.”
“You made this?” You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you, any other time you would appreciated the way this colour suited him, but not right now. Not when he was the reason for the bane of your existence. “Hotch.”
“I can help, if you want.”
“That’s cheating,” you grumbled. “I hate this, but I’m not cheating.”
“It’s not cheating if I show you the right books to look at,” Hotch explained. “Come on,” gathering your things up for you, Hotch waited until you stood up before going into his office.
“And why are we going to your office?”
“I’ve noticed that you focus better in here than downstairs,” Hotch opened his door, and placed your items on the table in front of the couch. “I’ve ordered us some food.”
“Why are you being nice to me?”
“Am I not always nice to you?” Hotch inquired, as he took off his jacket, placing it on the back of his chair. He rolled up his sleeves, a sight that made your mouth water.
“You are,” you appeased. Placing down your items, you made yourself comfortable on his couch. “But never outwardly like this.”
“The team isn’t here.”
You made a noise in acknowledgement, “Gotcha. Gotta keep your reputation intact. Can’t let people know that you’re soft for me.” All you got was a small smile in return. “Can I play some music?”
“As long as it isn’t your Slipknot, then yes.”
You stuck out your tongue at him. “You’re such a stick in the mud, Hotch. Who doesn’t love the soft crooning of Corey Taylor?”
“It’s barbaric.”
“How is metal barbaric? You could even argue that it’s the fundamental way to express human emotion.”
“By screaming?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s this?”
“Laufey,” you responded, closing your eyes at the first sound of her voice. “She’s dope.”
“Dope.” Opening your eyes, you saw just how close he was now.
“Never say dope again,” you jested as you hit him softly with your foot.
“I like her,” Hotch commented, softly nodding along to the melody. “She is dope.”
Making a disgruntled noise, you nudged him again, “Aaron Hotchner. That was icky.”
“Icky?” Sitting down next to you, it was him this time that didn’t allow any space between the two of you, polite space completely forgotten. “Am I icky?”
“When you say dope you are,” you laid your legs on top of his thighs, Hotch’s hands instantly landing on top of your shins. You watched as he rubbed your leg gently, thanking God that you made the decision to wear a skirt today.
There was a turn in the air, as you looked at Hotch under the light of his lamps. You were in complete violation of every rule that was written about superior and subordinate relationships but you really didn’t care. “But most of the time, you aren’t.”
Hotch hummed and it was different, it was lower, more intent in it. “And what am I most of the time?” You saw his hands move further up, his body leaning towards you.
Glancing down, you could feel your heartbeat thumping beneath your chest. “I think you know,” you gulped as you finally felt the heat of his hand on your inner thigh. “You’re the best profiler in the world, I think you know.” It was instinctive for you to lean in, for your eyes to drop down from his gaze to his lips which was just begging to be kissed.
Hotch followed you, leaning forward, his hand now inside your skirt, engulfing your thigh, fingertips feeling the warmth radiating from your centre. He clenched his jaw as he saw you bite your lip, “Honey.”
“Honey? Don’t think that’s my name.”
“It is to me,” taking his hand out of your skirt, he chuckled as he heard you whine. Grabbing one of your thighs, he pulled you, making you sit on his lap. “Fuck,” he groaned as you sat down, squeezing your thighs against his hips.
Leaning forward you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands drifting to your waist. A soft sigh left our lips as you could feel him harden underneath you. Testing the waters, you moved your hips slightly, earning a small groan from the man underneath. Drifting your hands down the plains of his chest, you eventually landed on placing your hands on his stomach. Grasping his belt in your hands, you pulled once, untucking a piece of his shirt.
Pulling you closer to his body, Hotch ran his hands down your back, until he landed on your ass. Squeezing and moving you along his length, both of you let out a groan. He could feel just how warm you were, and he knew that if he pulled your skirt up he could see how soaked you were.
“Hotch,” you whimpered, hands clenching his belt. You could feel the heat in your stomach, and you clenched your thighs tighter, grounding yourself down to his cock. “Please.”
“Please what?” Dragging you against him, his gaze focused on your glossy lips. It looked so plump and juicy and all he wanted to do was bite it. “Be my good girl and tell me.”
At those words your hips jolted, hands clenching at his belt. Before your lips could touch a buzz from Hotch’s phone broke whatever reverie the two of you were in. You didn’t pull back quickly, instead allowing yourself to categorise every feature of his face.
“I think that’s our food,” Hotch groaned, his hands still on your ass. He allowed himself to squeeze once, feeling the shape underneath his hands. He watched your face above his, your pupils dilated and your mouth parted open.
Another buzz and this time your eyes followed the sound, “We better get that. I don’t want to keep them waiting, it’s rude.”
He cleared his throat and reluctantly removed his hand from you, “You’re right. I’ll be back soon.”
With that, you detached yourself from him and if you felt him graze your ass for a bit, well that was between you and the silence. “Hotch,” you stopped him, “might want to, sort that out first,” you gestured to his crotch which now had a damp spot, not to mention his erection. “Unless you want to greet the delivery man like that.”
Looking down, a flush appeared on his face as he saw just how he liked what you were doing. “Oh.”
“I can get the food,” you teased, leaning down to grab your phone.
“Take my card,” he pulled out his wallet and handed it to you.
Moving forward, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. “What a gentleman.”
the second year - three months, two weeks in (september 2026)
“You dry humped your boss?”
“Jesus, Haley,” you scolded your best friend over the phone. “Thanks,” you nodded to the barista who handed you your coffee.
“And why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Because I’ve been busy,” and truly you have. Every case you finished, there was another one to jet off to. “It’s not something I can just drop on you.”
You could hear her squeal over the phone, “And? Did it go any further?”
You shook your head, “No. It was that and then we had some food, and helped me with paperwork.”
“Boring,” Haley scoffed. “Is it awkward between the two of you?”
“No, not really,” you said, opening the door to the building. “It’s been the same. I mean we haven’t been in the same situation but he hasn’t treated me differently. In fact it’s the same.”
“And are you sure he isn’t just using you?” Haley inquired. “Cause if so, I’ll string him up by his balls.”
“I’m sure, Hales,” you affirmed. “He’s a good guy, the best that I’ve known. Aaron would never treat me like that.”
Looking at the bullpen, you could see Hotch from the top of the stairs. He nodded towards you and then went into his office. “I just got to work, Hales. I’ll have to call you back.”
“Okay, babes, have fun looking at dead bodies and humping your man.”
Knocking on his door, you could hear Hotch’s voice from the other side. “We have a case?”
He nodded, signing something and then looking at you. “Garcia’s putting the case together. Conference room in twenty.”
“Cool,” you replied. Closing the door and walking over to him, you handed him a brown bag.
“What’s this?”
“Food,” placing another cup of coffee down on his desk, “and coffee. You need to eat. I know that you probably didn’t have anything apart from a single piece of toast this morning.”
“Thank you,” taking a sip of his coffee, he groaned quietly, something your ears picked up on. You watched as he took a bigger sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “You okay?” You looked at Hotch who now had a small smirk on his face, knowing exactly that he’s got you entranced.
“My birthday’s next month,” you commented. Running your hands across his desk. “I’d like for you to come to my party.”
“Is it on your birthday?”
“Since it’s going to a Tuesday, no,” you shook your head and sat down in front of him. “It’s going to be on the Friday after my birthday.”
Hotch swore under his breath, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” you breathed out, a little disappointed in his answer. “Better plans?”
“We have a meeting for all the departments in the FBI, all Unit Chiefs are expected to attend,” he replied sullenly. “(Y/N), I would prefer to go to your party and be with you, but I think I may actually get reprimanded if I don’t go.”
“Hotch,” you interrupted. “It’s fine,” and truly you were okay with it. You knew that him being a Unit Chief added extra obligations to the average agent. “But I expect a present, mister!”
“I’ve already picked it out,” Hotch replied, a knowing smile on his face.
“Is it continuing to hump me on your couch, cause I didn’t get off last time.”
“Work hours,” Hotch gently scolded. A small flush appearing on his face. “And you already know what it is, you’ve been snooping.”
You pouted and smiled at him. “Got it. Hump talk after work,” you winked.
“Agent.”
“SSA Hotchner.”
In the brief moment that the two allowed yourselves to be just you. Hotch allowed himself to be just Aaron for a small couple of minutes. Eyes softening, he dragged you by your trouser pocket, his hand drifting down to your thigh.
“You know that it isn’t something I usually do, right?”
“Humping on the couch? Well, I hope not,” you responded. “I don’t usually do well with jealousy.”
“I’m serious, (Y/N),” playing with your hands, Hotch looked up at you. “This means something to me.”
“I know,” with one hand you grasped his hair lightly, another hand on the apple of his cheek. “This means everything to me.”
Pulling you down, you landed on his thigh. Placing his hands on your ass, he slowly guided you across the length of his muscle. Heat pooled in your tummy, your hand automatically going down to his stomach.
“We can’t,” you moaned out bitterly. You closed your eyes and in that moment you really hated having a good work ethic. Well as good as it can get with humping your boss twice in his office.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hotch instantly stopped his movements. His hands falling from your ass.
“Hotch, no,” you interrupted him as you could feel him close up. Taking his face in your hands, you made him look at you. “I want you and as much as I want to ride you into oblivion right here, we have about ten minutes before Garcia comes in here.”
“You’re right,” Hotch conceded, a laugh bubbling out of his chest. “You just do something to me.”
“Same here,” placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, you regretfully removed yourself from his thigh. “I’ll see you in the conference room, Agent Hotchner.”
the second year - four months, one week in (october 2026)
“Garcia,” Hotch scolded as Penelope fumbled with her phone. “I usually don’t mind you being on your phone since we’re not on a case, but we have to finish these forms before the end of day. What are you even looking at?”
“It’s Instagram, sir,” gingerly she passed her phone, silently praying that the page she left on was innocent.
“Is this (Y/N)’s account?” Flipping her own phone to her, Penelope nodded as she saw your face grinning from the small device. Flickering his eyes from Garcia’s phone to her monitor, Hotch frowned, “Was that Prentiss taking a shot off a waitress?”
Penelope cringed and delicately closed the forgotten browser on her computer. “Uh, if I say yes will she get in trouble?”
“Not unless she did it during work hours.”
She let out a sigh of relief, “Good thing it was definitely after work hours.”
“Have you heard of it, sir?” At Hotch’s quick glare, “Just asking.”
“(Y/N) showed me it. She showed me her favourite cafe one time, but I’m not on it.”
Garcia let out a silent breath of relief, “Oh yeah, she’s so active on there. Kids these days and all that.” She watched curiously as Hotch looked through a couple of your photos, a small fond smile appearing on his face as he traced the photo with his eyes, something that she definitely will not tell Derek about later.
“It’s a good way to keep in touch with people,” Penelope informed. “And if you’re like (Y/N), it’s a different way to use a diary.”
“What do you do?”
Penelope frowned, “On Insta? Everything, sir. You can post photos and videos, see them as well, as long as everyone’s following each other.”
“Is it hard to use?”
She shook her head, “Not really. You kind of just take photos and upload them, if you like. Unless, you’re like (Y/N) again, and you curate it.” Taking her phone back, “You know, I think she would really enjoy it if you joined.”
Back in the safety of his office, Hotch opened up his phone, and tapping the very unused App Store, he downloadedInstagram. Letting out a sigh, he put in his details and scrolling through the very few photos he had on his phone, he decided that the first picture of himself was good enough to be his display photo. Remembering your username from Garcia’s fumble, he placed it into the search bar and there you were.
Requesting to follow you it wasn’t even a minute until he got the approval and the notification that you were following him. It took another ten seconds before your first message came through.
pairing : aaron hotchner x fem!bookstore owner!reader
w/c : 3,9k
warnings : nsfw! explicit sexual content, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, slight d/s dynamics, dirty talk, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up irl), AFTERCARE, aaron being a menace in the kitchen, inexperienced!reader, older bf hotch energy, cliffhanger at the end
summary : reader is running late for her date with aaron. amidst the chaos, aaron reminders her to breathe. and rewards her…with more ways than just a nice dinner!
a/n : happy laufey release day to those who celebrate! i hope you like this :)
Everything was supposed to go as planned.
You had two things on your mind.
- open the shop at 9am
- be done and have everything locked up by 7pm sharp.
Okay… maybe that was a wild fantasy. Be done by 7pm? Very funny. The universe clearly knew you had a date for the first time in months, with someone you actually liked…
And decided to mess with your life.
You didn’t know who or what was conspiring against you.
Mercury retrograde? Publishing houses shipping everything they had (an exaggeration) this exact day?
You couldn’t figure it out.
All you knew was that the clock read 6:50pm and you were barely ready to leave. Let alone lock everything up.
You had to be at Aaron’s place by 9. And somehow manage to shower, shave, and do your makeup. The mental checklist went on and on and on.
Aaron had been on your mind constantly, especially after the party. His hands, his lips - everything. You’d be lying if you said that you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him again.
Texting each other had been a habit. It was comforting. Even when he was away on a case, he wanted to keep in touch with you. You could almost feel him through the phone, as if he was really there.
God, you were so head over heels for him.
You couldn’t even deny it. Hell, you admitted it to him.
And still… he had kissed you. Explored you like a delicate painting, tracing every curve with his fingers.
The universe was definitely testing you.
You grabbed a big stack of books, trying to organise them as quickly as possible. Though your hands fumbled, and several paperbacks fell to the floor.
“Oh, come on” You groaned, hands flying to your face.
Your phone buzzed. Oh. Aaron.
I’m assuming you’re not done yet?
Shit, shit. You completely forgot that you’d text him once you closed the store.
i’m almost done, there’s just so many stuff to do. will close up in a few xx
You quickly stacked the last books, sighing heavily.
Your phone buzzed again before you could shove the stack back into place.
Take your time. I’d rather you not rush.
Your lips parted, shoulders slumping against the shelf. Of course that’s what he’d say. Calm and gentle, like he wasn’t the one waiting for you at home.
Yet another buzz.
Besides, it gives me more time to think about tonight.
Oh my god.
Heat pooled in your lower stomach. Great. As if you weren’t already behind schedule - behind paperbacks actually. Now you had him in your head, making you blush- your stomach filling up with butterflies.
You bit your lip, thumb hovering over your phone before you finally typed back.
you’re not helping. i’m supposed to be focused. i have work. remember?
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then hurry up, sweetheart.
A quiet gasp left your lips, and you had to put your phone away. Gosh, you were as giddy as a schoolgirl.
All because of Aaron fucking Hotchner.
You spent another thirty minutes trying to tidy up, silently cursing for not fixing up the mess in your bookstore earlier.
Aaron’s texts were replaying in your head, making it hard for you to do something without pausing - smiling to yourself, and then shaking your head furiously as you realised how you were reacting.
By the time you flicked off the lights and locked up, your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with being late.
The drive home was a blur. You barely remembered taking the familiar turns, only that every red light felt like a personal attack from the universe. Aaron’s words looped in your mind, over and over, as if he’d whispered them directly into your ear. Then hurry up, sweetheart.
By the time you stumbled into your apartment, you were buzzing. Shower. Makeup. Clothes. You tried to be methodical about it all, but your hands were trembling, betraying how desperate you were to see him. To feel him.
When your phone buzzed again, just as you were smoothing down your dress - you nearly dropped it.
Still on schedule?
God, he was going to kill you tonight.
You giggled to yourself when you typed back.
yes, sir
Aaron lived almost two blocks away from you, which wasn’t far - but your anticipation was so high, and even the small drive made you jittery with nerves.
And here you were now, in front of his apartment door. Hands shaking as you held a bottle of wine in a gift bag.
You didn’t even get the chance to knock. Unbeknownst you, Aaron had seen your car from the kitchen window. The door swung open, and there he was.
Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. His gaze soft, but heavy on you.
“Sweetheart…” He said, wishing his voice didn’t betray the fact that he’d been waiting for you all night.
You lifted the bag with a shaky smile.
“Bribery”
His mouth twitched into the smallest smile, and you were sure your heart skipped a beat.
“You didn’t have to”
“I know” You nodded, stepping inside, brushing past him. “I wanted to, though”
Plus, wine has been doing wonderful things for us lately , you thought.
You made small conversation when he took your coat off - well, maybe it was more you blushing too much, and Aaron teasing you.
He draped your coat neatly over the back of a chair, ever meticulous - while you stood awkwardly in the warmth of his home.
Despite being there for not less than 20 minutes, you felt safe - ever so often glancing at the framed photos of Jack, or the faint scent of his cologne hitting your nostrils.
“You look nervous” He pointed out, turning back to you.
“I’m not” You lied, but he saw through it instantly.
“Come here” He whispered, his hand already placed on your elbow to draw you closer.
“You’re nervous” He repeated, voice dipping lower, as he could peel the truth out of you with just one word.
Your breath hitched.
God, why did he have to say it like that?
His hand reached for yours, fingers brushing as he took the bag.
“Why don’t I open this, hm?”
You nodded a little too quickly, your blush deepening, and Aaron chuckled softly - like he’d already won something, though you couldn’t place what.
Aaron set the bag on the counter and pulled the bottle out, turning it in his hands. “You always pick the good ones.”
You shrugged, trying for casual but failing miserably. “Occupational hazard.”
Dinner was… easy. Too easy. Conversation with him was flowing naturally, as if you’d been doing this for years. His low laugh sent warmth down your spine every time you managed to tease something out of him.
You kept telling yourself to relax, that this was just a meal, just a glass of wine, just… Aaron. But the way his eyes lingered on you when you spoke, the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the bread, the quiet attention in every little thing he did - it was all undoing you piece by piece.
At one point, you dropped your fork when he said your name, softly, in that tone that seemed to carve right through you. You bent quickly to retrieve it, cheeks burning, but when you sat back up, he was already watching, that hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“Sorry” You said, biting your lip to hide that awkward smile.
“You’re nervous again” He pointed out. Simply- like it was a fact he could file away for a case report.
“I’m not” You insisted, lifting up your glass to sip some wine - hoping it could mask your expression.
“Sweetheart.” His gaze pinned you in place, steady and unrelenting. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
Your stomach flipped. And suddenly, the meal, the chatter, the safe distance of the table — it all felt too flimsy to hold the weight of what was hanging between you.
You set your glass down a little too fast. “I’m not lying,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.
Aaron didn’t push. He never pushed. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, watching you with a quiet patience that was somehow worse than interrogation. You could feel it — that steady pull toward him, like gravity.
And then, so softly you almost missed it, he said, “Come here.”
He tugged you on his lap effortlessly, his big hand splayed on your waist. Sure, you’d been so close to him before…
But this time it was different. You weren’t hazy and tired after the party and from drinking so much wine- there wasn’t the quiet hum of the night inside the bookstore.
It was just the two of you. Unbothered.
You shifted a little to get comfortable, making your dress ride up your thighs. His other hand fell flat against your skin, steady, grounding — but sending a line of fire straight through you.
Your breath caught. You didn’t mean to, but it was impossible. Not when he was this close, radiating such warmth.
“Aaron…” You whispered, not even sure what you were asking for.
His thumb brushed over your thigh, a slow drag that had your whole body tightening. “I can hear how fast your heart is beating.”
“That’s— That’s not fair” You chuckled, your hand coming to rest on the collar of his shirt.
He tilted his head, eyes soft but searching.
“What’s not fair, honey?”
“That you notice everything”
“Sweetheart.” His voice dipped lower, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “That’s because I’ve been paying attention.”
“You look lovely tonight” He added, eyes trailing down your lips.
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. It was too much — the weight of his gaze, the way he said it like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.
For a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved. The tension coiled tighter, humming in the air between you.
And then Aaron leaned in, his nose brushing yours, his breath warm when he whispered:
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you” You whispered, voice trembling but steady enough for him to hear.
His eyes darkened, the soft patience replaced with that low unmistakable intensity you’d been craving.
He didn’t say anything else. Just pulled you in, lips capturing yours in a slow - almost tortuously slow kiss.
Every kiss unraveled the tension you’d been carrying all night. Your heart raced, your body hummed with heat, and still he moved with care — each touch, each press of his lips, saying the words you couldn’t voice.
You were the first to pull back, all flustered and breathless.
“Was about time this lovely dinner earned you a couple of kisses” You said.
“Oh really?” He teased, brow raising. “Only my cooking skills are kiss-worthy?”
“Yes,” you whispered, cheeks flaming, “and maybe the chef too.”
Aaron’s lips twitched into a slow, knowing smile. He leaned back just enough to hold your gaze, thumb brushing over your jaw. “Well then… I guess I’ll have to earn more.”
Your stomach fluttered. “Oh? And how do you plan to do that?”
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he placed a hand under your knees - picking you up. Within seconds, he’d carried you to his room - laying you down on the soft mattress.
A hand slid up your dress, which had pooled in hips now.
“Like this” He whispered, feeling you shivering under his touch.
“Aaron…” You croaked out.
“Shh, sweetheart” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Let me”
Your back arched instinctively as his fingers came closer to the waistband of your panties - tracing slow circles on your skin.
“I- I want this” you spoke, almost desperate for him to know.
Aaron’s lips found yours again, soft at first, coaxing, before deepening into a slow, consuming kiss. Every brush of his mouth, every press of his hand, was patient, precise — a promise that he would never rush you, never hurt you.
“You’re mine tonight,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and husky. “Only mine. Understand, sweetheart?”
“Yes…” You barely breathed the word, letting yourself melt into the weight of him, the safety and fire of him all at once.
“Such a good girl” He praised you, fingers finally slipping underneath your panties, dragging them down your legs.
He trailed kisses on your inner thigh, making you gasp as he got closer to where you wanted him.
God, you were aching for him tonight. You needed this. Needed him.
And boy, did he know.
You arched for a moment, which made him hold your legs even tighter.
“Not yet, honey” He murmured, hot breath fanning against your core.
He let his lips hover just above you, teasing, letting you squirm beneath him. His fingers pressed gently against your entrance, circling, stroking just enough to make you whimper.
“You feel so perfect,” he murmured, voice low and deliberate. “So tight… just for me.”
You shivered, chest rising and falling, hands gripping the sheets, trying to hold yourself steady. “I… I need you,” you whispered, voice trembling.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he replied, letting one finger slip inside slowly, testing, savoring the way you clenched around him. “I want to make this last. Feel every part of you.”
Your hips pressed instinctively against him, but he held you in place, thumb brushing over your clit, teasing, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. “Good girl,” he praised, lips pressing a heated kiss to your thigh, trailing upward inch by inch.
The anticipation coiled tighter in your stomach, every nerve on fire as he continued to stroke and tease, whispering your name like a promise: “You’re mine, all mine…”
“Fuck… Aaron” You moaned, hands gripping the sheets tighter.
His lips hovered just above you, hot and teasing, before finally pressing that slow, deliberate kiss to your clit.
You gasped, arching into him instinctively, hands clutching at the sheets as heat coiled tight in your stomach. His tongue traced slow, languid circles, every flick and press making you shiver, whimper, needing more.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” he murmured against you, lips and breath sending fire through your core. “All mine… just for me.”
His hands splayed on your hips, keeping you pressed close, while his mouth worked you, teasing every nerve until your moans were trembling, helpless sounds that belonged only to him.
It didn’t take long for him to make you come. You came in gasps, almost crying out his name.
You once thought that what happened in your bookstore was intense. Guess that was a mistake.
“Breathe, nice and slow… Come on” You heard him say, his hands coming up to stroke your cheeks.
“That… That was…” You whispered.
He didn’t let you finish your sentence. He sealed your lips in a kiss - sloppy, wet and tasting yourself on him.
“This…” He spoke, sliding down the straps of your dress. “This has to come off”
You could only nod, letting him undress you completely now. You were completely bare before him - feeling vulnerable. Shy. As if he hadn’t eaten you out like you were his last meal.
“You have… too many clothes on”
Your shaky fingers started unbuttoning his shirt, caressing his exposed skin.
“Well, we can change this. Can’t we sweetheart?”
You almost gasped when he took the lead - removing his shirt completely, his toned arms on display for you. You couldn’t help but trace your fingers on his biceps, looking at him with a hungry expression.
“Eager, aren’t we?” He whispered in your ear, earning a small hum from you.
Then came the low, metallic click of his belt buckle, the soft slide of leather as he pulled it free. His gaze never wavered from yours, steady, consuming, as though watching you react was more intoxicating than the act itself. You bit your lip when he pushed his pants down his hips, leaving him in just his briefs—your cheeks flaming at how little was left between you.
“Still want me to keep going?” he teased softly, hand resting on your thigh.
“Please”
His lips curved, not quite a smile, more like satisfaction at hearing you beg so sweetly. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, sliding his hand from your thigh up to your waist, steadying you as he leaned back to push his briefs down.
You swallowed hard, eyes flicking down before darting back up to his face. He didn’t let you look away for long — his hand tilted your chin, guiding your gaze to his. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Just me.”
You nodded, breath trembling, every nerve sparking as he settled between your legs. His hand smoothed down your thigh again, coaxing them open, slow and patient, as if you were something fragile he’d never dream of breaking.
“You ready for me?” he asked, voice low, careful, the weight of his control holding the moment taut.
“Yes,” you whispered, almost too quiet — but it was enough for him.
Fuck, you thought. He was big. The stretch of him made you gasp, the feeling unfamiliar. It had been too long. Way too long. But still, Aaron’s patience never wavered. He spoke softly to you, reminding you to breathe.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your temple. His hand slid up your side, grounding you, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.
You clung to him, nails digging lightly into his shoulders. The ache in your chest mixed with something hotter, sharper, and you swallowed hard against the overwhelming rush of it. “I… it’s a lot,” you whispered, cheeks burning.
“I know” Aaron said, pushing a little deeper. He wasn’t even fully inside of you but you were writhing.
“We’ll take it slow, sweetheart”
The weight of him above you, the warmth of his body pressed so close, made every thought scatter. You couldn’t find words, couldn’t think of anything but the way he was moving, easing you into him, never pushing too fast. His gaze never left yours — like he was reading every flicker of hesitation, every tremble, and answering it with more care.
And slowly, the sharp edge of unfamiliarity softened, replaced by a spreading heat that made your breath hitch for an entirely different reason.
“Aaron- Move- Oh, please move” You moaned, your hips raising to meet his.
Aaron shifted his weight, just enough to ease his hips back and then press forward again, slow and steady, like he was giving you all the time in the world to adjust.
The sensation stole your breath — the deliberate drag of him inside you, the way your body clenched instinctively around the stretch. It wasn’t overwhelming now, but it was so much, every inch making you whimper softly into his shoulder.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your ear, voice rough but patient. “You’re taking me so well.”
Your thighs tightened around his hips, almost without thinking, pulling him closer as he moved again. Each careful thrust sent a ripple of heat spiraling through you, the initial discomfort already blurring into something you couldn’t name but craved desperately.
You buried your face against his neck, embarrassed at the sounds leaving your lips, but Aaron only cradled the back of your head, steady and grounding. “Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. I want to hear you.”
Each thrust was a little deeper, until you couldn’t tell where the sting had ended, and when the pleasure had begun. The heat spread low in your belly, tightening, winding you up until your nails dug in his shoulders, moaning his name like a mantra.
“Aaron-“ You gasped, voice breaking.
“I’ve got you” He murmured, pressing a kiss on your temple. “Let go for me, baby”
And then it hit — sharp and shattering, your body clenching down around him as the tension snapped all at once. You cried out his name, the sound muffled against his neck, trembling as the wave tore through you.
Aaron held you through it, moving slower now, coaxing you down from the high with gentle thrusts and soft praise. “That’s it, sweetheart… that’s it. Such a good girl for me.”
He chased his own high for a while, until his head was buried in your neck, groaning as he finally gave in to the pull. His body shuddered against yours, every deep thrust growing erratic until he spilled into you with a low - guttural sound that made your toes curl.
For a moment, all you could hear was your mingled breaths, his weight heavy but grounding on top of you. He didn’t move right away—just pressed his lips to your shoulder, to your cheek, anywhere he could reach, as if to anchor himself back into you.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely, voice wrecked and tender at once, “you don’t know what you do to me.”
Aaron stayed there for a beat longer, catching his breath as well - before he finally eased out of you. You winced a little at the sensitivity, and instantly his hand was on your thigh - rubbing soothing circles.
“Easy” he murmured, “You okay?”
You nodded quickly, even though your lips were trembling.
“Yeah, I’m- I’m okay- It’s just…” you exhaled, letting out a shy smile. “That was… a lot”
A faint smile curved on his lips. “I hope it was good ‘a lot’”
He kissed you gently, and the way you relaxed in his hold was the answer.
“Yeah, I think it adds up to your cooking skills”
“Really, huh?”
You nodded, giggling before he slowly helped you sit up straight, his hand brushing the sweaty strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead.
“Gonna clean you up. Okay?”
You nodded, still a little dazed, and let him slip away just long enough to grab a warm towel. When he came back, he was all gentle efficiency, careful with every touch as he cleaned you up.
The intimacy of it made your chest tighten—it wasn’t just about the act, it was the way he looked at you, as though this part mattered more.
When he was done, he tugged the blankets up around you and slid in beside you, pulling you against his chest. His hand smoothed down your back in slow, steady strokes until your breathing evened out.
“You did so well for me tonight,” he whispered into your hair, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “So, so good.”
Your cheeks heated, but you burrowed closer into him, chasing the warmth of his body.
“Don’t… don’t go,” you murmured, half-asleep already.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Aaron promised, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Not tonight. Not ever, if you’ll let me.”
Aaron’s hands were the last thing you felt, warm and grounding on your back, before you were pulled finally to sleep.
When you stirred again - somewhere between 8 or 9am, the sheets felt cooler.
You could smell his cologne, but the arms that held you through the night were gone.
Heart thudding in your chest - you pushed yourself up, trying do adjust in the dimly lit room.
That’s when you saw it. Folded neatly on the nightstand, written in his delicate handwriting.
Y/N,
I’m so sorry. I was called in for a case in Minnesota, and couldn’t wake you. You looked too adorable sleeping. I’ll explain everything when I see you. Please don’t think I wanted to leave you. I didn’t, sweetheart.
—A
Oh come on, you thought. You put the letter back on the nightstand, flopping back on the bed with an exasperated sigh.
And just like that, the quiet of the room felt louder than it had ever been.
