Summary: It was love at first sight for him. You needed him to walk past you one more time.
A/N: This is an AU where he wasn't married to Haley and doesn't have a son. Enjoy~
Beneath the hard exterior, behind all the walls that he built up, Aaron was a very gentle and kind soul.
His walls came with his job.
His walls helped him to stay sane, or at least as sane as he can possibly stay.
You just recently started working for the BAU, being the right hand of Garcia, you soon found your place within the team.
"Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Y/L/N, the latest addition to your team." he still remembers when you were first introduced to him, you were so kind, smiling, eyes filled with excitement and nervousness.
You were ready to prove yourself and he could see that. Back then, he didn't realize it, but now, after you working for the team for the last year, Aaron can face his feelings.
He can see now just how much he loved you.
Now he understood everything Morgan was talking about. His attraction to you, the way he always protected you, the way he always looked for you first whenever there was danger.
He didn't want to admit it, but what other choice does he have?
It was bad. Bad for him to fall for you, bad for him to feel this way towards you.
He wanted to forget but he couldn't.
You had him wrapped around your finger since day one.
The worst part is that he didn't want to hide it anymore, he wanted to try. He wanted to have you even if it was wrong. But how will he do it? How will he go about this without pressuring you into this? How will he do this without pushing you into a corner?
And so, he found himself doing bad things.
During the next case, he made sure they 'forgot' to book a room for you.
"You could stay with me." he offered.
"Oh, I don't want to be a bother..."
"You aren't." he said before he started to walk towards his-your shared room.
His plan worked.
He heard about the 'one-bed' scenario. And he hoped for the best. He felt bad about it until you walked out of the bathroom wearing a nice nightgown, as you laid down he noticed the dress ever so slightly rising up revealing more of your delicious thigh.
Aaron bit his lip as he found himself unable to sleep. He kept tossing and turning.
"I can't sleep either." he suddenly heard you talk which made him pause. "This case is... difficult."
Of course, you are talking about that while his mind was running wild.
So wild, he was sure his boner was visible even in the dark.
You turned around and looked at him, letting out a sigh and a yawn.
"We will catch him." you tried to reassure him.
"I know." he said as he turned his head to look at you, now laying on his back. You offered him a smile.
He noticed how your eyes became hazy, sleep trying to take over but it seemed like you were fighting it.
But soon, you succumbed and fell asleep.
Aaron watched you sleep for hours before he too got some rest.
The next day went on like normal, the team collected some information that they could use for the profile, but all Hotch was able to think about was you. He wanted to go back to that hotel room, have a shower with you, eat something and then make sweet sweet love on that bed.
It was all he could think about.
Just how sweet it was to spend time with you, sleeping in the same bed. It felt so domestic, so sweet.
He wanted that feeling every day for the rest of his life.
But was it too much to ask for? Perhaps it really was.
That evening you were even more tired, he could tell, he could see it in your eyes.
You were tired, very tired.
As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out.
Aaron once again found himself watching but this time, you moved closer. Out of instinct, he put his arm under your head and you placed it instead on his chest. He felt air leaving his body but never coming back, he was too afraid to breathe.
He must be dreaming. Yes, that would be the only logical thing.
The next morning when he woke up you were still sleeping on his chest.
He debated if he should move or not.
But it was like his phone decided for him. As it went off, he quickly got out of bed, he heard you letting out a sigh before he picked up the phone.
"They got his address, Y/N, we have to go." he said and you were quick to jump into action even if you were still a bit delirious from sleep.
Aaron was actually sad that the case ended so early. He still wanted to enjoy having you close, he wanted you to cuddle up to him again.
But it was all in vain.
You were already on the jet, heading home.
A/N: If anyone is interested in Part 2 let me know!
Prompt - ‘I hate to make everything about me but what am I supposed to do without you?’
You were still half asleep as you stumbled onto the jet, flopping down into the seat next to Hotch, letting your head rest upon his shoulder. Hotch looked down at you, face softening as he watched you close your eyes. By the time the rest of the team had trailed onto the jet you were fast asleep against Hotch.
The plane ride was only a short one so by the time you were in the air Hotch was gently shaking you awake, you groaning as you turned your face further into his shoulder before pulling away and rubbing at your eyes.
“Morning princess.” Derek grinned, way too energetically for four in the morning. You glared at him as Hotch nudged you and pressed the tablet into your hands, information already loaded up for you just as Garcia’s voice filled the jet.
“Police just responded to the scene of another body, same markings on the victim.” She told you all, causing you to look down at your notes to see the markings she spoke of.
You raised an eyebrow as you saw each woman had three crosses carved into their skin, one large one on their chests and then small ones on each inner arm. As well as that there was a diagonally cut along their face starting from the temple right down to their jaws.
“The crosses seem to be done post mortem, they’re too clean and haven’t scabbed over whereas the cut to the faces seem to be done whilst the victims are alive if the jaggedness and blood pattern is anything to go by.” Spencer informed everyone as you continued to skim through the information.
So far three bodies had been found, four now including the latest victim, all found spread out in public places. You looked up just in time to see Rossi and Hotch glance at you before sharing a look with each other but when you raised a questioning eyebrow at Hotch he just shook his head.
“Tell them to leave the body as it is, Garcia, we’ll be there soon.” With that Garcia disconnected the video call leaving you all to look through the notes and talk about potential unsubs.
“Y/N I want you with me at the latest crime scene. JJ, Dave head down to the station and see what they have, Reid go with them and see if you can narrow down the geographical profile. Morgan, Prentiss go to the lab and see if they have anything for us yet.” Hotch instructed as the jet landed and you all headed your separate ways.
As you and Hotch walked the crime scene, trying to figure out how somebody could plant and position a body without being caught even considering the early hour, you felt uneasy. Your head whipped around as you surveyed the scene but other than the press and officers nobody was there.
“You ok?” Hotch asked as he watched you look around.
“Huh?” You questioned, turning back to him with a shake of your head, “Yeah, I’m fine.” You told him, forcing a smile on your face as he nodded and turned back to the body.
You glanced around once more before doing the same.
It wasn’t long before you were all at the station, nothing coming up from your walk at the crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss hadn’t found out much from the ME. The only person who had had some luck was Spencer who was gesturing to different places on the map and rambling on about the most likely places the unsub could be.
You felt bad for zoning it out but geographical profiles had never been your forte. Instead you turned your attention to Hotch who was listening to Spencer whilst rubbing his temple, trying to push away an oncoming headache.
You stood up and headed out of the room, Hotch turning to you as you did but you weren’t gone long, heading out to the kitchen area to pour yourself and Hotch a drink. Hotch shot you an appreciative smile as he brought the cup to his lips.
“So all we know is that the unsub is somewhere in that area and is consistent in victimology and that only gets us so far, short of looking the same these girls are as different as you could get.” Derek said as he threw his folder onto the table.
“He’s right, they never went to school together, never shopped at the same stores, hell I doubt these girls had anything connecting them.” Emily said.
“There’s something we’re missing, get Garcia to keep looking into them.” Hotch ordered as he stood up to take a call.
“Reid, are you able to pinpoint anything about where he’s finding these girls?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his chair and fiddling with a pen.
It was only hours later that you were informed of another body. You, Spencer, Derek and Hotch headed to the scene to see if you could find anything useful. It was more than obvious that the unsub was devolving, two bodies in one day. The crosses on the latest victim were clearly done when she was alive, all of them jagged and messy.
As Spencer and Hotch examined the body and Morgan interviewed the woman who had found the body you looked around and noticed an alleyway not too far from the body, it seemed like the only place that an unsub would have half a chance at not being caught from.
You glanced back to the others and saw they were still busy so shrugged and headed over, with the way this case was going it was probably just another deadend. But yet when you headed into the alleyway you got the same feeling you did at the last crime scene, you felt uneasy as the hairs on your neck stood up, a shiver running down your spine as you looked around but nothing was there.
As you turned to leave you came face to face with a man much taller than you and before you had the chance to scream or pull your gun he immediately smothered your face with a rag. You tried not to breathe in but were forced to and it wasn’t long before you slumped against the man who wore a sleazy grin.
“What do you mean she's gone?” Hotch snapped as Derek informed him you were nowhere to be found.
“I don’t know man, she’s not here.” He watched as Hotch stepped away, pulling his phone out and listening for a ringtone to sound from somewhere around him but it never came. The car was still here and there weren’t many places you could go.
“Get Garcia to track her location,” Hotch said to Derek, “Now.”
The tone of Hotch’s voice had Derek obeying the order instantly, no flirting with Garcia as he snapped at her to do what he asked.
“It’s off.” Garcia told him with fear running through her veins.
“What?” Hotch snapped into the phone that was now on speaker.
“It’s not on, I can’t track it.” Garcia repeated, her thoughts spiralling.
Hotch bit back a series of curses as his team and the officers looked to him for guidance and he hated that he didn’t have an answer.
They somehow ended up at the station, each of them trying to create a profile that would lead them to you. Hotch paced up and down an empty interview room, hair messed up as he continued to run his fingers through it cursing himself for letting you come along to the crime scene in the first place.
“You need to calm down.” Rossi told him as he entered the room.
“Calm down?” Hotch questioned with a look of disbelief, “Calm down?! It’s my fault she got taken and you want me to calm down?”
“It’s not your fault.” Rossi told him, voice even despite the worry he felt for you. Somebody had to keep a level head and it clearly wasn’t going to be Hotch.
“Not my fault? Dave, she matched the unsub’s victimology, I knew that and I still let her come to both crime scenes, I never shou-” Here Hotch cut himself off as he remembered something.
“What is it?” Rossi asked, following Hotch out of the room as he stormed over to the one the team had been given.
“Get Garcia on the phone.” He demanded and his order was fulfilled in seconds, Garcia’s worried voice filling the room.
“What can I do?” She asked.
“I need you to pull up video footage from the McAdams crime scene,” He told her, mind racing.
“On it, what am I looking for?” The sound of typing filled the room as Hotch thought back to the look on your face.
“The unsub was at the crime scene. Y/N knew it, she knew he was there.” Hotch told them.
“She knew the unsub was there?” JJ asked.
“She didn’t know who it was but she knew something wasn’t right. The look on her face-” Hotch trailed off as Rossi led him to an empty seat.
Nothing any of them said would stop the man blaming himself, not until he had Y/N back.
The team sat in silence as Garcia flipped through footage after footage desperately looking for anything that would help lead the team to you, trying not to think about what the man was doing to you right now.
It took near on forty minutes of scrolling through video feeds before Garcia found something. It wasn’t the clearest footage but the guy definitely gave her the creeps.
“Sir, I think I found him.” Garcia said, causing Hotch to sit straighter in seat as he stared at the phone waiting for her to continue. “If you’ll direct your attention to your tablets,” she said as she sent the blurry images to all of them. “I’m working on making it clearer and getting a face ID as we speak.”
“Fast as you can, Garcia.” Hotch ordered.
“Yes sir, I’ll let you know when I’ve got something.” Because she would get something, no way was she letting anything bad happen to you.
Hotch was a mess as he paced around the small room, setting everybody's nerves even further on edge, if it were possible. They hadn’t seen Hotch this worried for as long as they could remember. The only thing running through everyone’s mind was that they had to find you.
Everybody’s attention turned to Hotch as his phone pinged.
“Aaron?” Rossi asked, standing up as he watched his friend pale drastically. “Hey, whoa, take a seat.” He said, watching as the man’s legs turned to jelly and pushed him into a chair.
As he took the phone from Hotch he saw exactly what had caused the reaction, there you were, strapped to a chair with a cross carved onto your chest, blood pouring from the wound as tears fell down your cheeks.
“We have to find her.” Hotch said quietly, his own eyes filled with tears as the image of you burnt into his mind.
“We will.” Rossi told him before turning to the team, “Call Garcia, tell her to track the phone.”
With some luck Garcia managed to get a location on you before the phone was switched off again. The unsub was hiding away in an abandoned warehouse thirty minutes away from them.
Hotch drove like a mad man, with the way the unsub was going he wasn’t sure if you had thirty minutes. He pushed that thought out of his head as he blinked back tears and tightened his grip on the wheel.
He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t because then he’d have to think about everything he would regret, the number one thing on that list would be not telling you how he felt about you. How you were one of the few good things in his life and how he never wanted to be without you. He’d regret not taking the risk, not crashing his lips into yours.
He thought back to all the dinners the two of you had together or the times you spent the night at his place, nothing ever happening but sometimes cases got too much for you and you needed somebody safe. You had told him he was your safe place and he still hadn’t bit the bullet and kissed you. He should have told you then and there he was in love with you, how every time he pictured his future you were always there with him, at his side.
He swore to himself he’d tell you now.
He’d tell you now.
They arrived at the warehouse, blue and red lights lighting the place up as everybody stepped out of their cars, guns drawn as they split up and entered. Hotch had done plenty of rescue missions before but this one was different, this one was you.
They weren’t prepared for the size of the place, more rooms than they could count and you could be in any one of them. Hotch felt himself going crazy as they opened door after door only to find nothing.
“Hotch,” Derek’s voice sounded in his ear, “You need to get here quick,” He was told the room number and that was it.
Hotch practically sprinted across the warehouse, fear flooding through him as Derek refused to tell him whether you were ok or not. He pushed through the door, Spencer and JJ right behind him, before freezing, the other two barely stopping themselves from crashing into him.
Because there you were on the floor, medics surrounded you as they performed CPR in a desperate attempt to get any sign of life from you.
Hotch staggered backwards, knees giving out as he fell to the floor. Derek made his way over but what could he do? They all watched on as the medics continued working on you, the blood loss was way too much though.
One medic shook their head causing Hotch to let out a sob as two other medics brushed past the group and it wasn’t long before you were being carried out to the ambulance.
“I’m going with her.” Hotch said as he tried to climb into the ambulance but was pushed away by one of the medics.
“I’m sorry sir but you can’t.” She said with a sympathetic look.
“I’m going with her.” He repeated harshly, Derek placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down but he shook it off.
“Agent, I’m going to be honest with you she might not even survive the ride to the hospital, the only people in that ambulance are going to be her and the people who might be able to save her life, you wanna stand here and continue this conversation or can I go and save your girlfriends life?” She asked bluntly, she felt sorry for the man but there wasn’t time for this argument. “Meet us at the hospital.” Were the last words said before the ambulance doors closed and the sirens sounded.
“She has to be ok.” Hotch said to himself.
“It’s Y/N, she’s gonna be fine.” Derek told him but all that blood had him doubting his own words.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at the hospital, forced into a private waiting room and offered no information. Hotch couldn’t sit still and instead opted to pace the length of the waiting room praying to anybody that would listen that you would be ok, you had to be because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do if you weren’t.
Four hours later a nurse finally came out to see the group of anxious agents. Hotch immediately turned towards him begging for some good news but the look on his face had Hotch’s blood turning cold.
“I’m sorry,” he started and Hotch just about felt his world end, “She’s still in surgery. Her heart stopped three times but we managed to get a heartbeat. It’s still weak and unsteady but it’s there. I can’t make any promises to you but for the moment she’s stable and we’re doing all we can to help her pull through.”
Hotch didn’t know how to react and felt himself collapse into a plastic chair, the nurse giving him a sympathetic look before leaving.
“She’s doing well, Aaron.” Rossi said, taking a seat next to him.
“She died, three times. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Hotch said, his voice breaking as tears fell down his face because saying it outloud made it real. “I can’t lose her Dave.”
“She’s a strong kid, she’ll pull through.” Was all Rossi said before the waiting room fell silent again.
“Hey baby girl.” Derek said as he stood up to hug Garcia, both of them needing it right now,
“How is she?” She asked anxiously, sniffing slightly.
“No news yet.” Spencer said quietly from his seat.
“How’s he?” She asked just as quietly gesturing over to Hotch who sat alone in the corner of the room.
“He’s not doing so well.” Emily said, smiling sadly at her boss.
Everybody knew how Hotch felt about you, it wasn’t the best kept secret. Hell, even you knew how he felt and they all knew you felt the same. The only reason you hadn’t acted on it was because you didn’t know if he would be willing to start a relationship with you as his subordinate. As far as the rest of the team was concerned the two of you had been dating for years, you had dinners together, you slept at his place more than your own at this point and on rare days off you still spent your time with each other.
Everybody knew both of you were crazy for each other and watching Hotch not know if he was going to have the chance to tell you how he felt himself was breaking their hearts.
Fourteen hours later a tired doctor stepped through the doors of the waiting room. Everybody turned their attention to him as they waited anxiously to hear anything about you.
“She’s stable,” He told them, smiling softly at the collective sigh of relief that spread throughout the room. “You were told she flatlined three times, correct? Unfortunately she crashed once more but we were able to get a heartbeat. I can’t make promises but as of right now she’s looking good. Obviously we’re going to keep her for at least a week, though that could be longer if things go downhill but I’ll make sure you’re all kept up to date.”
“Thank you so much, doc.” Derek said and everybody else echoed the sentiment.
“Can we see her?” Hotch asked and the doctor gave him a sympathetic look, the man looked like he’d been through hell.
“One of you can,” He agreed, really nobody should but the man looked like he needed to see her and hear a heart machine confirm she was alive, “For five minutes.”
The rest of the team nodded at Hotch who mouthed a thank you to them before he followed the doctor out of the room and over to you.
When the doctor pushed the door open Hotch froze as he saw all the different tubes and wires attached to you, helping you stay alive. His eyes filled with tears as he made his way into the room and sat down in the chair next to you, carefully taking your hand in his and bringing his mouth down to press a kiss to your knuckles.
“You’re going to be ok, Y/N/N,” He told you, eyes on the heart monitor that showed a weak but beating heart rate. “You have to be ok because I have so much to tell you but the most important thing you have to know is that I love you,” He told you, tears falling down his cheeks, “I love you so much, baby. You’ve got to get better so I can tell you that.”
He looked up when he heard a knock at the door, the doctor giving him a sympathetic look. Hotch nodded at him before standing and taking one last look at you, gently leaning over and placing a barely there kiss on your forehead.
“I love you.” And with that he made his way back to the waiting room.
It was four days before there was any movement from you and then they wished they never heard anything. Alarms sounded and the team watched as a flock of doctors and nurses made their way into your room but despite the open door they couldn’t see what was happening.
“Chest compression now, she’s going into cardiac arrest!”
Those words sent a sliver of ice down everybody’s spine, Hotch staring wide eyed at the door, not daring to take his eyes off it like that would somehow help you.
“Defibrillator!” Another doctor called and then he was counting before they shocked you, “Nothing, again!” “Clear!” “Again!”
The words merged into each other as Hotch leaned against the wall for support, his own heart beating out of his chest as he heard them continue to shout how there was nothing.
“We have a pulse!” One doctor finally called and Hotch sobbed, Rossi barely catching him as his knees gave out and pulled him into a tight hug.
“She’s being transferred into the ICU,” the doctor informed them after several hours had passed, “we’ve put her into an induced coma to allow the body to heal but she should be awake in the next two days.”
Those two days seemed to drag, there was no news about you but at this point no news was good news. Everybody else left and came back to the hospital but Hotch had yet to leave once, refusing to leave you alone here even if you weren’t aware of where you were or his presence.
He barely slept and was on edge the whole time you were in the coma, dreading every time a nurse or doctor came close to the waiting room.
“Agent Hotchner,” the doctor greeted as he stepped in, it was still early and the others were back at the hotel.
“Doctor Smith, how is she?” He asked, dread filling his stomach but then the doctor smiled and he felt a weight fall of his shoulders at the words -
“She’s awake.”
Hotch just about kept himself upright as he was led to your room, letting out a sob as he saw you awake through the window.
“Before you go in there’s some things I have to tell you,” the doctor said, Hotch nodding as he did, “she’s going to be extremely weak and tired for a while, her body has been through a lot of trauma in a short space of time. Give her time. I can’t promise you she’s out of the woods yet but we’re doing everything we can. The only advice I can give you is spend as much time with her as you can.”
And with those comforting words the doctor patted Hotch’s shoulder and walked away.
Hotch took a deep breath before he stepped forward and entered your room, smiling at you as your eyes flickered over to him. He made his way around to the chair next to your bed, taking your hand gently in his, careful of the needle.
“It’s so good to see you awake.” He said, leaning down to kiss your hand.
He watched as you gave him a weak smile and a barely there squeeze of the hand. It was the best thing he’d seen in his life, he thought as he choked back a sob.
“I’m so proud of you,” He told you, “You’re doing so well.”
You felt your lip quiver as you took in his words, your body was aching despite all the drugs in your system. Everything hurt but Hotch was here, Hotch made everything better.
You slowly managed to squeeze his hand again, watching as he smiled down at your joined hands.
“You’re going to be out of here before you know it, yeah?” He asked, watching as you blinked tiredly at him. “We can go to that new restaurant that just opened and then maybe see if there are any good movies on?”
You tried to smile but you’re pretty sure all that happened was a brief purse of your lips but you watched Hotch’s face light up anyway.
Hotch continued to talk about all the things the two of you could do once you got better and you couldn’t think of a better way to fall asleep.
It was a while before you were finally discharged from the hospital, the rest of the team had been forced back to Quantico but Hotch took every bit of holiday time he had and used it to stay with you. Thankfully since your cardiac arrest you had been doing better though you still felt drained more often than not and had a few problems with dizzy spells but the doctors had explained how that was normal after both the cardiac arrest and blood loss.
You and Hotch had to stay in a hotel for three extra weeks as you weren’t cleared to fly until then. In the meantime Hotch and you shared a room, it was easier that way for him to check on you and honestly you didn’t want to be alone right now and Hotch was the only person you wanted to be with.
The two of you lay on the bed, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you rested your head on his chest. It was only early, around five pm, and despite the nap before you could still barely keep your eyes open.
“I’m so glad you’re ok.” Hotch murmured suddenly into the silence causing you to look up at him. “There were so many times I thought that was it, that you were gone and I just- I couldn’t-” He cut himself off, blinking back tears as he tightened his hold on you slightly.
“I’m ok.” You reminded him softly.
“You’re ok,” He repeated, “I can’t lose you, Y/N and this isn’t exactly how I wanted to tell you but I think we’ve waited long enough,” He told you with a chuckle, causing you to smile up at him softly. “I love you, Y/N, so much. I can’t picture my life with anybody else and honestly, I don’t want to, I just want you.”
Your smile widened as you listened to his words.
“I love you too, Aaron. I don’t want to picture my life with anybody else either.” You told him softly, shifting slightly so you were looking up at him and Aaron took that as all the permission needed to lean down and softly brush your lips together.
It was a kiss long overdue but neither of you rushed it, both content to show how you felt for each other in soft, slow movements, Hotch’s hands cupping your face as you smiled into the kiss.
When Hotch pulled away he didn’t go far, leaning his forehead against yours.
“I love you so much, sweetheart.”
“I love you too.” You smiled before leaning up to capture his lips again.
As far as rescue missions go, it wasn’t the greatest but the ending was pretty great.
___________
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Summary: When Y/N has a one night stand with her best friend's boss, she realized just how wrong things are. Lucky for her, the man she slept with doesn't want to be right.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 943
Content Warning: sexual themes throughout (no actual smut though), one (1) explicit swear word, light mention of going to a bar, lmk if I missed anything!
Genre: Smut? Fluff? Aftercare? some weird mix of those three, i honestly don't even know 😭🤣
Extra Notes: N/A on this one
Based On the Prompt: Character accidentally had a one night stand with a reporter… pillow talk causes some problems.
Originally Written: 06/23/2022
Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!
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Hands tangled up in dark black hair, skin against skin as their senses went into overload, tired moans escaping both of their lips as Aaron kissed his way up her thigh for the umpteenth time that night.
Y/N blinked herself awake as flashbacks played in her head. She rolled over to face the man who kissed every crevice of her body the night prior. She admired the way his tousled hair looked in the light rays of the six o'clock sun.
"Hey," he smiled lightly, like this was something he did often. "How'd you sleep?"
Y/N swallowed hard, trying to hold back the guilt she felt. "Fine. Why?"
"Just asking," he chuckled, his hand moving to her exposed shoulder.
She nearly shivered as his fingertips glided across her skin. "No," she stopped herself. She wanted to tell him to leave, to find some way to convey how wrong this was. Instead? She came back with, "Don't act so innocent when we both know where your mouth was last night."
He chuckled, a deep chuckle she recalled thinking she'd like to get used to. "You're right," he chuckled again, rolling over to hover above Y/N. "I can't help you made me feel like a kid again."
Y/N sighed, trying to think of the right words to say. She turned away, only for his thumb to tilt her head so he could look at her. He glanced over every feature on her face: from her rose-stained lips, to her furrowed brows, to those eyelashes that were as soft as fresh linen.
He kissed her lips for the millionth time, tasting the remnants of her lipstick from the night before. He swore he could feel her eyelashes brush against his cheeks as they kissed again. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"This, Aaron," she finally stated.
"What's so wrong about it?" he inquired, kissing her once more. "We're two consenting adults."
"You don't see any problem with having a one night stand with your colleague's best friend?" she asked point blankly, guilt coming across her again.
"Not when her best friend is as beautiful as you."
Y/N thought about Emily, about how she'd told Emily that she needed some fresh air. About how she just left her best friend, sitting there at the bar, while her back was arched against the headboard of a hotel bed. About how her stomach churned with the thought of her best friend finding out that she'd slept with her boss.
"This is wrong, Aaron. You know that," she told him, almost like an instruction. Almost like a demand for him to be mad at her.
"Well, if loving you is wrong," he paused, bending down to graze his lips against hers again. Fuck, did she love the sound their lips made every time he did that. "Then I don't want to be right."
She sat up, forcing him to move back to his original position. She looked him dead in the eyes, curious as to how he'd take her next demand. "Ask me a question."
"What?" Aaron's eyebrows wrinkled in perplexity.
"Ask me a question. Anything."
He sat up, leaning back against the headboard. "Pfff," he let out as he tried to find a question. "Uh, what's your favorite color?"
Y/N rolled her eyes. "Not that kind of question. Something deep," she explained her game.
"Seriously though, what's your favorite color?" he asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Yellow. What's yours?"
"Red," he answered. One of his eyebrows raised in sarcasm as he figured out which direction this conversation was going.
"Exactly! Yellow and red look awful together," she rebutted.
He wrapped her arms around his midsection before lifting her chin. "That's a personal preference," he mumbled, peppering kisses along her jawline.
"Aaron." She tried to squirm away, but the more she wriggled, the tighter his grip around her waist became. "OK, what's your favorite song?"
He rolled his eyes, but obliged. "While My Guitar Gently Weeps by The Beatles."
"See, I've never even heard a song by The Beatles," she admitted.
"Well, I can change that," he chuckled, kissing her forehead.
Suddenly, she stopped as the most telling question she could think of popped into her mind. "What's your biggest priority?"
Without any hesitation, Aaron answered, "My son."
Y/N looked down, the guilt from earlier rising up through her stomach once again. "Aaron," she hesitated, "That's why this is wrong. You have a son—a son that you love, a son that, if you're a good father, you put first and foremost. I-" she stopped abruptly, the guilt almost completely taking over her stomach, "I've always been focused on work. I don't have kids. I've never wanted kids. This isn't right, Aaron. Your son deserves a good woman in his life. Not me."
Aaron rolled over again, hovering above Y/N once more. "Well, as I said before," he bent down, their lips stroking together once again.
She hated him, how he made just one simple kiss change her mind. She hated that she agreed with the end of his statement, before he'd ever even finished it. Most of all, she hated that she loved him, even though it was wrong in every meaning of the word.
She locked eyes with him, longing for their lips to connect again, though they'd just parted. One of his hands moved to her neck, his thumb delicately rubbing the skin where he'd bruised it the night before. "If loving you is wrong," he paused again, kissing the sweet spot on her neck, just hard enough for a moan to escape those pretty, little lips of hers, "Then I don't want to be right."
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I'm so excited to finally share my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Forbidden Love Writing Challenge!
also yeah, i'm with you guys. i didn't think it was gonna turn out to be this smutty either but here we are. i also didn't expect it to be with Hotch either but yk
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! I'm really proud of the way it turned out! ❤️
also imma apologize for the weird formatting again, tumblr is still refusing to fix this issue lol
If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know
Malú was long used to the crazy schedule that her boyfriend had. It was not easy, it was not something she would ever get used to, but it was something she would gladly live with if it meant being with her boyfriend. Aaron Hotchner was one of a kind, and Malú was certain that she would never find another man like him. And the best part? He thought the same about her.
As much as she loved him and practically worshiped the ground he walked on, he felt the absolute same towards her. It was strange to other people how in sync they were with each other about everything. How could they ever be apart?
The BAU's cases was the only answer — the only constant answer.
Malú grew used to the whole ordeal of having to be away from each other for days. All she asked from Aaron in return was to keep her updated on his well being. She was not a cop — far from it, she was a school psychologist — but she knew how dangerous his job was. She could not go to sleep each night until Aaron called or texted her.
Aaron didn't mind. He liked knowing how much she cared for him. He always aimed to call her for at least a few seconds to say goodnight unless there was absolutely no time for it. There was almost always time for a phone call of a few seconds.
"Where are you this time?"
"Portland," Aaron said, turning just slightly more towards the window that gave a view of the rainy night. None of the officers and detectives in the precinct would really care about his phone call but Aaron always tried keeping Malú away from his gore-filled job.
"Never heard of it," Malú said so nonchalantly that Aaron couldn't help his laugh.
That time, an officer or two may have turned their head his way.
"I'm kidding," Malú said a moment later.
"I know," Aaron said, finding a tad funnier the fact she had to clarify herself.
"I didn't want you to think I'm an idiot who doesn't know her cities and states," Malú said.
"I don't know, I could always give you a lesson or something," Aaron said ever so innocently.
It was Malú's turn to laugh. She did so with a few butterflies in her stomach. "When you get home, feel free to stop by."
Aaron would want nothing more than that. "It's raining here. Pouring. Believe me, I'd rather be with you."
A smile spread across Malú's face. "I'm in bed," she told him, "And you'll never guess what I'm wearing…"
Aaron hummed quietly, definitely not wanting to draw any attention to him right now. "There are so many answers to that; I wouldn't know what to start with."
"You get three guesses," Malú said. Aaron didn't need to see her face to know she was smirking. Indeed she was.
"Are you challenging me?" Aaron said incredulously. God, he really missed her.
"Maybe. I'm kind of bored over here," Malú said, "All alone in my bed. I don't know, maybe I'm wearing one of your shirts or, uh, maybe—" she snapped her fingers—, "I'm wearing the green satin set you like so much. Do you remember it?"
Aaron was following her taunt with amusement and a wide smile on his face. "Yes," he nodded, "I remember it very well."
"Or maybe, just maybe, I'm not wearing anything at all." Malú gasped lightly. "Which one do you think it is?"
"I think that you are nothing but a tease and you're getting me back for breaking your favorite coffee mug last week," Aaron said, although Malú heard the subtle clearing of his throat. As good as a profiler as he was, he also had tells for when he lied.
"All I know is that you and your butter fingers better find me a new favorite mug in Portland. That's in Oregon by the way. See? Told you I knew where it was. So…what's your guess?"
"My guess is…" Aaron happened to glance back at the precinct and saw Rossi waving him over to the conference room.
Malú heard his sigh and knew what it meant. "Don't tell me what you're doing. I get anxious just thinking about you going out there…"
Aaron sighed again. "I'm sorry, honey. I have to go. And you should get some rest. You're 3 hours ahead of me. You should be sleeping by now."
"It's Saturday tomorrow — or today, technically — and you know I don't care how late it is," Malú said, "I need to know you're okay."
"And I am, promise," Aaron said without hesitation. "We're almost done here. I might see you tomorrow for lunch."
"Mm, I like the sound of that. You better wear a jacket when you go outside."
Aaron laughed quietly. "Yeah…"
"I mean it. You said it was pouring out there."
"I will—"
"You better wear the jacket because if you get sick, I'm not gonna coddle you. And I'll tell Jack that you got sick because you didn't listen to me."
Aaron struggled to keep his laugh from getting louder. "I hear you—"
"Aaron, I really mean it. And I also love you, so…yeah…"
"Yeah," Aaron nodded, "I love you too. Goodnight."
"Goodnight." Malú hung up promptly afterwards, and he went back to work.
~0~
Aaron was usually a patient man. He worked under a lot of stress so he had to learn how to be patient, otherwise he would've been dead ages ago. When his case in Portland happened to finish earlier, he wanted to surprise Malú at her place. But looking at the time, he knew that she would be asleep still. Malú hated mornings and absolutely valued Saturday mornings more than anything else.
It would not be wise to wake her up.
So Aaron compromised instead. At six in the morning, he used his key to get into Malú's apartment and quietly walked inside. He left his things right beside the door and headed for the hallway. His heart raced with anticipation of seeing Malú again, even if she was asleep. Very carefully, he turned the knob of her bedroom door and quietly stepped inside the room.
She was fast asleep; she didn't move in the slightest with his approaching steps. She was also a heavy sleeper.
He pulled his jacket off and left it on the dresser then loosened his tie. Shoes were left at the foot of the bed.
Aaron didn't know if his exhaustion won him out or his deep desire to see Malú did, but either way he ended up crawling into bed with her. Amazingly, she didn't even move with that either. He scooted as close as he could to Malú, though very careful not to wake her up. Her back was to him when he brought an arm over her. He finally rested his head next to hers and breathed in.
She had to have showered last night. Her hair smelled fresh of coconut. Her skin was warm and soft under the covers. She was divine even when she slept. Dawn couldn't hide it.
At this point, Aaron would confidently say the exhaustion won him out as his eyes fell shut. And knowing where he was and who was next to him, he had no problem falling asleep.
~0~
"Wakey, wakey…" A soft voice hummed beside Aaron's ear. It took him a few seconds to realize a pair of lips were pressing alongside his cheek. "C'mon Aaron, wake up already."
"I'm up…" His eyes weren't even open.
"You're not up. You're not waking up!"
"What are you talking about? I'm definitely up. I'm talking aren't I?"
Malú rolled her eyes. He was sarcastic at all times of the day. She grew tired, though perhaps it was impatience more than anything else, and proceeded to maturely respond to the situation. Since she was sitting on her knees on the bed, she started jumping on her knees to bounce said bed.
Eventually, Aaron gave up and conceded her the point. He opened his eyes and immediately saw Malú sitting beside him, looking at him with a grin on her face. "You're beautiful."
Malú's grin widened even more. She tossed some of her hair behind her shoulder. "Why thank you. But I must admit that I did not wake up this way, that I did get up and brush my hair and my teeth and ate some breakfast. Speaking of," she reached for a bowl on the bed stand and held out a strawberry to him, "Breakfast?"
Aaron drew in a breath and pushed himself to sit upright. "What time is it?" He was still a bit groggy.
"Late for me but I imagine you got here pretty late so it's early for you," Malú said, leaning forwards. She fed him the strawberry.
"Thanks," Aaron said with a flush on his face. He was not one for sweet acts like this…unless it was him doing it to Malú. It's why Malú tended to return the favor most of the time. She wanted him to know and feel the same way he made her feel all the time — cared and loved for.
"You could have woken me up," Malú said, reaching for another strawberry in the bowl on the bed stand.
"You were sleeping," Aaron remarked matter-of-factly. He watched Malú as she fed him another strawberry.
"I was," she nodded, "And I would've woken up to welcome you back."
"I feel pretty welcomed right now," Aaron said, sharing a smile with Malú. As soon as he finished with the strawberry, Malú leaned over again and kissed him. Aaron's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body flush against his.
"Welcome home," she murmured against his lips.
"What a welcome indeed…" He looked at her fondly and brought his hands down her long hair. Her eyes closed as he stroked strands of her hair. "But you, my darling, are a liar."
Malú's eyes snapped open and a confused expression took her face over. "What? What are you talking about?"
Aaron looked her over again, lowering his hands down her sides until they came to rest on her hips. "You cheated."
"How did I—?"
"You're wearing the flower set," Aaron pointed out her pajamas, "Your favorite."
Recognition filled Malú's eyes when she understood. She'd played with him last night about what she wore to bed. "Oops," she said with a growing smile on her face.
"I was told—" Aaron's tone turned sharp at the same time his hands squeezed Malú's hips and brought her against him again—, "that there was a possibility you might not be wearing anything."
Malú barely held her shudder with his voice right next to her ear. While she gathered her cool (something she seemed to lose a lot in moments like these), her fingers drummed along his shoulders. "A 'possibility' doesn't mean it's a fact. You didn't make your guess so you lost."
"You didn't give me opportunity to make my guess," Aaron reminded her, "But I'll be happy to play again on the next case."
Malú rolled her eyes at him. She pulled back enough to look at him. "I would much rather play right now…"
Aaron raised his brows at her. "Right now?"
Malú straightened up to tower over him a bit. She pulled his loosened tie and tossed it to the side. "Why are you so surprised?"
Aaron's head raised and inadvertently moved his lips over her neck then mouth. "Well…I…wouldn't mind…"
"Mm, I thought so." Malú lifted one leg after the other to pull the covers off him. "And you'll see that afterwards I definitely won't be wearing anything anymore."
"Now that's an appealing factor," Aaron remarked, drawing a small laugh from her.
Malú draped her arms over his shoulders. "Welcome home, darling."
"Welcome home…" Aaron repeated like he was in a trance, watching Malú as such. She moved her legs again, pressing her chest to his, then cupped his face and tilted his head up.
Word Count: 4,408 | Rated: T | Warnings: swearing, discussion of domestic abuse, possibly compromising positions(?), an almost kiss
Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining
Chapter Summary: after holding hotch's hand for a few minutes, it wouldn't be a problem to hold it for most of the morning? because now the retreat gimmicks begin as the two of you search for information while dealing with the events.
A/N: sorry for the delay on part two -- had some family things going on this month <3. look out for part three :) Thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera for always letting me bounce ideas off of her and generally being amazing.
“Where do we start?”
The retreat lodge was larger than you imagined — with sprawling grounds that weren't just limited to the main lodging area where the couples stayed — but extended beyond to woods, hiking trails, and beyond. Hell, you glanced out the window at a nearby mountain, you wouldn’t be surprised if they owned a mountain as well.
“I have no idea,” you murmur, your arm intertwined with Hotch’s, as the two of you stepped into the lobby for the patented mix-and-mingle with the other couples before breakfast. Not only mind-numbing, soul-churning mingling — but with other couples with marital issues -- exactly what every vacation needs, “this place doesn’t seem big on technology — I haven’t seen a single computer or cellphone,”
“The front desk only has paper logs,” he shakes his head, “I asked about the lack of technology in the rooms. A noted policy of no tech — including the employees. I don’t think we are even allowed our cellphones after this breakfast.”
You scan the couples beginning to shuffle down now, “If there’s no tech here, where do you think they keep their guest and employee files?”
“I don’t think breakfast is ready yet, sweetheart,” he replies, as your gaze snaps to his cheeks burning, as you realize a couple approaching your six, “but I’m sure you won’t have to wait too much longer,”
“I’m right there with you,” the husband winks at you, his stomach shaking as he laughs even before he jokes, “if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to lose one of my only reasons for coming to this place,”
And something tells you it isn’t much of a joke either.
“But not the reason for coming here, isn’t that right, dear?” his wife assumedly smiles at you, icily, “Molly Chapman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and you are?”
You introduce yourself, forcing a straight face on as you manage to say your alias, offering your hand, “This is my husband, Thomas,” as Hotch introduces himself to Molly’s husband, Harry, who claps your boss on the shoulder.
“So,” Harry leans in, almost clandestinely, “what are you two in for?”
“Harry!” Molly chastises him, but her eyes hook onto your expressions, her lips pursed in disapproval if only to hide her smile.
“Well, if it helps, me and the missus here need some help communicating,” he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “never learned much about that growing up,” and he elbows Hotch, “but I’m sure you can relate — we’re practically in the same generation,” And you nearly snort, trying and failing to hide your smile — which Hotch notes, as you see him shoot a small glare your way.
Harry and Molly don’t notice, too busy reprimanding her husband again, before she sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “It’s just as well, we are all going to find out about each other’s problems anyway,”
And you furrow your brow, “I saw group therapy on the itinerary — is it mandatory?”
“It is,” Molly nods, “Dr. Rosen, the therapist who helped design the program, insisted on it — otherwise it would just be a vacation, not a couples retreat,” and she raises an eyebrow, “didn’t you read that in the paperwork when you signed up?”
“I did most of the paperwork,” Hotch intercedes, his fingers intertwining with yours, “my love here was busy wrapping up some loose ends for work so I ended up taking the lead on it,”
“Oh well now I know what’s wrong with you two,” Harry chuckles, as Molly elbows him again, half-heartedly, as he gestures to you, coffee in hand, “you wear the pants in the relationship, got that one wrapped around your finger, now don’t you? Not surprising, with the age gap and all--” as he looks you up and down, winking at Hotch, as you gape at him, “nicely done, sir.”
Your blood begins to boil, several insults picked out and fine-tuned on your tongue as you open your mouth, “Well—”
“We’re working on it,” Hotch clears his throat, jerking his head toward the now ready breakfast buffet, “Harry, it looks like—”
“Food’s on!” and he’s scurrying away to the table, as his wife follows suit, giving both of you a nod, as you glare at his retreating back.
“Food fucking saved his life,” and your eyes slide back to Hotch, as he gestures for you to head over to the breakfast table, “and so did you,”
“Well, I figured you murdering someone on our first day here would attract some unwelcome attention,” he steers you away from the direction of the Chapmans, his hand now slipping around your waist, and you do your best to ignore the flip of your heart, focusing on the fancy finger foods the retreat put out for breakfast, until you feel Hotch’s fingers drum on the small of your back, “do you see that?”
You glance at him, following his gaze until your eyes fall on a door that says ‘Employees’ Only’ around the corner, the manager slipping through the door, locking it behind him. You glance away nonchalantly, helping yourself to some mini-breakfast sandwiches and some fruit, “Do you think they keep the employee files?”
“Maybe,” he breathes in your ear, as he reaches over your shoulder to grab some food, making you shiver at the closeness, “but how do we—”
“Welcome!” a voice booms from the foyer, sweeping arms as he steps forward cutting through the dining room, “Please everyone take a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast.”
You both make your way to a table, and Hotch pulls out your chair for you, giving a small smile, as he takes his seat beside you.
“I hope you all are beginning to get to know each other, but that is not all you will be getting to know today,” he clasps his hands, he bared his teeth with his fake white smile, “I am Richard Rosen, and I will be guiding you through your time during this six-week retreat, where you are not only going to learn about our facilities, about mindfulness, and about yourselves,” his eyes scan the crowd smiling, “you’re going to learn about each other.'
Oh, how wonderful.
You had read up about this guy last night — went to Harvard — Harvard College in Indiana, and got his certification in Psychology after four weeks of surely intense training. After that, he opened his own practice in New York City, which folded after several complaints ranging from sexual harassment to fraud. Unfortunately for his clients (and fortunately for him), there wasn’t enough evidence to get his lack-luster certification yanked. He then moved from city to city, learning from his mistakes, and never stuck to the same city for long enough for someone to catch onto his treatment packaged charade. Until eventually, he settled upon White Mountains Retreat, where he was allowed to stay in one place, but with a revolving door of patients.
He was one of your suspects — no record, but had easy access to the couples, and intimate knowledge of their relationships.
"But our time will begin together tomorrow,” he beams at all of you, “Right now, I'm going to pass it over to the man who you will be coordinating your incredibly list of daily activities during your stay here — the man responsible for all the wonderful memories you will make — Mr. Brock Hillen," Rosen steps aside, welcoming Hillen to take over, and he doesn’t wait a beat, checking his watch before disappearing down a hall.
“Where’d he go?” you murmur, and Hotch shakes his head.
“I don’t know,” Hotch murmurs, lips barely moving, “but do you see that?”
And you spot cuts on Brock’s arms before he tugs the sleeve of his shirt down to cover it, “Could be consistent with causing those injuries our victims,”
And Brock Hillen was no less suspicious than Rosen — with a criminal record to match. With two charges of domestic assault, Hillen already had a history of violence with his ex-wife, but since she divorced him, he has had no other charges. Yet, because of his record, he went job to job, until he found himself as the Activities Coordinator of White Mountain. Could it be that his rage over his wife leaving him led to the murders? Maybe something in the last few weeks that triggered it.
“Hello all!” he greets, holding his arms out, his fake blonde hair nearly blinding under the bright light of the chandelier that hangs above him, “thank you Richard, for that all too kind introduction,” he begins his spheal on the healing nature of the resort, the efforts of his team in coordinating the next six weeks for them, and you begin to lose interest around his third sentence with the word “enchant” in it.
And your eyes can’t help but slide to Hotch a moment, whose arm rests on your lower back still, the metal of his watch gently pressed against your shirt, and you swear his thumb brushes against your spine. You almost want to brush it away, his touch is so gentle, so sweet, so intentional, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t.
“For our first event,” and now you’re blinking back to Brock — to the reason you were here — to catch a killer, “I’m going to have you do one of the very things that Richard mentioned — an activity that will allow you to you learn more about yourselves and each other,” and he gestures around you, “as well as the grounds themselves,” Other employees start handing the couples a clipboard, “your task will be to get each of your stamps from around the retreat — this obviously includes our grounds and other facilities, including our spa, chapel, gardens, and so on.”
“Seems like a perfect opportunity to look around,” you murmur — as Hotch takes the clipboard, flipping through the scavenger hunt -- at least there wasn’t some cheesy shtick to this activity.
“To symbolize the journey you all will be embarking on together as couples, you must complete the task hand-in-hand,” Brock brings his two hands together, “please, there will be staff all over the facilities, if you need a hint, feel free to ask, and I will be here as well to provide any assistance,” he gestures to employees behind the couples, “now, at the sound of the gong—”
At the sound of the what—
And then a loud crash fills the air, rattling your eardrums, making you jump, “Take each other’s hand, and begin!”
Couples begin scattering about, pulling each other along — you spot Molly dragging Harry away from the breakfast table.
And Hotch rises beside you, offering you his hand, clipboard in his other hand, “Ready?”
You glance from him to his hand.
Probably not, but— your fingers intertwine with his, his calloused fingers warm, and the cool metal of his band brushing against your skin—
“Ready.”
What other choice did you have?
~~~
“How many more do we have?” So far, the first few stamps have taken you all around the other facilities — the spa, the garden, the sauna — but none inside the retreat center itself. Not a single one had given you a change to find where the files were kept in this place.
“Two more left,” he murmurs, “I assume the last one will take us back into the main building, so the other must be—”
“At the chapel,” you glance at the map of the place you were handed by an employee who took pity on you two after you had wandered around the grounds — completely lost, “at least we don’t have to bother figuring out the riddles now,”
“You mean you don’t need to bother,” you shake your head, “i’m sorry, I’m just—”
“Are you okay?” he asks, as the two of you stroll towards the chapel, everyone else out of earshot, “the first day can be—”
“No, it’s not that,” you look around the grounds, and you resist the urge to flex your fingers, but he notices you tense — and you know he would drop your hand but he can’t, so he steps away a little, “It’s not you—”
“But it’s you?” he chuckles, as you bite your lip, “I know it’s a lot,” he sighs, as you two reach the chapel, a relatively small building built on top of a hill. It’s a white marble building, its one spire splitting the sky above it asunder, practically gleaming in the sunlight. The double mahogany doors are drawn open for the couples, another just leaving as you two arrive. You watch him stare up at the chapel, “it is for me too.”
You frown, as the employees at the entrance greet you, and direct you to sit near the front together for a few minutes — to take solace in the quiet before you receive your stamp. Hotch hands them the clipboard as you both wander down the aisle together.
The aisles are lined with white pews, light streaming through beautiful stained glass windows. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor. You step and sit into the pew beside Hotch, sitting back a moment. The chapel itself had no denomination — it was clear it was made for the sake of religious and non-religious functions — likely an intentional choice not to exclude any religion or atheists for that matter.
After all, money was money in their eyes.
You two are quiet a moment, your hands still interlaced for the sake of the employees still watching the two of you, “I think for me,” your voice low, “it’s just weird to be this close with anyone,”
“You mean physically or?” you shrug.
“It’s part of it — it has been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you purse your lips, “but like you said, it’s hard for me to let someone see me, like all of me,” and you glance at him, “and it’s hard when you’re literally the leader of a team of, you know.”
“I know,” he leans against the back of the pew, “it’s impossible to hide things from the team even when when we don’t spend every minute with them, and now that we’re spending the all of the next six weeks together--”
“There won’t be much we can do to hide,” you nod, looking down at the floor.
And that was what scared you the most.
The employees hand you back the clipboard at that moment, excusing you both back, and the two of you step out of the chapel, “I just want you to know,” you say, as the two of you reach the bottom of the hill, “you don’t have to hide anything from me,” and he raises an eyebrow, as you add, “if you don’t want to.”
“Do most people hide anything because they really want to?”
“No I meant,” you chew your lip, “This is probably hard for you, and I don’t want to act like I know what you’re going through — I don’t,” you would never deign to think you knew what it was like to lose your the love of your life, your best friend, and mother of your child in one fell swoop, “but you don’t have to pretend,” not with me, you want to add, but you don’t — you can’t.
He blinks a moment, eyebrows raising only for a millisecond, before he sighs, “It’s easier to pretend,” he presses his lips together, as another couple approaches, “and that’s what we’re here to do,” and he begins to walk forward, gently pulling you along, as your cheeks burn, your head fixed on the ground, until he adds, “but I appreciate it,” and you meet his gaze, several emotions in his eyes, before he tears it away, “thank you.”
You don’t get to respond, as the two of you step inside to find only most of the couples still hadn’t returned yet — still collecting the last of the stamps, and most of the staff floating around the grounds to corral and nudge stragglers along. And their absence left an opportunity.
So you glance around, before tugging a distracted Hotch along, wandering around a corner, “What—”
And you grab him by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall, cheeks burning all the while, not daring to meet his gaze, but its just the same because you hear the small gasp of your name that leaves his lips in a whisper, and his body tenses against your palm.
You lean up closer, before slowly craning your neck around the corner, “We’re a couple at a retreat looking to sneak away,” you murmur, lips barely moving, as you lean closer, nose brushing his neck — god he smells good — but you refuse to let your lips brush against his skin, “or that’s what it will look like to anyone.”
His tenseness melts away, and he’s pliable to your touch, as your fingers graze his neck now, your thumb resting against his cheek, as he stares down at you — so adoringly as you tug him by the shirt away from the wall, following you with such ease.
You’re next to the employees only door — your fingers reach for the knob, turning — “It’s locked,” you murmur, and his brow furrows, as you cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to the lock.
And he’s spinning you around gently so that you’re pressed to the wall, your breath catching in your throat, as he looms over you, his fingers cupping your chin. His arm around your back, pulling your lower half close to him, but he’s holding the door knob in place while he tries to pick it with his other hand.
Your cheeks burn as he looks down on you, his gaze freezing you in place, far too close — his breath warming your lips, taking the breath from your lungs and replacing your blood with lava. And you can see so clearly — the cut of his jaw, the soft lines of his face, and the curve of his lips—
And then the lock clicks open.
He’s turning the knob, as you spare one glance over your shoulder to see if anyone sees either of you, but then the door is shutting behind you. You feel the wall for a light switch, and you flick it on, while you hear the click of the door locking again.
And you blink, a glorified break room — a few tables and a basic refrigerator stuck in the corner, a worn couch stuck against a wall, and a sink stuck in the corner with a subpar dish rack — far from the accolades that were in each guest’s room — but then again, the employees weren’t paying through the nose for the rooms.
You two stay close, as your eyes scan for anything that could be a camera — even one that isn’t obvious — placed in a smoke detector or lamp shade, “No cameras,” he pulls away, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat, tucking away the embarrassment to dwell on another time (likely right before when you’re trying to sleep).
But then again, the guests weren’t the ones working 18 hour shifts on their feet.
Hotch calls for you, pointing towards a few file drawers stuck in the corner, and the two of you head over, running your finger down the label on the drawers, “These are all client records — administrative, financial — nothing on the employees.”
“They must keep the employee records somewhere else that employees don’t have access to,” and you’re rifling through the folders, for something — anything.
“I haven’t seen any other employee areas,” you shut the drawers, and then you glance around, your eyes falling on another door in the corner of the room — “unless—”
“It must be Rosen and Hillen’s offices,” you walk over, reading the placard — Administration Offices, “locked?”
“This isn’t something that can be picked easily,” Hotch shakes his head, “it has a bump guard — it prevents—”
“--lock bumping,” and Hotch looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you my reason if you you tell me yours,
He snorts, “I learned it sometime between 6th grade and military school,” and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, “my father — he—”
“You don’t have to—” you shake your head, “unless you want to—”
“I’ll just say, it wasn’t a good childhood,” he raises to his feet.
And you can’t help but give a small smile, “But look at how well you turned out,” and he’s shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Hotch,” you make him meet your gaze, “you’re a good man — don’t doubt that.”
His eyes meet yours again, warm, as he looks away to the floor for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, “Thank you,” he breathes, and he’s stepping forward, “I—”
And then the doorknob is jiggling. Your heads snap to the door, before looking back to each other.
Shit.
Before you know it, his wrist is around yours, and he’s tugging you to the couch, as you fall backwards onto the soft cushions. He’s halfway kneeling between your legs, his body draped over you, and he’s leaning closer, murmuring an apology as he lips draw close to yours, “Hotch—”
And then the door is opening, as his lips nearly brush yours, “Hey!”
An employee stares at the both of you, as you both stumble to your feet, adjusting your clothes, “This is employees only — what are you—”
“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping to your feet, “so sorry,” and you brush past them, Hotch following at your heels.
And the two of you find your way back to the lobby, your heart still in your throat, as you tug on your clothes, “Thanks for the —” your cheeks burn, “I mean, good thinking—” you shake your head, "you know what I mean."
He snorts, his fingers finding yours again, giving them a slight squeeze, "Anytime," and your heart oh-so-helpfully skips a beat, tongue-tied, but luckily you don't have to response as Hotch glances at you, "you never did tell me how you learned about lock picking."
You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”
“That’s not much of an answer,” and you shoot him a half-smile.
“I have to keep you interested somehow don’t I?” you reply right as Brock begins to speak again.
The event wraps up with another talk from Brock — who has an employee approach him towards the end of his talk, whispering in his ear, and he nods, waving him off, “and one last thing — I know you all came to rejuvenate your marriages and partnerships through this retreat and we fully encourage you to do so but—” you swallow thickly, realizing just which employee must have whispered in his ear right then, “please refrain from doing so in restricted areas that are not for our guests.”
You cannot even bear to look at Hotch, keeping your gaze straight ahead, grabbing a drink on the tray, and sipping at it — and you wondered if you were masking your mortification well.
Probably fucking not.
~~~
Brock then adjourns them for the rest of the day — not wanting to “overwhelm them” on day one (or rather padding their time here with nothingness) — welcoming them to have their meal in the dining facilities or up in the rooms.
Most people head off to their rooms, while others linger in the lobby — chatting amongst themselves — he spots Harry rushing off to the dining facilities, his wife in tow.
The rest of the day goes off without much to-do. Hotch glances around — not a single thing of note learned about the guests or the staff. The other couples are all sociable to some extent — some more reserved than others, but none of them fit the unsub’s types so far — placing you two directly in the paths of the unsub.
By the time it’s time for bed, his body is aching for nothing but sleep — and it looked like you had the same idea. Already slipped under the covers, you’re curled up, half-asleep as your eyes flutter heavy with sleep.
Neither of you felt the need to stand guard in the room — the doors were securely locked for each of the couples, and the team was monitoring the situation at the local precinct. But you both kept your weapons close by — concealed in case someone happened to find their way in.
“Are you asleep?” Hotch whispers, and you mumble, shaking your head, turning to glance at him — your shoulders tense and brow furrowed.
“Is something going on?”
And he shakes his head, “No, sorry,” and you relax back in bed, but your lips still pursed, “I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier,” and you tilt your head — and he almost smiles at your sleep-induced confusion.
“Earlier?” and then it floods back to you — as you blink, glancing away from him, “oh—”
He shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to think I was—”
“Hotch, I know you weren’t,” you slowly sit up, “if you hadn’t done that, I think we would have been on our way home on our first day,” you chuckle, “and I know you wouldn’t take advantage — especially when we have a job to do.”
Right, a job, he chides himself, It was a job.
“If you want to sleep—”
“I’m not having this conversation again,” you yawn, turning around and getting comfortable again, “good night, Hotch.”
And he looks at you, a small sigh parting his lips — until he finally settles in bed beside you.
His arm resting across his forehead, he glances at you again. He had spent so much of today holding your hand, his fingers nearly flexing at the memory. It had been so long since he had held someone’s hand, so long since he had worn a ring on his finger, so long since he called someone his partner.
It felt so nice.
Nice — not only because he hadn’t realized how much he had missed having someone, someone beside him, someone there — but because —
Because it was you.
And he knew that because — he didn’t want to let go of your hand.
hotch wakes up with an unexpecting phone call, one he’s longed to hear; you’re awake. (1.9k)
a/n : holy shit you guys i didn’t expect this response to ‘hear you’ but thank you so much! i promise there’s a happy ending to this, i think we all need it
hear you / every word
all my links
(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)
DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING
Rolling over, you shuffle closer into his embrace, feeling his breath fanning across your shoulder. “Are you awake?” Aaron whispers, brushing his lips across your neck, listening to you giggle.
“Well, I am now,” You joke, lifting your gaze up to your boyfriend, never tiring of his drowsy smile. “I suspect we have approximately two minutes of privacy.” You whisper, and Aaron nods in agreement.
“Let’s make the most of it then,” Aaron mutters as he wraps both arms around you, pulling you on top of him as you try and suppress your squeal. “you gotta be quiet, honey.” He whispers into your lips as he kisses you softly, feeling you moan happily.
“Wait,” You pause, resting your hands on either side of Aaron’s head as you peer your head up toward the door, seeing the knob rattling.
Swiftly, you lie back down beside Aaron as you pretend to sleep and snore loudly like a cartoon character.
Within seconds, the door opens and Jack rushes in. He jumps up onto Aaron’s bed and lands in between you both.
“You’re just like your Dad, Jack,” You chuckle as he dives underneath the sheets, curling up in between you and Aaron. “king of subtlety.”
Aaron laughs lightly as Jack pops his head back up from under the sheets, messing his hair up as he looks between you and his Dad. “Do you have work today?” Jack asks with a heavy heart.
“Not that we know of,” You happily tell the mini Hotchner who smiles brightly. “so, what do you wanna do today then little man?”
You perch up on your elbow, listening to Jack intently as he rambles on about all the things you could do today, forgetting that there are so many hours in a day. But just watching you with Jack, Aaron feels at peace, that he’s finally allowed himself a chance at happiness with you by his side.
Opening his eyes, Hotch looks around.
It was just another dream. You’re still in the hospital.
Sighing heavily to himself, Hotch wipes his face as faint sunlight tries to filter through his blinds. Ever since you went into the hospital, he hasn’t had a full night sleep. You possess his mind, haunt his dreams of a simple life that he’s unsure he’ll ever have back.
Hotch turns to look at your side of the bed, untouched. Your pillows remain perfectly fluffed up as your perfume coats the cotton, weaved into the fabric that provides some comfort in the dead of night.
“I miss you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters under his breath, returning to lie flat on his back as he stares up at his ceiling, missing those early mornings of bliss with you and Jack, his family.
Yet, out of the corner of his eye, Hotch can see his phone lighting up. Without hesitation, he reaches for it and answers it. “Hotchner,” He responds, now sitting upright.
“Hi Mr Hotchner, we have you down as Ms Y/l/n emergency contact?” A woman on the other end of the phone questions and Hotch tears the sheets from his body, now perching on the edge of the bed with his feet hanging just above the floor.
“That’s correct, has something happened?” Hotch asks as the worst possibilities cloud his mind and remains unaware of his bedroom door opening and Jack peering in to see his Dad tensing up with his phone against his ear.
“Ms Y/l/n has woken up,” The woman states, and Hotch has to catch his breath as his heart hammers against his chest.
Barely able to process anything else the woman on the phone says, Hotch just nods to himself. “I’ll be right there, thank you.” He tells her and hangs up, taking a moment as he laughs happily to himself, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes.
“Is Mom awake?” A tired voice inputs and Hotch glances over his shoulder to see Jack stood there in his PJ’s, fidgeting as he leans against the door.
Rising to his feet, Hotch walks over to his son and kneels down. “Yeah, buddy,” Hotch quietly states with a smile crossing his face. “come on, we gotta go.” He tells his son, taking his hand as they both head downstairs for their things before rushing out of the door without a second thought.
*
It felt strange, that much was undeniable. Every time you blinked, you worried your eyes wouldn’t open again, that you’d be forced back into the darkness alone.
You were regaining control of your limbs as your Doctor explained everything to you in detail once you were fully conscious and competent. Part of you wondered if you dreamed everything you heard whilst in a comatose state, but as you listened to your Doctor, he was simply telling you everything you already knew.
Now, it was early- you knew that much as you sat upright enjoying the warmth basking your skin.
“Sir, you have to come back during visiting hours,” Your ears perk up to the sound of voices in the corridors, and suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as his voice stands out.
“I haven’t seen her for weeks, please,” Hotch pleads, his voice cracking as he moves on, heading to your private room. He pauses outside of it, the blinds still closed. “hey Jack?”
Jack looks up at his Dad, clad in his PJ’s and slippers, but covered in his coat for warmth. “Yeah?”
“Mind giving me a minute okay? I just wanna talk to Mom privately.” Hotch asks, and Jack simply nods as sleep still laces his mind.
Standing up tall, Hotch tries his best to compose himself as he reaches for the door handle and pushes the door open.
“Hey stranger,” Your voice is raspy but clear as Hotch stands in disbelief. He closes the door behind him quietly as he keeps his focus on you, seeing you awake and looking right back at him.
“Y/n,” He breathes out, forcing his feet forward toward your bed as a sad smile forms your lips whilst they quiver. “oh, Y/n.” He reaches out, unable to stop himself as he hugs you tightly, not wishing to part from you again.
You rub your hand across his back as you feel him sob into you. “Aaron,” You mumble, ignoring the tears falling from your eyes as he pulls away and sits down beside you, his hand never leaving yours. “I’ve missed you so much.” You tell him, sniffing as you remain in disbelief. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Hotch chuckles to himself. “I’m so sorry Y/n, for everything that happened that night, I, I should’ve walked with you.” He explains, but you squeeze his hand tightly, cutting him off.
“It wasn’t your fault, Aaron,” You sigh in relief. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to tell you that.” You laugh, and Hotch furrows his brows in confusion.
“What do you mean?” He asks, clearly perplexed.
You shuffle in your hospital bed, ignoring the mild throbbing of your forehead as you take a sip of water, even if it still burns your throat.
“It’s going to sound insane,” You preface, but Aaron keeps his eyes on you. “I, well, I heard everything whilst I was in the coma.”
Glancing up, you see Hotch staring back at you with that unreadable expression. “Everything?” He asks quietly, and you nod in response. “That, that’s insane, honey.” He tells you.
“Yeah,” You know it’s crazy, hell, how could you possibly begin to fathom it? “but I heard every conversation, every visit from the team and when you came,” You trail off. “yet, all I could think about was telling you that it isn’t your fault. None of it was or ever will be.” You tell him, not daring to tear your gaze from his. “I love you, Aaron, so please, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“You heard me?” His voice softens as you nod. “I, I,”
“It’s okay, Aaron, you don’t have to say anything else.” You smile, lifting your hand from his as you place it on his cheek, missing the feeling of his cheeks rising as he smiles into your palm.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Hotch admits, feeling the searing pain cross his heart at the thought.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Hotchner.” You joke, stroking away the stray tears that fall from his eyes.
You glance over his shoulder, noticing the door beginning to open.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” You whisper, and Hotch quickly wipes his eyes as Jack shyly enters.
“Come on over, buddy,” Hotch calls over his son who rushes over.
“Hey, Jack,” You try your best to remain composed as Jack looks up at you with those big eyes, full of love. “I’ve missed you, kiddo.” Your voice cracks and Jack stands in front of his Dad who helps him up onto your bed.
“I’ve missed you, Mom.” Jack remains strong as he hugs you, both arms around your neck as you hold him close.
“I see your Dad wasted no time in getting here, huh?” You joke, seeing him in his PJ’s like Aaron. “I feel a bit left out.” You ease into laughing with Jack, knowing it’s the best medicine for situations like this.
Seeing you with Jack, laughing like old times despite everything is just another reason why Hotch loves you with his whole heart.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Hotch comments as you nod to him before averting your attention back to the mini Hotchner, listening to his stories from school.
He glances through the now opened blinds, seeing you smiling with all your might, despite the evident fear in your eyes.
Hotch takes out his phone and dials Rossi, knowing he’d need to know.
“Rossi.” Dave answers.
“Dave, Y/n’s awake.” Hotch states and Rossi laughs happily through the line and can hear him telling Krystall the good news.
“Oh Aaron, that’s excellent news, is she alright?” Rossi asks, now sitting down as Krystall pats his shoulder before heading into the kitchen.
“She’s doing okay,” Hotch comments, looking over his shoulder at you and Jack. “she’s vulnerable, but I can tell she’s putting on a front for Jack’s sake.” Hotch explains.
“I’m just glad she’s awake,” Rossi sighs. “does she know how long she’s been out?”
Hotch chuckles under his breath. “Y/n erm, she heard everyone the entire time.” Hotch states. “I know it sounds crazy, and trust me, I agree, but she explained how she could hear every conversation someone had with her or others in the room.”
“Damn,” Rossi whistles. “Reid's going to have a field day with this.” Rossi tuts, hearing Hotch laugh lightly. “That’s a lot to have on her mind, though, Aaron.”
“Yeah,” Hotch mutters. “it’s going to be a process for all of us, but we’ll work through it, as a family.”
Rossi smiles to himself, having seen Hotch at his lowest to his highest of highs with you by his side. “Send her our love, okay?”
“I will, thanks Dave.” Hotch hangs up after that and takes a moment to compose himself, knowing it’ll all work out in the end, as you have each other, and that’s all that matters.
okay so thank you for reading! and thank you to these wonderful angels for their amazing and entertaining comments: @spencerreidsoulmate @ellyhotchner @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @ssa-kassidyhughes @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @lumineshawn @oreogutz @prentisswrites @theinsanespaceship15
Black spots clouded the woman's vision, her heart hammering against her chest. Her skin was practically boiling the cold air doing nothing to cool her. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know.” Aaron Hotchner teased slowing his pace to a still. “And give you satisfaction?” Y/N panted heavily looking up at the taller man as she attempted to catch her breath. “No you wanted a training partner for your stupid triathlon… well here she is!” Y/N gasped finally able to straighten up a playful glare directed at her boyfriend who was currently standing a few steps away smirking. “But you hate running?” Hotch objected. “I don’t hate running, I just think it's something that should be saved for special occasions like running after a suspect or you know after Jack when he doesn’t want to go to bed. Serious stuff!” The y/h/c girl defended herself rolling her eyes. “Last one to the coffee shops paying!” Y/N yelled, taking off despite the burning stitch.
