#jack hotchner

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Your Five Truths¹

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: You have five simple truths. But when your relationship and your life are put on the line, you start to question what you believe in anymore. Warnings: reader is a bau tech analyst, serious angst, aaron is being mean, big argument, mentions of haley's death, references to foyet arc, home invasion, graphic descriptions of violence Words: 3.5K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: there will be a part 2.

1. Aaron doesn't yell at you. 

If all else was unsure, then this was one of the five things you knew for certain. You weren't sure if he yelled at all. Maybe at work with criminals, but never with you.

This was still true.

Right now, he wasn't yelling at you. He was speaking in an even tone, but you knew him well enough to notice the difference. His voice was as cold as his rigid stance, like ice ran through his veins. His arms were crossed, and so, even if you weren't a criminal—even if you knew you were his fiancé—you sure as hell felt like one.

Standing on the other side of the kitchen island, you were in opposition of each other in every sense of the word.

You took a deep breath before speaking. "Aaron—"

He cut you off before the words could even leave your mouth. "We've had this conversation before. I've already told you how I feel about it."

You repressed the urge to take another breath, knowing he was a profiler. Knowing he could profile the discomfort all over you, regardless. But you picked up a few profiling tricks, too.

You could see the way he was staring at you. Like you were an idiot.

Maybe you agreed on that.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot— 

You took the breath, anyway. "Aaron, I said I'm sorry."

You tried to step closer to him, and he didn't move away. But he didn't usher you into his arms, either.

And despite the fact that Aaron doesn't yell at you, you could tell he really wanted to.

"And I'm saying you shouldn't have to say sorry. We shouldn't be having this conversation because you shouldn't have done it," he scolded.

You took another step closer, rounding the counter like your body was trying to get him to physically understand, to remind him that you were on the same side.

"What was I supposed to do?" Your voice was desparate now, almost like you actually wanted him to answer. "You were working. I had to work. You weren't picking up the phone—"

"That's right," he cut you off again. This time, he stepped closer to you. "I was working. You weren't."

2. You have an equal relationship.

The second truth was what had you tilting your head. You were already flushed from the heat of the argument, but now you could feel yourself getting a little angry.

"What do you mean I wasn't working?" you questioned. "Yes, I was. Garcia said you called everyone in; you said to get there stat."

He was quick. "I meant everyone that was necessary. You aren't."

You could feel the cut immediately, etched deep into your skin. It didn't matter how he said it, frivolous or not—the words were sharp enough to cut you effortlessly.

You aren't necessary.

The words echoed through your head. Words you'd heard before, but never from him. Never from the man who swore to be better than everyone else who ever hurt you.

Yet, no matter how much you'd been hurt in the past, it hurt a thousand times more to come from him.

You waited for him to say something else, waiting for any sign of regret to cross his face.

Nothing did.

There were many times when you wished you had Aaron's poker face, but right now, you didn't have to try. The sadness flooding your body remained internal; the only thing that showed on your face was rage.

Your eyes narrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Hotch doubled down, staring you right in the eye. "It means your job is an accessory. Garcia does the same job as you—you aren't needed."

That was a lie so blatant it made you scoff. You were a technical analyst for the BAU, and you'd proven yourself time and time again. Hotch was the one that hired you—he's the one that said he saw something in you.

Apparently not.

"I'm not needed," you echoed, sarcasm lacing your voice. "Right. So when an alert comes out that there is an active hostage situation and a potential terrorist threat, what do you expect me to do? Not come into work?" 

"Yes," he deadpanned. "Not when you're picking up my son."

You ran a hand through your hair, stuck in disbelief. "You can't be serious—"

"When you're picking up my son, what I expect is for you to take him home."

You spoke over him, countering, "I brought him to a place where I knew he'd be out of harm's way. You weren't picking up the phone. I did what I thought was best—"

"You brought him to Jessica—"

"I brought him to his aunt—"

For the first time since the conversation started, Aaron raised his voice just enough for it to stop you dead in your tracks. "You don't get to bring him to his aunt. You are not his mother!"

3. You are not Jack's mother.

You knew that. God, you knew that. You were there to see the carnage in the Hotchner household after Haley's death. The blood that splattered the walls. The boy who was too young to spell the word devastation but still felt it in his bones.

You knew you were not Jack's mother. You lived in a house with her pictures on the wall. Jack was a mirror image of her; he was her son, and you knew that. It was one of the truths you held the most conviction in.

It was the truth.

But you still recoiled, almost like Aaron had slapped you. A part of you thought maybe that would've hurt less.

All the fire you had was extinguished. You didn't have a rebuttal for that. What could you say? It didn't matter if you loved Jack like he was your own—that didn't change the fact that he wasn't.

You avoided Aaron's gaze, choosing to stare at the pattern of his tie instead and trying not to succumb to the sting in your eyes. You liked this tie; it was one of your favourites. You were close enough to him to see all its beautiful details.

But, at the same time, you'd never been further away from him.

Aaron still hadn't said anything, and out of fear that the dam would break if the silence continued, you spoke up. "I—" your voice cracked. "I know I'm not Jack's mother, and I'm not trying to be." You paused. "I was just doing what I thought was best."

You left it there, not knowing if the right words to say the right thing even existed. Saying the right thing was always Aaron's thing, not yours.

But whatever words he was going to say were cut off by the shrill pinging of a cellphone. Two cellphones.

Aaron picked up his first, sighing immediately. You didn't have to guess what it said. "We have another case." The heat in his voice was gone; he sounded like himself.

That didn't mean you felt any less burned.

"Okay, um—" you couldn't stop yourself from sniffling even if you tried. "I'll stay here and watch Jack. You go."

Another sigh left him. "Y/N—"

The sound of your name leaving his mouth almost made you cry, but you persisted, "No, you can go, it's fine." You chuckled if not just to make light of it for yourself. "I'm not needed there, anyway."

"Y/N."

"Aaron." You fingally looked up at him, and you saw it. Remorse swirling in his brown eyes. The same eyes that crinkled at the sides when you said you'd marry him. Somehow, that made it worse, knowing that it was the same person who said both of those things. Who built you up from scratch just to bring you right back to the bottom. 

You repeated yourself, "Go." The team needs you, you wanted to say. The only reason you didn't say it was because he'd already accused you of trying to be his past wife; you didn't need to prove him right.

You could practically hear the churning of his inner turmoil, torn between staying and leaving. It was pointless; you both knew what his decision would be.

When he reached for his go-bag, it was final. And in some ways, he was leaving more than just the house.

As if he could sense that, he turned around. "We'll finish this discussion when I'm back," he said. That was an anchor: telling you something about the present by talking about the future. When I'm back meant that he'd be back. Discussion meant you had something to talk about, a two-sided activity. We meant you were still one unit; you were still a we.

Maybe that's what he meant by it. If you scoured through his words and read between the lines, maybe you'd find the beginnings of an apology—in his own way, at least. But he wasn't sorry, not for what he said. If anything, he was only sorry that he said it.

You wouldn't profile him and ascribe meaning to words that didn't mean anything. We'll finish this discussion when I'm back meant you'd finish the discussion when he was back. 

When you replied, that was what you were replying to. "Okay."

You weren't okay.

This wasn't okay.

Aaron cast one last look at you before he crossed the threshold. You looked away.

And then he was out the door, leaving you in a house that no longer felt like your own.

—

"Y/N, my love, I thought I'd die without you!"

Penelope was on you as soon as you walked into the bat cave, shooting up from her chair and hugging you so tightly that you would've thought you'd been gone for ages. Really, you were only gone for a night.

You told Aaron that you wouldn't be coming in, and you were holding true to that, but you weren't gonna make Garcia work alone if she had to, even if she was perfectly capable of it.

You knew you weren't needed. Hotch was right: this ship could sail just fine without you. But you could help.

You'd just dropped Jack off at school, so now you were here, ready to work until you had to pick him up again.

You forced yourself to laugh at her words, causing her to hit your back. "No, I'm being serious! You're my oxygen—I can't live without you."

At that, you snorted. "Okay, Penelope."

She pulled back, resting her hands on your shoulders. "Seriously, though." She looked deep into your eyes, seeming to be looking for something. "Are... are you okay? I don't even think you've taken a sick day since... since forever."

You smiled at her exaggeration, even if it didn't really reach your eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine, P. I just have to leave early to go get Jack, and um... I'm gonna stay off camera today. And off the phones." You shifted your weight. "Not like it matters or anything, but I just don't really want Hotch knowing I'm here. I just want to stay in the background today, if that's okay?"

Her brows raised, but she quickly affirmed, "Yes, that's okay! Totally okay. We'll keep this 100% incognito."

It was in Garcia's nature to ask questions, so you knew she had them, but she didn't voice a single one.

You talked about work, and new bureau technology, and your next girls night, and everything but what you asked of her.

You'd never been more grateful.

—

It'd been two days since the team left, two days of bouncing back and forth between the office and back home with Jack. The son that wasn't really yours. The son that felt like yours, anyway.

If you were doing as good as you thought you were, then nobody knew you were even there. Garcia was telling the rest of them that you were sick. Your phone had been flooded with get well soon messages from everyone except the one person you really wanted one from.

Aaron hadn't spoken to you since he left. You wished it didn't hurt as badly as it did.

"Okay, Jackers! I think it's time we head to bed."

"What?" You held back a laugh at the incredulity in his voice, knowing that—for an 8 year old—this was a very serious matter. He looked at you with traces of shock, somehow looking everything and nothing like his father at the same time. "But it's only ten o'clock!"

"Ah, and yet it is still past your bed time. Mine, too."

Jack frowned—and there it was. There was that bit of Aaron you were looking for. "You say that, but you're just going to stay up after I go to sleep."

You couldn't suppress the smile on your face any longer. "No, Jack. I promise you I'm so tired, I'll be out as soon as my head hits the pillow." You ruffled his hair, your smile becoming a grin as he groaned. "Now go brush your teeth, little man."

Jack got up from the table, his little feet pitter-pattering across the floor as he made his way to the stairs. It didn't sound much like a pitter-patter anymore now that he was getting older, but he would always be the same little boy to you. So, "pitter-patter" it was.

Until suddenly, you heard a different noise.

Not pitter-patter.

The door.

Your eyes darted to Jack as he stopped in his tracks, then they darted to the door. The knob, turning lightly, gold glinting in the light. The sound of your own heart beating was just as loud as the turning. The person got impatient, the knob turning faster now, like someone was trying to pry it open.

Fuck. Fuck.

Your mind ran a mile a minute. That wasn't Hotch. You weren't expecting anyone, and whoever was at the door certainly wasn't asking for an invite in.

They were trying to force their way in.

Somebody was breaking in to the house.

With that realization, you were moving. "Jack." You caught his attention easily, spotting the fear on his face right away. More than fear. 

Familiarity.

He went through his before. Oh, your Jack. He'd been through this before, and he would know what to do. You did.

Conversations with Aaron flashed through your head, just-in-case scenarios, if then statements. Emergencies.

You knew what to do, too.

You just never thought you'd have to.

You grabbed onto Jack's shoulder, immediately feeling how his body was trembling. "Jack, I need you to listen to me." The knob got louder. You lowered your voice. "I need you to work the case, okay? Like with your dad. Do you understand me?"

His eyes went wide. "Wait, Y/N. What about you—"

"Jack. Do you understand me?" He went quiet, and then he nodded, making you sigh in relief. "Okay, take my phone. Call 911, but don't make a sound." You handed him the phone, and then you let go of him. "I love you." Your throat closed up. "Now go."

Jack ran up the stairs, and you were up automatically, trusting he'd do as you said.

It was like someone else was in your body, telling you what to do. You opened the pantry, looking where you'd never looked and typing numbers into a keypad you'd never touched.

Why do we need a safe in the kitchen? you had laughed at the time.

In case of an emergency, Aaron had said. You thanked his forward thinking.

The only way you knew that you were still there was by the violent shaking of your hands as the cool metal touched your skin. You'd only ever operated a gun once or twice. Did you even remember how to load it?

The door banged, making you jolt. You had to remember now. Come on, Y/N. Load the fucking gun. 

You thrusted the magazine into the well and then pulled back the slide. Another bang. You turned the safety off.

Hold the gun with both hands.

God, Hotch, when will I ever need to do this?

Well, I hope you never have to. But we can never be too safe.

Another bang hit the door, this time more forceful. We can never too safe. Tears flooded your eyes, and you promptly blinked them away.

Then. There was another bang, and this time, the door hit the wall.

You intook a sharp breath, hearing footsteps thump against the floor. You closed your eyes, focusing on the noise. One set of footsteps. 

Aaron's voice echoed throughout your head. Are you sure?

You screwed your eyes shut tighter, straining your ears. Yes. One person. Loud. Heavy. Male.

Okay, that's good. What else do you know?

You knew they spent a long time fiddling with the door knob before busting the door open. That could either mean they lacked physical strength or they were trying to taunt you. The second option. You knew this was a low-risk neighbourhood. You knew your car was out front. This wasn't about money. This was personal. Intentional.

You knew this was an FBI agent's house. You knew—

Wait. You strained your ears more, following the footsteps. They weren't heading for your direction. No. No, no, no, no.

Jack was upstairs.

You couldn't let this man go up there.

4. You love Jack Hotchner unconditionally.

Knowing number four makes you act fast with a determination you'd never felt before. The pantry door swung open as you left the enclosed space, instantly raising the gun in the air like it was weightless. 

You pointed it at your stairwell where a masked man stood, motionless. 

"You better stop right there, you son of a bitch," you threatened, cocking the gun like it was second nature to you.

The man raised his hands into the air slowly. He tilted his head at you as if he was trying to mock you.

And then he smiled.

Before you could even realize what was happening, he was running at you. Your eyes widened, pulling the trigger. You barely got to see if your shot made it before he was tackling you to the ground, knocking the gun out of your hands.

The back of your head hit the ground, making a sickening crack. You gasped for air, and then you were wheezing as the man's hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly.

You looked up into his demented eyes, hearing not the sound of your own voice but Hotch's. Use what you see. Frantically, your eyes flew all over the unsub's body until you saw red staining black, right at his shoulder. 

Without thinking about it, you stuck your finger into the wound, hearing him scream. He was stunned enough that he loosened his grip, giving you the chance to kick him off of you.

You scrambled to your feet, searching for the gun and finding it in the middle of the living room floor. You dove for it right as he got back up, getting to you before you could try shooting again.

His hands wrapped around yours, trying to wrestle the gun from your hands. You held on like your life depended on it because it did. Your life depended on it— Jack's life depended on it. 

You fired a shot into the ground and then another into the wall as he fought you, knocking a picture frame off the mantle. You couldn't see where the gun was pointing anymore, but then, suddenly, pain radiated throughout your lower abdomen, and you knew it was pointed at you.

You gasped, looking down and seeing blood spreading through the white of your tank top.

You looked back up, seeing the asshole smile at you with his teeth. They were pearly white. So clean for a man so dirty.

You sought to make them red, too.

In a surge of energy, you twisted the gun out of his grasp and didn't think before pointing it at his head and firing.

You watched the bullet penetrate his skull before he fell to the ground. Like a domino, you followed, crumpling against the couch.

The gun slipped out of your hands and they immediately went to your wound, making you hiss in pain. You pressed down on it, feeling blood flow between your fingers like a river. 

Keep swimming. Keep your eyes open.

The fatigue hit you like a train. You blinked, trying to keep your eyes open, but they felt so heavy.

Jack. Jack was upstairs. He called the police.

He was okay.

You heard sirens in the distance. The police were coming.

You could sleep now.

And so, as you remembered your fifth truth, your eyes started to flutter closed.

5. You love Aaron Hotchner. And he loves you.

You let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep, hoping that somehow, on some plane of consciousness, he could hear you say I love you one last time.

You loved Aaron Hotchner. You knew that for certain.

You just hoped he still loved you.

[maeafterdark]

bedtime stories — aaron hotchner fanfic

SUMMARY: aaron comes home to a concerned jack, who thinks you and aaron are getting a divorce.

RATING: fluff - this entire blog is 18+ regardless!

CONTENT WARNINGS: reader does use she/her pronouns, non descript reader, jack calls reader mama, mentions of haley and depictions of grief, mentions of divorce / conversations with a child of that, not proofread (ignore any mistakes i beg)

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: bit of a different fic style today! i kept watching edits of jack and aaron and i just cannot stop watching this man as a dad i dont know what it is about it but UGH </3 also i just love a good family fic idk i just want some warmth. as always interactions with this post are greatly appreciated! love you mwa mwa

Aaron's car pulls into the driveway, and for a moment he takes a second to just breathe. The past week or so had been a lot for him — their case was challenging, both mentally and in terms of solving it, a stack of paperwork greeted him in the office when he landed in Quantico earlier that morning.

And worst of all, he hadn't seen you or the kids in almost a whole week. That was probably the worst part.

Sure, you'd sent photos of Jack, now seven years old as unimaginable as that seemed, and Olivia, your ten month old baby girl who had Aaron's looks and his stubborn personality. But it didn't ease the guilt he felt of not being there in person.

After a minute (or five, he's not even sure how much time passes where he just sits in the driver's seat) of silence, he gets out of the car. Keys jingle in the doorknob before he steps inside, and almost trips over a toy car in the doorway.

After letting out a hiss mixed with a "shit" as he catches his balance, he tosses his keys into a bowl nearby. He doesn't need to call out for you since he can hear you talking in the kitchen and makes his way there, standing in the doorway. Jack's working at the dining room table on what looks like homework. You're standing by the stove as Olivia sits in her high chair, pulled up to be near you.

Olivia may look like Aaron but she is a momma's girl through and through. Probably why she's staring at you like you've hung the moon for her even though you sound a bit exasperated.

"Olivia, sweetheart. You gotta eat your veggies." You walk to bend over gently in front of her, holding a spoon of what looks to be blended peas and carrots. Your voice is soft and kind as it always is, but he can't blame you for the way you sigh when she gives you that stubborn gaze. "They're yummy, I promise."

"Maybe she doesn't like carrots, mama." Jack offers from the dining room table. For a seven year old, he'd always been so mature and quizzical. Aaron knew he'd gotten that from Haley — Aaron hates the fact she can't be here to say that or to point out to Aaron that was another thing he'd inherited from her. "Or peas. I don't like peas either. They're yucky."

"They are kind of yucky," you agree. "But it's still important to eat them." You give Olivia a pointed look when you say that, and all she does is giggle. You sigh affectionally. "Gosh, you're too cute for your own good."

But, he decides he'll grieve that later as he walks fully into the kitchen. "Hi there, my favorite girls." He says. He kisses you first, one on your cheek then a soft peck on your lips (which he can hear Jack fake gag over) before he's walking to look at Olivia himself.

"She still not liking the veggies, huh?" Aaron asks as if he wasn't just watching the exchange from the shadows. He offers the spoon to Olivia silently, and has to bite back a laugh when she gives him that same defiant look. It was always so funny to him, how much personality such a tiny girl could have.

"Nope." You answer as you stir the food on the stove. "Her and Jack seem to share a dislike of carrots and peas."

Aaron hums thoughtfully, as he picks Olivia up out of the high chair to give her a proper kiss on the cheek. She squirms slightly before relaxing in his arms, as he holds her against his side. "I'm sure she'll come around." He says.

You smile as you take Olivia from him once her tiny arms are reaching out for you. "Maybe." You echo. The lack of a baby in his arms gives Aaron the chance to go say hi to Jack, who looks very concentrated on his English homework.

"Hi my favorite guy." He says, placing a kiss against the crown of his son's head. Jack gives a small smile, but it's nothing like Aaron is used to recieving. He takes note of that. He pulls up the dining room chair nearby, setting it beside Jack's own and taking a seat. "How are you?"

"I'm okay."

The dismissive way Jack answers is the first thing Aaron notices. Jack was always full of life and talkative. But, he tried to excuse it. He could just be tired.

"Anything happen at school today?"

"No."

Aaron nods. Anytime he asked Jack anything, it turned into a five minute long conversation — about his day, the cartoon he watched, anything. "What are you working on?" He asks. He takes a glance at the paper as Jack responds. "My english homework."

Aaron takes note of the way his son is avoiding eye contact. And so, he decides to ask straight out. "You feeling okay? You seem kind of.. off." He says. It's not mean or accusatory, rather it's gentle with a mix of concern.

Jack sighs. He leans back in his chair, twirling his pencil in his hand as he answers. "I don't want you and mama to get a divorce."

That has you also paying attention. With Olivia on your hip, you trut over to the table. "Jack, buddy, what are you talking about?" You ask, a furrow of your brow.

"Well,” Jack looks at you, then at Aaron. His gaze retreats back to his lap as he answers. “Carlos’ mom and dad told him they’re getting a divorce. His dad has a new apartment. I don’t want you to move out. Or Olivia, I like her. She smells and cries a lot but she's a good sister.”

You had heard whispers at drop-off that morning about Carlos' mom and dad seperating, but you didn't expect Jack to hear about it and inevitably get concerned.

Aaron swears he can hear his own heart break, and probably yours too. You move to gently place Olivia down on the floor — where she proceeds to crawl around with oblivion to the conversation — before you walk and kneel beside Jack’s chair.

“Jack,” you say gently, prompting him to look at you. You meet his concerned gaze with a soft one. “Your dad and I aren’t getting a divorce. And Olivia isn't going anywhere either, as smelly and as loud as she may be. I want to be here with you and your dad forever, if that's okay with you."

Aaron chimes in with a nod. "Yeah, Jack. I love mama so much, I think I would cry if she wasn't here. Like, full blown crying. It'd be kinda sad to watch honestly." He says gently, and it melts his heart when Jack gives a tiny smile that he tries to fight away at that.

Jack sighs. "But what about Carlos' mom and dad? They were really happy too." He says as he looks at the both of you. "His dad moved out, he has a new apartment that's far from Carlos. He only gets to see his dad on weekends now."

You frown. "Carlos' parents still love each other, Jack. But, sometimes people who really love each other just aren't meant to be together. But they're still going to be a good mom and dad to Carlos. And your dad and I aren't going to get divorced just because they do." You explain.

Jack nods. "I don't want you to move out," he directs that to you like it's been something on his mind for a while. Maybe it has. "Or Olivia. I mean.. she's smelly and she cries a lot but she's my sister and I love her."

"And she loves you," Aaron chimes in. "So much. And mama loves you too."

"I do." You agree. "Like, a lot times infinity. And I love your dad too. Which is why he and I are not getting a divorce or moving away from each other."

"Are you sure?" Jack asks as he looks up with Aaron.

Aaron cups Jack's face in his hands. "I'm positive." He replies. "Why don't you go wash up before dinner? We can talk more at bedtime if you want."

Jack nods and scurries into the bathroom, mindful of the baby still on the floor. You watch him go, before you look at Aaron. "You think he's gonna be okay?"

Aaron sighs, walking and wrapping his arms around you. He takes a moment to breathe in your scent and the feeling of you being in his arms, before he nods. "Yeah." He places a kiss against your forehead. "I think he'll be okay."

You let your arms wrap around his torso. You glance up at him. "Would you actually be sobbing if I left you?" You ask. "Like, full blown ugly crying?"

He chuckles. "Oh yeah. It'd be so pathetic, you'd just have to come back to me to make it better." He says.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Valentime's Blues｡⋆.

Aaron Hotchner x plus size reader

Being eternally disappointed by Valentine’s Day, you decided a long time ago to boycott any such holiday but what you didn’t count on was a secretly romantic boss with a massive crush and his son who just wants to be your best friend forever.

Warnings: angst, feeling alone and abandoned, mention of past relationships and sex, mutual pining but no confessions yet, fluff, Jack Hotchner being the ultimate unwitting wigman WC: 1.7k Minors DNI A/N: Happy late Valentine's Day to all my lovelies who didn't have a Valentine and to those who did! Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Valentine’s Day was just another day. Just like your birthday, just like Easter or Flag Day or any other holidays; there was no point in the day to make it special in your mind. Your girlfriends called you cynical, your parents just gave you that pitying look that had you avoiding visiting home for at least three months and well, Penelope just wanted to change your mind.

“Pen I promise, it’s fine. Valentine’s is not really my thing.” You pointedly ignored the cartoon cupid pasted on the coffee machine as you poured your third cup of the day, a record considering it was barely 9:30 in the morning. You turned on your heel only to come face-to-face with the spirit of Valentine’s herself; decked out in the most migraine-inducing pink you had ever seen, Penelope was looking at you with the saddest expression you had seen outside of a puppy in the rain.

“But it’s a day of love! Of chocolate! Of kinky steamy lovey sex!” A few heads turned her way at that but was quickly deemed uninteresting enough to keep them from their work. “You can’t hate Valentine’s!” She insisted.

You moved around her, heading back towards your overly full desk, not noticing your boss standing at the top of the stairs right next to it.

“I don’t hate Valentine’s, I just am indifferent to it. Besides, I’ve never had a Valentine so I really don’t have any sort of strong connection to it, positive or negative.” Your chair squeaked as you sat down, your eyes darting to the mountain of paperwork that you were sure wasn’t this big two minutes ago when you got up and definitely had nothing to do with the sly smile on Morgan’s face across the aisle. You glared at him playfully to which he blew you a kiss.

“Never!?” Penelope screeched and slammed her hands on your desk. “My sweet gorgeous baby angel lovey are you telling me you’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend.” 

“You know for a fact I have. We’ve either broken up before February rolled around or they have never asked me. I got chocolates once or twice in grade school but they were from my teachers. It’s as simple as that, my love. So, today is just another Monday, albeit one with far too many hearts and flowers.”

She huffed. “No such thing.” Her eyes darted upwards but then flicked back towards you, a smile growing on her face. “Well this is the first Valentine’s we’ve had in the office since you joined. So get your perfect perky butt ready for the best Valentine’s of your life!” She skittered away, her glittery pink heels clacking against the linoleum. You just rolled your eyes and turned back to your reports.

The hours ticked by slowly as did your progress in your work. Between the lines of carefully crafted phrasing of a two week-old case, your mind wandered down that dark road that these kinds of days brought. You were telling the truth to Penelope but you were also lying to her. Valentine’s Day meant everything to you, just like every other holiday, but after years of the optimistic excitement of the day instead bringing crushing disappointment by the time the clock struck midnight and you were left empty-handed and broken-hearted. Each year you hoped that someone special would give you a reason to hold onto that hope, that maybe they would love you enough to push away the icy grip of loneliness and self-doubt.

They never did.

And so, after so many years of rejection, watching your friends and family be celebrated and showered with gifts by their loved ones, including yourself, while you were left behind and forgotten; You forced yourself to make Valentine’s mean nothing to you. Because if it was nothing, then it couldn’t hurt you again, no matter how fruitless your efforts turned out to be. 

So, you kept working and the promise of Penelope’s threat slowly morphed back into that dark seed of anguish that you knew it would. She was seeing Kevin tonight, obviously she wouldn’t make time for you. Just like Derek who was going out with Emily to pick up dates abandoned by the holiday. Spencer was already on a plane to Vegas, Rossi was working on his fourth ex-wife and JJ had slipped off early to spend the afternoon in with her boys just like Hotch did about an hour ago. That left you, like always, alone with your chest tight and your eyes burning. 

By the time you finally looked up from your desk, the office was empty and the sun was gone. You sighed and shoved the remaining files onto Spencer’s desk, which he would inevitably push onto Emily and then she would push back to Derek. That Chinese place just down the block from your apartment should still be open and hopefully they’d give you a good deal on a stupid amount of food if you played up how miserable you looked. You grabbed your coat off the back of your chair and slipped it on after contemplating if you could live with yourself by guilting Penelope just enough to get the name of that bakery that has such good pastries out of her. 

“Happy Valentime’s!” Light spilled into the bullpen, bouncing off the blond hair of one Jack Hotchner. 

“Jack?” Your bag dropped to the floor, freeing your arms just in time to catch the 5 year-old firmly in your arms. His giggles ricocheted through your chest, cracking the wall of disappointment. He excitedly rubbed his face against your collarbones as his small hands ran the length of your back over and over again. It seemed like you weren’t going to get any answers from your favourite Hotchner anytime soon, so you turned to the very close second.

Hotch was smiling at you, though his expression was partially shrouded by the hall light behind him. “It’s been a while since you came over for movie night so we thought you might want to. That is unless you have other plans tonight?” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Part of you, the one that loathed the first half of February, almost convinced you it was a dream but as Jack looked up, those big brown eyes just like his father’s, suddenly woke you up. “Please! Daddy said if you said yes we could watch Totoro!” 

“And get pizza from that fancy Italian place that always kicks in some free breadsticks.” Hotch offered up with a shrug like he had just come up with the idea. But you knew him better than that.

“Isn’t fancy Italian a bit on the nose for Valentine’s?” A pale pink crawled up his ears.

“You like their breadsticks.” He answered as if that would satisfy but you both knew it wouldn’t.

“I can meet at your place in about an hour? I’ll need my pj’s if we’re gonna be watching Totoro.” Jack gasped and grabbed you even harder, his little fingers rumpling your shirt.

“No! I wanna stay with you.” Hotch didn’t even have the decency to look guilty as he shrugged.

“I don’t have a car seat buddy. You’ll have to go with your dad.” He shook his head against you. 

“I’ll drive all of us, I have some clothes you could borrow.” 

“And what would I do with my car?”

There was a moment, just a second where you could convince yourself that he would answer with a simple ‘I’ll drive you home later’ or ‘I’ll get you a cab in the morning’ and Valentine’s would remain a crushing day for your heart. But Aaron was never one to disappoint you or cause you pain, he never had been in the years he had been something much more than a boss but also more bound to you than a friend. And this was his chance to prove that yet again.

“I’ll drive you to work tomorrow to get it, or in a couple days. I gave everyone tomorrow off.”

Something about that had you hesitating. You had spent dozens of evenings in his apartment, on his couch with him and his son but a sleepover was something new. It was the step onto a waterslide, the water lapping around your ankles as the adrenaline began to build. You knew the twists and drops and the inevitable splash as you reached the end. If you slept over, you would see him in the morning- fresh faced and with his voice thick with sleep. And if you saw that, you could imagine waking up beside him and after that, well that felt like too much to think about before you’ve even answered him.

“Please! We can build a fort and daddy can make hot chocolate! That always cheers me up!”

Your attention shifted downwards, the water came up to your shin. “Are you upset Jack?”

“Daddy said you were and that you had to come over so we could help you!”

You had sat down on the inner tube now, your feet vanishing into the darkness of the tunnel but you weren’t scared anymore. “Did he now?” Aaron was now blushing fiercely but he didn’t look ashamed, maybe a little bashful but this was not a slip of the tongue.

“He said you had the Valentime’s blues and the only way to fix it was by being with people who love you!” You could object or brush it off, convince yourself it was some friendly affection but you didn’t want to. You straightened up, letting Jack take your hand as you met Aaron’s gaze. You needed to say it while looking into his eyes.

“You’re right, that is the cure. So I guess I should have a sleepover then shouldn’t I? As a precautionary measure against any remaining blues.” His smile was smaller now but infinitely softer. He didn’t say anything back, just picked up your bag and laid a gentle hand on the small of your back to lead you out of the office.

Jack cheered but didn’t let go of your hand as you all walked out together, fit perfectly together. Aaron gave you a look as his son pressed the down button, you returned it without hesitation.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out as the elevator doors opened to see a text from Penelope.

“Told you it would be perfect ;)”

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[reidology13]

Reader goes to the triathlon w Jack and everyone's like 'omg is this ur gf' and he's like nooo this is my babysitter but they're like doing heart eyes the whole time and she's being rly cute w Jack and the whole team is like shipping them xoxoxoxoxoxo

you really got a hold on me

Aaron Hotchner x fem babysitter!reader

cw: age gap, canon typical lack of boundaries??? fluff, fluff, and more fluff wc: 1.6k a/n: this is my first req, which is a little bit terrifying, I hope it lives up to your expectations! I moved the triathlon so Jack's still around 4/5 just bc my girl has been pining for years and I don't want to stretch that out too much <3

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You kept Jack close, hands on his shoulders to keep him from disappearing into the crowd, although you knew he would be unlikely to stray from your side either way. People had started crossing the finish line about half an hour ago, and your best guess was that Aaron would cross it any second now. You were correct, as it would happen, and a few minutes later he appeared in the stampede, sweat-covered and grinning as his eyes locked on yours.

“Jack, look!” You crouched down beside the boy, pointing in the direction of his father, jogging towards the finish line.

“Daddy!” He cheered, and you whooped as he crossed the line, starting to slow down as he made his way to the table with water and medals.

Once he had navigated a route out of the crowd, you walked with Jack over to him, waving to try and catch his attention again now that you were both in different places. He met your gaze, walking to you, breath heaving.

“Hey, bud.” He leant down to hug Jack, picking him up and swinging him around before placing him back down and turning to you.

“You did amazing.” You smiled up at him, almost in awe, and he did something completely unexpected, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you into him, “Get off me! You’re all gross and sweaty.”

“Never.” You didn’t put up a fight.

“Should we leave you two love bugs alone?” A familiar voice rang out, and he released you, allowing the blonde to enter your field of vision.

“Garcia.” He said slowly, that stern, stoic mask slipping into place over his handsome features, and you couldn’t help but ogle when he looked like that. There was something about it, the way it set into the sharp lines of his jaw, suiting his strong facial features so perfectly. 

“Sorry, sir.” She said, although you had a feeling she wasn’t apologetic in the slightest, mainly from the broad grin spread across her face that promised trouble.

And then the pack descended.

A wolf whistle, “Hello, gorgeous. You the lady our man’s been seeing?”

“Um, no, I’m not-” You tried to clear up the obvious miscommunication, fueled by Penelope’s meddling, but you were interrupted, this time by a female voice.

“If he ever hurts you, feel free to call me.” She winked, and you felt your cheeks grow warm, becoming more embarrassed by the second.

“No, we’re really not-” Apparently, Aaron’s entire team had a thing for not listening, no wonder he was so tired all the time.

“Way to go, Aaron, but isn’t she a little young?” You rolled your eyes at that.

“I’m standing right here, you know.” You looked up at him, silently begging him to get his team in line.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” They went silent, and you breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning into him as you realised he still had an arm around you.

“I’m Jack’s babysitter.” You introduced yourself to each of the group, besides Penelope. You wished JJ was there, but she’d had a baby roughly a week ago, marathons weren’t exactly her mood right now.

You decide that you liked Jordan and Spencer the most, because they had stayed quiet while the rest of the team teased you about your nonexistent relationship. Once everything quieted down, and the novelty of you had expired enough for them to turn their attention to food, you turned to Aaron. You realised that in all of the excitement—first of the race, then the team—that you hadn’t really gotten to speak to him.

“Hi.” You beamed, feeling awkward after the team’s fast paced attack of moments earlier, worse because part of you wished it was true. Scratch that, every single bone, muscle, ligament, every cell in your body, wished it was true.

“Hi.” He smiled back, and you were completely oblivious to how you were just standing there, staring at him and his stupidly handsome features, until a pointed cough broke through your daze. You weren’t sure you liked Spencer anymore. The rest of the team’s eyes shot to you immediately, and you knew you were never going to hear the end of it.

“Aaron, can we go? I don’t like these people.” You groaned, the second part mostly joining. Mostly.

“Anything for you. Jack, are you okay with celebrating at home?” He tugged the boy’s hand lightly to capture his attention, and Jack nodded, smiling as wide as ever, entirely unbothered by the change of plans.

“I’ll make your favourite.” You grinned up at him, “And we can buy ice cream on the way home.”

“Are you sure you’re not dating?” Emily piped up, and you glared at her, taking a step away from Aaron, as if to prove a point.

“I’m very sure.”

“She’s half my age, Prentiss.” 

“Okay, I’m not half your age, please, you make me sound like a baby.” You scoffed.

“No, of course you’re not, I just happen to be very old.” He rubbed your shoulder gently in a silent apology.

“You’re only thirty-eight, Aaron.”

“Aww, you even fight like a couple.”

“Please stop, he pays me to be here. I would rather not lose half my paycheck for fleeing right now.” Technically, he wasn’t paying you for this, the outing with Jack was completely voluntary, which had nothing to do with Aaron post-run. Absolutely nothing.

“Oh, so it’s a sugar daddy thing?” She smirked.

“It’s a babysitter thing.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He grabbed you by the arm, commandeering you away from the group, and you heard a few loud comments about manhandling, as well as the word ‘daddy’ thrown around fairly liberally. “I’m sorry about them, they’re incorrigible.” He murmured against your ear, giving your arm a squeeze.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind it.” He looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, Jack piped up, calling your name, “Yeah, bud?”

“I wanna hold your hand, too.” You could have cried, standing right there in the parking lot, only a few feet from the car.

“Oh, of course.” You and Aaron rearranged Jack so that he stood in between you, each of you holding one of his hands.

“I’m hungry.”

“Me too, buddy.”

“It might take me a bit too long to cook…” You trailed off, swinging Jack’s arm, “There’s a great barbeque spot about ten minutes from here?”

“Sounds great, Jack, what do you think?”

“Yes.” He seemed very sure for someone you were pretty certain had no idea what a barbeque was. Aaron loved to use the grill when he had the chance, and yet no matter how many times the word was said, Jack would still be surprised at dinner. You figured he would pick it up in a year or two.

You reached the car, helping Jack into the child car seat in the back as Aaron slid into the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition. Once Jack was safely secured, you circled around the back of the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Do you know the directions? Aaron turned to look at you, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

“I think so.” You nodded as he pulled out of the parking space, the way he turned his head to double check the space behind the car made the tendons pop out from under the skin of his neck.

You did your best to direct him, although you missed one or two turns, courtesy of Aaron’s side profile looking a little too good. It took about ten minutes longer than it should have to pull up in the parking lot of the restaurant, and the sheen of sweat that had covered his skin had dried by the time you walked in. You were seated in a booth next to a window, and Jack insisted on sitting on your lap until the food arrived. You helped him with his restaurant-branded colouring page, a drawing of a pig cooking sausages on a grill, which was rather grim to anyone over the age of eight.

After lunch, Aaron drove you back to your campus, parking outside your dorm building. You hopped out of the car, walking around to the other side to hug Jack goodbye, then turned to the driver’s door. Aaron rolled down the window, and you leant against the windowsill on your forearms to talk to him.

“Did lunch live up to your expectations?”

“I preferred the company.” 

“So, I guess I’m never getting to choose where we eat again…” You pouted, trying to distract yourself from the warmth that blossomed in your chest at his words, at how casually he could say something so disastrous. 

“Of course you can, it was wonderful.” But you were better. He reached out, one of his hands gently running down your upper arm as he spoke, and maybe that was why you did what you did next.

“Thank you for the ride,” You smiled at him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. You stood there, leaning into the car, and time seemed to slow in a moment where everything was perfect. You stepped back, and reality crashed over you like a wave, a lump in your throat as you stumbled away from him.

“Have a good day.” He waved, and you nodded, licking your lips nervously, tasting the salt of his skin on your lips.

“You too.” You waved back at him, walking backwards from the car, “And shower! You taste like sweat!” You called out, hands cupped to your face to project your voice as you got further away from him, choking on your words.

He shook his head, an amused grin gracing his face as he pulled the car away from the sidewalk. You stood there, like a love stricken schoolgirl who’d just had her first kiss during a game of spin the bottle. 

Life changing.

Inconsequential.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams - Comment to be added <3

[valkugo]

this little fanboys' club including jack was so cute oh my god 😭🩷

[skippyskellies]

I just can’t get the idea of Spencer, ever the people pleaser, constantly getting stuck as the baus resident babysitter lol, so here’s a crappy drawing of that!

[lovesickaches]

Paperwork & Peanut Butter Cups

Pairing: Hotchner x AgentReader

Summary: Stuck working late at the BAU, you and Hotch find yourselves buried in paperwork and silence. A shared peanut butter cup breaks the tension—and maybe something else, too. Because even Aaron Hotchner needs a soft place to land sometimes.

Warnings: Smut • Oral (f. receiving) • Office setting • Mutual pining • Emotional intimacy • Light power dynamics (Boss x Subordinate) • Soft!Hotch moments • Stress relief sex • Minor language • Comfort through food (peanut butter cups)

WC: 3.3k

Song Choice: Heavenly by Cigarettes After Sex

3 A.M.

The clock blinked at you, almost taunting like it's purposely slowing down time just to test your patience. You still aren't sure why, considering the mountain of paperwork that sits meticulously on your desk. It seems never-ending. Your workload at the moment was like the Greek myth of the Lernaean Hydra. Every time you finish one and file it away, two more appear.

These were the moments where you genuinely considered just throwing up your hands and giving into the chaos. But alas, that is currently not an option. Your coworkers already left the moment Hotch mentioned admin work.

Bastards.

Smart bastards though.

The rest of your team had cleared out hours ago. Garcia walked past your cubicle, citing, "this bureaucratic paperwork is emotionally toxic," and blew you a kiss that was made up of glitter and moral support. Reid followed not long after, muttering to you about the long-term neurological effects of sleep deprivation. Morgan came next, flashing that mouthwatering smile and saying he'd pour one out for the fallen.

JJ left a bit before all of them, needing to get home to Henry and Michael. And poor Prentiss—she tried to stay with you. But eventually, after forty-five minutes, she gave up, saying, "I like you, but going crazy from no sleep isn't worth it." You didn’t blame her. You would’ve done the same thing.

But instead, you decided to stay behind like an idiot. As you mentally scold yourself, your attention is drawn to the floor above the bullpen. You see the overhead light turn off in a particular office, knowing someone else who isn’t you is about to go home. That thought alone annoys you.

It seems like the universe isn't done taunting you, because out of nowhere, the phone on your desk lets out a shrill ring. Picking it up, you hear the unmistakable voice of your boss, Aaron Hotchner.

"I need you to come up to my office for a minute," he said. Then the line went dead and you sat there staring at it like it was an alien object.

You sighed—loudly, dramatically, and in your opinion, Oscar-worthy—and pushed your chair away from your desk. You smoothed your extremely crinkled skirt, still trying to look presentable for the man who always made your heart skip a beat. Not in the uncomfortable "I want to run away as far as possible" type of way, but in the "he’s impossible to read and I care more than I probably should" kind of way.

Right now, that didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping him in a good mood and not getting an earful about leaving things unfinished.

As you walked up the stairs toward Hotch’s office, you were convinced that the bullpen below would collapse into nothingness to match your exhaustion. Muttering to yourself as you took each step that felt like an eternity.

"If this man asks me for one more case summary, I swear I’m gonna flip this building like a damn Monopoly board."

Before you knew it, you stood in front of the imposing door, knowing he was behind it, sitting at his desk and twirling that damn pen of his. You weren’t mad at him. You chose to stay. Maybe because of the work. Maybe because… it was him. But after two hours, you started questioning that decision. Even if part of you liked the way he looked at you when you agreed to help.

You could still hear the quiet warmth in his voice when he’d leaned in close and said “thank you” before he left. Just that. But it was enough to make your chest flutter a little too hard.

You finally knock on the door, heart beating faster than you cared to admit.

"Come in."

Of course, his voice sounds like that. Calm, even, but somehow comforting. Perfect for his position. You wanted to keep it professional. You needed to. But there was something about the way he looked at you sometimes that made it feel like more than just professionalism.

You push the door open, and there he is. Aaron Hotchner. Sitting in his chair, leaning back and twirling that pen while looking calm and unreadable. His jacket was off, shirt sleeves pushed to his elbows, tie loosened just slightly.

Focus.

His desk was cluttered with reports and a black coffee left untouched.

"Yes, sir, what did you need?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

But he catches the hesitation. His eyes softened just slightly as he stood from his seat, grabbing something from his desk that you hadn’t noticed at first. Hotch walks over to you, arm stretched out.

A familiar orange wrapping lay in his palm.

A Reese’s peanut butter cup.

You raise a brow, confused but surprised in a way that made you smile.

"You brought me up here for a peanut butter cup?" you asked, the exhaustion now replaced by disbelief.

He smirked. Aaron Hotchner smirked. A rare event. And somehow, that tiny gesture warmed your chest more than you were prepared for.

You blinked, unsure of what to say, a little stunned by how thoughtful the gesture felt.

But of course he notices. He always notices everything. Instead of making it awkward, Hotch simply places the candy in your hand like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"It's a peace offering," he said, gesturing toward the wrapper. "For staying behind and helping me tonight."

The simplicity of it, the softness of his voice, the quiet thank you unspoken in the gesture—it all hits you at once. Your heart stutters and something soft blooms in your chest.

"Oh, thank you," you murmured, caught between smiling and staring at your shoes. "I didn’t expect that, but I appreciate it."

He just stood there, like he wasn’t in a rush to end the moment. You peeled the wrapper, trying not to seem awkward as you popped the candy in your mouth, and when you looked up, you could swear he was watching you with a quiet fondness.

"My favorite candy," you mentioned lightly, glancing away from his gaze. It felt too warm. Too real. "Either you got lucky or you’ve been paying way too much attention."

Hotch chuckled—low and surprisingly genuine. You felt it in your stomach. That kind of laugh he doesn’t let many people hear.

"I’d see you eat them in the break room. And the wrappers in your trash can by your desk."

You gasped dramatically, putting a hand over your chest. "Agent Hotchner, I can’t believe... that beneath that terrifying exterior... is someone who actually notices the little things."

He smiled again, softer this time. Like he was just glad to see you smile back. His gaze lingered—not in a way that made you nervous, but in a way that made you feel seen.

He watched the way you closed your eyes briefly when you savored the chocolate. Noticed how your shoulders dropped, just a bit, as the tension faded.

Hotch had been quietly struggling since the day you joined the BAU. You brought something into that bullpen he hadn’t realized was missing—light, warmth, the kind of subtle joy that sticks to your ribs. At first, he didn’t think much of it. But now? Every day, he caught himself looking forward to hearing your voice. Watching you grow into your own. Finding reasons to ask for your help, even when he didn’t really need it.

That was the real reason he asked you to stay behind tonight.

Not the work.

You.

He steps back, making you already miss the warmth of his presence. You could see some hesitation in his eyes—like he wants to say something, but is afraid you'll run away. So he'd rather say nothing at all, just so you would stay there in his office a bit longer.

"Thanks again," you said softly. "It actually made my night."

Hotch smiles like hearing your praise made him whole. Like he was waiting for it and wouldn't relax until you did. He appreciated his team—they were good at their job, competent—albeit stressful with their own things happening, but they weren’t you.

You weren’t just part of the job.

You were something more. You saw past the rigid, administrative exterior. Past the endless case files, bulletproof vests, and bureaucratic yellow tape. You saw his soft side—one you saw him show with his son Jack in the rare moments he was at the office. You doted on the adorable little guy like he was your own—kneeling down to his level and asking how school went or what dinosaur was his favorite this week.

There were crayons you kept in your desk, just in case, so little Jack could help you “solve” cases.

And god, did he notice. Hotch recognized how you smiled at his son—not out of politeness or obligation. But pure adoration. Hotch had already lost so much and didn’t think he could find anything other than his son that made him want to get up in the morning.

But then you walked in. All bright-eyed and so full of knowledge that on good days, you could challenge Reid. He remembers the first case you joined the team on, not too long after you arrived. All of you were on the plane heading to the destination to speak with local law enforcement. Quickly, you had become friendly with everyone, which led to a majority of the ten-hour flight consisting of you and Reid going back and forth offering your own theories while Morgan chuckled and JJ butted in now and then.

Hotch observed you becoming friends with everyone in five seconds flat. Your ability to get people to trust you was an asset that was extremely valuable to the team. You charmed local police before you even had to flash your badge. You could calm families and soothe their pain. Even with suspects, you could get them to reveal things that others couldn’t. And from then, he knew you were gonna be trouble.

Not in a terrible sense. Not in the romantic sense either. At least not then. It’s just—everything you did, everything you said, and how you offered your opinions at the case briefings. How you’d raise your hand, trying to beat Reid to the punch for once. And for the first time in years, he found himself thinking about someone.

Not Jack. Not Haley. Not his guilt. Or case briefings. None of that. All his thoughts began to make space for you. And that only emboldened him when he saw you interact with his son for the first time.

Now, with you standing in front of him looking shy and sweet, unable to meet his gaze, he couldn’t help but think about how soft your lips must be. Hotch wanted to hold you and never let go. But because of your work, being in danger almost every day, it made him hold back. Afraid that the moment he opens up, everything will be taken away from him again.

"Is that all you brought me up here for? Or is there another file hidden somewhere?" you teased.

Hotch shook his head as you pressed the empty wrapper in your hands. "No, that's all. Just the candy."

You raised an eyebrow again, more intrigued than annoyed. "Really? That’s it? I walked all the way over here for candy?"

You could see how he stiffened at your words. Like he hadn’t expected you to call him out on it. But now it was out in the open, and he knew you wouldn’t let it go.

"Maybe... maybe I just didn’t want you to be alone down there. And I didn’t want to be alone up here," he murmured, low enough that you thought you’d misheard.

Fuck.

Now that got you. His sincerity. The way his eyes softened just enough to look like he was pleading with you to stay. Aaron Hotchner is begging....of all people, you never thought he would be the one to do something like this. And it fucking wrecks you to see him willingly open himself up to you.

"Hotch—"

"Aaron," he said, cutting you off.

Your breath hitched. Not in surprise. But by the weight of him. How he cut you off—not in a rude way—but in that deliberate, intimate way that left no room for misunderstanding.

Aaron.

A simple request that left you breathless.

"Aaron," you repeated back, drawing out each syllable.

His eyes fluttered close, relishing how your voice sounded when you spoke his name. It sounded soft, said with care. It felt like a soft pillow when he finally rested his head for the night. Or the feeling of when the plane's wheels finally hit the tarmac and he can finally let out that sigh of relief he's holding.

And the way his heart warmed every time he saw you walk in for work, the faint scent of your perfume he swore somehow reached him from all the way downstairs.

Without thinking, he steps forward again and absent-mindedly tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear. Aaron is even closer now. So close that if you shifted just enough, you could kiss him. Any prose of professionalism has fled. A kiss, his lips—it's all you wanted. It's all he wanted.

His hands moved down to cup your face, thumb brushing your jaw. You couldn't help it. You let out a sigh. One that explained all the late nights spent here and days pining over him, afraid that Aaron wouldn't ever feel the same way. But the look in his eyes tells you one thing.

He wants you just as bad as you want him.

"Every day since you started working here, you brought life to the BAU. And not only the BAU but also to me. The way your mind works, how you give your own opinions at case briefings, how you can stand toe to toe with an unsub double your size, it feels like you are rewriting everything I knew about this job. About myself."

He pauses, looking at you like he dares you to doubt his words out loud.

"I was so afraid to let myself be. You know how this job has taken so much from me. And then meeting you, someone unexpected, and how you barrled your way into my heart no matter how hard I tried to stop it."

Aaron looks to the ground, taking one deep breath before locking his gaze back to yours.

"Now, I can't fight it. I don't want to fight it anymore. But this wouldn't be just a one-time thing for me. I want it to be real with you."

You stood there listening to his confession. This one doesn't fill you with dread like the usual ones from the unsubs you interrogate. This one fills you with immense happiness. Aaron doesn't see you as a subordinate. He sees you as his equal. Someone he knows could match his energy. His intensity.

Your mind went blank. The only thought that was left was to kiss him. And you did. When you placed your lips against his, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. Aaron groaned, not wanting to hide how much you affected him. Your eyes, your hair, your perfume, your outfits—everything about you was like his drug. One he would gladly submit himself to.

He spun you around, backing you up against his desk before he swiped all the papers off. Folders, pens, and his mug were sent flying to the floor. You looked to him, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Aaron Hotchner, you just made a mess!" you gasped, in mock horror.

That made his grin impossibly bigger. He leaned in, his breath fanning your ear, making you shiver.

"I don't give a damn about that. All I care about right now—all I want is to bury my face between your thighs. I want to hear you moan my name."

That made you falter and your legs weaken. The tone of his voice, the almost growl—it made the already wet mess between your legs even worse. He smirked again at your reaction before picking you up like you weighed nothing and placing you on top of his desk. Aaron got down on his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs—looking up at you like you are worthy of worship. That he would gladly stay face buried until you agreed.

He placed light kisses, trailing up your thigh, making you throw your head back—letting out a whimper. Amid your muddled brain, you could hear him chuckle at your neediness. But you didn't care. You needed him to eat you out so badly you felt you might combust if he didn't.

Aaron's hands trailed up further and further before his fingers finally found the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, eyes wide with permission. Letting you know you were in control. You gave him a nod as he started to torturously slide them down your legs and threw them haphazardly to the side.

You could feel him teasing, sliding a finger up and down your pussy. He was going to leave you a moaning mess before he even really started. Your hips bucked when he slid one in, realizing his fingers were thicker than you thought.

"Aaron, please..." you begged, voice cracking with need.

"Say that again. Say my name."

"Aaron..." you whispered.

When you said his name, he finally brought his head between your thighs, delving his tongue inside your wet cunt. When Aaron started to circle his tongue, you saw stars. It appears he isn't as rigid as he seems.

The way he laps up every drop of your arousal is filthy. Like he's starving, like you're the only one he's craving. The only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue flicks against your clit—relentless as your legs start to shake from the overwhelming pressure building deep inside you.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but when you glance down—there he was, dark eyes locked onto yours like he's daring you to look away. Every swirl of his tongue, every flick says he knows exactly what he's doing. And fuck, it's working.

"Fuck—Aaron—i—I'm close."

He only groans in response, quickening his pace—bobbing his head up and down like a man desperate, like a man possessed. Like he's determined to draw out every moan that you could meekly let out.

Your body was shaking, feeling delirious like your nerves were short-circuiting. You tried to close your legs around his head, but his grip was like iron—keeping them spread open as you helplessly gripped the desk, trying to tether yourself to earth.

"Cum for me, baby. Please, I want to feel it on my tongue."

His words bring you to fucking edge. Your orgasm rips through you like a whip cracking in the air. Sharp, sudden, and blinding. Your entire body locks up—your hands flying to his hair, gripping it for dear life as your body trembled against him.

"Aaron," you whimper, voice wrecked.

He finally pulls back, face soaked in you, lips glistening, and he's fucking smiling. A crooked, smug as hell smile.

"You make the prettiest sounds when you are falling apart," he says. "But we're not even close to being done."

Your brain is still fogged from the orgasm, but your body reacts instantly as he stands and presses his hard cock against your thigh. You can feel him and fuck, it already was amazing.

"You think I'm going to be gentle now?" he mutters, undoing his belt, the metal buckle clinking like a warning. "I'm going to ruin your pussy."

And god you wanted it. For as long as you both could take it. Until the only word you knew and remembered was Aaron.

[hoe4hotchner]

I have an idea for a Hotch story. What about its Hotch x wife!reader where jack is about 6 months old but she’s still constantly checking his breathing at naps and bedtime and waking up all the time she check him and is super conscious. Hotch thought at first it’s just a new mom thing but now you’re losing sleep and worried all the time so he brings it up one night and she just breaks down and says “I never know if you’re coming home to me so I need to make sure jack is ok so I always have a piece of you with me”

Safe and Sound | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x wife!Reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Could probably be qualified as post partum, anxiety, lack of sleep.

A/N: I tried my hardest to write this with Jack as the baby, but ultimately I had to make it into a new baby unrelated to Jack, cause my brain couldn't wrap around reader having given birth to Jack. Otherwise it follows the prompt…. Hope it's okay <3

The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the nursery in a warm amber hue as you hovered over the crib. The rhythmic sound of the baby monitor buzzed faintly in the background, but it wasn’t enough to ease your mind. Your hand rested lightly on your son’s tiny chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall from his breathing. Six months in, and every nap, every bedtime, still filled you with a quiet kind of dread.

What if the monitor failed? What if something happened while you weren’t watching? The what-ifs buzzed louder than the monitor, it was a relentless echo that kept you tethered to the edge of fear no matter how safe or serene he looked in his sleep.

The creak of the nursery door broke your focus, pulling your gaze away from your son’s chest. Aaron’s silhouette filled the doorway, his broad shoulders casting a shadow into the softly lit room. He was only wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of boxers, the casualness of his attire contrasting with his usual suit and tie. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, and his dark eyes softened as they took you in, concern etching faint lines across his face. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, not in irritation but in worry.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, careful not to wake the baby. “You need to sleep.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered back, brushing your fingertips over your son’s soft, silky hair. You lingered, reluctant to leave. “I just needed to check.”

Aaron stepped into the room, his feet silent against the carpet. “You’ve checked three times in the past hour,” he said gently, his hand finding the small of your back. “Come back to bed.”

You sighed, looking down at your baby boy one last time before letting Aaron guide you out of the nursery. The two of you walked in silence to your bedroom, his hand never leaving you as if to anchor you to him so you wouldn't run back to the nursery. When you climbed into bed, Aaron slid in beside you, propping himself up on one elbow to face you.

“This isn’t just a new mom thing, is it?” he asked, his voice low and careful, treading lightly as he spoke. “You’ve barely been sleeping. You’re running yourself into the ground.”

You froze, staring at the ceiling as tears burned behind your eyes. He was right — he always was. But admitting it felt like opening a floodgate you weren’t sure you could close.

“I just…” Your voice cracked, and Aaron shifted closer. “I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“He is okay,” Aaron said, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “He’s perfect. And you’re an amazing mom.”

The dam broke. The tears spilled over as a sob escaped your lips. “I never know if you’re coming home to me,” you choked out, your hands gripping his t-shirt as though he might disappear. “So I need to make sure the baby is okay. I need to know I’ll always have a piece of you with me.”

Aaron’s breath hitched, his face falling as your words sank in. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he kissed the top of your head. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m so sorry you feel like that.”

You clung to him, his steady heartbeat soothing some of the ache in your chest. “I can’t lose you, Aaron. Or him. I wouldn’t survive it.”

“You won’t lose us,” he promised, his lips brushing your temple. “I’ll do everything I can to come home to you, every time. And I’ll make sure you’re never carrying this alone.”

For a long time, he just held you. As your sobs quieted, he eased you back down onto the pillows, still holding your hand.

“Tomorrow, we’ll figure this out,” Aaron said softly. “We’ll talk to someone and find ways to help you rest. But tonight, let me watch over him so you can sleep. Okay?”

You nodded, your exhaustion finally catching up to you as his words and touch began to pull you under. “Okay,” you whispered.

And as you drifted off in Aaron’s arms, for the first time in months, you felt the weight begin to lift — getting help was not such a bad idea after all.