─── a reader who enjoys solitude and to read & daydream about aaron hotchner all day ♡ she/her | eighteen plus.
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most reblogs of aaron hotchner & thomas gibson's content and fanfictions, and occasional reblogs of sherlock holmes (bbc), stephen strange, benedict cumberbatch, quotes, and memes.
➥ winsteria's post
fanfiction recommendations | bbc sherlock and doctor strange
when I was a kid my parents dressed me up as a skunk because they couldn’t find a panda costume,, but they told me I was a panda😭 I feel like that’d be so funny with Ellie or Jack
omg how hilarious and adorable 😭😭😭
i feel like this is suchh an ellie thing!!! for months it was all she talked about - wanting to be a panda for halloween. and once spooky season arrived, both you and aaron are scouring all stores, amazon, attempting to find that panda costume for her 🥺
but as halloween nears closer, there's still no luck. you've also warned ellie; being honest with her that this is a hard costume to find, so maybeee think of another thing to be? but nope - her mind is made up. so one night as you and aaron are laying in bed - you're reading, he's on his laptop, just winding down from the day - he nudges you with an elbow, gaining your attention, and asks, "how about this?"
you peer at his screen, and once you see it's a skunk rather than a panda, you give him a look. like c'mon and aaron insists: ellie's not going to notice a difference. plus at this point, it's your best bet 😭
and she doesn't realize its a skunk at all 😭 but omg ellie is more than thrilled when you show her the costume, and insists its immediately put on 😭 you and aaron meet each other's eyes and both sigh in relief LOL
but jack 🤭😭 obviously he knows the difference between a panda and a skunk. his face fills up with utter confusion when he sees ellie running around the house as a skunk, claiming she's a 'panda', and opens his mouth to speak up.
but aaron interrupts him and says something along the lines of, "isn't she such a cute panda, jack?" with a pleading expression, also telling within his tone of voice - please. luckily jack does pick up on the plea and therefore plays along, "oh yeah, a panda!" 😭😭🫶🏻💓
in addition, everyone is told that ellie. is. a. panda. you get together with all the other bau kids and families for trick or treat, a small lil halloween party, and they too are told in advance, and will treat ellie as the little adorable 'panda' she is 🫵🏻😭 LOL derek giving aaron shit for it too - he just thinks its the funniest thing EVER and aaron is just 🙄🤨 standing there with his arms crossed and again, insists it's not she knows.
ellie taking everythinggggg off her bed (everything besides the mattress 💀🤭 pillows, all her stuffed animals, blankets) and bringing it to your and aaron’s bed. the way she so proudly yet nonchalantly walks into your room 😭
the look you and aaron share 😭 — it’s gonna be one long night.
Summary: you decide to hide Aaron's ties. He goes to work without one. Chaos ensues.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
“Would you look at that?” Emily gaped. Penelope stared, “Oh my hotchness,”
By the threshold, their Section Chief, Aaron Hotchner, was talking to one of their support agents. However, what caught their eye was his outfit. His suit jacket foregone, shirt sleeves rolled up, and those toned rippling muscles but the cherry on top?
No tie.
“Okay, one question and one answer,” he addressed the team that gathered at the bullpen. Morgan immediately countered. “We only need one anyway,”
“Where’s your tie?” Penelope asked away. Their curiosity bursting through the seams the moment he comes through without one, “It’s not that we don’t like the new look it’s just…”
“You don’t go to work without one,” Reid finished.
His team impatiently waited for an answer as he smirked then softly laughed at what just transpired this morning.
“My girlfriend decided to hide them,” he honestly answered, as the girls squealed, “I attempted to coax its’ location out of her, but she didn’t yield despite my best efforts so I’ve no tie today it seems,”
Was that an innuendo? Or did he simply try to talk to you to get his ties back?
His message went through the ladies as their cheeks burned at the thought of your morning shenanigans. On the other hand, the innuendo made Rossi and Morgan smile but went straight through Reid’s head.
“Okay, back to work, guys,”
“I’m liking his new girlfriend,” JJ said, as they walked away from the bullpen, “Those dimples are showing,”
You’re freaking talented I love all your work! Congrats on getting the job!!!
how do we feel about lil Ellie sneaking notes and cute things for Aaron when he goes away for cases since she’s gonna miss him sooooo much? Maybe something like, “I miss you daddy, come home safe!”
just imagine Hotch is looking through his go bag and sees a note from Ellie and a drawing and he’s like 🥹 he’d be so touched
And reader realizes that’s why Ellie’s spending so much time with Aaron’s bag
also can I be 🍳 anon??
thank you so much my love!!!!! of course you can! and omg you got me sobbing 😭
little notes and little surprises 🥺😭😭😭💞💓 it starts out with scribbly nonsense when ellie doesn't know how to write. it's like that beginning stage before school for her has started. you and aaron have introduced the concept to her: how to hold a pencil, she knows the alphabet by now, you're slowing teaching her how to write the letters, starting with her name. so for a while, the notes are drawings/coloring pages with her name scrawled across the top 😭 since that's all she knows how to do 😭 (ps ellie IS a leftie like aaron)
when she actually learns to write more thoroughly, is when he gets the "i miss you!!" and "come back safe!!" and "i love you!!" 😭😭😭😭 every so often too - ellie tucks one of her stuffed animals in his bag 😭 to keep him company 🥺 hehe aaron zips open up his bag to find her favorite stuffed bunny (the one grandpa dave gave her when she was born) he's a bit shocked because that's one of her main comfort items. she doesn't go anywhere without it, won't sleep without it, and yet she packed it away for him 🥺 and it 100% stays on his bed, he'll sleep with it 😭 (omg and on the jet ride home - he takes a pic of the bunny sitting on the jet to send to you, so you can show her 😭💓🥰🫶🏻)
but the first time aaron found one of ellie's surprises 😭 he nearly cried (let's be real he cried. a few tears slipped down his cheeks🥲) hehe his heart just felt like it could burst and he got sooo emotional over it 😭 it was during a difficult case too, one where he just wishes at home with the three of you. but now!! he has a piece of home with him 🥹 it reenergizes him and it helps him power through the rest of the case <333
but, at first he thinks this was something you came up with. hehe he comments on it when he gets home, thanking you and saying how it was really sweet🥹, and you're just ? 'what are you talking about? i didn't tell her to do anything.' so the realization hits, that ellie did this. ALL by herself 😭😭😭😭😭😭 aaron's melting all over again, and he's finding her immediately again to give her the biggest tightest hug ever 😭💞💞💕💓
Quick Summary: Your relationship with Stephen Strange has been strained to the breaking point by his constant absences and mystical duties. Despite Stephen's attempts to mend your fractured bond, you decide to seek a more permanent solution.
A/N: Lisssteeen, this is not proof read lol. I haven't written in a while, I am feeling rusty so please be forgiving hehe. Every nice interactions are most valued <3
Stephen had been gone for a month for the third time, with no word, no warnings. You had spent countless nights worrying, wondering if he was safe, if he would ever return. And now, as the sparkle of the portal opened and caught your attention, Stephen stepped out, looking weary and worn from his latest mission.
You were waiting for him in the living room, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration, yet your expressions show otherwise. You had been rehearsing what you would say, but now that he was here, the words felt heavy on your tongue.
“You're back. Where in the seven hells have you been this time?” You began, your voice firm but calm, you had that motherly tone when a teen returns home from sneaking out.
“Seven hells pretty much sums it up… can we do this later? I just got back,” Stephen chuckled, rubbing his temples, the tone of your voice grating and adding up to his headache, “I’m exhausted.”
“No, I think we should address this, now,” You insisted, pointing to the ground for emphasis.
Stephen sighed, sensing the confrontation he so wanted to avoid. “Alright, I’m listening.”
You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Stephen, you’ve been gone for a month. No warnings, no pass the message from Wong. . . What is going on?”
“Y/N, you know what my responsibilities are. The world needs me. I can’t just ignore that,” Stephen said defensively.
“A heads up would be nice. Like how you were before. It feels like I’m nothing more than a distraction to you,” You shot back, your eyes narrowing.
Stephen’s expression hardened with irritation. “You knew what you were getting into from the start. My work–my duty is important. Do I need to explain myself every single time?”
“Why are you so defensive? Is it wrong of me to at least know where you are? So I don't worry all the time? At least still show me that I matter to you. Right now, it feels like you and your missions are all that matter,” you replied, rolling your eyes.
“This is ridiculous, Y/N. Clea and I are working to protect this world. It’s not like I’m off on a vacation. I’m trying to keep everyone safe, including you.”
It was impossible to overlook the single name that slipped from Stephen's lips. The air seemed to thicken even more with tension. Your face transformed dramatically; what had been a mask of frustration quickly crumbled, replaced by a deep, probing suspicion. Your eyes narrowed, searching Stephen's face for any hint of deceit, and your heart pounded in your chest, echoing the name that now hung heavily between you.
“Who’s Clea?” you asked, making sure to stress the name you didn't want to say, your voice tinged of disdain.
“Fuck,” Stephen muttered under his breath. A wave of regret washed over him as he realized he should have told you who he was teaming up with sooner. He wondered why he had left out such an important detail, knowing it would have made a difference in your reaction. . . or make it worse?
“Clea is from the dark dimension, I have caused an incursion in reality and I had to go with her and fix it, okay?” Stephen explained it for what it is. . . to him at least.
“So, you were with her every time you vanished without a trace?” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm and a barely concealed resentment that felt like a knife twist in your chest.
“Like I said, I had to fix the incursion I caused,” he responded, his tone distant, as if the gravity of his words could shield him from the emotional storm brewing between you.
You stared at him, not caring what he even meant by 'incursion'. Your mind was a whirlwind, fixated on the crushing weight of this new revelation, which felt like an earthquake shattering the foundation of everything you thought you knew.
The man who once made you feel safe and cherished now stood before you, a stranger entwined in secrets and sacrifices you couldn't begin to fathom.
Stephen ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “I don’t have time for this. If you can’t understand that my work is important, then maybe we do need to rethink this relationship.”
You were stunned into silence for a moment, the weight of his words hitting you like a physical blow. Your throat stings badly as you fight to prevent any tears from falling. “So, that’s it? You’re willing to throw everything away because I worry about you?”
“I’m not throwing anything away, Y/N. All I do is try to save the world. If you can’t see that, then maybe we need to reconsider,” Stephen replied coldly.
“Okay. . .so you find a new partner in crime and the first thing you could think of is to ‘reconsider’,” You nodded, a little laugh might've escaped from you and it triggered something in Stephen.
“Do you hear yourself? You’re acting like I’m choosing Clea over you. This isn’t some petty love triangle, Y/N. This is about life and death, about the safety of the entire world!” Stephen’s voice was now raised.
“Oh my god! Enough about saving the world already! You belong to the world! Alright, I get it! But don't expect me to be nonchalant when you've spent your time ‘saving the world’ with her. Meanwhile I rot in my apartment worried sick if you're even still alive because I only want to belong to you.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air, firmly jabbing his chest with your finger
Stephen clenched his fist tightly, the knuckles turning white, as he took a deliberate step closer. His presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that seemed to amplify the tension in the air, “You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t miss you? I have responsibilities that go beyond us—"
“If you're thinking I am asking you to abandon your responsibilities, I am not. I didn’t think you’d understand me.” You replied, striving to maintain your composure under his unwavering presence and the intense gaze fixated on your face.
Stephen shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I never hid what my life was about, but you knew what signed up for when you said yes to me.”
“I did but I didn't sign up to be treated like an afterthought,” Y/N said, your voice softening slightly but still firm.
Stephen sighed and was silent for a moment, “So, what then? What do you want me to do? It is so hard to find balance with all this shit happening around us.”
“I don't know. . . whatever I may want, it'll be impossible for you to do,” You said, your voice resigned as you crossed your arms, a gesture of both self-protection and defiance.
Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s your solution? To just walk away?”
“That was your suggestion first, wasn't it?” You responded, a low, mirthless chuckle escaping your lips.
Stephen looked down, his silence speaking volumes. The decision crystallized in your mind. You turned away, grabbed your keys from the table, and headed toward the door, needing to cool off and get your head straight. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the Sanctum, a final punctuation to your heated exchange.
× × × × ×
You gripped the steering wheel tightly as you drove through the darkened streets of New York City. The familiar hum of the engine and the blur of passing lights did little to calm your racing heart. Your eyes were red from preventing a single tear to shed, but the tears came after being alone, blurring your vision and forcing you to blink them away repeatedly.
Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion, and a deep, aching sense of betrayal. The argument with Stephen played on a relentless loop in your head, each word echoing with painful clarity.
"Maybe we do need to rethink this relationship."
"Maybe we shouldn’t be together."
You shook your head, trying to dispel the hurtful words, but they clung to you like a stubborn shadow. How did it come to this? How did your love, once so vibrant and full of promise, deteriorated into something so cold and distant?
Your thoughts drifted to the early days of your relationship. The way Stephen's eyes would light up when he saw you, the warmth of his touch, the way both of you would laugh and talk for hours about everything and nothing. You remembered the adventures you shared, the quiet moments of intimacy, and the feeling of safety and love that enveloped you whenever you were with him.
But those memories felt like they belonged to another life, another couple. Now, Stephen was always preoccupied, always focused on his missions with Clea. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being an afterthought, a secondary priority in his life. The loneliness you felt was suffocating, and tonight’s argument had only confirmed your deepest fears.
You pulled over to a quiet spot by the Hudson River, the soft glow of the city lights reflecting off the water. You turned off the engine and sat there in silence, the sound of your own breathing loud in the stillness of the night.
You leaned your head back against the seat and closed your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the sense of impending loss almost too much to bear. You loved Stephen with all your heart, but you couldn’t keep living like this—constantly feeling like you were competing for his attention, always coming second to his duties as a sorcerer.
A part of you understood the importance of Stephen's work. You admired his dedication, his unwavering commitment to protecting the world from mystical threats. But at the same time, you couldn’t ignore your own needs, your own desire for a partner who was present, who made you feel valued and loved.
The idea asking Wong to use the Runes of Kof-Kol had come to you in a moment of clarity during your drive. It was a drastic measure, but it felt like the only way to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak of this deteriorating relationship. If you both forgot each other, if you became strangers once more, maybe then you could find peace.
You opened your eyes and gazed out at the river, the dark waters flowing steadily under the moonlit sky. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you as you made your decision. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would hurt like hell, but it was the only way you could move forward without the constant pain of their fractured love.
As you started the car and drove back towards the Sanctum, you knew what you had to do, and you hoped that in forgetting, you could both find a way to heal. The city lights blurred once more as fresh tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of acceptance. You were ready to let go, ready to find yourself again, even if it meant losing the man you had loved with all your heart.
× × × ×
After driving aimlessly for hours, you finally pull up in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The building looms before you, its ancient architecture shrouded in an almost foreboding silence. You sit in the car for a few moments, gathering your strength, knowing the decision you have made is final. The city is quieter now, the hustle and bustle having died down to a gentle hum in the background.
You take a deep breath and step out of the car, your legs feeling like lead. You walk up to the front door and pause for a moment, your hand resting on the cold brass handle. Memories of happier times flash before your eyes—moments of laughter, love, and a bond that once felt unbreakable. But those memories are now overshadowed by the reality of your fractured relationship.
Pushing the door open, you step inside. The familiar scent of incense and ancient books fills your nostrils, but instead of comfort, it brings a pang of sadness. The Sanctum feels emptier than ever, a reflection of the void that has grown between you and Stephen.
As you walk into the living room, you see Stephen sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as you enter, his eyes filled with the weariness which mirrors your own.
“Y/N, you're back,” Stephen says softly, standing up. “I was worried about you.”
You nod, your face devoid of emotion. “I needed some time to think.”
Stephen takes a few careful steps, “I know I haven’t been around much. And I know tonight's argument was... I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry for that.”
You feel a flicker of acknowledgment at his words, you look into his eyes, the eyes you once found so much solace in, and feel a deep sense of finality, “I need to see Wong,” you say, your voice steady and cold, “Is he here?”
Stephen steps closer, his gaze searching your face for any hint of what you might be feeling. “Are you okay now? About earlier. . .”
“I'm fine, Stephen. Really,” you say with a forced smile. “I just need to speak to Wong.”
“Wong? Sure, I'll summon him for you.” Stephen's eyes narrow slightly, sensing something is off. He didn’t think he’d get out of trouble that easily.
A few moments later, Wong enters the room, his expression pondering about what you might need him for. “Y/N, Stephen said you wanted to speak with me. What’s going on?”
You took a deep breath and glanced at Stephen who remained curious about why you needed Wong.
“Are we able to chat somewhere private?” You asked, your eyes flickering towards Stephen which Wong took notice of.
Wong turned his head towards Stephen and then you, “Of course. Follow me.” He headed towards the door to Kamar-Taj.
He led you to the empty library, ensuring no one else was around, and gestured for you to sit across the table from him.
“How can I help?” He asked.
“I hope this isn't too much to ask. . . but can you please cast the Runes of Kof-Kol on me?”
Wong's expression shifts to one of alarm. “The Runes of Kof-Kol? Those spells are dangerous, Y/N. What could possibly make you consider using them?”
You explained the situation, trying your best to keep your voice from breaking, “Stephen and I... we’re not working anymore. It’s too painful. I need to forget him. I want to move on quickly. I don't want to spend months wallowing in heartbreak.”
Wong listens quietly, his expression softening with understanding. “I see. But you know the risks, don’t you? The Runes of Kof-Kol only erases memories, not feelings.”
“I know,” you say firmly.
Wong nods slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “I understand your pain, Y/N. But this is a decision that cannot be undone. I urge you to think about it very carefully. Take some time to reflect on whether this is truly what you want.”
You shake your head, your decision unwavering. “I've already thought about it, Wong. I’ve thought about nothing else. This is what needs to be done.”
Wong sighs, his expression resigned yet compassionate. “Still, I urge you to give it a few more days. I suggest you stay here at Kamar-Taj. Meditate, reflect, and if you still feel the same, we will discuss it again.”
You nod slowly, appreciating his concern. “Alright. I’ll stay and think about it.”
× × × × ×
After you left the library, Wong stood silently, his thoughts troubled by your request. He knew the depth of the pain you were feeling, but the Runes of Kof-Kol were not to be taken lightly. As he pondered the situation, he sensed a presence lingering near the bookshelves. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of Stephen, partially hidden in the shadows, clearly eavesdropping.
“Strange,” Wong called out, his tone firm but not unkind. “You can come out. I know you've been listening.”
Stephen stepped out, a mixture of guilt and concern etched on his face. “I didn't mean to intrude. I just… needed to know what she was thinking.”
Wong crossed his arms, looking at Stephen with a mixture of disappointment and empathy. “You heard what she said. She's feeling hurt. . . more than I think you realize.”
Stephen sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know I've been neglecting her, but my responsibilities... the missions... They demand so much of me. I never wanted her to feel like this.”
Wong nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Your duties are important, Stephen. But so are your personal relationships. Y/N came to you because she believed in you, trusted you. But right now, she feels like she's lost in your shadow.”
Stephen's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a rare display of vulnerability. “I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose her, but I also can't abandon my duties.”
Wong walked over to Stephen, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The balance between your responsibilities and personal life is delicate, but not impossible to achieve. You need to make her feel valued and prioritize your time better. She asked about the Runes of Kof-Kol, so she's considering erasing her memories of you. Right now, though, she needs space to think.”
Stephen's breath hitched, the gravity of Wong's words hitting him hard. “She wants to forget me completely.”
Wong nodded solemnly. “She believes it's the only way to move on from the pain. I advised her to stay here for a few days, to meditate and reflect before making such a drastic decision.”
“I can't let her do this. I need to talk to her, to make her understand that I can change, that I can be better.” Stephen closed his eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He was about to walk away to find you but Wong stopped him.
“Right now, she needs time. Barging in and trying to convince her otherwise might only push her further away. Give her the space she asked for. If she decides to go through with it, we'll deal with it then. But for now, respect her wishes.” Wong shook his head gently.
Stephen glanced in your direction with a sigh, shrugged off Wong's hand, and returned to the New York Sanctum. That night, sleep eluded him despite his restless tossing and turning. No position felt comfortable, not when your scent lingered on his pillowcases.
Anxiety ate him up, twisting his stomach into knots as he replayed the argument repeatedly in his mind. Each harsh word and dismissive gesture haunted him, intensifying his regret.
He had always prided himself on his composure and control, but now he felt them slipping away. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“I should have been more understanding, I should have put myself in her shoes,” he thought, his mind consumed by remorse.
The thought of your hurt expression cut him deeply, more than any physical pain he had ever endured. He realized how much he valued your presence, your support, and the warmth you brought into his life. The fear of losing you was a constant ache, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.
He was ashamed of how he had dismissed your feelings, how he had let his pride overshadow the love and respect he had for you.
Desperation clawed at him as he searched for a way to make things right, to prove that he could be the partner you deserved. In the silence of the night, he vowed to himself that he would do better, that he would learn from his mistakes and show you how much you meant to him. That is if it’s not too late.
× × × × ×
Two days later, the peaceful atmosphere of Kamar-Taj had failed to ease the unrest in your heart. Despite your attempts at meditation and introspection, the serenity of the surroundings could not calm the storm of emotions within you. Your resolve remains the same. You knew what needed to be done, and it was time to inform Wong of your decision.
You found Wong in the courtyard, meticulously tending to a small garden. The scent of blooming flowers mixed with the crisp mountain air, creating a serene environment that contrasted sharply with your inner conflict.
“Wong,” you called softly, approaching him.
Wong looked up from his work, his expression calm but observant. “Y/N, have you made your decision?”
You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I have. I still want to use the Runes of Kof-Kol.”
Wong sighed, setting aside his tools. “I was hoping you might reconsider, but I respect your decision. . .” he trailed off, noticing Stephen walk towards you, “Give me a moment? I'll back.”
As Wong turned to leave, Stephen entered the courtyard with his presence of authority. He had been waiting for this moment, fully aware that your decision was imminent.
With careful, deliberate steps, he approached you. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and each passing second felt like an eternity as he stood there gathering the right words to say.
“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice calm but carrying a hint of vulnerability, his eyes intensely scanning your face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Is this truly what you want?”
You jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance behind you. “Stephen,” you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to—I just wanted to apologize... that it has led to this. I was wrong…” Stephen began, but his voice seemed to fade into the background as you stared at his face intently, trying to memorize every detail.
As Stephen spoke, the reality of the moment hit you hard. You felt an overwhelming need to imprint his features in your memory: the way his brow furrowed with concern, the earnestness in his eyes, and the subtle lines that hinted at the weight he carried.
Time seemed to slow down, and every second stretched into an eternity. You noticed the slight quiver of his lips, the way his hair framed his face, and even the small scar on his cheek that you had always found endearing.
Your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you saw him like this, so close and vulnerable. Each detail became precious, a fragment of a moment you desperately wanted to hold onto.
The intensity of your emotions made it hard to breathe, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Even though Stephen's voice was a distant echo, the look in his eyes told you everything—you were both struggling with the same pain, the pain of letting this story die.
“. . . I love you, Y/N—but if this will save you from the hurt I’ve caused you then so be it. I will cast the spell on you.”
You were taken aback, surprise flickering across your face. “You would do that?”
Stephen stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Yes. If this is what it takes for you to find peace, then I’ll do it.”
Stephen leads you back in the New York Sanctum, heading towards the ritual chamber in the Undercroft. Each step you took echoed with the weight of what was about to happen. Stephen’s mind was a whirlwind of memories and emotions.
He glanced at you walking beside him, your face a mask of calm determination. Opposite to the storm he knew must be raging inside you. He wished he could reach out, take your hand, and pull you back from the edge of this irreversible decision. But he knew he had no right to, not after everything.
As you descended the final set of steps into the Undercroft, Stephen’s heart ached with regret. He had always prided himself on his ability to solve problems, to find solutions where others saw only obstacles. But here, in this most personal of battles, he had failed. He had failed to protect what mattered most.
Every step felt heavier than the last. Stephen’s mind raced with unspoken words, a torrent of emotions he struggled to contain.
He remembered the early days of your relationship, the way your laughter had filled the Sanctum with warmth, the quiet moments of understanding, and shared dreams. Those memories now felt like shards of glass, cutting into him with each step he took.
He glanced at you again, your determined stride a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was for every time he had put his duties before you, for every missed moment, every broken promise. But he knew that words would not change the course you had set for yourself. Actions had spoken louder, and they had driven you to this point.
You reached the entrance to the ritual chamber, Stephen paused, taking a deep breath. The room beyond was prepared, the symbols drawn, the components ready. It was a place of power, of ancient magic, but today it felt like a tomb for the love you had shared.
“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice soft but heavy with regret. “I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could turn back time and make different choices, I would. But I respect your decision. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”
You looked at him with eyes glistening of unshed tears, “Thank you, Stephen. . . I hope you find happiness, I really do.”
With that, you stepped into the center of the circle, and Stephen moved to the edge, his heart pounding in his chest. He began to chant the incantation, his voice strong and unwavering despite the storm of emotions inside him. The symbols around you began to glow, the magic swirling in the air like a tangible presence. You felt a strange sensation, a mix of warmth and cold as the spell took hold.
As Stephen chanted, your mind drifted to the memories you were about to lose. The first time you met flashed vividly in your mind—the way Stephen had looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. You remembered feeling an instant connection, a spark that ignited something deep within you. You had been fascinated by his intellect, his confidence, and the way he carried himself with such purpose.
The mornings you woke up wrapped in each other’s arms, sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your intertwined bodies. The way he would brush a strand of hair from your face and kiss your forehead, making you feel like the most cherished person in the world. You remembered the laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the sound of his voice when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.
As the incantation reached its peak, a bright light enveloped you, and you felt a sudden rush of memories and emotions being pulled away. The love, the pain, the shared moments—all of it faded into a distant, forgotten dream. Your vision blurred, the light intensifying until it was all-consuming.
Then, everything went dark. You felt your knees give way, the world tilting as you lost consciousness. The last thing you heard was Stephen’s voice, calling your name out of concern as you slipped into oblivion.
When you finally stirred, you found yourself lying on the familiar softness of your own bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar hum of the city outside your window grounded you, your arms reaching on the other side of the bed and it was empty. You shook it off, chuckling to yourself.
You sat up slowly, looking around your apartment. Everything was in its place—the books on the shelf, the photos on the wall—now mostly of you by yourself, the cozy blanket draped over the armchair. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet you feel disorientated.
You made yourself a cup of tea, the warm liquid offering a small comfort. As you sipped it, you stared out of the window at the bustling city below. The people, the cars, the rhythm of daily life—it all seemed so normal, so unremarkable. Yet, there was an inexplicable void within you, a sadness that lingered just beneath the surface but you try not to dwell on it.
Days turned into weeks, and while the feeling of emptiness persisted, you found ways to move on. You immersed yourself in work, reconnected with old friends, and took up new hobbies. Slowly, you began to carve out a new life for yourself, one that was no longer defined by the shadows of forgotten memories.
× × × × ×
Stephen sat alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum's library, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the ancient tomes that lined the walls. The room, once a place of solace and knowledge, now felt suffocatingly empty. He absentmindedly traced the spine of a book he had read countless times, but the words blurred together, unable to hold his attention. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of you.
He stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the city. The lights twinkled in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness he felt inside. He remembered how you used to stand there with him, your hand in his, both of you silently watching the world below. Those moments had been a rare reprieve from his responsibilities, a time when he could just be Stephen, not the Master of the New York Sanctum.
The silence of the Sanctum was interrupted only by the distant hum of the city's nightlife, but it felt louder than ever. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with memories of you—the laughter you shared, the quiet conversations late into the night, the way you used to tease him about his incessant need to organize his magical artifacts. Now, those echoes were all he had left, but he guesses that he at least deserved to go through this heartbreak alone.
Wong quietly stood with him, the silence heavy between them. After a moment, he cleared his throat, “Keeping yourself busy?”
Stephen nodded, his response short and clipped. “Yep.”
“She did brighten up the place, didn't she?” Wong glanced around the room, taking in the emptiness that seemed more pronounced now.
Stephen's eyes followed Wong's gaze, a hint of a sad smile touching his lips. “Yep.”
Wong shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Stephen with curiosity and concern. "So, what's next for you?"
Stephen sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he contemplated the question. The thought of waiting was both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what he had lost and what he still yearned for.
“I don't know... Wait for her, I guess. Wait until our paths cross again, wait until she loves me again.”
THE ANGST 😭 another beautifully written fanfic that brought out many emotions within me. The song choice was perfect too because, I swear, I'm close to crying while I'm reading this 😭
He seriously need to get his act together if he don't want the woman he loves to be the one that got away :(( hoping for a part 2, this is so good!! 🙏
It has been a hell of a day. Early rise and a late start, with maybe 5 minutes worth of a lunch break in between few cigarettes stops. Getting on the jet felt like finally being able to breathe. The unsub was caught, the case cracked, justice served. That’s what you signed up for. As you open your backpack in your seat, you rummage around in the depths of your bag, a deep sense of guilt and disappointment hitting the pit of your stomach.
You pale, realising you’d left your one comfort item at home.
The whole team had one, Reid had his blanket, Morgan his headphones and JJ a book to read. Yours was rather particular and could not be replaced, your stuffed animal, but he was more than that. He is an Eeyore plushie that you’ve been inseparable with since the day you received him as a birthday gift. Over the years he’d been ripped and sewn up, every time you pretended to give him anaesthetic for his surgery. He’d been with you, through all the nights you couldn’t sleep, the nights you’d cried yourself to sleep. He’d even shared the bed with your ex boyfriends, much to their dismay.
You knew this journey home without Eeyore would be a sleepless one.
"Hi."
Hotch slips himself into the seat next to you. He notices her sitting curled up on the seat and he can't help but notice how miserable you look, curling herself into a ball to almost hide from something.
"Are you doing okay?"
He asks, keeping his voice low to not disturb the others. You whisper in response, just muttering something about being tired.
"You look it. This was a tiring case. You should get some sleep."
He looks across to the others playing cards. Reid was almost definitely cheating again he assumed, as Morgan stared across the table with eyes like daggers, Emily’s head rested on his shoulder as she laughed at the confrontation in front of her.
"They'll probably keep going for a couple more hours if you can ignore them."
You pout, Hotch would be a safe person to share this problem with. He has a child so he’s definitely seen similar conundrums, maybe Jack wasn’t as much as of a baby as you are at the grown age of 22.
“I- I can’t sleep. Not without my Eeyore.”
You mutter under your breath, praying Aaron hears it. Admitting the fact again would be too embarrassing to endure.
He chuckles lightly at her choice of sleep companion.
"And your Eeyore toy is at home?"
He looks down at you, lifting your chin up with his thumb so you look him in the eye. You nod shyly in response, slipping into a nonverbal headspace.
Aaron looks sympathetic as she nods with a frowny face, but he still can’t resist teasing you.
"Aww, you miss your stuffed animal."
He smirks, making a little teasing remark. He matches his facial expression with yours, both modelling pouty frowns. Staring into each other’s eyes, you’re not sure how you started this game of getting the other to break the act and laugh. But you were certainly losing. Your lips curl up into a smirk and you let out a soft breathy giggle, your smile growing when he smirks back.
"Lie down then, come on."
Hotchner pats his lap, offering for her to rest her head on it. He adjusts his position so he's sat more comfortably and begins to gently run his calloused fingers through her hair, gently stroking it.
“This should help you fall asleep, hm?"
You feel the breath you’ve been accidentally holding release, your shoulders fall and for the first time all day you feel calm. You practically purr under his touch, smiling up and nodding at him.
Hotch glances down fondly as his hand continues to gently run through her hair.
"Good."
He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper as to not disturb the other members of the team who are a few seats down.
"You are adorable, you know that?"
You feel your cheeks burn under your new found blush, rolling your head inwards to hide your face in his stomach. You squeal internally, realising you’re basically putty in his hands.
"Hey, what's wrong, hm?"
He questions, still keeping his voice gentle as he glances back down at her, his arms wrapped around her in a tight yet still comfortable hug.
“Nothing.. I- I miss Eeyore, but this is nice too.”
You manage to blurt out, half in nervousness and the other in honesty.
“When you get home, you can tell Eeyore all about how brave you were on your adventure without him. And you’re right, this is nice. Sweet girl, just needed to cuddle up and get a few head scratches. It’s cute you know? It’s precious. Having a comfort item, it doesn’t make you weak.”
Hotch speaks earnestly, running his fingers through your outgrown fridge and tucking the hair behind your ear.
"And I, I'll happily keep doing this as long as it keeps you sleepy. It's kind of cute how much of a baby you are and how easy it is to send you to sleep with a gentle head rub.“
Aaron’s voice sounded like silk, so soft and calming. It makes your eyelids feel heavier until they close. It can’t be that bad to take a nap on your bosses lap, can it?
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader.
summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless.
content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. it's confession time. no use of y/n.
word count: 2k+
a/n: you might hate or love me let's see which is it
Rossi doesn’t usually come to his apartment, especially with no warning on a Sunday, especially at 7AM, so when Hotch sees his less than pleased expression through the peep hole he knows it’s bad.
“A crying drunk mumbling fucking mess. Porca miseria!” Dave wastes no time, the words finally free after hours of keeping them in.
“Good morning to you too, Dave.”
“Don’t. You know what you did.” Yes, Hotch knew. But he definitely didn’t expect this as the consequence. Still, he couldn’t even feign ignorance.
“So, you took her ho—” Rossi’s eyes are piercing enough to interrupt him and force an exhale. “Thanks.”
He is truly grateful, he is not usually one to act out like a child, much less one to leave people he cares about behind like that. You brought up his best and his worst. Much of his strength and thinking power went towards controlling himself. The rest got messy.
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, I’ll apologize tomo—”
“Aaron!”
“I don’t know. I just don’t. And Beth will be over with coffee in a bit.”
Aaron watches his much too annoyed closest friend pour himself a sip of scotch, drinking it all in a mouthful.
“You are throwing away a second chance people don’t normally get. Do you even know why?”
Of course he knows why. There are many many whys.
Jack needed the stability only someone out of this godforsaken job could give, and he adored Beth.
Haley wasn’t an agent and he lost her, being with you was accepting the fact you could leave with him for a case and simply not come back. Essentially getting his son, his baby boy, a step mom that could be taken from him the same way as his mother.
Beth gave Jack a bigger chance of not losing again.
It gave him a bigger chance to rebuild his picket fence dream home.
It was logical. It was the right choice.
The feeling in the pit of his stomach and the bitter taste on his tongue shows disagreement with that every time he ponders though. And it’s hard to make the right choice when his body and soul begs him not to.
Before he can even muster enough will power to argument his way out, Dave comes at him with more questions to shake his belief system to the core. “Is this about Haley? About Jack? Or are you really just incapable of letting yourself be happy?”
Ouch.
Rossi doesn’t pull any punches, Aaron knows that, it’s why they get along well, no sugarcoating. Doesn’t make it less annoying to deal with it so early in the morning. Especially after the hell night he had trying to sleep and being plagued by thoughts and worries of you.
“If anything was to happen it would’ve happened before I met Beth.”
“How could it when you are both idiots?” Aaron simply sighs, not having a good enough rebuttal to that.
It was a true, he was an idiot, he could’ve gone after you when he got divorced, or after his grief got less painful. But back then he was angry, feeling abandoned by you when he would’ve never done the same to you.
He begged you to not forget him, to call him. He waited, he called. It was all fruitless as you made your decision to take him out of your life already.
Now it all seemed too complicated and to act on those feelings would complicate it even more.
Aaron is saved by the bell, if anyone could consider hearing the knock on his door he knew to be Beth’s, one of the reasons of his internal conflict, being saved.
At least Rossi leaves him alone for the time being, excusing himself as soon as the brunette enters the apartment with a quick peck to Aaron’s lips. Surely enough, Hotch has to tell her later that morning that no, Dave has nothing against her, he was just moody from being awake too early.
Luckily most of the day is spent around Jack and what the wanted to do, making it more about spending time with his boy than a date, so he doesn’t have to focus too hard on being a good partner and on not thinking about you. But it’s all he thinks about when Beth leaves at night and he realizes morning come he will have to see you.
Your eyes don’t meet his for even one second as Garcia presents the case and he knows it then how truly he fucked up. You aren’t angry. You look tired, not your face, not your eye bags. In fact you look as beautiful and put together as you always do, but in the glimpses he catches of your eyes as you talk to someone else, he sees it. And it breaks his heart. You are exhausted, not because of the job.
Because of him. And the worst thing is, he can’t even leave you alone, being the Unit Chief meant having to talk to his team, it meant to lead. He sighs to himself as everybody gets out of the briefing room and he wants to brush his fingers against yours lightly like old times and make you smile, but most of all Aaron just wants to tell you how sorry he is that this is happening again.
He can’t do that, knowing right now it would only make things worse, so he just gets up from his chair, grabs his go-bag from his office and follows the motion until everyone is in the jet. There he does his best to suppress what is going on his mind to focus on the case.
Galena is a beautiful small town, quite romantic even, too bad it is now suffering with the abduction of two children, the case and the BAU disturbing its peace.
And that disturbance goes well into the night, when no one is able to work anymore and Hotch has to call it a day, figuring out on the spot that Garcia had to book them in pairs, his key card the same number as yours.
Hotch can imagine Garcia had someone influence her on the chosen pairs, Rossi was practically glowing with childish glee as everyone got their cards.
Both you and him are too prideful and professional to make a scene asking to switch with someone. You were stuck with him until the case is resolved.
The two single beds as you enter the room are a relief, but the distance between them aren’t nearly enough in comparison to how faraway from him you wished to be.
“Just like the old days, huh?” He’s the first to speak, trying to break the tension as he spread the files of the case on the only desk available.
“Don’t do that,” you reply quickly, your tone as tired as your eyes have been since the first time he saw you today.
You drop your bag on the floor close to your bed, the loud noise startles Aaron, but you don’t care, body aching and ready for rest.
“That what?”
“Talking. Don’t talk to me,” you clarify. Another loud noise, your body dropping on the bed without ceremony. Eyes closed and focused on pretending he wasn’t there.
He stays quiet for awhile and you think he might respect your request, so you relax in the clean sheets welcoming the slumber.
Unfortunately for the two of you, now you are annoyed. So annoyed his shuffling around papers make your skin crawl.
Just like the old days.
The complete audacity to begin with that as if he didn’t abandon you drunk just two days before.
You sigh deeply, putting a pillow over your face to try and muffle his annoying overwhelming presence.
It doesn’t work.
“God, please, breathe louder, I don’t think Japan has heard you yet,” you shoot at him, immediately sitting up and catching him working the case files.
“You want me to stop breathing too, is that it?” He doesn’t look up from the papers, annoyed at the childish antics you’re pulling, which irritates you even more.
“If you could be so kind to, yes!” Your voice is pure sarcasm and venom, reminding him of just how stubborn and strong-willed you can be.
Just as he stops his writing, pen left to the desk, you get up in a hurry, attempting to go to the bathroom and ready to slam the door behind you. Hotch is quicker, getting up from his chair and grabbing your wrist to stop you from avoiding him even more.
It doesn’t hurt. His grip is gentle and you know you can easily get away from it. But you don’t.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” You nod at his apology, but he knows that won’t be all, so Aaron lets your wrist slip from his fingers and waits for the arguing he’s been avoiding to start.
One beat.
Two.
Three beats pass before your mouth moves in sync with your drowning mind, “what exactly are you sorry about?”
Right to the jugular from the start. He obviously instantly thinks of the easy answer: Everything. But that’s not the answer you’re looking for. Beyond that, he knows it would be unfair for both of you to gloss over the situation once again.
You know Aaron isn’t stalling but actually thinking by the way his index and thumb rub together, his lips tightly pursued. Your stomach feels like it’s twirling, nervousness making an appearance now that this was about to happen. The talk. The admissions.
Both of you are aware now shouldn’t be the time to talk it all over, there is a case to work, a hard day to rest from, but this is 10 years in the making. The flight response was already drained, only fight left.
“I’m sorry for overstepping and turning our friendship into something confusing and uncomfortable,” he says slowly but firmly, but even so Aaron regrets his choice of words, more regret when he catches you rolling your eyes.
“Confusing and uncomfortable, sure,” you reply with the same sarcasm you displayed earlier, your arms now crossed defensively over your chest, “I hope that’s not the best you’ve got.”
“I’m trying here and I would appreciate a little less sarcasm.” His eyes are as piercing as his tone, you scoff at the manifestation of frustration, as if he had grounds for that right now.
Your feet have a mind of their own and you start pacing around the room, “Hotchner, I changed my whole life around ten years ago for the sake of your comfort.” That wasn’t untrue, although it had a lot to do with your comfort as well, but he needed to be reminded of your sacrifices. “And the first opportunity you had to be a dick to me you not only took it but doubled down on it!”
Hotch knows you are speaking about the gala and before he can control his tongue like he would in a time like this, " I got jealous! It took over me.”
It’s good that he doesn’t expect that to stop you or take your breath away because if anything, you’re angrier now.
“You have a girlfriend! You have no right to be jealous of me! You were married, Hotch! And I never did something like that to you.”
“You left! I love you and you left,” he notices his mistake and quickly tries to recover, “I loved you. You’re back and I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.”
He sits at the edge of his chosen bed, elbows to his knees, hands to his face and you finally stop on your heels, not knowing how to react to the confession you both have been denying yourselves from speaking out loud.
You swallow dry, sitting on the edge of your bed, right in front of him.
“I loveーI loved you too.” Your hands find home on his knees and his drop to hold them.
“l don’t know what to do. I want to do the right thing.” He sounds pained and you have to fight that desperate lover girl in your mind begging you to tell him to choose you.
“I can’t help you with that,” it’s what you actually end up saying, “I’m sorry.”
pairing: hotch x bau!reader.
summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. or: fbi gala goes wrong.
content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. no use of y/n. wet dream with lots of smut on this one btw. i will never proof read anything.
word count: 2.3k
previously
Hotch is at your door once more, perfectly dressed in his matching black suit and tie, dress shirt impeccably white. It’s tailor fitted to his body as he had recently started to do to all of his suits. You told him once before that it makes him look more mature, but the compliment came with lust in your eyes, that’s all he remembers now whenever he’s wearing them, even if both of you chose to ignore it at the time.
His cheeks flush bright pink when you open the door and his eyes glance down on you, dark blue dress–almost black. It hugs your upper body tight, your cleavage is more exposed than what he has seen in years. You gnaw lightly on your bottom lip, trying to contain a chuckle, a laugh. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve seen him blush.
He can feel his cheeks betraying him, but his worries are somewhere else entirely, focusing on trying to clean his mind so the rest of his body wouldn’t fail him too, quite the complicated feat as he was reminded of the dream he had the night before, how sweaty he had woken up because of you.
The annoying squeaking of the bed should’ve been enough proof of the fact the sounds you two were making wouldn’t be concealed. It should be enough to get your senses back in line. It should be enough to remind you both where you were. In a hotel room, working on a case.
It wasn’t enough, not for Hotch, not when you surrendered so easily to his touch, not when your hair was glued to your forehead making you look like a goddess, one he was more than eager to adore.
He kissed some of your moans away, delighted to be the one causing them from how deep he was slamming his cock in your wet wet wet cunt. Wet for him. Clit throbbing under his thumb. Clenching around him enough to make him whimper in your ear.
His mind is too far gone, he doesn’t remember how it got to this point finally, but he’s too busy to care, his hands finally able to roam through your bare body with no inhibitions, griping hard on your flesh. There’s no place he would rather be, nothing else he would rather be doing. No one else he would rather have with him.
Chatter begins to fill the room, but he’s the only one to notice it, the female voices shifting his focus while yours was still on him, nails sinking down on his strong shoulders.
“At least you’re not married to him.” He knows this voice, last time he heard it was in video tapes, frames of happier times, Haley.
His body stiffs, you move against him, legs wrapped around his waist, hands grasping his ass and forcing him into you. He moans but looks around the room, trying to understand what’s happening.
Why is he hearing Haley’s voice?
“Still, right in front of me? Not a nice guy move.” And… Beth?
Beth. And Haley. Sitting on a couch? Observing you two fucking.
His head drops in your shoulder, realization running him over like a truck, “This is a fucking nightmare.”
He’s hard when he wakes up, wet with his precum, dizzy and in need of release, he jerks himself off to thoughts of you, even if guilt shreds him apart, the sweat gluing his hair on his forehead as he imagines your lips and your throat struggling to take him are stronger.
His plans for the night don’t change even then, it’s why he’s at your door.
It wasn’t a date after all. You were merely his plus one because your formal invitation got mixed up due to your transfer. It wasn’t a date. Sure, you could easily go as any of the others’ plus one, and sure Beth was in town and should’ve been his companion for the night.
But it wasn’t a date. Even though the way your dress clanged to your body, the way he could smell your special occasions perfume and the smile you gave him made him wish it was.
“Guess we might get a bigger budget for the BAU.” You love when he’s flirty and you hate yourself for it, your heart skips a beat and you feel pathetic, the fact you’re not used to gala events and the heels you have on are way too new for your comfort makes it all that much worse. You take the hand he offers you either way, following him to his car.
Maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself be coerced into going, “well we better, I don’t usually do the whole begging for money thing.” Hotch laughs, and as always you’re reminded of how much you love that sound. How special it makes you feel to be the one able to genuinely make him laugh at the most innocuous of things. You grip hard into your bag as he opens the door for you, ever the gentleman.
You feel like flirting, the words dancing in your tongue, careful I might think this is a date. You don’t, too afraid of ruining it.
For a second you wonder if he’s still dating. Maybe he’s single. Maybe it’s finally your time.
But he keeps his hand far from your thigh in the car and his girlfriend’s name pops up in his phone while he’s setting maps up to help get you both at the damned gala. Everything is different and still the very same. You yearn for him and Hotch seemingly is always finding ways to run from what you could be.
The car ride after that is awfully awkward and it’s completely on you. He tries to spark conversation, and usually it wouldn’t be difficult to, you and Hotch always talked easily, it came naturally to the both of you. But you felt as if your voice was trapped, the silver necklace on your neck doing nothing but suffocate you. The side glances his eyes served you felt like burning holes in your skin.
Suddenly it’s 2005 and you’re a thirty something year old with a crush, feeling guilty for simply sharing a space with him. As if you would be divinely punished for your thoughts, your feelings, your light touch to his hand or the playful flirting.
You swallow it down, but the effort you’re making in trying to bury those feelings makes your replies to him come only in hums, nods of your head. Hotch gives up trying and decides some music is the ideal to get through the awkwardness, and it isn’t on purpose, really, it just so happens that his 90’s playlist was the last thing he heard. The strong feminine vocals you know well make you laugh. Loudly.
You’re still the one I run to, the one I belong to, the one I want for life
“The one time the White Album would’ve saved lives and you’re listening to Shania Twain.”
“It’s a 90’s playlist, I didn’t handpick this, alright.” Tthe lyrics should amp up the awkwardness, make it all even more uncomfortable. But it doesn’t. Aaron’s laughing and you begin to sing along, as if the words didn’t mean anything, everything, to you and to him.
It makes the ride go from almost unbearable to fun, he sings with you to the best of his ability while still paying attention to the road and sooner than you both realize his phone buzzes in warning, you are at your destination.
“This is… Huge.” You’re in true awe as you leave the car, now weirdly comfortable to have your arm in his as you enter the venue, you recognize most of the people there, but it’s rare you see them in the same place at once. “And that’s not FBI.” You whisper, head pointing to a congressman.
“You really don’t come to these a lot.” He whispers back right before shaking hands with said congressman, he doesn’t smile, but he is polite and introduces you. Luckily the chat doesn’t go for very long. “These events happen so we play nice. Then congress may just get us more budget instead of cutting it.” You roll your eyes at him, you know he doesn’t do politics so you’re not sure why he goes to these events. Still, you get champagne as a waitress passes by you and you sit at the BAU designed table where Rossi and Strauss already are.
“I heard from your past superior that you don’t usually attend these, I’m glad agent Hotchner convinced you.” Strauss barely waits for you to get comfortable at the table, you don’t understand why she asked about it and your expression probably spoke for itself. “Seniority is important, show these politicians the years of FBI work, make them want to invest more in security, in the FBI and most importantly, in the BAU.” You nod slowly, taking your champagne in a mouthful and leaving it at the table, you notice none of the younger members have arrived and it hits you that they probably won’t come.
You look over for a waiter to get more champagne and see the table assigned to your past unit and remember your unit chief, the CNU chief, begging you to attend the last “FBI fund raiser” and how quickly you denied him because you didn’t want to risk seeing Hotch. Your cheeks burn.
Aaron notices, of course he does, and puts his hand on your thigh and it’s comforting, warm, familiar. “What’s on your mind?” His voice is low, only you can hear, especially with Erin and Dave flirting on the other side of the table. “Champagne?” He asks again when you don’t respond, teasing your very light alcohol tolerance, you finally look up at him and realize how close you both actually are.
His hand still on your thigh. His body lowered down as yours looked up. It feels impossible but he moved in closer, lips almost touching yours, breath mixing with yours. Hotch looks at your lips and you look into his eyes. “What are you doing?” Your voice is barely a whisper, is lucky that he hears it, but he definitely feels the warmth of you speaking along with the sweet scent of champagne.
“Nothing. This is… Harmless. We are just… Talking.” He’s not a liar. But he is a lawyer at his core. He is good with technicalities. Technically you’re just talking. It’s certainly innocent if no lips are touching.
It could’ve been a minute or three hours but next thing you know there’s a slow song blasting through the speakers and Hotch is taking you by the hand, smiling sheepishly like a teenager. You find yourself another champagne, which you gulp down before the waiter can even leave your side.
It’s all too easy, too familiar, his hands on your waist, your head laying on his chest as he leads. Exactly like the last time you two danced, he had been waiting for a slow song to be this close, no repercussions, no questions asked. This way he doesn’t have to pick. He doesn’t have to choose.
Of course by now you realize what he’s doing, the same pattern of behavior he did before, how he kept you close knowing he wouldn’t leave Haley. Except this time you couldn’t leave, you were demanded to be at the BAU. You take a deep breath and move your hands to his chest, separating you two and trying to put some sense into your thoughts, the sense that his cologne had drawn out of you.
Hotch tries to talk to you, ask you what’s wrong, but before he can do anything about it you’re headed back to the sitting area and without any manners you simply grab the first empty chair you find and place it around the CNU table, sitting together with your past unit so you wouldn’t deal with Aaron for the rest of the night.
You have a fun rest of evening, talking, drinking maybe a tad much for a lightweight, getting teased by your ex coworkers about being a BAU hotshot and smiling at any congressperson who appeared at the table, talking about the good work the CNU put at the FBI.
The night only took a turn when Hotch came to tell you he was going home, “I see you’re having fun, a taxi might be better.” He sounds hurt but it’s still spiteful of him, you reply with a simple nod and hold in the tears you’ve been pretending you don’t want to let out for months already.
Lucky for you, Rossi watches the whole scene and takes your hand, making sure you don’t stumble on your own shoes–you’re very much drunk–as he leads you out of the venue and into his car. There, well, there you cry. You barely even noticed how Strauss was near the whole time or how she’s in the passenger seat.
Rossi is just glad he came driving, only one dose of scotch being his chosen drink for the whole night alongside some water and soda. If he wasn’t you would have to get a ride with someone else or a taxi home.
The way you were drunk and crying on the back of his car was annoying, sure, especially when he has a date he hopes to take home without the rest of the BAU knowing, but he saw you as his kid almost, he had to at least take you home.
And even if you don’t remember. It isn’t the first time you drunkenly cry and speak of Hotch to him. And it isn’t like Hotch hasn’t done the same.
At this point it has happened so many times Dave might as well do something about it.
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader.
summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless.
content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. a bit of daddy issues on this one. no use of y/n.
word count: 900+
.a/n: me taking my least engaged fic and making a series out of it? more likely than you think. summary based on himym's victoria and her theory.
previously
Aaron knocks on your door even though that is the least effective way to show you he’s there, hoping in some way this would delay the terrible thing he was about to do. He wishes he could pretend he didn’t know what you felt for him still existed rooted deep in your heart as it did his, and Aaron surely wishes his heart didn’t beat that fast as he heard Jack’s laughter and your voice about three times rougher than usual, apparently pretending to be some sort of monster.
He tried to be honest, but being honest to himself meant admitting that night was a succession of terrible choices only he could be blamed on. He was the one to ask if anyone at the BAU could watch over Jack as his sitter had been sick and Jessica was busy, he thought JJ or Spencer would offer to, but you did. And he accepted it knowing fully well he was leaving his son at your house so he could have a date with his girlfriend.
Your eyes were always your tell, he saw the hurt in then the moment he dropped Jack off, knowing clearly by his outfit that he was going on a date, a special one even.
That was another terrible choice, not explaining before why he needed someone to babysit Jack. You told him he looked nice and your voice didn’t crack but the fake smile you gave him made his heart break. And the one you gave Jack was even worse, watching you so genuinely happy taking him in your arms as if Aaron wasn’t being the biggest jerk was enough to throw him off balance the whole night.
His date wasn’t good, he was silent, more than usual, and it wasn’t fair. Beth was a good person, he loved her. Beth made him believe in something he thought he would never again, that little spark that faded the moment you left and crumbled when Haley died. Beth brought it back, she wasn’t some sort of placeholder as he waited for his true love to come knocking at his door. She was love, and stability. Someone Jack adored, someone he had built a relationship long lasting enough that Jack got accustomed to.
And his final terrible choice that led him to your door again, cutting the date short. Much shorter than Beth expected as they had planned it for weeks before. But he couldn’t face her. He couldn’t talk to her with the attention she deserved because all he thought about was your sad eyes to him and your warm smile to Jack.
He was a mess. He was hurting himself. And Beth. And you. And inevitably he would hurt Jack if he kept acting like that even though he was acting like that because he couldn’t change Jack’s life upside down again. It was always an impossible situation with you.
You know something’s wrong by his face and by the time he shows up at your door, he looks defeated, so you pull him inside instead of calling Jack to go home. You don’t ask him what’s wrong, you don’t want to know, you don’t want to hear him talk about his love life, instead you smile at him and place your hand on his cheek, rubbing the signs of age on his face lovingly, he closes his eyes and hold that same hand, leaning into it for just a moment.
“I gave Jack ice cream twice already so he’s in a hell of a sugar rush.” Your confession makes him laugh and breaks the intimacy of the moment, thankfully so. It was your intention after all, you couldn’t afford more than those tiny minutes. His eyes are accusatory, his mouth expresses his shock as he shakes his head in disappointment. “What? I want him to like me, everyone at the BAU has years of family time with him and I don’t.”
Jack comes from the kitchen yelling, the amount of daddy daddy daddy leaving his mouth per second probably breaking some record, Aaron takes him in his arms, throwing him in the air just high enough to get the boy giggling.
He forgets his dilemmas for that night, Beth’s messages and calls ignored on his phone as the three of you played together. Hide and seek, catch and even a bit of karaoke before it got too late.
Sleeping is hell when he gets home. He keeps thinking about everything he ever did wrong, how he almost cheated on Haley with you and then he let you go, and how he made Haley’s life miserable after that, so much so she ended up cheating on him–he couldn’t judge her for it. And how he was again on the same destructive path.
Fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, his fidelity to the women he loved seemed to always come back as a question the universe begged to have an answer to: Are you really that different from your dad?
If it wasn’t for you, for your restraint, for your respect for his commitments, would he be able to defend himself from such accusations his own mind threw at him at night? If you didn’t leave the unit, if you didn’t leave his lingering hugs first, would he be a faithful man?
Would he be the man he wished Jack would grow up to be? The man he wished his own father was? Or would he just prove what his mother would constantly say, that he was merely his father’s son?
Those kept him awake until his mind couldn’t handle it anymore.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — three. need in the devotee.
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader.
summ.: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless.
cw: canon divergent. emotional cheating. right person wrong time. no use of y/n.
wc: 1k+.
previously
First cases were always an awkward matter, getting to know new people, having them wonder if you were nice or not and wondering the same thing about them. You thought maybe having Dave around would make it less clunky. Irrevocably wrong you were, as you had to explain the divorce from your cheating husband when he asked how the bastard was.
Everytime you thought about your divorce it made something in your brain twitch, it had been finalized four years prior but it still hurt, and you got mad at yourself for being hurt, not only because it was a hit to your gut, your non trusting nature decided to trust this one man and he broke it so easily. But it hurt more as deep down you felt like you deserved it. Like it was your karma.
“I watched you speak about the importance of profiling for crisis negotiation once. You seemed very passionate about it, almost like Hotch–” You held in a sigh as the genius boy possibly every unit had heard of spoke. You were an expert. A leader in your field. It just happened that your field was the one Hotchner literally wrote the book about. You would have to deal with the comparison constantly now. “Why did you transfer?”
“Not the pay, that I can assure you.” That earned you your first group laugh, some of them looking over at Rossi, possibly understanding now why he looked so enthusiastic about your transfer, or because he was the one who mostly talked about the fact the pay was shit.
“She was the only one available with experience, and she was forced to.” Aaron clarifies from his seat on the jet, having thoroughly read your paperwork by now. You nod in confirmation, not caring that it wasn’t the best look to have been forced into their unit. It was yours first anyway.
“Familiarity with the way Hotch works was a factor too, it seems.” Some things don’t come written on paper, only the influence of being one of the unit’s founders, like Dave, guaranteed that type of information, or at least you thought so, as that fact didn’t come to you as reasoning. Still, you wouldn’t lose the opportunity to tease Aaron, even if only a bit.
“Familiarity is a way to put it, huh? Most of his methodology was created with me.” Scoffing loudly was his response while he shook his head in disbelief, the rest of the team glancing from you to him in curiosity.
“Maybe write a book about it then.” Two hours into the first jet flight and you could possibly punch him in the face to get that little shit eating grin out of it. Or maybe kiss him.
“I thought working with you two together would make me feel young again. It doesn’t. I’m too old for this now.” Dave points to you both and looks back to the files, bringing the conversation back to the case in hand.
First two months he tries not to favor your presence, sending you off with Derek, Dave or Spencer to check crime scenes, talk to suspects, witnesses, but like magnets you two always ended up beside each other, too close, shoulders touching while reading files and completing each other’s thoughts for the profiles.
You do try to keep your distance as best as you can as well, favoring sitting alone on the jet, talking to Emily or losing to Reid at chess, bonding with the team was an important part of what made any work the best work possible. And it’s not as in better workplace, but better at the job.
Connecting with the team made profiling better, faster, that was why you and Hotch were quick to make connections, quick to see holes, patterns, when you were together.
Still you catch his annoying glances that he makes no effort to conceal when you lock eyes with him, instead he smiles with his teeth and waits for you to look away. And you usually do.
Las Vegas being the final destiny though, you had your mind set on not looking away when he did his well known dance of glancing and waiting for you to look back, instead getting up to your feet and walking over to him, savoring the soft, almost shy smile he gave you as he took in your every move, from your seat to the one by his side.
You take a spray bottle out of the pocket of your FBI jacket and hand him without a word, trying to ignore the way he makes it his job to linger the soft brush your fingers against his as he read the information.
“Sunscreen? You know I don’t–”
“Don’t like the feeling on your skin, yeah, that’s a spray one, not sticky, not liquidy and it dries out completely.” Aaron listens to you intently, but still has his suspicions, being shown clearly by the way he furrowed his brows even though his heart was skipping several beats by your actions.
“What about the smell?” He’s properly fiddling with the bottle as if he was a kid with a toy, taking the cap off and trying to smell it through the sprayer, you roll your eyes and extend your arm to him.
“It’s unscented, touch and smell my arm, I’m wearing it.” You’re not really thinking it through when you almost shove your forearm on his nose, he obliges it and takes a deep breath, you feel the air leaving his nose in your skin and get suddenly shy.
His cheeks flush in warm pink, the product might be unscented but your skin smells like… You. He could recognize it from a mile away. He thinks to himself for a second and realizes that maybe if sunscreens had your scent he wouldn’t mind using them. And when his fingers softly touch your wrist, getting hold of it to lower it down, he is reminded of how soft you feel so he has no choice but to drop it or else he would be holding onto it for as long as you’d let him.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — two. one more time.
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader.
summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless.
content warnings: very canon divergent because criminal minds timelines fuck me up. emotional cheating (not on reader). no happy ending (for now). angst. right person wrong time. no use of y/n.
word count: 700+.
a/n: me taking my least engaged fic and making a series out of it? more likely than you think. summary based on himym's victoria and her theory.
previously
Your palms are undeniably sweaty following the anxious feeling you had in the pit of your stomach. After transferring you made a successful career as a profiler for the Crisis Negotiation Unit, so it wouldn’t be the first time seeing Hotchner after all, you saw him at seminars, you read his book, his face and his voice were still a strong presence in your mind.
But being close to him, talking to him, working with him again… That was making your mind swirl. The BAU needed a senior profiler, again. You had rejected the transfer at least two times before and the upper ups found someone else for the job. Not this time, this time you had no choice.
You try to feel comfortable on his office’s couch, looking around to notice the little things before him and the rest of the team arrive, profiling each other wasn’t very well seen in the BAU, you remember that much from your years there, but you knew Hotch, you were just basking at the familiarity his office brought you.
Pictures of him with his son, his late ex wife, awards, piles of cases organized. It all pointed to him being more serious than when you worked together first. It made sense not only considering what he had been through, but his nearly obsessive nature.
Throat cleaning is the sound that brings you back, his face lighting up when he notices it’s you, but letting the smile disappear seconds later. “It’s been a while. how can I help you?”
Oh. Politeness. The tone. Not asking how you are. He’s mad. Possibly because you never called. Never answered his calls. Never talked to him when he was around your unit. Always sent other agents when the BAU needed negotiators. You made impossible efforts to avoid him. And yet here you were, in his office.
“I get that you haven’t looked into your new profiler’s paperwork.” You were always snarky and that made him huff trying to hide a laugh. He didn’t have to look at the paperwork to know you wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t mandatory. “You look good, big office, the suit. It fits you.”
He stays silent, and you wish you could read his mind like you did before, but it was different now, all you could read from him was how… Sore he was in your presence. Like you were there just to cut open old wounds. You couldn’t blame him, you prided yourself of being his best friend for so long and sure it was a weird gray area you both danced in, but he got divorced, was stabbed countless times, Haley was murdered, you never even called. You couldn’t even pretend you didn’t know, you kept in touch with Rossi.
He moves to his desk, sitting and looking through your paperwork without much care, enough that he caught you staring at the picture he had of Haley, Jack and him by the bookshelf behind him. “You didn’t come to the funeral.”
“Dave told me to go, but… It felt disrespectful to Haley.” Hotchner takes a deep breath, it finally hitting him that at least there and then it wasn’t about avoiding him, it was about Haley, as it was when you left Quantico. He didn’t want to hurt her, you didn’t want to disrespect her, that was always the central point of why you two couldn’t be. That relaxes his demeanor, his features soften. Your heart beats faster.
“Think you can handle BAU rhythm after a decade away?” He smirks, that one you know so well, that one that meant trouble. And he finally looks up from the file, locking eyes with you.
“You should be worried about keeping up with me.” And just like that it feels like you’re ten years younger, flirting with your partner, hoping he will flirt back. And by the look he gives you, it almost seems like he would if his phone didn’t ring, getting his attention away from you in a flash of a second.
Got caught up, will be there soon, yeah, love you too.
“Sorry, that was my–my girlfriend, Beth. I have to get going, see you tomorrow?” You nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek for some relief.
10 years. 10 years of running from it. Just to get back exactly where you started: At the BAU, heart out for Hotchner when he couldn’t take it.
So much for keeping your FBI career and not going against orders.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — one. the drumroll.
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader.
summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless.
content warnings: very canon divergent because criminal minds timelines fuck me up. emotional cheating (not on reader). no happy ending (for now). angst. right person wrong time. no use of y/n.
word count: 1,5+k.
a/n: summary based on himym's victoria and her theory.
Laughter fills the room and you feel your cheeks grow warmer, the scotch you told him earlier you were not going to drink burning your throat as Hotch called you a weak drinker, “This is supposed to be a celebration, Hotchner, why would I want this hellish thing burning my insides?” You complain even though it’s the third time he refilled your cup already.
“Burning insides is not that bad of a feeling.” He probably doesn’t mean it to sound as dirty as it does, but the proximity, the alcohol and the attraction you can’t help but feel for him turns almost everything that leaves his lips into an invitation you just can’t accept.
Still, you laugh and raise an eyebrow, “it depends on the cause of the burning, sir, would rather something else warm me up, scotch isn’t my first choice.” His own laugh is more contained, air leaving his nostrils and cheeks flushing at the path the conversation was taking.
Unconsciously, or you both rather believe it was, you scooched closer to him, his hand landing on your thigh and suddenly none of you two were laughing. His hand felt like fire ablaze on you, a fire only Aaron himself could extinguish and it was obvious he felt the same, his eyes glued to your lips and breathing heavy as the drinks on your stomach.
You close your eyes, that feeling of anticipation running over you and you sense his other hand lift, cupping your cheek affectionately, you lean on it and the cold feeling makes you come back to reality, opening your eyes and getting up quickly.
His wedding band.
He was married. Recently married to his high school sweetheart.
This could not be happening.
You were both in the hotel room you were sharing as Rossi and Gideon shared other, alone, drinking.
This could not be happening.
Aaron shakes his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts of you filling his mind, a pained expression as he did so. "That's enough scotch." It's merely a whisper but to you it sounds loud as a drum, ringing right through your ear.
"Yeah, I–I'm gonna take a shower." You take your whole bag, no time to sort through anything and lock yourself in the bathroom, banging your head to the wall a few times softly.
This could not be happening.
The sun does nothing but upset his pale skin, it doesn't matter how many times you’re both burning under it looking through a crime scene, he never gets even slightly tanned. His neck is starting to get red but you can’t help but love the Las Vegas desert for forcing him to wear sunglasses that give his boyish features more edge.
“Stop staring at me, I'm red as it is.” Caught. He doesn’t look at you to call you out, feeling your eyes on him whenever you get lost on his features. He never gave you the grace of not calling you out on it, like you did whenever you caught him staring at you. Truthfully, you were too afraid he would stop looking for good if you did. So you let him stare at your profile, your hands, and even your ass when he thought you weren’t looking. He's a guy, if someone else caught him it wouldn’t be too damaging.
“I'm not staring, did you even put sunblock before coming?” By now you’re both just walking back to the car, parked way too far from the scene not to disturb it.
“You know I don't like the feeling of it on my skin.” You do know it, as he knows you like it when your chapsticks taste fruity instead of sweet. As both of you share the knowledge of the smallest and biggest things about each other.
“You’re gonna look like an old man in less than five years.”
“And you’re still gonna love me.” The nonchalance of his voice is what kills you the most. He knows he shouldn’t be saying these things. He knows he shouldn’t smirk like that when he does it. But by keeping it light it gives the feeling of innocence. Just banter between two co-workers who spend way too much time together.
“Yeah, sure…”
Stuck between a rock and a hard place would be the perfect explanation for the conundrum you were put in. Taste of the last beer you mouthed down in one go still on your tongue as you took the hand Aaron so willingly offered you.
Haley was just some steps away, graciously dancing with Dave, nothing weird or suspicious about it, as it had been when you danced with him, Gideon and other people from the Bureau that night.
When Aaron got to asking you for one you couldn’t tell him no without being suspicious, but even though you two had never crossed any physical lines, the uneasy feeling by the pit of your stomach made it seem like everyone around knew how you shivered whenever he touched you.
It was a slow song, purposefully so as he waited anxiously for one so he could dance with you, his eyes looked like flames as they burned holes into your skin before turning away. No words came from you nor him, his hands gripping on your waist as yours delicately stayed on his shoulder desperately trying to look normal was enough for you two to know exactly what was going through each other’s minds.
How he wished he could be like that forever, feeling your warmth and your trembling under his fingers, and how he knew he shouldn’t feel like that.
He loved Haley. She was his best oldest friend. His high school sweetheart. She brought him back to earth whenever he was too into the horrors of his work. His beautiful caring wife. Aaron would never do anything on purpose to hurt her, he wouldn’t cheat, even if working with you made him think about it every single day.
Still, you felt like the mistress. The other woman. You felt your morals twirl inside you as if they were stored in your stomach ready to be thrown out any time he was close–which was all the time, it was the job.
The way you tethered between the acceptable and the borderline cheating with the lingering hugs to feel each other and each other’s scents, the late night talking that began with just work but always ended in something completely different–how he loved The Beatles and The White Album and you loved telling him each time a different album of theirs that was better, simply to piss him off. Abbey Road gave us Come Together and Here Comes the Sun, Hotch, White Album has nothing on it. That was the last one, but once it was Revolver, then Rubber Soul, you just had fun seeing his brows furrowed for something other than work.
Haley got him out of it, but you embraced him for his full self. The nearly obsessive FBI agent and the nerd who used to collect coins. You would put your hand on his shoulder and sit by his side, take half of the files and go hours and hours on end analyzing it with him, even when the case was classified inactive. If he didn’t give up on it, neither did you, and it always went both ways.
For him, truly, it was nearly impossible to give that up. And it was impossible to bury his feelings too deep, it was always bubbling up at the surface, like a finger always brushing against a trigger but never pulling it.
The song ends after a mix of eternity and seconds, and the beat of the next one pulls you both back to reality, your hands leaving his strong shoulders as if they were filled with thorns ready to hurt you. “I need a drink.” You say more to yourself than to him.
He doesn’t reply, but his eyes tell you the only thing he wants to say.
I'm so sorry this can’t happen.
He’s the one to take you to the airport, and he won’t cry or ask you to stay, he tried it already when you told him about transferring to the Crisis Negotiation Unit. But his eyes do water at the thought of not having you by his side at arms reach, even if you were just a few miles away in Washington. It was far enough to cut the cord. To put an ending to whatever it was that existed between you two and had been brewing for the past two years.
Instinctively he holds you as if there was nothing to come between you, his forehead touches yours and you both close your eyes. Lips so close they could touch. That doesn’t happen.
It won’t happen.
Shamelessly you let your tears fall and Aaron soaks it up with his thumbs, “no crying. I'll always have your back, understand? Anything you need, call me.” The underlining of it is a silent prayer, begging you to call either way, to not forget him. You won’t call, he knows it, still, he begs.
