note: if the creator has a masterlist it will be linked, if not, their latest fic will be linked. // there will be a second list if we have more creators submitted. // my masterlist
key: â¤ď¸reader x hotch, âď¸ships, đinformational, đ˛ varied
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You drunkenly out your secret relationship with Hotch... °â.ŕłŕż
[fem!reader - no physical description. bau!reader, drunk!reader, hotch is so downbad. hotch blushes hehe] wc: 1.2k
guys he's so cute i need to put him in my pocket! reader is a suki waterhouse fan <3
you were sat down on the plane's couch, legs outstretched in front of you. spencer offered up his couch to you when you boarded, noticing how weary you were after the case and you gratefully accepted, smiling at him before collapsing onto it face-first. you slept almost the whole way back home, one and a half of the two hours. aaron was sat in his usual seat at the table, strategically placed so he could see you asleep on the couch, every now and then he'd look up from his case file, checking you were alright. once the plane started it's descent down to land, you stir awake, sitting up and getting greeted by morgan at the foot of the couch.
"hey" you mumble through a dry mouth, raking your fingers through your hair whilst speaking. he smirks at the mess of your hair.
"hey, sleepy girl. we're all going to the bar once we land, you in?" he speaks with a lilt in his voice, enjoying the sight of your messy hair a little too much.
you look over at hotch who is, of course, already looking over at you. he subtly shrugs his shoulders which means that the decision it's up to you. you breathe quickly out of your nose, sitting up a bit firmer, you nod your head. "yeah, why not?" you could use a drink after that hellish case.
not even five minutes into getting seated at the bar, derek comes over with a tray of shots. he places them on the table and everyone grabs one.
"to never having to see that disgusting man's face ever again." emily says as she raises her glass. everyone raises theirs and laughs before taking the shot. aaron, obviously, turning his nose up at the sight of a vodka shot.
"i am too old for this" he shakes his head, getting up to get his own drink. you shrug, taking what should've been his shot and necking it.
"good thing i'm here, then." you laugh, using your thumb to wipe the droplet of vodka on your lip. aaron looks back at you from the bar counter, watching you laugh. a small smile creeps up on his face before the bartender grabs his attention.
3 shots and a sex on the beach later, you're a total drunken mess. you stumble off the dance floor, heels in hand, over to aaron, rossi and spencer at the table. pen, derek, emily and jj are still on the dance floor. you stand next to aaron, knocking against him slightly. "hiii!!" you squeal to the three men, a big smile on your face. they all chuckle, it's rare you get this drunk with work colleagues. you look at aaron, prodding his shoulder with your finger. "will you look after my heels for me? they're hurting my feet. i can't dance in themmmm" you slur, tilting your head to the side for extra bribing benefits. aaron looks at the two other men, letting out a breathy laugh. how is he going to pass this off as platonic?
"uh, yeah, sure. i'll just put them here." he takes them from you and puts them below his seat. you thank him and squeeze his bicep. oh, you're totally going to blow your cover.
"thank you, honey!" you say as you take the scotch he's been nursing in his hands all night and take a sip. shit, he thinks, now you've really done it. Rossi looks over at him, raised eyebrows and a smug look on his face. he's been asking aaron for weeks if he's dating someone new, "i can see it in your eyes" he would say. but aaron just kept denying it.
you, however, seem to be completely oblivious to the fact that you just outed your relationship with aaron. you stumble back a bit, loosing your balance briefly. you feel aaron's hand go to your hip, stabilizing you, before sneaking round to the small of your back. your cheeks turn a little pink from the feeling of the warmth of his hand on your back.
"you having fun?" aaron asks lowly, looking at you. his face is orange from the lights in the bar, but his eyes are as brown as ever. you nod. spencer grabs your attention before you can speak.
"want to get in on this game of cards?" he asks you. it's kind of him to include you, really. especially since you're so drunk. you usually beat him at cards, yes, he's the king of chess, but you're the queen of cards. you shake your head.
"thanks, spence, really, but i've made a name for myself on the dance floor and i've gotta keep it!" you reply with a big smile on your face. you lean over to aaron, kissing his cheek before rushing off to the dance floor again.
"she's totally blown your cover, by the way." spencer comments whilst dealing out the cards for their next game. aaron huffs, nodding and taking a swig of his drink. he knew it was going to happen at some point, and he's not that bothered if it means he can openly love you now.
you're dancing with emily when you stumble to a stop, your jaw drops and you tuck your hair behind your ears to hear more clearly. Supersad by Suki Waterhouse is playing. you turn toward aaron, watching him recognize the song and absentmindedly start tapping his foot. you rush over to him, nails digging into his suit on his forearms. "aaron!!! aaron!! it's Supersad!! come on, come dance with me!" you squeal, yanking him up from his seat. thankfully, he's finished his drink. he looks down at you, shaking his head, blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. it's adorable that you're so excited, but he is not a dancer.
"honey, you know i can't dance." he protests as you pull him onto the dance floor. you don't listen, bringing him over to your colleagues who seem to be very confused about why you have your hand on aaron and why he seems to be totally submissive to your orders. you turn your back to him, dancing up against him whilst he puts his hands on your hips. you laugh, realizing how awkwardly he's stood in the middle of the dance floor. you turn to him, reaching up to loosen his tie and unbutton his top button. he grasps one of your hands, spinning you around before settling his hands back on your hips. he looks down at your grinning mouth, red cheeks and sweaty forehead, love blooming in his chest at your happiness. you laugh loudly as he tries his best to dance, but ends up just looking like a clucking chicken. once the song ends, he stills you, bending down to speak into your ear. "home time?" the question turning out to be more of a plead. you chuckle, nodding your head.
after saying goodbye and grabbing your things, you walk hand in hand back to aaron's apartment. he carries your heels after you complained about your feet hurting and not wanting to wear them for the walk home. you laugh about the night, the cool air helping to sober you up and making you realize just how tired you are. once home, you shed your coat and collapse into bed, aaron not far behind you.
in two days you're due back at the bau, where you will have to explain to your colleagues that you have been dating for four months. you will be bombarded with questions and disbelief that they didn't realize you were together. but for now, you're in aaron's cool bed and warm embrace, alcohol aiding the stupidity you're going to feel tomorrow for spilling your secret.
thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it! comments are always greatly appreciated, hearing what you guys think of my writing really keeps me motivated!! <3
âthereâs two?!â âyeah, i guess there was a discountâ
pairing husband! baby daddy! early seasons! hotch x wife! pregnant! reader
summary you and your husband tell the team youâre having not one- but two babies.
warnings/tags pregnancy, reader is pregnant, baby talk, discussion of childbirth, r has mood swings, minor discussion of sexual intercourse, the early bau how iâve missed you
word count 1.3k
a/n this was soooo cute silly goofy i hope u guys like ittt!! def healed my heart w the bau
tagging @baileef2222 who requested this :)
pls send in requests!!
there was only supposed to be one. that was what you had planned on, at least. but apparently, the universe had other ideas.
when you got pregnant, you and aaron were overjoyed. you two were finally going to be having a baby! but at the latest ultrasound for your first trimester, the doctor had pointed out the two heartbeats.
so now, you and your husband were having twins. youâd had no idea when you were getting ready for anything. you hadnât accounted in it when you decided to start trying, after looking at budgets and everything. but now, you got another bundle of joy for one less pregnancy.
âitâs like a discount,â you told your husband. âwe get two kids- we already wanted more than one- and i only have to deal with one pregnancy!â
aaron had raised an eyebrow at you. âhoney, iâm not quite sure thatâs how it works,â aaron chuckled. âbesides, we now have to do double the amount of shopping. and itâs even more convoluted gender wise.â
you huff, crossing your arms. âiâm trying to be positive, okay? i have to push-â
âsh-sh-sh-sh,â aaron cuts you off, pressing a finger to your lips, much to your annoyance, before pulling you down onto the couch with him. âisnât this better?â he grins, tucking hair behind your ears. âweâre having a bab- babies,â he murmurs, stroking your hair, âthatâs the positive. weâre together. thatâs the positive.â
you huff, but slowly relax into him. ââŚtrue,â you grumble, your actions contradicting your tone as you lean into his touch.
âdonât worry about it, sweetheart. weâre gonna take care of all of it, okay?â he murmurs into your ear, pressing quick kisses along the side of your face.
âwe as in you, me, and the bau?â i giggle into his neck, wrapping your arms around him as he pulls you against his chest.
he laughs, a rare genuine smile (that correlationally always appears more when you were around) gracing his lips. âexactly. why work harder when you can work smarter?â
~
the team lost it when you told them.
âeveryone, i have an announcement,â hotch declared, gesturing everyone closer. they murmured amongst themselves, eyes mostly on you, held close to his side. âdo you want to tell them, or do you want me to?â he murmured softly in your ear.
âmm⌠you do the announcement, but i get to say weâre having twins,â you decided with a nod. he hummed in agreement and pressed a brief kiss to your temple before straightening back up and facing his team.
âso⌠as all of you know, my wife and i have been married for a while now. and recently, we agreed we wanted to take the next step in our relationshipâŚâ he began, unable to fight a smile.
âuh-oh. hotch is smiling,â morgan stage whispered to elle, who snickered.
reid frowned. âactually, based on context, and the typical implication of a smile, weâre about to receive good news, probably that-â
âreid,â gideon sighed, âlet the man speak.â
âyeah, i wanna hear what the news is!â garcia squealed, clapping her hands together as she bounced on her toes eagerly.
jj laughed, nodding in agreement. âcâmon spence, take a hint.â reid huffed but stayed silent nonetheless.
hotch huffed out a laugh. âweâre having a baby,â he grinned, pulling you closer.
the team erupted into cheers, all of them fighting to give you hugs.
âOMG OMG OMG YOURE HAVING A BABY!â garcia shrieked, flinging herself at you before carefully hugging you. she sobbed into your shoulder, mascara running down her face and onto your shirt.
âoh, penâŚâ you laughed gently, wiping her face with your thumbs.
âiâm sorry, iâm just- the miracle of human life! god! iâm so excited for you!â garcia bawled, hugging hotch tightly who awkwardly patted her on the back before hugging her.
âoh my god, iâm so happy for you!â jj beamed, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace once garcia had th
âthank you jay, weâre so excited,â you laughed, leaning into her.
âdamn, hotch. congratulations,â morgan nodded, giving his boss a firm hand shake before smirking. âthat explains why youâve been in so much of a better mood lately.â
elle laughed, giving you a side hug. âyeah, heâs been getting laid, and heâs having a baby,â she quipped, laying her head on your shoulder.
âpracticing sexual intercourse is found to be a scientifically proven way to reduce stress,â reid piped up, smiling awkwardly at the two of you.
âstats on us having sex, but no âcongratsâ?â jj teased.
reid flushed. âcongratulations,â he mumbled.
aaron laughed, embracing gideon in the one arm-slap on the back-hug. âthatâs fantastic. weâre all very happy for you,â gideon nodded, smiling.
âwell⌠we actually had another surprise,â you smile cheekily.
âsee, this is a valid âoh noâ situation, morgan,â reid huffed sassily.
morgan rolled his eyes. âwhatever, pretty boy,â he dismissed, waving his hand.
you and aaron laughed. âgo on honey, tell them,â hotch murmured into your neck.
you giggle, hand coming up and tangling in his hair, holding him close. â⌠weâre having twins!â you exclaimed.
garcia looked like she was about to faint. elleâs jaw dropped. morganâs eyebrows looked like they were about to join his hairline. reid winced.
âoh my god!â jj laughed, the first to recover. âthatâs even better! you only have to have one pregnancy for two!â she took your hands in hers, jumping up and down a little
âthatâs what i was saying!â you laugh, squeezing her hands. hotch shook his head, but his smile was stuck firmly on his face.
reid opened his mouth, before elle smacked him. âplease, for the love of god, do not ruin the moment with your ominous statistics of doom,â she groaned.
he frowned, rubbing his arm. ââŚyou donât know what i was about to say!â reid protested.
she simply raised an eyebrow. he rolls his eyes. âokay, maybe i was going to mention some statistics. but i think statistically, theyâre going to be 100% good parents and have 200% as much love in their household,â he huffed, crossing his arms.
âi agree,â gideon nodded, patting hotch on the back and giving you a hug. âcongratulations. you two are going to be excellent parents. it fits your profile,â he winks.
âaww, gideon,â you laugh, beaming. âthatâs so sweet.â
âiâm a very experienced profiler, so i believe iâm right,â he smiled back. you sniffled, fighting tears at his kind words.
âoh, donât cry mama,â morgan chuckles, giving you a big bear hug.
âi canât help it,â you mumbled into his shoulder.
âyouâve got this,â elle encouraged, shoving morgan before hugging you. âand iâm always here when you wanna ditch hotch and the kids and drink some wine and gossip,â she grinned, squeezing your side.
you laugh. âbarely even showing yet, by the way. iâve got a ways to go before i can do that.â
elle held her hands up. âhey, as soon as youâre ready, iâm open,â she grinned.
âdonât be bribing my wife away from me,â hotch rolled his eyes.
âi would never,â elle cackled.
âme too! me too!â penelope exclaimed, now having recovered from her shock. âgirls night!â she squealed, grabbing jjâs hand.
âso much pampering for you,â jj agreed.
âoh, absolutely,â you laugh, leaning into her.
âyou better watch out hotch, or theyâre gonna steal your wife if youâre not pampering her enough,â morgan warned jokingly.
âas if i wouldnât,â hotch scoffed, pulling you back into his side.
looking into his eyes, filled with nothing but love and pride (and maybe a few years), you couldnât help but agree with him.
Your hands shake as you wait for the test to develop, your mind races with worst case scenarios of the boyfriends reaction. You and Aaron had been married for just over a year and hadn't yet talked about expanding your family. With how fast paced his job is, whenever the subject would come up he was needed elsewhere, he would always promise to return to the conversation but when he returned, the promise would be forgotten. The thought of a family with Aaron made you feel things that weren't able to be put into words. But considering his job and Jack, the thought seemed daunting. The timer went off pulling you out of your thoughts and you locked eyes on what appeared to be the most important thing in the world. Your legs felt like jelly as you crossed the bathroom floor to reach the counter. You picked up the test and did a mental countdown from three, when reaching one your eyes darted to the two pink lines. Pregnant. You were pregnant with Aaron Hotchnerâs baby. Aaron Hotchner, whose job was as unpredictable as the mood swings you were to endure as a result of said pregnancy. The front door opens and closes alerting you of your husband's arrival home. You must've forgotten that he had called over an hour again to alert you that the plane touched down and he had landed safely and to not wait for him. You hadn't even heard him walking up the stairs as it was as if you had frozen in time. He calls out your name gently so as to not wake Jack who was sleeping soundly in the bedroom down the hall. You decide it's now or never (not literally but you're not thinking straight so it's fine) you walk into your bedroom from your en suite bathroom and lock eyes with a dishevelled Aaron and your heart breaks at his lack of sleep which is evident by his eyebags. âHiâ you start so soft the sound of your voice wouldn't have been audible if it weren't for the dead silence âi thought i told you not to wait up, rest is important you knowâ he went on while putting away his blazer jacket in your shared wardrobe âkinda hard to sleep when you're pregnant honeyâ you whispered. Aaron stopped dead in his tracks. âWhat did you say?â The question left his mouth void of emotions only making you feel worse âsurpriseâ you trailed off holding a positive test as definitive proof. Silence encases the room as he makes his way to you in 3 quick strides. He takes the test from your hands as if to inspect it but instead he throws it on the bed and kisses you like his life depends on it. Your lips move in sync as any trepidation you had prior disappear in an instant. You finally break apart for air and your husband rests his head against yours, "you're really pregnant?" He knows the answers but has a deep desire to hear you say it again aloud. âIm really pregnant,â you reassure. You feel his hands tighten around your waist as a sign of his unwavering support and devotion to you and the newest addition to your little family.
nine months later
Your eyes gradually open as you get used to the bright hospital lights. Once your eyes had taken to the lights you stared at the bundle of joy who had her daddy wrapped around her finger despite being alive for less than two hours. âHappiness looks good on you Hotchnerâ you teased drawing his attention from his newborn daughter âi have you to thank for thatâ laughed, you smiled in response closing your eyes to enjoy the calm after the storm âyou were incredible, thank you so much angelâ Aaron mutters while stroking a delicate finger over his daughterâs tiny,adorable face. Your daughter.
Gabriella Hotchner.
a/n: hello my babies!! so sorry that I havenât posted this in a while but tumblr was being weird and not letting post on literally any of my devices idrk butđ¤ˇđžââď¸ anyway if you like this little fic please interact with this post and leave some more request!!đđ
Omggg I lovee ur mentalist!reader x Hotch ficsss đŠˇđŠˇ what about something where mentalist!reader pisses a criminal off related to her con artist past, and gets abducted and nearly tortured/injured (like season 3, ep 8 of the mentalist) until Hotch and the BAU team come to the rescue?
Anyways love love love your work đŠˇđŠˇ
.ŕłŕż PAST LIFE
summary â when your past catches up to you, it's good to know that the rest of the team has your back. even if that includes rescuing you from a kidnapping situation because you pissed off someone from your past life.
pairings â aaron hotchner x mentalist!reader
pronouns â she/her
word count â 3.4k
note â yesss i was so excited when i saw i got a req for mentalist!reader i love her to death :) but yes yes yes i absolutely love this and im super glad you're enjoying <333 masterlist here
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
"OH, relax, hotch. i'm on my way back."
it was a rather warm day. sleeves of your blouse rolled up to your elbows, you leant down to sniff the bouquet of tulips sitting delicately in a pot among with other colour tulip variations. they had all opened up in the warm sun beaming down on them, and thus you were caught stuck between choosing the tulips or the assorted daisies.
"you were supposed to be here an hour ago," hotch did not sound pleased, but he also didn't sound necessarily upset about her not being at work.
"yeah, yeah," you hummed absently. "i promised garcia that i'd pick up some flowers for her office. do you want some too? you kinda seem like a tulip guy."
"no, i don't want flowers," you could practically feel hotch roll his eyes.
you shrugged, reaching for the bouquet. the roadside flower popup seemed to be getting busier â a car pulled up not too far behind where you were standing. "i'll get you some anyway."
hotch's sigh was rather deep. you swore he only really ever sighed that deep around you. it was quite the accomplishment.
sharp piercing sounds echoed through your ears like a rattle of death. gunfire rippled, sinking into random targets in front of you quick enough to be a semi-automatic. ducking, you hid behind a flower stand, keeping your head low while trying to catch a glimpse at what exactly was going on.
despite all your time with the FBI, you were not cut out for this sort of field work.
hotch said your name, your first name, with enough urgency that your breath caught in your throat. he repeated it when you didn't respond. "can you hear me? caâ"
"the florist is dead," you managed to get out, trying to crawl out of the line of sight. "sendâ send whoever you can . . ."
the man waving the gun around was large. he looked like some sort of trigger-happy gun-for-hire with enough muscle to be a professional heavy-weight wrestler. he was walking towards you, his steps hard against the floor and the gun aimed in your direction. one twitch and you'd be riddled with more bullets than you can count.
"trace my location," you said definitely, your voice picking up speed with an urgency you rarely ever displayed. "i think this guy's after me."
hotch said your name a myriad of times, more than you had ever heard from him before, but you hung up the call without speaking again once the man was dangerously close.
"get up," the man growled out like some sort of animal. "you're comin' with me."
you squinted up at him. "i'm just a bystander," you tried to reason, scooting back from him. "iâ"
"get up."
you did so that time, unsteady on your feet as his arm reached out to grab yours. his grip was iron. he dragged you unceremoniously through the bullet-ridden flower pop-up until he made it back to his navy blue hatchback. he opened the boot and stared at you like a silent invitation.
with your lips pulled into a tight-line, you glanced between the burly man and the open boot. "fantastic," you mumbled, awkwardly climbing inside. it wasn't awkward because it was small â you fit just fine â but it was awkward because this was the first time you had ever been in the back of the car. that was for groceries, and you were fairly certain you weren't your weekly shopping.
the man didn't say anything more. he grumbled something and slammed the boot shut, locking you in darkness. the car started up, the engine spluttering a little, and all you could do was keep your eyes shut as the car began to move.
"DROP WHAT YOU'RE DOING, i need all hands on deck."
hotch's voice carried enough finality to have morgan's back straightening immediately, his teasing smile at garcia morphing into a thin line.
"was there an update in the case?" reid bundled all his manila folders into his leather briefcase. they were due to leave in just under an hour â hence why hotch was incredibly annoyed that you were late â and it wasn't like their current case was in a fragile enough state that they needed to leave as soon as possible. the unsub hadn't hit the stage where they were devolving just yet; reid was under the assumption that there was even a chance that it wouldn't come to that at all.
"we're not going to arizona," hotch moved through the bullpen, and his stride was enough to tell everyone that it was imperitive they follow. rossi was the first one to follow, then the rest all shared jumbled looks before doing the same.
hotch didn't speak until everyone was situated at the round table. The arizona case's notes were still written on the whiteboard â hotch was quick to erase it so that no one could focus on it. he uttered your last name in a way that had everyone's spine straightening. "local cops are on the scene just out of town for a homicide. she was there when the unsub opened fire . . . i think this may be a potential kidnapping."
"wait," morgan said, holding up his hand. "you're saying that someone was after her?"
"it's a possibility."
"i hate to say it, guys," emily jumped in, "but we are talking about her. she's probably made more enemies than i've got cutlery."
garcia nodded. "i'll make a list of all the people that have written in complaints about her." she then paused. "and i'll extend my list into her life before the FBI."
"thanks, garcia," hotch nodded once, and then she left to her office.
rossi huffed, "between everyone's she's pissed off both here and as a con-artist . . . may as well get comfy." he leaned back in his chair, staring straight through hotch. hotch wasn't giving much away on his face, but rossi had always been able to read him in a way that not many others could.
you could read him, though. and he knew that if you were sitting at this table, you would be making fun of how stupidly easy this probably was to solve by now.
"feels kinda wrong to be looking into her personal life," reid mumbled, his lips pulling into a slight frown. after a rocky start, he'd gotten around to liking you eventually. the two of you had a lot in common, and it had gotten easier to work with that in more recent times.
"yeah," jj agreed, standing up with. a sigh. "i'll go check her desk."
"good," hotch nodded. his eyes turned on reid and morgan. "morgan, take prentiss to the crime scene with you." the two nodded and left. "reid, i want you to start reading through the complaints the second garcia hands them to you."
reid nodded. he figured he wouldn't be out in the field at least until most of the complaints had been read through. he read the quickest, and that meant that he could start stitching together potential people a lot more efficiently than someone else being handed this task. every second counted â and now that emily and morgan were being sent out to confirm it was a kidnapping, time was of the essence.
once everyone much had their respective tasks, rossi stood up from his chair and walked over to where hotch was staring at the blank whiteboard. "what're you gonna do, aaron?"
hotch didn't bat an eye. "whatever i can," he mumbled.
THE BASEMENT WAS COLD. and it had absolutely nothing to do with the dead body laying on the ground within inches of where you were standing. wrists zip-tied to metal pole holding up the supports of the floor above you tried to keep your eyes off the large dead man that had abducted you in the first place.
it had happened so fast â one minute he had been binding your wrists, and the next he was flopping to your feet with a bullet piercing through his thick head. the blood splattered across your face. trying to wipe it off on your shoulder had proven to be futile.
heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs. chunky black heels appeared first, and then a woman with frizzy black curls and smudged makeup appeared. she had a sneer on her face, and you hazily remembered that same sneer from when she pulled the trigger on the large man maybe thirty minutes ago.
you were currently trying to ignore the fact that that same gun was now pointed in your direction. you were the furthest thing from any sort of weapon, you liked words and body language instead of bullets and gunpowder. the second amendment was not something you held dear unlike your colleagues, and so currently staring down the silver barrel of one was less than ideal.
"do you remember me?"
she did look awfully familiar. something about her eyes and her nose mixed with the exact curl pattern i her hair sat so obviously on the tip of your tongue but you just couldn't figure out who.
"i don't know," you said slowly, trying to shield yourself from the gun by scooting back a little more. your wrists screeched, the zip-ties tearing into your skin from the added pressure. "i'd see you better if you moved the gun awayâ"
bang.
you gasped, ducking your head lower and brandishing your hands as best you could to surrender. the bullet buried itself in the wall a few inches to the right of where you were crouched. "noted," you coughed, trying to keep your face shielded.
"you haven't changed," the woman sneered, waving the gun around in your direction, her trigger-happy finger taunting. "still the sameâ"
"you're mary," you peered up at her in a way that made yourself look small. you couldn't assert power in this situation, but you also couldn't be too calm. mary thinking that she was all high-and-mighty here would stop any devolving from occurring. "mary whittler."
the gun wavered, so you continued. "your mother was my client . . . i'm sorry for your loss." you ducked your head. the metal of the gun pressed against your skull.
"you're not sorry!" she sneered. "you fucking killed her! killed her!"
you had not murdered mary's mother, but the angry letters you had received from mary for years said otherwise. selene whittler was a woman who had been severely unwell mentally after her husband passed. she spiralled and booked hundreds of appointments with you, so much so that you didn't have the heart to charge her for all of them. all she wanted was to be able to connect with her husband again, and when you eventually couldn't keep telling her you could contact him any longer, she committed suicide. mary had blamed you ever since.
she probably wasn't wrong to blame you. you were the con-artist that had tricked her mother for so long, and then suddenly her mother was gone. you knew that selene would've been dead long before talking to you had she not found you when she did: you had given her hope for just that little bit longer, even if mary couldn't see that.
"okay," was all you said, "and i'm sorry about that . . . but i don't know what you want from me."
mary laughed, pulling her gun away from your head. there was a slight jingle as she waved it, the metal clattering against the metal against her bracelets. "just you wait," she squinted at you with a nod as if telepathically sharing a secret you couldn't hear.
"I'VE GOT SOMETHING," REID leaned across the circle table to pass the letter he found to hotch. the older man grabbed it without a second thought.
hotch read the letter as quick as he could. "wait, i've seen this name somewhere . . ." holding the letter reid found in one hand, hotch sifted through the piles of letters on the table.
there were hundreds. between complaints made against you from victims' families and other police units to letters garcia had tracked down from your previous life, it seemed no one was ever happy with anything you ever did. hotch would be lying if he said he wasn't mildly amused by it all.
once he found it, he picked it up and scanned it over once again. "same name: mary whittler."
reid shot up. "mary whittler wrote death threats," he reached across the table to the death threat pile. there were so many that they couldn't take them super seriously unless they had reasonable belief that they were actually enactable. "sometimes she didn't leave her name, sometimes she just wrote 'mary' at the top . . . but this is the same pattern of her writing. see," he pointed to specific ways she would start and end the letters, and that was more than enough for hotch to quickly dial garcia.
garcia, who was in her office, picked up immediately. "penelope garcia's office of supreme genius."
"i need an address on a mary whittler," hotch was already moving, picking up his car keys and signalling through the glass for emily to follow him. she was up and grabbing her blazer in seconds. "mother's name was selene whittler."
"one moment . . ." garcia trailed off, the sound of tapping keys echoing in hotch's right ear. "got it. i've sent it to you all."
"thanks," hotch said, barely getting the word out before hanging up. "reid, grab morgan and rossi, and alert the local PD."
reid nodded wordlessly, scrambling out of the room to do as he was asked, his phone to his ear calling the police department from the location that garcia sent him. hotch was out of the building as quickly as he could be, emily close behind.
THE DEAD MAN WAS in direct sunlight. the sun passing through the only window in the basement was the root cause of your current issue â he was starting to smell. the basement was so hot with so little ventilation that all your knowledge on dead people taking a few days to properly decompose went out the window. this was so much different than all the dead bodies you had encountered out in the field . . . this man's blood was splattered across your face and your hands and you had watched as it happened. sure, he had killed in front of you and had kidnapped you shortly afterwards, but you didn't want to see him dead. and you certainly did not want to be covered in it.
mary's heels clomped down the stairs once again. this time, she had a slightly less crazed look in her eyes. her gun was tucked in the waistband of her jeans; your shoulders lost a bit of their tension. "i think we got off on the wrong foot," she descended the stairs until she was only a few metres from where you were sat on the floor. wrists aching, you moved them up the pole so that you could stand at her eye-level.
"did we?" it took you a second to get the words out, your throat dry from all the hours without water.
"i just want the truth," she stood too far away from you, still wary, but her head seemed clearer than it had been earlier. whatever meds she had downed in however long it had been since she last came down seemed to be working at least somewhat. "i knew you were a fucking fraud from the beginning."
"all i did was tell your mother what she wanted to hear," you reasoned, not really trying to change her mind on anything, but to prolong a bullet lodging itself in your brain. "she missed your father, mary . . . i'm sorry, but you would've grown up without a mother if i hadn't . . . y'know. i'm not saying what i did was right, but i couldn't get your mother the help she needed. she refused to go see her psychiatrist."
you couldn't tell her that her mother was a ticking timebomb ready to detonate the second she knew her husband was truly gone. you had met mary once a very long time ago, and it wasn't fair that she would have to grow up without a mother. you had even charged selene less per session because you'd felt horrible.
none of that was worth telling mary. it wouldn't change the fact that her mother was still gone.
sometimes things were better left unsaid.
"i don't believe you," mary sighed, her hand inching closer to her gun. you grimaced when you realised that that was where her hand was absentmindedly going. "you could've done better, you should'veâ"
"mary whittler? FBI!" hotch's voice was loud as the basement door flung open. cautious footsteps moved down the stairs; you saw hotch's gun before you saw his face.
within seconds, mary was hiding behind you, her gun pressed snugly into your neck like a threat. hotch's face was stern when you finally saw him, but there was something in his expression that you couldn't read. emily was by his side to cover.
"not another step," mary flexed her finger on the trigger, the gentle clicking taunting your ears.
"okay, okay, easy," emily called out, slowly holstering her gun. hotch's stance didn't waver, and neither did his own weapon. not even when emily stepped down a step lower than the one he was on. "we're not here to hurt you."
"you should leave," mary said. unknown to her, you were trying to get emily's attention through facial expressions. widening your eyes, you subtly tried to tell her that you had a plan. it took a few moments, but eventually emily gave you a slight nod to signal that she understood.
"i'm afraid we can't, mary," emily kept answering as if hotch wasn't there. it was certainly for the best â hotch could feel that his heartrate had elevated just from the glimpse he'd gotten of you covered in blood with a dead body by your feet. he wasn't level enough to speak free from anger. your hair was a mess and you had bruises and cuts on your left cheek. he couldn't help but feel obliterated by the sight of your eyes, the hollowness drowning in tiredness and horror. you kept it masked so well that it was almost scary how easily it was.
there were times you kept it together so well that he forgot what your life was like before you came to the FBI. he forgot about all the bloodshed and the nightmares of mangled corpses and twisted riddles. it came back to him now that he was staring into those same eyes that greeted him when you had first stumbled into his life all that time ago.
emily went to speak again. mary sat her finger tighter on the trigger.
you sucked in a deep breath, winked at emily, and then slammed your head backwards as hard as you could into mary's face.
a gunshot rang out as mary stumbled backwards, your own body falling forwards from the sharp pain at the back of your skull. your right ear was ringing, and somehow you tumbled straight into hotch's arms.
glancing up through blurred vision, you could see his lips moving but couldn't hear any of the words coming out. his eyes kept drifting from you to emily, who made quick work of restraining mary and wrestling her into a pair of handcuffs while she was stunned. blood dripped down her nose as emily tugged her towards the basement door, half-dragging her up the stairs in the process.
hotch's large hands were warm as he held you by the shoulders, gently lowering you to the ground away from the dead man so that you could catch your breath. you vaguely saw him mouth ambulance and so you assumed you'd be looked over for any sort of injury before heading back to quantico.
"i . . ." you trailed off, unsure if you were even speaking loud enough over the ringing. hotch didn't mind that you were borderline shouting in his ear. "i didn't get your tulips . . ."
maybe you imagined the smile that rose to his lips. "of course that's what you're worried about," he didn't bother to mumble it considering you couldn't currently hear him. "fuck, you had me worried."
it was the lowest voice he could muster, and he certainly said it too fast for you to be able to read his lips. all you did was stare up at him with wide eyes. "can you get me some tea? my throat's super sore."
hotch snorted out an almost silent chuckle. his chest felt lighter. "the second you get checked over by a doctor," he said, and when he could tell you still couldn't hear him, he just nodded and watched a smile raise to your chapped lips.
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader
summary: an interrogation room with a serial killer, who is your father, and an angry boyfriend boss behind a two way mirror.
warning: mentions of suicide, reader has a brother, death, mentions of women being butchered up(swear this is part of the plot), being a sadist? also kinda making fun of someone suiciding(however that does not mean I support by any kind joking about suicide)
word count: 2.3k
A/N: hi guys! so yes i know i have part twos i should be doing but this is an old draft i swear lol x have a good day/night
đ - main masterlist
Aaron has never felt this way before.
No, he hasnât. He's 100 percent sure he hasnât. Ask Spencer, heâll probably give you a fancy statistic. 92% of Hotchâs feelings are either driven, or losing his mind to a case. Hotch doesnât feel relaxed. Itâs just not in his vocabulary. The only time he can really feel at ease is when thereâs no case and heâs sitting at home watching movies with his son that always stuffs all of the popcorn in his mouth at once.
But when his eyes land on you, the tension in his shoulder seems to scurry away, the black bags under his eyes pack their own bags and leave, and his face justâŚshines.
Okay, Hotch did not say that.
He blinks at Reid. God bless Hotchâs patience; they really do love testing his patience. âThatâs exactly what happens, Hotch, when you look at her for approximately,â Reid pauses and calculates it in his mind like some machine, âthree and a half seconds.â Which means in Reid language: good for you. Hotch chooses to ignore whatever hint Spencer throws at him.
Spencer leaves, but Hotch isnât sure when. He doesnât care. It just gives him more time to stare at you from the windows of his office like some Victorian man. Watching you, he basks in the details of your face, of your laugh too as you sit on Emilyâs desk, probably forcing her into joining you, JJ, and Penelope for girlâs night.
You and Hotch have been official for about a week, but youâve been keeping it quiet. Thankfully, everyone knows how to be subtleâŚexcept for Penelope. She can be a bit talkative sometimes. Hotch doesnât care though, but you do. You donât want to be known just for dating your boss, and Hotch respects that.
Another thing youâve liked to keep quiet is your past, even if people know about it. You just donât like speaking about it. Thankfully, nobody in the team enjoys talking about their past. For some adults, itâs heaven for them to talk about their childhood, but for some? They donât enjoy remembering the memories theyâve tried extremely hard to bury in the dirt. Everyone in the team is like that. All of you are family, sometimes close enough to know snippets, but not details.
Everybody knows your past, itâs not really a secret around here. However, itâs not in your files. You almost had to start begging Strauss on your knees to remove it from your files as you changed your name, so why should you be associated with your old life anymore?
Thatâs the thing. You canât just outrun your past. It always follows anywhere, runs after you until youâre out of breath, until you canât run anymore. Itâs a survival skill now.
But knowing you donât carry his name, sweeps off some of the guilt off your heart like a duster removing dust on an old bookshelf no one reads anymore. Thatâs the thing. No one cares about your feelings or heart anymore. Itâs normal; people have too much stuff to carry, so how would they carry your baggage too?
You werenât always this alone. No, you used to have someone by your side: a brother, but he killed himself last September. The guilt caught up to him, and it was too late. You couldnât save him. He was always saving you, always there for you, but when it was your turn to save him, you couldnât.
It used to be a normal family. The type of family where children ace their tests, where they play sports every sunday and tuesday, where other neighbors aspire to be like them, but everything took a turn when your mother died in a car accident. You, your brother, and your dad were at home, while your mom was taking the car to go visit your aunt. A drunk driver, flashing headlights, and a blood-curdling scream.Â
All of the family grieved, but your father tried to make it up to you. He remarried, despite your and your brotherâs protests. He still didnât listen. He brought home an angelic looking wife. Sharp cheeks, a thin waist, a good height, and aura that demanded immediate attention. Your dad said not to worry. She said she wouldnât replace your mother.
Both were wrong.
Day by day, your step-mother forced herself into your lives, not in the soft way like a normal person, but in a way that made you despise her even more, until everything changed.
Padding softly down the stairs of your home, you glance at the old pictures on the walls that are starting to gather dust. You walk towards the kitchen, where you hear loud yelling. The voices belonged to both of your parents. She kept screaming in his face.
Slap!
Gasping, you watch her as she slaps your father, her hands turning red. His cheek must be stinging terribly. But your father didnât go quiet, he smashed a glass vase that was situated on the table beside him on her forehead. She dropped cold to the floor.
You swear you could never sleep after that.
Your father still didn't have mercy. He dragged her to the basement and you watched in horror before running to your shared bathroom. Technically, it was his, but you couldnât sleep alone after your momâs death. Harshly shaking your brother out of sleep, he wakes up with a yawn, âwhat is it.â
Hyperventilating, you force the words out, â I think Dad killed the step-mother.â Your brotherâs eyes widened so much that you swore they were about to pop out of the sockets.
Little did you know, that was just the beginning.
But Hotch doesnât feel relaxed when he watches you from the two-way mirror standing in front of your father who you hadn't seen in years. The man, fortunately, was caught after killing 40 women in the span of twenty years. Heâd gotten sloppy, disorganised for a man that plans each step of the crime, but he thought he was invincible. God complex.
None of the team talk when Strauss enters the briefing room and orders a new case for them. She tells them that a man, who was your father, had just been arrested for killing multiple women. Theyâd found 25 women out of 30, and they needed to find the rest of them, because there was a slight possibility that they were still alive, but he wouldnât talk to anyone. He had specifically asked for you. None of them ask why you were in there, why you were putting yourself at risk.
Your father motions at the seat, wordlessly telling you to sit down.
âOh, my beautiful daughter, youâve gotten so old. You look just like your mother.â He smirks, mockery dropping from his voice as you slide into the chair in front of him. Looking at him means seeing all the women he killed, all the women you couldnât save. All the women that died because of you.
âWhereâs your brother?â He asks with fake innocence, his head tilting to his side, âever since I saw you two, you were both so young, so vulnerable and attached to the hip.â
Behind the mirror, Rossi glances at Hotch. Now, it wouldnât take a profiler to understand Hotchâs body language right now. His jaw was clenched and his arms were crossed like that was keeping him from entering into that room.
âShe knows what sheâs doing.â He says, trying to calm down Hotch, because he was looking like he was going to explode.
âThat doesnât make it any better.âÂ
Rossi turns his head towards the mirror, observing you and your father.
âYou said you wanted to talk, so talk. I donât have all day.â Your eyes narrow at him, but Hotch knew this was all a coverup. You were trying so hard not to break down in front of your father. Hotch keeps reminding himself that this was the only way, that he wouldnât talk to anyone else except you.
âTell me about your brother. Come on, sweetheart, itâs not like he wasnât sending me all these letters. Then, poof, he suddenly stops. Now thatâs suspicious.â He repeats, adamant. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly at the words he had just uttered. Your brother was sending him letters?
âLetâs play a game. For every thing you tell me about your life and his, Iâll give you a hint.â He beams, leaning back against his chair. He wasnât handcuffed to the table, that was one of his things he got in return for talking. You bit down on your cheek from cursing at him. Letting out a breath, you say, âFine.â
Behind the mirror, agents scramble for notes and pens.
âIâll start, just to show you Iâm not that evil.â He chuckles, before saying, âdonât bother, theyâre all butchered like good little girls. You next, sweetheart.â His smile grows, his eyes glinting under the dim light of the white lamp above.Â
Your lips part, hands shaking in your lap, but you compose yourself, âheâs dead. Killed himself last September.â
âMy boy, heâsâŚheâsâŚdead.â Tears form in his eyes almost immediately, waves falling from his eyes. He bows his head in shame.
Thatâs what you imagine in your head due to the lack of emotion from him. He doesnât even seem broken. I mean, he is a serial killer, what did you imagine?
âHe had it coming. What can I say?â He shrugs nonchalantly.
At that, you slam your hand on the table, pointing a finger with fury burning in your eyes. âDonât you dare utter that sentence again.â
All what happens is his smirk widens, dirty yellow teeth shining from behind his chaffed lips, âhit a nerve did I? But sweetheart, you know itâs the truth. That poor boy was always too soft.â
âThe girls are at your favourite place. Somewhere you called magical.â He whispers, leaning towards you to the point where you could smell the blood of all the women he spilled clinging to his clothes.
The door slams open loudly, making you jump. You let out a breath of relief when you see Hotch in the doorway with an officer that moves towards your father to cuff him and take him back to his cell. He has court tomorrow.
He doesnât stop looking at you, even when the officer pushes him to start moving. He only stops when he steps out of the dark room. His eyes are burned into your sight.
Standing up, you swallow and look at Hotch who looks at you tenderly like you were about to break. Was it that obvious?Â
âDonât look at me like that.â You grunt, avoiding his eyes.
âLike what?â
âLike Iâm about to break, Hotch. Iâm fine. Just a bit surprised. I think theyâre at the farmhouse. I used to go there. It was beautiful. Itâs under my motherâs name.â You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you feel a headache forming in the side of your head.Â
Hotch, in response, places his hand on the lower part of your back to lead you out of the room, âIâll tell detective Lorence to send his men there.â
Unfortunately and fortunately, they find the butchered women in the rusty barn near the farmhouse that was under your maternal grandfatherâs name. You knew that barn. Your family used to go every summer to see your grandparents before they passed away.
At home, you sit on the kitchen counter while Hotch makes dinner. Youâve gotten used to staying over at his for a while now. You still have your own apartment, but after today, you couldnât be alone. One more thought and your mind was going to explode. Thankfully, Jack has a knack of making your thoughts go away.
He doesnât call you Mom, but instead he calls you by your first name or even gives you multiple nicknames. For example, one time after he watched spiderman, he was so stubborn, like his father, on calling you spiderman because apparently you looked exactly like him. This was way better than him calling you mom, because you were in no way trying to replace Haley.
Tonight, he comes running while giggling through the kitchen, hoping to show you the masterpiece of a drawing he had just drawn. Hotch smiles and puts it on the fridge before carrying him, placing him on his side.
Itâs serene. Itâs all you wanted.
One of the few times you stayed over till morning, Jack woke you up when his dad was nowhere to be seen because he had a nightmare. Hotch wandered the house calling out for your name only to find you sitting up in Jackâs bed with your eyes closed as Jack snores softly beside you.
When you tuck in Jack for bedtime, you withdraw to Hotchâs bedroom where you find him sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking like one of those ancient greek statues. You snort at the thought, and he looks up.
âHey there.â He murmurs, opening up his arms, and you gently place yourself in his lap. âYou okay?â He questions and it almost makes you cry right there in his lap, but you manage to stop yourself and nod instead.
âYes, just a bit shaken. I promise.â You smile, trying to convince him. He decides to drop it.
You know how deeply Hotch cares for you, and it warms your heart every time you remember.
âYou know youâre different, and that I love you. And I know that sometimes I may not say it, but youâre one of the best things that happened to me in a long time, yeah? Jack loves you too. The team loves you.â He says, one handing moving to cup your cheek while the other stays on your thigh.
âI know.â You beam softly, placing your hand on top of the one that was on your cheek.
âAnd you know I wouldnât let anything happen to you, right?â He asks and you nod in response.
content warning - jealous hotch, established secret relationship, i wrote it with age gap in mind but i dont think it actually influenced anything lol, fluff
The concrete walls of the FBI field office observation room were cold, and painted a dull gray. Through the thick one way glass, the interrogation room looked like a stage illuminated by a single harsh overhead panel. You were sitting on the far side of the metal table, adjusting your notepad with a calm, methodical rhythm. Across from you sat Vance, a serial stalker whose charming exterior masked a calculated, deeply arrogant narcissist.Â
Aaron Hotchner stood in his usual position in the observation room, his feet shoulder width apart, hands folded loosely across his chest, his blazer pulled tight around his shoulders. His gaze was fixed entirely on you. You were highly capable, brilliant at your job, out here you were his agent. Behind closed doors in the quiet hours of the night, you were the person he loved. Balancing those two worlds required constant, ironclad discipline.Â
âInterrogation recorded at 14:02,â your voice came through the desktop speaker, clear and even. âLetâs review your timeline for the night of the fourteenth, Vance.â
âWhatever you say, sweetheart,â Vance replied, leaning back in his chair with a slow, deliberate smile.Â
Beside Aaron, Morgan leaned against the table, a mug of coffee in hand. He wasnât looking through the glass, he was looking at Hotch. It was subtle, something anyone else in the precinct would have missed, but Morgan had spent years working alongside Hotch. He noticed the tiny shift of weight from his left foot to his right. He noticed the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw, and the way his knuckles were turning white as he held onto his biceps.Â
Morgan tilted his head, taking a slow sip of his coffee. âYou alright, Hotch?â
âIâm fine.â Aaron said instantly, his tone clipped, his eyes never leaving the glass.Â
âRightâŚâ Morgan nodded slowly, a small, curious smirk touching his lips. âBecause youâre standing so still you look like youâre made of stone. She's got the timeline locked down, Hotch. Relax.â
âI am relaxed, Morgan.â Aaron replied smoothly, though his thumb pressed harder against the fabric pulled taught around his arm. âIâm monitoring the interview.â
Inside the room, Vance leaned forward, resting his elbows on the stainless steel table. He wasnât looking at the evidence file you had opened, his eyes were trailing upward, tracing your face with an unpleasant, lingering familiarity. âYou know,â he murmured, his voice softening into a low, cosy register that made the speaker hiss faintly, âitâs a shame.â
âWhat is?â You asked, not looking up from your page.Â
âA pretty thing like you, stuck in a room like this with a guy like me,â Vance said, tilting his head. âWhatâs a girl like you doing with a badge anyway? You look like you should be taken care of, not dealing with scum.â
In the observation room, Aaronâs breathing didnât change, but his eyes narrowed by a fraction of a millimeter. Heâs attempting to establish control, he reasoned internally, running the standard psychological diagnostic to keep his focus grounded. Itâs a textbook deflection. Vance feels cornered by her authority, heâs trying to patronise her to regain the upper hand.
Logic told Aaron that you were more than capable of handling it. He knew your training, he had watched you dismantle tougher suspects than Vance. But seeing the man dismiss your authority, watching him attempt to reduce a sharp, brilliant federal agent to a stereotype, stirred a deep, uncomfortable agitation beneath his ribs. It was frustrating the helplessness of having to stand behind a piece of glass and watch someone disrespect you, forced to play the silent observer when every professional instinct told him the dynamic was veering off course.
âWeâre discussing your whereabouts between eight pm and midnight, Vance. Not my career.â You said, keeping your face completely neutral.Â
âCome on, sweetheart, donât be like that.â Vance purred, sliding his cuffed hands an inch forward on the metal table. âLook at me. Stop looking at those ugly pictures and look at me.â
Morgan shifted his weight, his eyes darting between the scene behind the glass, and Aaron standing beside him. He had unfolded his arms, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a black pen. He began clicking it with his thumb. It was a small, unconscious habit he only slipped into when a case was grinding on his last nerve.
Click. Click. Click.
âHotch,â Morgan said quietly, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. âHeâs just trying to ruffle her. You know how these narcissists operate.â
âHeâs wasting time,â Aaron said, his voice flat, low, and laced with a tight, restrained friction.
âHeâs been talking for two minutes,â Morgan pointed out, studying his bossâs tense profile with growing suspicion. âShe hasnât even batted an eye. Why are you so keyed up?â
Aaron didnât answer. He couldnât without breaking his composure. He just watched as Vance leaned in closer to you.Â
âIf you took off that jacket, let your hair downâŚâ Vance continued, his tone gratingly confident, âI bet youâd be a lot more fun. I bet youâre real sweet when youâre not playing the tough cop.â
The cheap, plastic casing of the pen cracked under the silent, rigid tension in Aaronâs grip, the snap cutting through the air as ink pooled faintly against the tip.Â
Morgan went still, looking down at the broken pen in Aaronâs hand, then up at his face. The playful curiosity in Morganâs eyes shifted into confusion. âWhoa. Okay⌠Hotch, heâs being a sleaze but sheâs-"
Before Morgan could finish, Aaron stepped forward and pressed the intercom switch on the console. âThatâs enough.â Aaronâs voice echoed through the speaker into the interrogation room, cool, deep and completely authoritative.Â
You paused, catching the faint, subtle tension beneath his controlled tone. You didnât break character. You calmly closed your folder, gave Vance a dismissive look and stood up. âExcuse me. Weâll continue this later.â
âWell hey, donât leave on my account, gorgeous!â He called after you as you unlocked the door.Â
When you stepped into the observation room, the air was dense with an unspoken strain. Morgan was standing near the back, holding his coffee as his eyes darted between you and Hotch, widening slightly as if to warn you of the sudden break of Hotchâs composure.Â
Aaron was standing by the console, his hands resting lightly on the edge, his expression carefully restored to a neutral mask.Â
âGood work in there,â Morgan said smoothly, breaking the silence as he picked up a folder. âKept him on the defensive.â
âThanks,â you said, stepping into the room and setting the file on the desk. You looked over at Aaron, keeping your tone professional. âDo we have enough for the search warrant on his vehicle?â
Aaron looked at you, his dark eyes searching your face for a brief second to ensure you were completely unbothered by the interaction, before he gave a single nod. âIâll sign off on it now.â
Morgan looked between the two of you, hesitantly stepping toward the door. âIâll take the file down to Garcia so she can run the registration. Give you a second to⌠go over the interview notes.â He said, before stepping out, letting the door click quietly shut behind him.Â
The moment the door clicked, the rigid stiffness in Aaronâs shoulders finally melted away. He let out a quiet, tired sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. You stepped closer, dropping the formal boundary between you. âYou look annoyed.â You said gently, glancing at the cracked pen resting on the desk console. Aaron looked at the broken plastic, then up at you, a wry, self deprecating shadow of a smile touching his lips.Â
âIt was frustrating to watch him talk to you like that,â he admitted quietly, his voice deep and calm again. âHe was deliberately trying to disrespect your authority.â
âHe was trying to get a reaction,â you reminded him softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. âAnd he didnât get one from me.â
âI know,â Aaron murmured, moving his arm to lace his fingers through yours, his thumb lightly brushing your knuckles. âYou handled him perfectly. Better than I handled watching it.â
âI had a good teacher,â you offered, taking a small step closer into his space. The tension in the room finally faded completely. The warmth of your presence washed away the last lingering irritation from the interrogation. You tilted your head, your eyes dancing with a sudden, playful spark as you glanced down at the cracked pen sitting on the console, then back up to his sharp, handsome face. âThough I donât remember you teaching me the âbreak the stationary if the suspect gets too personalâ protocol.â
Aaronâs jaw softened, a faint twitch appearing at the corner of his mouth. âThat wasnât a protocol.â
âNo?â You brushed your fingers lightly over his lapel, leaning in just a fraction more. âBecause you look awfully bothered. If I didnât know any better, Iâd say you were jealous.â
âI was being observant,â he replied smoothly, though the warmth in his dark eyes betrayed him. âHe was pushing it.â
âHe was an idiot,â you said softly, teasingly tapping his chest. âAnd you were sulking over a man whose entire pick up line repertoire belongs in a bad rom-com. Admit it. You were jealous.â
Aaron looked down at you as a quiet, breathless huff of laughter escaped him, a sound that crinkled the corners of his eyes and smoothed every line of stress from his forehead. âMaybe a little,â he confessed softly, his voice rich and fond.
âHow very charming.â You murmured, smiling softly. He raised his hand, his warm palm gently cupping the side of your neck. His thumb brushed over the skin just beneath your ear. He leaned down, bridging the gap between you slowly, deliberately. His gaze flicked down to your lips before locking back onto your eyes.Â
âYouâre the only person who talks to me like that,â he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek.Â
âAnd yet,â you whispered back, tilting your chin up just a fraction, âyou love me anyway.â
âI do,â he murmured, his lips hovering just above yours, his nose lightly bumping yours, the quiet hum of the field office humming outside the room.Â
The door handle turned, and the heavy door swung open. âHey, Hotch, Garcia said the car registration came back as-â Emily froze mid step, her words dropping instantly.
In a fraction of a second, Aaron pulled back with practiced, fluid grace, picking up the case folder from the console as if he had simply been leaning over to read a line on the page. You smoothly stepped back, crossing your arms and adjusting your posture to look entirely absorbed in the file. Emily stood in the doorway, a stack of papers in her hand, her eyes wide as her gaze darted from Aaronâs slightly flushed jawline to your quiet composure, and back again.Â
The silence stretched for five excruciating, horribly awkward seconds. Emily slowly brought the file folder up, using it to shield half her face as a look for sheer, panicked realisation settled over her features. âI⌠am going to go back down the hallway,â she said, taking a slow step backward out the room. âAnd I am going to pretend that I forgot the registration printout. Which I did. Right now.âÂ
âPren-â Aaron started, his authoritative voice suddenly sounding remarkably strained.Â
She slammed the door shut with a loud, hasty thud before he could even finish her name, her muffled, rapid footsteps hurrying away down the hall.
Inside the room, complete silence fell again. You slowly turned your head to look at Aaron. He was holding the case file upside down. A quiet, breathless laugh escaped your lips, and you covered your mouth to muffle it. Aaron looked down at the file, then over at you, letting out a long, heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples, though the faint trace of that rare smile still lingered on his face.Â
âI knew youâd get me into trouble,â he grumbled affectionately, pressing a soft, quick kiss to your hair before snapping the file shut.
summary: after a routine raid goes horribly wrong, you are rushed into emergency surgery. While your physical wounds begin to heal, an old childhood trauma leaves you terrified of having your stitches removed. Determined to help you through it, Aaron stays by your side every step of the way, offering quiet reassurance, unwavering patience, and a hand to hold when you need it most.
Aaron Hotchner x Reader
authors note: Itâs so nice to be back and writing for Aaron again! I really hope you enjoy this one and if you have any idea youâd like brought to life, donât hesitate to comment. Thank you for all the love. Enjoy reading!! đđ
The bullpen was unusually quiet.
Everyone was buried in paperwork after a long case, the kind that lingered long after the unsub was in custody. Emily was typing away with a sigh every few minutes, Reid was explaining statistical probabilities to Morganâwho definitely hadn't askedâand JJ was pretending not to laugh.
Aaron Hotchner looked up from his report when he heard your laugh from the hallway.
It was brief.
Warm.
His favorite sound.
You stepped inside with a coffee in one hand and a folder tucked beneath your arm, smiling at him before setting his coffee beside him.
"You've been staring at that same paragraph for five minutes."
"I was thinking."
"You were brooding."
"I don't brood."
You raised an eyebrow.
Emily snorted into her coffee.
"...Frequently," Aaron admitted.
You leaned down and kissed his cheek before returning to your own desk.
-
Three days later, everything changed.
The raid should have been straightforward.
Contain.
Arrest.
Go home.
Instead, the unsub bolted through an abandoned warehouse, knocking over rusted shelving as he ran.
You chased after him with Morgan close behind.
"Y/N!" Morgan shouted.
You turned just in time to see the metal beam swinging free.
There wasn't enough time to move.
The edge slammed into your side, throwing you hard against the concrete.
Everything blurred.
You remembered Aaron yelling your name.
Then...
Nothing.
-
The first thing you felt was warmth.
The second was Aaron's hand wrapped tightly around yours.
Your eyes fluttered open.
Hospital ceiling.
Beeping monitors.
Pain.
Lots of pain.
"There she is."
Aaron's voice was gentle, calmer than you knew he felt.
He brushed a strand of hair away from your face.
"You scared me."
Your lips tugged into the smallest smile.
"I thought we agreed... no paperwork in heaven."
He actually laughed.
Just once.
Quiet.
Relieved.
"You aren't getting out of paperwork that easily."
-
The surgeon explained everything.
Two broken ribs.
A deep laceration across your abdomen.
Internal bleeding.
Emergency surgery had gone well.
You'd need several weeks of recovery.
And...
"...You have two lots of stitches. The external ones will come out in about two weeks."
You stopped listening after that.
Stitches.
Your breathing became uneven.
Aaron noticed immediately.
"Honey?"
You stared at the blanket.
Your hands began shaking.
-
Later that evening, after everyone had visited, Aaron found you sitting in the dim hospital room with tears quietly slipping down your cheeks.
He sat beside you.
"Sweetheart."
You didn't answer.
"You've been quiet ever since the surgeon mentioned the stitches."
Still nothing.
He waited.
Aaron had always been patient.
Eventually you whispered...
"When I was twelve..."
His eyes stayed on yours.
"I had surgery."
You swallowed hard.
"They left the stitches in too long."
Your voice cracked.
"I remember screaming."
You closed your eyes.
"They kept telling me it wouldn't hurt."
Another tear escaped.
"It did."
Aaron's expression softened immediately.
"They had to hold me down."
Silence filled the room.
"I've never been more scared."
Your voice was barely audible now.
"So every time someone says 'We'll remove the stitches,' all I can think about is that."
Aaron reached for your hand.
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't dismiss it.
Didn't tell you you'd be fine.
He simply squeezed your fingers.
"I'm so sorry."
Those three words made you cry harder than anything else had.
Because he believed you.
-
The next two weeks passed slowly.
Aaron insisted on helping with everything.
Changing bandages.
Helping you walk.
Making sure you actually took your pain medication instead of insisting you were "fine."
Jack even helped.
Very seriously.
He'd carry pillows across the house.
Bring you blankets.
Offer you juice boxes because "juice fixes everything."
Aaron never corrected him.
-
The morning your stitches were due to come out...
You threw up from anxiety.
Aaron found you sitting on the bathroom floor.
You looked embarrassed; overwhelmed.
"I can't do this."
He crouched beside you.
"Yes, you can."
"What if it hurts?"
"I'll be there."
"What if I panic?"
"I'll still be there."
"What if I cry?"
He smiled softly.
"Then I'll hold your hand while you cry."
You looked at him with watery eyes.
"What if I can't even walk into the room?"
"Then I'll walk in with you."
He kissed your forehead.
"You don't have to be brave by yourself."
-
The nurse immediately noticed how frightened you looked.
"We can take breaks."
You nodded without really hearing her.
Aaron sat beside the examination table instead of across the room.
He took your hand before anyone even asked.
His thumb slowly rubbed circles across your knuckles.
"Look at me."
You did.
"Not the stitches."
Only him.
"You know what I need you to do?"
"What?"
"Breathe with me."
Slow inhale.
Slow exhale.
Again.
And again.
His voice never changed.
Never rushed.
Never left you.
The first stitch came out.
You flinched.
Aaron squeezed your hand.
"You're doing perfectly."
Another.
Then another.
A few stung.
A few pinched.
None were anything like your childhood memory.
But every tiny pinch still made your heart race.
Aaron kept talking the whole time.
About Jack's latest obsession with dinosaurs.
About Morgan trying to teach Reidâ
"No," you laughed weakly.
"Not that story."
Aaron smiled.
"Alright, Rossi trying to teach us all how to grill."
You smiled.
The tension eased.
The nurse quietly continued.
Almost finished.
"You've got five left," she said.
Your breathing hitched.
Aaron leaned closer until your foreheads almost touched.
"I know."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I've got you."
You closed your eyes.
Focused only on him.
His thumb.
His heartbeat where your hands touched.
His calm breathing.
"Four."
"You've got this, sweetheart."
"Three."
"So proud of you."
"Two."
"Almost home."
"Last one."
A tiny tug.
"...Done."
The nurse smiled.
"That's it."
You blinked.
"Really?"
She laughed.
"Really."
You burst into relieved tears.
Aaron immediately wrapped his arms around you.
You buried your face against his shoulder.
"I did it."
"You did."
"It wasn't..."
"No."
"...like before."
His hand rested gently against the back of your head.
"No, honey."
You stayed there for several minutes.
Just breathing.
-
That evening, the team gathered at your house with takeout and entirely too many desserts.
Emily claimed sugar was medically necessary.
Reid produced an article attempting to prove it.
Morgan declared victory regardless.
Jack proudly announcedâ
"Mom doesn't have scary stitches anymore!"
Everyone cheered.
You hid your face in Aaron's shoulder, laughing.
He wrapped an arm around your waist.
His lips brushed your temple.
"So..."
"So?"
"You survived."
"Barely."
He smiled.
"You were incredible."
"I cried."
"You were incredible while crying."
"I panicked."
"You were incredible while panicking."
You looked up at him.
"When did you get so good at knowing what I needed?"
Aaron's smile was small.
Quiet.
The kind reserved only for you.
"The day I promised to love you."
He kissed your forehead.
"No matter what."
You leaned into him as laughter echoed through the house, Jack chased Morgan around the living room pretending to be a T-Rex, and Emily loudly insisted that anyone who brought vegetables to a celebration should be arrested.
For the first time in weeks, everything felt normal.
Safe.
Home.
And as Aaron's fingers intertwined with yours, you realized something your frightened twelve-year-old self never could have imagined.
âş a/n: this was an option on a recent "i need you to pick my next post" lol so i hope it meets your expectations ! <333
reader is 20+
-----
Aaron tried to hold it together since you two started dating.Â
Heâs held back from dragging you into his office, pulling you for kisses in the quiet hallways, even trying to not pass by your desk as much to smell that honey vanilla scent that has stayed on his pillows. Â
Though, as weeks passed and you two became more and more serious with each other he started to become more and more clingy.Â
Heâd ask if you needed anything about a couple times, try to linger by your desk as much as he could without being suspicious, and his favorite.Â
Calling you into his office for a âmeetingâ.Â
What was supposed to be him sitting across from you and grading your performance, turned into you somehow sitting in his lap as he played with your hair. Or you somehow on his desk with him between your thighs kissing all over your neck as he breathed you in.Â
âHow do you smell so good?â He sighed into your skin. He wanted to be in you, be around you, talk to you, just hear you. It was an obsession at that point. Not a weird one. A loving one. A âI canât think straight without being near youâ kinda way.Â
It really wasnât his fault, nor was it yours.Â
Thatâs just the kind of man he is. And he knew it would only progress from there.Â
Another example? At office parties he would not leave you alone.
If he had to talk to anyone to catch up after lost time?Â
Heâs only staying for about a second then walking off to go and find you as you were talking to your own group.
He would leave kisses along your shoulders while you talked to people around you with no care in the world. You were what he needed all the time.Â
While you two were separated it was like the grumpy Aaron Hotchner returned.
He couldnât sleep without you or he would be in a sour mood.Â
He needed to call at least every two hours.Â
And he loves sending texts anytime he can. He spams your phone immediately when he has free time. One after another.Â
just wanted to add i do not use ai in any way to write anything i post. i use a grammer checker which is attached to docs on google. also please do not steal my writing.
You ain't my boyfriend, and I ain't your girlfriend
Summary: You're secretary to SSA Aaron Hotchner, who just so happens to be your sugar daddy. What happens when emotions take hold?
Tags: Aaron Hotchner X Fem!Reader, slight angst, no smut yet, suggestive content, Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner, Secretary!reader, reader wears a dress
Word count: 893
Aaron Hotchner takes his 3 PM coffee black, and on Wednesdays with a sugar cookie. And as his secretary itâs expected that you will get it to him no sooner, no later. So naturally on this Thursday afternoon youâre in a rush to get back to his office with the flimsy paper cup, itâs no help that youâre stuck in the stairway being talked at by some cocky agent. I mean look at the guy, sure maybe your friends would find the blonde young man to be a total catch, but you have places to be!
It feels like the fourth time youâve tried to excuse yourself when you hear a stern voice from the floor above you.
âExcuse me, Agent McCallum. Youâre holding up my coffee, itâs 3:01.â
Thank the stars. When you look up you see Aaron in his typical Thursday suit, only differentiated from other days by the blue pinstripe tie. McCallum finally moves out of your way, not looking to be reprimanded over something as trivial as this, but you can still feel his eyes on you while you try to go up the stairs.
âEyes to yourself McCallum.â
Again, you feel the hair on the back of your neck prick up at Aarons voice, heâs always seemed to dislike male attention on you which is as appreciated as it is unhelpful. Heaven forbid a girl wants to get a date sometime.
By the time you make it to his office, Hotch is already back at his desk and reading over some files. You set his coffee on his desk and start going back to your little desk outside his office when you hear him.
âThree hundred in your account. Jackâs at a sleepover. Dinner at Belloniâs?â
There it is. For the past few months, Hotch has been taking you out for money. Supposedly you could call it a sugar daddy situation, you almost feel bad considering he just seems lonely. Obviously, it wasnât sexual, sure maybe there was some thigh touching, and the occasional grinding against each other in the car, but for some reason he never let it cross the line.
âSure, dinner. What do I wear?â
âAnything. Just be there.â
Thereâs what feels like a long silence, just watching each other and feeling your throat hurt from all the things you canât say. Instead, you simply nod and leave.
Belloniâs is as nice as you imagined, of course Hotch got your uber for you. He comes outside to walk you in, eyes roving over the black dress you picked which was definitely shorter than anything youâve worn at work. By the time you get to the table thereâs already a basket of breadsticks and bottle of wine. Being the ever gentleman that he is Hotch pulls your chair out for you, and you canât help but smile to yourself.
âLike the dress?â
âQuite a bit.â His voice is low and clearly not focused on the idea of conversation.
The night goes well like any of your other nights together, talking, pulling laughs from him, and smiles nobody else saw. Honestly these dates mean more to you than just the money, but you donât think you can even tell him that.
Hotch just finished telling you a story about his golfing buddy missing so badly he fell over, which just reduced you into a fit of giggles, even to the point of slouching in your seat. His gaze is gentler when watching you, face relaxed to a softer smile.
âYou know, if McCallum keeps bothering you, Iâll reassign his department.â
âOh my gosh, no itâs fine. I really donât mind.â
âI do.â Oh. Heâs serious. Sure, you know he wasnât the fondest of other guys around you, but how far does he really plan to take this?
âCâmon Hotch-â
âAaron.â
âOkay Aaron, youâre not my boyfriend, and Iâm not your girlfriend.â
His mouth is pressed into a firm line, the two of you blatantly aware this has nothing to do with McCallum. Thereâs a wave of silence between the two of you, Aarons eyes on the tablecloth, whilst yours are fixed on him. After what feels like a century, he finally speaks up.
âBut I donât want you to see anybody else. And we both know you donât want me to see anybody else.â
Oh. Heâs not wrong, youâd get pissy when he would pay more attention to other women who came through his office, but it feels unfair for him to call you out on it.
âThen what do you want from me?â
âI donât want anything,â He groaned, head falling into his hands as he takes a minute to gather his thoughts. âI just want you.â
Hotchâs words shouldnât surprise you, not really. Itâs been months of dancing around the subject but hearing it out loud really sucks the air from the room.
âI want you too Aaron.â Your tone is quiet, the small confession couldâve been drowned out by the sounds of the restaurant around you, but you know he heard you.
The rest of the meal is silent, the only proof of what just happened is your joined hands. The hands that both go straight to Hotchâs car after the bill is paid, the hands that only separate when one is placed on your thigh for the drive back to his.
Authors note: This is going to be a two part thing, it'll take me a bit to get around to it though lol. This WAS based off Ariana Grande's song #rip Also I really want buffalo chicken dip :(
Hi Millieeee â¤ď¸ ok, so I had this idea. I remember you posted about corruption kink with Hotch a while ago and I was wondering if you could write something with that? Maybe with breeding kink?
I trust your brain will come up with something!
Thank you ILYYYSMMMM â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
i dug this out of the pit in my drafts because i thought it might fit, but now that i think about it... it's not so much corruption kink??? but i hope you like it anyways!!
MDNI!! a very filthy blurb incoming
pairing | aaron hotchner x fem!reader
warnings | dark!hotch, breeding kink, disgusting language lol, crying, free use undertones??, dumbification? office sex, clothed sex (but i don't think it's specified) pet names (darling, sir, good girl)... yeah yeah
word count | 474 (this is way too short i know)
...i could definitely be threatened to write this into a full fic.
"Look at me," he commanded with a growl, his voice coming from somewhere behind youâabove you.
You wanted to comply, needed to. Desperately. However, the ability to control your body, to move it to his liking, had instead turned into a pathetic symphony of whines and incoherent noises. It was like your mind had transformed into jelly, and spiked with the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of youâviciously.
Aaron grabbed your jaw and forced your face to twist back. He cooed as your glazed eyes finally found his, tears staining your cheeks, "God, so pretty, all stupid for me."
His hand landed on your cheek onceâtwiceâemitting a small whimper from your lips. It wasn't harsh, it barely stung, but it was firm enough to remind you of your position. You were at his mercy and his alone. No one else would do this to you, ever. No one else would ruin you like he ruined youâyou were his to use.
He buried himself deeper, pushing all the way in and then some, before he stilled completely. Aaron bent forward, his chest pressing against your back, and purred in your ear, "gon' take it like the good girl you are?"
You managed to nod, mouth parting to form a replyâthough the words were replaced by sounds only the devil would recognize. His cock felt so big, so thick, as he picked up his pace. An unforgiving, relentless hammering of his hips.
A delicious kind of pain from the way he stretched your walls, it was an addictive form of torment. It hurtâwonderfully, so good you could cry.
You were so warm and tight around him, it felt like he was suffocating. It was dizzyingâso much so, he suddenly found himself understanding the appeal of erotic asphyxiation. Aaron's head fell back with a curse, his hands landing on your hips with a bruising grip as he painted your insides, as he filled you up with his cum. Just as he had planned.
As he pulled out, your cunt clenched around nothing, pushing out the wetness he had so graciously put inside of you. He clicked his tongue with disappointment, his fingers gathering the white strings threatening to drip onto his desk, and plunged them back into you, "no, you know better than this."
You stifled a sob behind your palm, thighs shaking as he pushed his fingers deeper, harshly. Aaron snarled, his thumb circling your sensitive clit, "we do not let it drip out, darling. Understand?"
He kept his fingers still, carefully ensuring you were filled to the brim and stayed like that, as his other hand moved to pull your hair. "Do. You. Understand."
Forcing your glassy eyes open to look back at him, tears rolling down your cheeksâyou smiled sweetly, "yes, sir."
wrote this months ago, but i'm in a state of burnout so... let me know your thoughts <33
the fire alarm ruins your orgasm, for the third time this week. thankfully, your neighbor offers to help you after you snap at him in the parking lot, and in return, he wants cookies. you would give him anything if it meant he would ruin you...
pairing | aaron hotchner x neighbor!fem reader
disclaimer | don't read this if it makes you uncomfortable. what you consume is your own responsibility <3 MDNI
warnings | PORN WITHOUT PLOT, PERV!hotch, also dark and cocky!hotch, he is sooooo confident and fulllll of himself, reader is very sexually frustrated and angry like that's the entire plot, a lot of cursing, italics, mentions of outfit, no body descriptions, no use of y/n, hotch lives alone!!!, sex of convenience (is that even a trope?), basically a week of edging up until this point, rough sex and gentle touches!!, crying, oral (both), protected p in v (be proud of me), multiple orgasms, dubcon undertones but in a sexy way, slight choking, almost loss of consciousness?, reader says no but he keeps going and it all works out<3, forehead kisses, slight exhibitionism kink? ..... this is PURE FILTH. #ovulating
word count | 4.3k we're all going to hell together <3
It had to have something against you, that was the only explanation.
Perhaps you had done something to anger it, to provoke the monster inside to unleash its wrath and direct it at you. Maybe it was karma for that time you finished check-out at your local grocery shop, and didn't give the change to the homeless man outside.
In your defense, you were in a rush, and the few dollars had been pushed into the depths of your back pockets in a hurry.
But you should have given him the change, you would have given him all of your money if that cleansed your karma.
The fire alarm had blasted its deafening howls at the wonderful hour of two in the fucking morningâand you suppressed the urge to cry with it as you kicked off the sheets of your bed and stomped to the door. Angrily.
Three times in one week.
Three times had the fire alarm gone offâthree fucking times had you not gotten off. It sent your nerves into overdrive. Every fiber in your body was tense, buzzing with frustration. Your mind no longer worked properly, there was not a single thought in your head that could even resemble sanity.
You were spent, uptight. Fired up. Deeply and infuriatingly.
The past week had been Hell. Capital H. Like the place they send your soul to suffer for eternity. Someone should call the Devil and tell him if his Underworld was ever at capacity, they could send the rest to live in your apartment complex. There was no difference.
Maybe this was the Underworld, and the Devil was the one causing you to suffer.
You wondered if the Devil fucked good.
Probably. Most likely. Unfortunately.
Half of the week had left you exhausted. Passed out the moment your head hit the pillow. Every other day you worked at the Office of Worst Kinds of People (a staff of only business men), and you had repeatedly run out of patience and will to live.
When you had not been swamped with work, you found yourself alone, in the solitude of your own apartment.
The quiet was driving you insane.
Every single one of your friends had been busy, whether with their own jobs or vacations. You didn't have a boyfriend, despite how much you found yourself needing one right about now. You were lonely.
It was you and your steadily growing collection of adult toysâexcept, you didn't get to be with them either.
How was it even possible that every moment you had to yourself, to get the release that would hopefully lift your shitty mood, the fire alarm protested by screaming its discontent.
Its pleasure was your displeasure, you were sure of that.
Oh, how you wished you could have gotten your shit together and downloaded the dating app your friends had begged you to get. Or even gone to a club, a barâeven a fucking strip clubâjust to get laid.
Fuck, you needed to get someone inside of you. Soon. Hard and fast.
"Aren't you cold?" Aaron, your next door neighbor, asked from your immediate left. Your head whipped to the side, to glare at him while you mentally sewed your mouth shut. It took everything in you to not snap in his stupidly handsome face.
Apparently, by the looks of him, he had better instincts when it came to urgent situations. You know the questions that are like 'what three things would you grab if there was a fire'? Yeah, Aaron seemed like he had his things figured out.
First of all, he was actually wearing clothesâand not a cropped tee and frilly, ruffled shorts that made your ass look amazingâmostly because it didn't cover anything.
Second of all, he had a bag slung over his shoulder. Which you guessed was actually useful stuff, and not the initial image that popped into your head of sex toys and bondage equipment.
Third of all, he didn't seem to mind being hauled out of the comfort of his apartment in the ass crack ofânot even dawn.
Of-fucking-course you were cold. It was two in the fucking morning and your shit had been scared out of you by the infuriating fire alarmâwhich, also, most definitely, had it out for you.
And not 'out for you' in a good way, like it had whipped out its boner just for you. Because if that was the case, you wouldn't have been as cranky and frustrated as you were.
You would have climbed it, that was how desperate you were.
Pride was long lost and it would be a fool's mission to search for it.
"It's fine," you lied, lifting and dropping a shoulder to really sell the act of indifference. The urge to cross your arms over your chest and rub some warmth into your skin was increasingly hard to resist. You wished someone else would rub warmth into your skin instead.
Maybe the cold would seep into your bones and extinguish the burning between your legs. Hopefully.
"You're in a bad mood tonight," he clicked his tongue and chuckled, almost more to himself than you, "here, take this."
The world seemed to slow as you watched him reach for the zipper of his jacket. One inch was all it took, it slid down one inch to reveal the column of his throat and panic struck you.
"Stop," you gasped but it sounded more like a whine, an open palm stretched out to shield the sliver of skin from your visionâfrom the wrath of the demon in between your legs, "if you undress any more, I'm going to fucking jump. God."
"Fuck," your voice lowered to a whisper, to direct your words to yourself, as you dragged a hand down your face, "I need to get it together." This was getting out of hand. You had to get your shit together before anyone in the sea of people around you ended up the a danger zone.
"Three fucking times this week," you closed your eyes and sighed, "I justâneed to get laid."
Aaron stilled as you continued muttering to yourself. He just stood there, unsure how to react, close enough that the warmth of his body caressed your skin in a way that drew goosebumpsâfar away enough that he wasn't in immediate danger of getting pounced on. Yet.
You met his unreadable gaze with an apologetic wince, "sorry."
Shit, you must have come across as an insane and desperate whore. Which might have been true, but that was not the subject of panicked discussion here. Aaron was nice, he always offered to help carry your stuff if you were struggling. Was always helpful if you had trouble with your car.
And he always appreciated your baking. If he wasn't home whenever you had made a batch of cookies or muffins or whatever, you'd shoot him a text and he'd knock on your door as soon as he got back.
Aaron watched out for you. He didn't deserve your shitty attitude.
He chuckled, a dark sound, rough and raspy. Like his throat had yet to fully wake up from slumber. Your thighs pressed together without your consentâand you knew he noticed. Apparently, your brain and your body no longer conversed before decisions were made. What a team, right?
"Can you wait until they let us back inside, or?" he purred, a playful smirk toying on his lips. As if the idea of it was amusing and not an actual fucking issue. But the urge to wipe that infuriatingly sexy look off his face vanished, as soon as his words sunk in.
Did he think you were joking?
The sticky mess practically dripping down your thighs was not funny, at all. It was embarrassing and annoying, and extremely frustrating. The idea of being this... aroused in the parking lot with every single resident of the complex presentâit honestly kind of turned you on even more.
"It's not funny," you grumbled under your breath, arms folded over your chest to try to keep from shaking. Whimpering. Somewhere in between glaring at the asphalt under your shoes and picturing a giant orgy in the parking lot, Aaron had slipped his jacket off.
"Didn't say it was," he bit back a grin as he hung the jacket around your shoulders, "but only if you bake those cookies again." The scent of him waved around you, the heat of his body lingering inside the fabric now seeped into your skin.
"Are you making demands for sex?" you huffed a laugh, both unbelieving and intrigued, as you clutched the jacket tighter, "we'll fuck if I make you cookies?" Was it sad that you really hoped he meant it?
Maybe, but you did not give a single shit. Dick was dickâand he was absolutely not the ugliest person to be dicked down byânor was the request anything but it's own win.
He was fucking gorgeous, in a dark and mysterious way. Like you'd never know if he was plotting your assassination or fantasizing about his cock deep in your throatâwhich was all the more attractive.
Not to mention, he liked your baking so much, he was trading sex for a batch of cookies.
This is what capitalism could have been.
Aaron chuckled, shrugging with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes, "give and take, right?" Oh, he was absolutely onto something, that man. And, soon, he could be onto youâif the firemen could just get their fingers out of their asses and let you back inside.
"How could I ever refuse such an offer?" you licked your lips and smirked, reflecting the smug expression forming on his face.
The stairwell door stood directly across from your apartment, pushed against one end of the hallway. On the middle wall was Aaron's door. His apartment was the biggest on your floor, save from the exact mirrored layout on the opposite end.
It was longer than yours, stretching further out than most of the other apartments.
You halted at the familiar crossroad, tilting your head as you studied the two doors with feigned indecisiveness, "mine or yours?" It didn't matter, you did not care at all. Not even a little bit. All you wanted was to get pounded so hard, you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a week. And then some.
"Mine," he stated, decided, keys jingling in his hand as he unlocked the door. He held it open for you to enter, then closed it shut behind you.
Aaron kicked off his shoes and dropped his keys onto the console table, before turning back to look at you with a devilish smirk on his face, "can I get you anything?"
"Yeah, a dick and a bed, please and thank you," you mumbled as you hung up his jacket on the hooks, then snorted, "actually, the bed is optional." Anywhere would be acceptable, you thought to yourself as you sat down on the floor to untie your shoes.
Why the hell did you decide on converse? An even better question, how the hell did you manage to put them on while rushing out of the building?
"Well, I was thinking a glass of water or something," he mused, taking a step closer to where you knelt on the floor, "but, since you asked so nicely..."
"I'm going to scream if you don't touch me now." you glared up at him after pushing your shoes out of the way, barely restraining yourself from sinking your teeth into his thighs like a fucking vampire. They were right in front of you.
He seemed to really enjoy your snappy words and lack of composure, or perhaps he was the Devil himself come to prolong your sufferingâmight as well been as he didn't move an inch. Aaron just tilted his head down, filling your vision with his tall body and satisfied, smug expression.
However, you were a woman of your word. So, you took a breath, intent to actually scream your frustrations outâbut the moment your lips parted, his cock hit the back of your throat.
You hadn't even noticed his pants coming undone, or his cock being whipped outânot until he was pushing past your lips with a groan and his hand tangled in your hair to keep you in place. He was careful, despite his grip on your head, his pace was slow and easy.
But slow and easy was not your style. Slow and easy would not do fucking shit to the volcano of horny you had transformed into.
Grazing your teeth lightly, in warning, a reminder of who really had the power, then you relaxed your jaw entirely. Offering the space of your mouth for him to use freely. Roughly, hopefully.
Aaron did. He fucked your throat until tears were streaming down your face. Until you had snaked a hand down your shorts and fingered yourselfâuntil you had gotten so close you trembledâand that was when he pulled out.
Seconds before release could wash over you.
You tried your best to not sob as he lifted you up to your feet, a smile on his lips, his hands on either side of your face. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumbs brushing away the tears that stained your cheeks, "how many times, sweetheart?"
"What?" you shook your head in attempt to focus on the question he had asked. The gesture was so gentle, you almost passed out from the shift in energy. But the fire in your veins burned with threat and promise of eruption. Every cell in your body was tense, every fiber was screaming for the release you had been denied way too many times now.
"How many times do you want to cum for me, sweetheart?" Aaron repeated casually, like it was the most common question. His hands traveled down your sides, to your waist, under your shirt. His touch was like gasoline, fuel to what was brewing in your lower stomach. You shivered as his thumb grazed your peaked nipple, moaned as he pinched it between his fingers.
"Three?" he suggested in the absence of your answer, his hands cupping both your breasts firmly, "or more?" The smile on his lips seemed even more devilish as he tilted his head to the side, studying your dazed expression. A predator watching his prey. Fuck, it was hot.
"Three," you managed finally, nodding absentmindedly at your own confirmation, "fast, please. I'm going to explode if I can'tâ"
"I know, come on," Aaron relented with a chuckle, dragging you through the living room, to his bedroom.
The moment your feet crossed the threshold, his lips were on yours. Hungry and claiming. His tongue darted into your mouth with a force that stole your breath away, that had you wishing to never need air again. There was nothing slow and easy about him anymore.
He was all fire. Consumed by a demon of his own.
His mouth traveled across your jaw, biting the soft skin down your neck. As if he was teasing himself, refraining from devouring you entirely. If vampires were real, you would gladly offer your own neck if it felt like this.
Your hands tangled in his hair, clawed at his neckâanywhere you could reach, you scratched. Every thought in your brain evaporated as he groped your ass. Harshly. Everything about him was demanding, every touch on your body was an act of claim, every bite on your neck was a mark.
Then, he stepped back, out of your grasp, to rake his gaze down your body. He was appreciating the sight, drinking in the state of you. His cock was pressed against his lower stomach, the tip glistening with precum and the remnant of your spit.
You clenched around nothing at the thought of him inside you, how big he was in your mouth and how deep he fucked himself down your throat. How good he'd stretch you out. How you had promised him three orgasms.
Aaron clicked his tongue and tilted his head, "as much as I would love to fuck you in those shorts," he purred lowly, almost growling, "if you want to keep them in one piece, I suggest you take them off. Now."
You did not need to be told twiceânot when the look on his face alone had you shivering with anticipationâthe sound of his voice echoed through your bones, vibrating your body with the melody. His eyes darkened with something you could only assume was a warning sign, as his own clothes decorated the floor alongside yours.
The moment your shirt was off, he threw you on the bed, his hands gripping your hips to pull you to the edge as he positioned himself between them. His cock twitched against your thigh as he leaned down, face hovering inches above yours with a predatory look in his eyes.
"Sweetheart," he purred, in a way so condescending, you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs around him, "how would you like your first one?"
Fuck. In the dim light of his bedroom, with the gleam in his eyes, he looked every part of the Devil you had imagined.
"Don't care," you breathed, grinding you hips against him, "would jus' like it right now." The ache was consuming you, the desperation was at an all time high. You could practically feel your head emptying, and filling up again with images of him. No thoughts, it was all a burning need for Aaron.
"Guess it's my choice, then." he mused, a satisfied smile on his lips.
Then he was gone again, rummaging in the closet on the opposite side of the bedroom, returning with a blueâtie? You shuddered, breath hitching with a small whimper as he stalked for you. Slowly.
With a nod of his head, you pushed yourself backwards until you hit the headboard. Without exchanging a single word, you lifted your arms and he tied them together, securing you to his bed. You were at his mercyâand, God, did it turn you on.
Aaron was everywhere. His hands spread your thighs, his mouth devouring your breasts. Then his hands snaked up to replace his mouth, and his head lowered between your legs. He blew, air fanning across your foldsâbefore he settled.
You moaned as his tongue danced around, plunged into you, pushing every button that ensured you would explode in no time. He rolled your nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger, the other hand moving down to your lower stomach, to press you into the mattress.
Your hips bucked, or tried to, against his hold. Tried to both push yourself into the feeling of his mouth on you, as well as away from it. It was dizzying and breathtaking, too much and yet not enough. The tie around your wrist dug into the skin, to keep you restrained as you pulled.
His groans were muffled by your thighs, vibrating around your clit. The sounds of him consuming you like it was everything he'd ever wanted, it sent you barrelling for the edge. Tumbling rapidly for the pleasure you had been denied for a week, as if it could be ripped out of your grasp any moment, and this was the only chance.
Your thighs shook with the intensity of your approaching orgasm, your whimpers turned into breathy moans, then small screamsâuntil his fingers plunged into your mouth, and you unfolded. Drowned in darkness, the abyss of bliss.
It hurt so fucking good.
The sound of a wrapper ripping open did not register in your dazed state. You didn't register much at all before his cock slammed into you. In one movement.
Aaron wasn't giving you the moment to catch your breath, or to adjust to the size of him. No, he was a man of his own word, and he was intent to collect the debt you owed him. In his own pace, hard and fast, unrelenting.
It didn't take long for the sensitivity to melt back into desire. For the pain to reshape into a mind-numbing pleasure.
"Fuck," you gasped, eyes rolling as he hit the deepest spot inside of you over and over again. Both of his hands gripped your hips to hold, to use you as his anchorâand you hoped there would be bruises. Prints of his fingers, marks of his claims. Tattoos of the memories.
Aaron looked like a god above you. A disheveled, sexy god. His hair stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat as he pounded his cock deeper. Rougher. His eyes were wild, like he was in a crazed state and the urges had taken over. As if he had been possessed. He fucked like it, too.
"Wan' touch you," you managed to breathe, back arching off the bed with another forceful thrust. Your jaw was slack with the intent of forming another sound, yet none came out. Nothing but gasps could be heard. Gasps and skin slappingâand his deep rumbles that almost sounded like praiseâbut you couldn't make it out over the buzzing in your body.
The pressure lessened around your wrist and you pulled them free, grabbing his shoulders instead. Raking your nails down his back as he leaned over you, fucking you harder into the mattress.
Aaron bent your leg, your knee pressing against his chest to allow him deeper. His hand moving to your throat. It was a light hold, but firm enough to restrict the airways. You were shaking again, moaning pathetically as you clenched around him. The pressure around your throat was dizzying in the best ways. Intoxicating.
"Give it to me, sweetheart." his lips brushed your ear, his tone so demandingâyou obeyed even before his words registered.
Everything was on fire. A delicious flame threatening to consume you as your body went numb with the force of your second orgasm. Skin buzzing with electricity, legs shaking around him as it swallowed you whole. A scream stuck in your throat, hindered by his tightening grip.
The world started to fade, the edges of your vision darkening. The abyss stretching endlesslyâ "Don't you dare," Aaron muttered somewhere far away, followed by a small sting on your cheek.
You gasped at the pain, the haze clearing up again to find his dark eyes staring downâat you.
He clicked his tongue, in what sounded like disapproval.
"I'm not done with you yet," he stated, a fake sweet smile growing on his lips, as if that would make it easier for you, "we had a deal. I'll fuck you until you give meâ" he halted his words to move his hips, dragging himself out and pushing himself all the way back in, "âhow many?"
"No, m' can't." you whimpered as tears rolled down your cheeks, his thumb swiping them away gently. Every slow thrust of his cock rubbed against your walls, you shuddered as he bottomed out, whined as he rolled his hips.
Aaron cooed, condescendingly, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, "but I know you can."
His pace picked up, slowly increasing to give you a chance to follow, until he was pounding into you again. Hammering while kissing away the tears on your cheeks, fucking you like his life depended on it, while gently stroking your hair. The contrast of his actions confused you enough, distracted your mind enough that your body melted into him. To give him what he wanted.
"Good girl," Aaron purred in your ear, snaking a hand around your thighâ"look at you," he hummed with appreciation, continuing his distractions to keep you focused on his voice, as his thumb started rubbing circles on your clit, "always knew you'd be good for me."
You mumbled incoherent noises, shuddered as new waves of pleasure jolted through your sensitive cunt, cried as he hit that very spot again. He was getting close now. His breath turned ragged and his hips were faltering, snapping with desperation for his own release. But he wasn't going to let himself, not until you gave him your last.
With a sob, your third orgasm washed over you, and Aaron followed with a groan of your name. A string of curses, along with coos of praise, as he came.
By the time you had reentered your body, regained a sliver of composure in the comfort of his arms, the sun had started to rise.
His curtains were open and you were curled up against him and admiring the view. The sky turning pastel, pink melting into a light purple, over to blue.
"You can see straight into my bedroom from here," you mused, a soft smile spreading on your tired face at the revelation. The bed was perfectly in line of sight with your bed, you could even see your sheets on the floor⌠You snapped your head around, gasping, "how muchâ"
Apparently Aaron had followed your train of thought, he understood instantly. "Only when you don't close your blinds," he grinned, not bothering to hide his amusement as he watched it sink in, "speaking of, maybe you should close them more often."
"Aaron," you raised a hand to cover your mouth, a panicked giggle escaping from your lips, "I never close my blinds." Yet, despite the horror of knowing you had been watched in the not-so-private privacy of your bedroomâwhich was absolutely your own faultâit also sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. Pooling right between your legs.
He had watched you.
And you didn't hate it. At all.
"Do you have anywhere to be today?" he whispered into your hair, his breath fanning the shell of your ear. You shook your head, biting your lip as his nose brushed down your throat, to your shoulder, "no, why?"
Aaron lifted his head and smiled sheepishly, "you still owe me cookies."
What happens when Hotch finally gets an Instagram? And what happens when you, who's younger, who is unashamedly and unabashedly down for bad for him follow him?
pairings:Â hotch x gen z ! freader
warnings: probably ooc hotch, if this real life, you'd get written up or possibly fired lmao. age-gap relationship (duh). some cameos - you get a cookie if you know who they are. mostly fluff and crack, but there plans for angst. divorced!hotch. jack does not exist in the universe.
photo credits to all their rightful owners
part one | part two | part three, pt 3 excerpt | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight| part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve - end!
love is embarrassing written companion pieces
everything i know about love (the prologue)
[Transferring to the BAU was neat, especially from where you transferred from. Your boss was an added bonus.]
laying next to aaron hotchner running my finger up and down his nose bridge over and over and over he asks me wth im doing and i forget to answer cause im too busy admiring his side profile
Aaron lays perfectly still as you run your finger up and down his nose, occasionally straying between his brows, but returning to that rugged line. The bridge remained straight and narrow for the first thirty years of his life before he started hunting criminals for a living, but it isnât less lovely for the two bumps where it was broken and healed. His eyes are closed, his lips mildly pursed, and youâd think he was sleeping if it werenât for the lack of snoring. Aaron chuffs in his sleep, not loud (mostly), but a constant sound. Itâs like your own white noise machine at night.Â
âWhat are you doing?â he murmurs finally, eyes stuck shut.Â
Youâre admiring him, and if the caress of your touch manages to make him sleep itâll be a victory won honestly. You mean to tell himâitâs not complicated, the love you have for him. Heâs your old man. Youâre his old lady. All the Joni Mitchell songs and card inserts got it right about love, how it suffers long, how itâs simply kind. Heâs your beating heart, and he deserves to be adored. He falls asleep long before you remember to answer his question, and your fingertip is numb from the ceaseless back-and-forth.Â
summary: reader's birthday is spent catching unsubs, but aaron has something up his sleeve.
t/w: cursing, mentions of smut, fluff with minimal plot, tagged f!reader but i do think it could be read as gn.
a loud ringing comes from your phone on the nightstand next to your bed. no. not your bed. the bed of the local hotel in williamsburg where the team is working a case.
a figure in the bed beside you reaches across your body and grabs your phone, quickly shutting the noise off. instead of returning his hand to himself, he snakes it around your waist.
aaron hotchner brings his lips to your ear. âhappy birthday, love,â he murmurs. a smile tugs at your lips. âi promised you iâd get us back home before today, iâm sorry.â he punctuates the sentence with a kiss under your ear. then he slowly moves down your neck, placing soft kisses, careful not to leave a mark. that is until he gets to your collarbone.
you relax in his arms. âplease. unsubs donât stop just because itâs my birthday,â you grumble.
aaron stops his ministrations on your collarbone, brought back to the present at the mention of unsub. "no. no they don't." he presses a kiss to your temple, "let's go get this bastard so we can get home."
~
the jet is silent, everyone too tired to converse or pass the time with cards. everyone just wants to get home. you especially. spending your birthday chasing down an unsub wasn't what you had planned.
you rest your head on aaron's shoulder, playing a phone game he'd make fun of later. aaron leans down and places a kiss on the top of your head. the small intimate gesture causes you relax even further into him.
aaron plucks the phone from your hand. "get some rest, baby," he murmurs, dropping your phone into the pocket of his suit jacket. he brings a hand around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. aaron could tell you to rob a bank and you wouldn't question it. why stop listening to him now?
aaron shakes you awake once you and the team land in quantico. everyone starts gathering their things as if every ounce of energy was drained from their bodies.
"i need to run by my office to grab a file before we go home," aaron tells you. you let out a groan that would rival a teenager. jj chuckles at the dramatics. what aaron means is both of you need to grab the file.
"baby," you're careful to only use his first or last name in the field or on the jet, but you're too tired to care. "i just want to go home."
aaron holds a hand out to you, offering to help you out the seat. you accept his hand then subsequently dead-weight. a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. he has you in his arms in an instant. he cups your face in his hands. "it'll only take a minute."
"can't i wait in the car?" you whine.
aaron's smile falls. "oh sweetheart," he drawls and the slight patronization in his words has you melting. come on, you didn't fall for him just on his looks. "you've lost your damn mind." aaron has a strict policy against you being in a position to be a "sitting duck" which he has told you time and again is how most unsubs capture their victims. as if you didn't know this statistic yourself.
"hotchner, we are at the fbi. where else would i be safer? take me to the car, i'll lock the door," you give him your best puppy dog eyes. aaron steels himself. "it's my birthday."
"and i am not losing you on your birthday," he explains. "we have wasted precious time standing here arguing." aaron places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you from the jet. "it'll only take a second."
you follow aaron into the elevator. as soon as the doors close, aaron has your hips pressed against the metal wall. he kisses you deeply, knocking the wind from you. he smiles against your lips, knowing the effect he has on you.
"oh i see," you breathe. "you're finally going to fuck me in your office. happy birthday to me." ever since you and aaron started dating, you've told him time and again how hot it would be to have sex in his office. you didn't care if it was in his chair, on the couch, or his desk. preferably, all three.
aaron groans into your neck, the sound a mix of pleasure and aggravation. he maintains it would be highly inappropriate for the two of you to have sex in his office. you always counter that that is the exact reason it would be so hot. before you can retort, the elevator dings your arrival to the floor of the bau. aaron steps back from you, adjusting himself like a teenager, the unit chief persona back on his face even though everyone has already gone home.
when the doors open, the bullpen is dark. you grab aaron's hand, allowing him to pull you through the dark room. once you cross the threshold of the elevator, the lights fly on and the sound of confetti poppers fill the room.
"happy birthday!" the team shouts. penelope holds a cake out with thirty-one candles lit. aaron grins next to you at the sight of his family celebrating you.
"better blow all those out, pretty girl, before the sprinklers come on," derek teases.
"you guys," you squeal, tears stinging behind your eyes. you take your time pulling each one into a hug before blowing the candles out. as penelope starts to serve the cake, you return to aaron. he holds out his arms and envelopes you across your chest. you bury yourself into his chest.
"looks like i got you back for your birthday, after all," he smirks, his deep voice rattles in his chest. "i love you," he says into your hair.
"i love you, too, aaron," you reach up, placing a kiss on his chin since that's the only place you can reach. your phone buzzes in his jacket, reminding you of him swiping it on the plane. you reach in to retrieve it.
"i was afraid penelope was going to ruin the surprise," he chuckles.
"sir, i was getting impatient, but i would never ruin a surprise!" she pouts and gives the slice of cake intended for aaron to rossi instead. a small act of defiance.
"sure," aaron comments, a smile on his lips.
"thank you," you whisper to aaron. "i love getting to celebrate being one year closer to stopping people thinking i am your controversially young girlfriend."
aaron rolls his eyes. you love reminding him of the age difference. "you do know that as you get older, i also get older, therefore the age gap remains exactly what it's always been?"
"potato-pohtahto," you shrug, leaving him to mingle with the team. you look at him over your shoulder and grin. he gestures for you to go talk to penelope. once your focus is off him, he looks at rossi and lets out a deep breath.
"you put her phone in the same pocket as the ring, huh?" he murmurs.
"yes," aaron resigns, thankful that you didn't seem to notice. one more birthday surprise still under lock.
a/n: completely self-indulgent fic since my birthday was yesterday :P
summary: aaron comes home after a long case, and you make sure he feels loved
warnings: none!
a/n: I've never written for him before so I hope this is okay!
The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you paced. It had been a long case â three days of barely any sleep and terse phone calls from Aaron that always ended with the same exhausted âIâll be home soon, sweetheart.â
Youâd already set the table for two, lit the candle you knew he secretly liked (even if heâd never admit it), and had his favorite pasta sauce simmering. Jack was at a sleepover, which meant tonight was just yours.
The sound of keys in the door made your heart lift. You turned just as Aaron stepped inside, shoulders heavy under his suit jacket, tie already loosened. His eyes found you immediately, and the sharp lines of his face softened in that way they only did for you.
âYouâre still up,â he said, voice rough with fatigue. He closed the door behind him and set his go-bag down.
You crossed the room and reached up to help him shrug off his jacket. He let you, watching you with those dark, steady eyes that always made you feel seen.
Aaron caught your hands before you could step away, pulling you gently against his chest. He smelled like coffee and the faint trace of jet fuel, but underneath it was just him â warm and solid. His arms wrapped around you like heâd been waiting for this exact moment since he left.
âYou didnât have to wait,â he murmured into your hair, but the way his grip tightened told you he was glad you had.
âI wanted to.â You tilted your head back to look at him.
Your fingers found the knot of his tie and worked it loose, sliding it free. âLetâs get you out of this suit, Agent Hotchner. Dinnerâs almost ready, and Iâm not accepting âIâm too tiredâ as an answer.â
A rare, small smile tugged at his lips â the one that still made your stomach flutter even after all this time. âBossy tonight.â
âOnly when you need it.â
He left for the bedroom, where he changed into soft gray sweatpants and one of his old FBI Academy shirts while you finished plating the pasta. When he reappeared, hair slightly tousled, he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you stood at the stove.
âSmells incredible,â he said, pressing a kiss just below your ear.
âYouâre just saying that because you havenât eaten real food in days.â
âMm. Still true.â
Dinner was slow and easy. He told you the parts of the case he could share, and you told him about the ridiculous office drama at your job and how Jack had scored another goal in soccer. Aaron listened like every word mattered, his hand occasionally reaching across the table to brush his thumb over your knuckles.
After the dishes were cleared, he pulled you to the couch. You curled into his side, legs tangled, his arm draped heavy and protective around your shoulders. The TV played some old black-and-white movie neither of you were really watching.
âYou know,â he said quietly after a while, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm, âevery time I walk through that door, the weight of the day gets lighter. Because youâre here.â
Your heart squeezed. You turned your face into his chest, breathing him in. âI love you, Aaron. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days.â
He tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you â slow, reverent, the kind of kiss that said more than words ever could. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours again.
âI donât know what I did to deserve you,â he whispered.
âYou showed up,â you answered simply.
Aaronâs eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened, they were softer than youâd ever seen them. He shifted so you were half-lying on his chest, one of his hands gently carding through your hair.
The movie kept playing in the background as his breathing evened out. You listened to the steady beat of his heart under your cheek, feeling safe and warm and loved in the arms of the man who carried the weight of the world and still made space for you every single night.
Showtime - Youâre forced to go undercover with your boss in order to catch an unsub targeting age-gap relationships
extra of the team figuring it out
Feverish - Hotch is sick and refuses to go home and take care of himself, so the team decides youâre the best person to handle it. Or handle him. It turns out your boss isnât the only Hotchner sick today.
The Exception - You and Hotch have ever brought up the one night stand the two of you had prior to you coming to the BAU. When the team brings up your strict rule about not hooking up with guys before three dates, he canât help but realize you've definitely broken that rule...
Home Front - You have been Aaron Hotchner's nanny, taking care of Jack, for over a year when someone looking for revenge breaks into the house while Aaron is away on a case. nanny!reader
Relative Attraction - Sean Hotchner was your high school âsweetheartâ, however his older brother Aaron always insisted you were too smart for him. Years later you find yourself landing at the BAU, it doesnât take long for you to realize maybe you had the wrong Hotchner all alongâŚ
Out of Line - You bring a guy out for drinks with the team, itâs safe to say your boss is very clearly jealous. He decides to ruin the night for everyone.
Close Range - Hotch can't fly home with his ear after a close range shot, but you would never let him drive back to Quantico all by himself. He may finally have to lean on you.
You Got Shot - you get shot (in your vest) and your boss falls a part for a second.
Roadkill - The team is tasked with catching a killer using a weapon they havenât seen before. His car.
Worse Days - Even after a day of being held by a sexual sadist, ending up in Aaronâs arms? Thereâs always worse days.
Series Lists
Division
(Completed) - You were recruited to a private sector of the CIA called Division, a black ops group that recruits and trains individuals into becoming incredible soldiers for their missions. Years after itâs been dismantled you end up at the BAU, but it would seem your biggest fear is coming true. Division isnât over yet.
The Academy Days
(Ongoing) - It was well known within the team that there was one other person that had captured their team leader's heart. You knew Aaron back when he and Haley took a break from their relationship and he went to the academy and met you. What the team doesnât know is that you have been with the FBI ever since, working the west coast mainly until you get requested to join the BAU.
In Love With Aaron Hotchner @zaddyhotch - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
