#Aaron hotchner x OC

[ptersparkers]

reckless (aaron hotchner)

summary: After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isn’t your biggest fan. That’s too bad, because you really like him.

notes: hello. this is singlehandedly the longest fic i’ve ever written (like 21.7K words). i didn’t intend for it to be this long and i tried to see where i could break it up, but i think it flows better if it’s in one piece. happy reading! x 

(edit: adding in that the reader is fem)

a huge thank you to @hotchsdoormat​ for being the best person alive and for listening to me rant about this piece. love u forever.

warnings: typical criminal minds speak, kidnapping and mentions of broken arms and ribs and typos, probably. 

***

Years of dreaming of becoming a federal agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit led to the beginning of an illustrious career solving crimes and traveling across the country. It had only taken guest lectures by none other than the BAU themselves for the idea of catching killers and outsmarting them to do so to seep its way to the back of your mind.

You just wish you liked your job.

You like your work. You like walking into the office with a sense of purpose and you like profiling bad people and saving the good ones. You even like the shitty coffee that never seems to run out and you don’t mind the early call times and the sudden departures. 

What you don’t like, however, is your boss. But you know that’s just because he doesn’t like you. 

In your two years with the BAU, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Aaron throw a smile in your direction if it wasn’t meant for someone standing next to you. Two years of Aaron being dismissive and choosing to sit farthest from you in the conference room and on the jet. Two years of watching him foster friendships with your coworkers without sparing you a second glance. But work is work.

You’re an outsider. It’s almost what you expected. 

Emily’s the first one to tell you that you don’t need to take it personally. Her rocky start with the BAU and stories of learning that trust takes time eased your worries for a while, but Aaron never seemed to give you the time of day aside collaborating with the rest of the team. Everyone says he’s notorious for being stoic and intimidating, but you don’t see it that way. In your mind, he loathes you. 

Which is unfortunate, because you liked Aaron the most.

The guest lecture had sent you into a spiral of researching recently closed BAU cases and watching hours of press conferences led by Aaron. You appreciated the way he spoke about his work. He spoke about it like it was his due diligence and you liked that he treated each victim and their loved ones with grace and kindness. 

It kills you to know that he doesn’t trust you despite doing your best in the field. Your six month review approached and you passed with flying colors, earning a short-lived celebration from Erin Strauss before she exited Aaron’s office. But he kept quiet the entire examination, aside from putting his own input with how you acted in the field. He said you were diligent, followed orders well enough, and could listen to directions. It was the most you’d ever heard Aaron speak about you, but the swell of pride didn’t last long.

Sometimes people compare the two of you when it comes to your worth ethic. Last ones to leave, can’t be bothered when focused, and the need to excel in your career field while downplaying your contribution. Perhaps the need to do good in the world catapulted you into considering a role where you’d be actively helping others instead of a career where it would be too late. 

But every time you sit at your desk, opposite of Aaron’s office, you find yourself frowning. The blinds are always closed and you always wondered if Aaron could feel you staring at the emblem on his door when you wondered how you managed to keep your job. 

“I can hear your brain all the way from here,” Derek says, leaning against the stall of your desk. You avert your eyes from the door to his voice. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you say.

Derek gives you a look. “I know it’s not nothing, sweetness.”

“Just tired,” you lie, “I slept poorly last night.”

Your gaze focuses on the files in front of you and Derek looks between you and Aaron’s office. He does his best not to let you know it’s been affecting him too; everyone’s noticed how Aaron’s been giving you the short end of the stick and that his wavering trust hasn’t disappeared like it had for the rest of them. It doesn’t do any good for team morale. 

For a moment in the beginning of your time with the BAU, you think he’s asking you to prove yourself. You’re new, you need to get used to team dynamics, and you need to prove yourself capable before he can trust that you’d have everyone’s back. You understand that. 

What you don’t understand, however, is why he treats you like a first-day agent after your contributions. 

“Alright,” Derek says, knowing better than to pry you out of your work. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

He leaves you momentarily when Aaron steps out of his office. You try not to look up, but it’s hard to ignore him when your desk is pointed in front of his door. He’s wearing a classic black suit with a red tie, belt and shoes to match. You know what the look on his face means–there’s a case. 

“Everyone in the conference room,” Aaron pointedly says.

Derek finishes pouring two cups of coffee and brings it over to the room where he sees you sitting in front of the screen. You thank him for the cup as he sits beside you and Reid gives you a small ‘good morning’ before everyone files into the conference room and their attentions are focused on the faces on the screen. 

“Two children have gone missing in Los Angeles, California,” Penelope begins. “Gracie and Olivia McCormack, four and six respectively, were last seen in their shared bedroom last night and LAPD has contacted us to help find them.”

“Looks like the mother reported going into their bedroom to wake them up, only to find them missing,” you say, frowning. 

“Is the father in the picture?” JJ asks. 

“Jaqueline, the mother, divorced Scott McCormack before her youngest was born,” Penelope informs.

“New flame?” Emily wonders. 

“Yes ma’am. Logan James.” Penelope presses a few buttons and Jaqueline and Logan appear on the screen. “This is where it gets tricky.”

“It looks like both Scott and Logan were abusive towards Jaqueline during their marriages,” David reads from the file. 

“Jaqueline’s pretty familiar with the local hospital,” you mutter. 

“We can talk about the file and start to strategize on our way to LA,” Aaron says, packing his file in his go-bag, which is already in hand. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

***

The six hour plane ride doesn’t feel as nauseating as you had predicted. Your second cup of coffee sits on the table in front of you as your file is displayed on the surface, along with everyone else. Departure wasn’t terrible, mild turbulence followed but nothing you couldn’t handle. The armrest becomes your best friend on these flights. 

“Did Scott kidnap Gracie and Olivia because he wants his kids?” Derek says aloud. 

“Most likely,” Reid adds. “Scott’s a migrant construction worker. I can’t imagine anyone letting him raise two children without a steady home or income, though.”

“So he’s angry at the loss of his children and wants them back,” Aaron says. “Garcia, does Scott have any background of domestic abuse prior to his marriage with Jaqueline?”  

“One count of domestic battery with a former girlfriend, but his childhood tells us a whole different story.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Derek beckons. 

“Scott was born to heroin addicts and they’d leave him in hotel rooms for days while they tried to rob local convenience stores for money, presumably for their next high. Poor kid, he never stood a chance.”

“Damn,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine growing up like that.”

“He was put into the care of his grandparents on his mother’s side until he was six and–oh, ouch–he apparently caused too much trouble for himself that his grandparents gave him to the foster care system.”

“I can imagine that abandonment took a toll on Scott,” JJ says.

“Take the kids away from Jacqueline as punishment,” adds Rossi. “Makes sense, especially when Jacqueline was the one to file for divorce.”

“What about Jaqueline’s marriage with Logan? Haven’t we established that Logan was abusive during their marriage?” you ask. 

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “What about it?” 

“I think it’s important to consider him in all of this, Sir. If Logan was abusive to Jaqueline throughout their marriage, maybe Scott sees this kidnapping as some sort of effort to save them from harm.”

All eyes are on you now. It makes your skin crawl and you hope you don’t say the wrong thing.

“Go on.”

“If Scott really did take his kids, I don’t know if he did it to get back at her by kidnapping them. It makes more sense that Scott would want to save his children from an abuser. I mean, he knows what it’s like to live with abusive and absent parents. What if Scott wants to protect his children from suffering what he went through?” 

“Interesting,” Dave hums. “You’re theorizing that Scott considers this kidnapping as rescuing?”

You nod. “It makes sense. Maybe he has some animosity towards Jaqueline for letting Logan into their lives and retaliates by taking his children away from her because he thinks he’s saving them.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Aaron says pointedly. 

“I’m just spitballing,” you say. “I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way.”

You shut your mouth and revert your eyes back to the file that’s in your lap, desperate for any minute distraction it can give you. The rest of the team is stunned in silence and Spencer tries his best to fill in the awkward silence by reviewing all of the facts that have been listed in the report. 

At this moment, you feel small. Aaron’s dismissive attitude makes you feel somewhat inadequate at your job and you find it difficult to remind yourself of all the cases you’ve helped close when your boss has just undermined your work in front of your colleagues. 

His coldness towards you is what you don’t get. Aaron has a reputation for maintaining professionalism, which you can appreciate, but it seems like his stoic tendencies extend far beyond keeping it civil in the workplace. It feels like you’ve been isolated and boxed out from day one and despite having gotten to know the rest of the team on a deeper level, you still walk on eggshells around Aaron. It makes you wonder why he hired you at all.

From the other side of the plane, Aaron takes a seat in an empty chair and looks out the window pensively. He knows he’s being hard on you and he knows it’s unfair that he’s treating you much harsher than the others, but Aaron knows that it’s for the best. 

When you walked into his office for your initial interview, there was no doubt that you were the perfect candidate to fill in the role as a new profiler. Your past experiences had clued you into profiling and he promised Strauss that your addition to the team would benefit the BAU as a whole. 

And Aaron was right. Cases were closing at a higher rate than previously, your quick thinking and problem solving skills aided the capture of many prolific criminals, and it almost felt like you’d been with the team since the beginning. 

What Aaron didn’t account for, however, was developing feelings for you. 

All it took was a simple undercover operation to see you in a completely different light. The unsub had targeted women who looked like you and you were more than ready to step up to the plate to catch him. It took seeing you in a sleek black dress to make Aaron’s heart lurch out of his chest and make him feel like he was a teenager in love all over again, and he hated it. 

He hated feeling this way towards his coworker. For weeks, his mind bounced around the idea of what it might cost the team; your respective positions might cause an interference because of the dating policy set in place and how it would look from the outside. Aaron didn’t want to jeopardize your career by making it seem like you were providing unprofessional favors if news were to come out that you were romantically linked with him. He didn’t want your career to be damaged just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. 

Moreover, Aaron hadn’t felt like this towards anyone since marrying Haley.

He had dated casually but never thought about the possibility of anything serious coming out of it. Aaron thought he might’ve come close to it when he had dated Beth for a while, but her career taking her across the country made him realize how unstable his life already was. Dating became a question of who gets along with Jack and the rest of his family and who is able to handle his frequent absences. His marriage to Haley showed Aaron the downside of traveling all the time and he’d be damned if he made that mistake again.

The idea of liking you in any capacity that wasn’t professional scared Aaron to death. He hates that he’s willing to find any excuse to walk by your desk or strike up a conversation with you if time permitted. He hates that his mind often wanders to a life of domesticity with you. The only logical possibility for him to combat his feelings for you is to keep you at arms length and treat you like he would any of his coworkers, which means keeping your personal lives separate and maintaining professionalism at all times.

It works a little too well and Aaron doesn’t realize it. He misplaces his anger—the frustration of knowing he can’t have you the way he wants you—and you’re at the receiving end. Aaron thinks he’s doing his best by delegating and separating you from him in the field, but he doesn’t realize that it’s causing professional tension because you constantly think you aren’t doing enough to help the team solve cases and catch criminals. 

Aaron spends the rest of the flight looking over reports the precinct sent over before the plane lands in Los Angeles. You elect to keep your nose buried in your reports for the fear of looking like you aren’t working hard enough.

***

The Los Angeles weather has cooled down when you land and Aaron has ordered everyone to head to the precinct first thing after touching down. The detectives are kind enough to reserve a room for all of you to work out of and you waste no time setting up the white board with the missing girls and timeline of the abduction. 

The stakes are high and you can feel the tension in the room. You aren’t a stranger to cases like these and you know that everyone is trying their best to keep themselves together for the sake of the department and the family of the victims. You try not to read into Aaron’s coldness to you too much. You’ve convinced yourself enough times that it’s the stress of the job and being away from his home that keeps him running on pure stress and adrenaline to prevent you from overthinking your position on his team. 

Aaron has you and Spencer stay behind in the precinct to work on the profile and piece together a timeline of the abduction, and you’re more than grateful you don’t have to spend time in the field with him. The relaxation enters your body the section you see him step out of the precinct and Spencer can’t help but pry. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You turn around from the white board and your sleeve smudges the freshly written text. The annoyance bubbles up in your chest and you hastily erase the mess you created and rewrite it before turning your attention back to Spencer.

“Stressed out, but otherwise I’m good.”

He pauses. “You’ve seemed that lately, though.”

“Can you blame me?” you ask defensively. “Our job isn’t exactly low-stress.”

“It’s just that every time Hotch enters the room, you stiffen up and you seem to lose your voice, and you play with your nails. It’s your biggest tell, actually.”

You give Spencer a pointed look. “Reid, I did not ask to be profiled.”

“Sorry,” he relents. “I just…look, I care about you and I hate seeing that you feel like you can’t share your ideas with us. Is something bothering you?”

You know Spencer knows. You’re sure the team knows why you’re apprehensive about your work and second guess yourself every time you bring forth a new theory or concept. But it’s hard to admit it out loud when all you’ve done is complain about him in your head and push your feelings aside for the sake of solving cases. 

But you know Spencer has always looked out for you after the first time you took a bullet for him a week into the job after barely getting to know each other. It’s the same way that he looks out for you in the field, protecting your cover and being the first to volunteer partnering with you when Aaron asks. He’s keen and perceptive, and you know you can’t hide your feelings from him unless you want to jeopardize another relationship with your coworker.

“I feel like Hotch doesn’t like me,” you say earnestly. “And I mean it in a way that seems almost personal.”

“He’s been pretty distant,” Spencer adds.

You shake your head. “It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgment or values what I have to say unless one of you backs me up. I can’t really tell you when I started to feel this way, but I’ve always felt like I have to walk on eggshells around him or else he’ll fire me.”

“No one’s going to fire you,” Spencer reassures. “You have an exceptional skill at finding unsubs and getting into their heads. It’s quite impressive how you’re able to put yourself in their shoes.”

“Thanks, I think,” you say with a laugh. “But you saw what happened on the plane. Hotch shot down my theory and told me not to jump to any conclusions even though I was just theorizing. I feel like he doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say because he doesn’t think there’s any value in it.” 

Spencer pauses. He sees your grip on the dry erase pen and knows how frustrated you feel. He knows you, the way you think, your work ethic, and just how badly you want to save these girls. He also knows how to distract you from your own feelings.

“Then tell me about your theory,” Spencer chides. 

“Scott might’ve taken his children as a form of punishment against Jaqueline. Sure, I think that’s a plausible theory to go off of, considering she was the one who filed for divorce. But he was never abusive towards the girls, whereas Logan was abusive to all three of them.”

He smiles when he knows it’s working.

“So you’re thinking that Scott is trying to rescue Gracie and Olivia from further abuse?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “As a parent, I can’t imagine tolerating a stranger abusing your kids. Maybe in Scott’s mind, Jaqueline was allowing Logan to abuse them without realizing he was doing the same to her.”

“The wife had full custody of the kids too,” Spencer adds, opening a case file. “He was only allowed supervised visits with a social worker present if she allowed it to happen and in the time they’ve been divorced, she hadn’t let Scott see them since she and Logan got together.”

“Okay, so Scott had enough and wanted to take matters into his own hands. If his ex-wife won’t take care of the kids and neither will her new husband, it’s up to him to take care of the girls.” 

“It looks like Scott’s had a problem with authoritative figures his entire life,” he says, frowning. Spencer turns the case file towards you. “His grandparents were physically and emotionally abusive and social workers did nothing about it. Looks like he was also a truant during his time in foster care.” 

“Get this. He’s been fired from multiple construction sites because he couldn’t follow orders,” you read. 

“Jacqueline was also the breadwinner of their relationship. I think Scott resents people who hold authority.”

“Scott wants to raise his kids,” you say, snapping your fingers. “It’s a rescue mission because he thinks he can raise them better than she can.”

Spencer grabs his phone and dials Aaron.

“What is it, Spencer?”

“Y/N and I talked more about her theory on the abduction. I think she’s right.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything. You’re almost sure he’s going to tell you to change the profile.

“We’ll meet you at the precinct in fifteen.”

***

You consider yourself lucky that Spencer backs your theory with claims and evidence. Your voice wavers multiple times when Aaron asks you to make your case, and the way he’s looking at you makes you doubt yourself. 

But everyone comes to the realization that you’re right. A few conversations with Jacqueline and an interrogation with Logan convinces Aaron that your theory had been the correct one all along. You should feel happy, but you don’t. 

You feel like you have to piggyback off of your coworkers and get them to support you before you can make your case heard. You feel like the smallest person in the room when you stand next to seasoned profilers who you’re sure Aaron values more than you. The weight of the world is on your shoulders and you carry it with you every time you formulate new ideas you want to share with the team. 

But you don’t dwell on this too long. 

Aaron has Spencer comb through security footage of local gas stations while Emily and David talk to Scott’s most recent employer. Derek and JJ are searching his last known whereabouts and searching for the girls, which leaves you and Aaron.

You’re barely able to hear his command. He wants you to talk to Jacqueline and try to coax more information out of her while he connects with Penelope about financial records and possible places he’s hiding the girls. She’s your age and he figures you might connect with her better than JJ did.

Jaqueline is understandably crying when you walk into the room. You hand her a box of tissues upon entering and she doesn’t say anything. She starts to open up after you tell her about yourself, your nieces and nephews, and you show her photos of them to prove yourself. You let her know you’re not a mother and can’t imagine the immense pain she’s going through, but you know what it’s like to care for people and how much it hurts when something bad happens to them.

Slowly, Jaqueline begins to talk. You ask her about her relationship with Scott and Logan, and all the important places that hold significance between the two marriages. She lists off a few and you make a note of it for later. Aaron calls you from the interview when Jaqueline has started to close herself in. He lets her go and gives her his business card in case she wants to talk, but tells her they’ll be in contact soon.

He doesn’t say a word about the interrogation. He just tells you to see if Derek and JJ need help canvassing more area. 

Two days later and the team is nowhere near finding Jaqueline’s children. Scott’s previous employer had less than stellar things to say about him and you’re beginning to panic at the thought of your ability to catch him and save the girls. Penelope calls with a development and thinks one of two locations is where Scott might be hiding the children. His trailer in East LA or a small house a friend of his owns. 

Aaron dispatches Dave, Emily, and JJ to the trailer while he commands you, Derek, and Spencer to follow him to the house. It’s located off of the freeway off the beaten path and you have a bad feeling about what’s about to happen.

Aaron’s driving like he knows something you don’t. You’ve taken a seat in the back with Spencer and listen as Derek points Aaron in the direction of the house. It’s getting dark outside, the sun is just barely above the horizon, and you know everyone has to be quick in order to save the girls if they’re in the house. 

LAPD officers drive behind the SUV. Aaron pulls over and you can hear the gravel underneath the tire. You swing the door open with all your might and draw your gun out as the rest of the team does, following Aaron’s orders to follow behind him as they explore the house. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

The floorboards creak underneath you and Aaron tells you he’s going to clear the back of the house while you take the front. Everyone calls a distinctive ‘clear’ and you’re about to breathe out of frustration and ask Aaron if they’ve found the girls at Scott’s trailer when you hear the faint sound of someone crying from behind you. 

You’re careful not to step too loudly despite the hardwood floors. Derek finds you and calls out your name but you put your finger to your lips and he silences himself. The sound of feet shuffling sounds incredibly quiet, but you swear you can hear footsteps somewhere behind you. 

Spencer and Aaron join the two of you after hearing silence despite calling your names. Derek tells both men to silence themselves as you walk about the room, unsure of what you’re looking for. For the most part, nothing looks out of place. That is, until your hand falls on a set of books that feels much too hollow to contain any pages. 

“What is it?” Derek asks from behind you.

“I don’t know…I think this is a false backing.” 

And you’re right. You pull the books to reveal a small hidden entryway that’s dark, and it looks like it doesn’t lead to anything. Aaron’s halfway through telling you to let another police officer look through the crawl space because you have to take off your vest and gun to fit, but you’re not hearing it. 

“Hotch, I’m the only one who’s small enough to fit through here,” you say. “I’m shorter than the rest of you and all of you are men. I don’t think Gracie or Olivia want to see someone who looks like their dad.”

“She’s right,” Spencer mumbles. You don’t wait for Aaron’s approval, venturing into the crawlspace. 

Gracie and Olivia are understandably scared until you tell them their mother’s waiting for them at the police station. You help them out of the small room they’ve been kept in and notice how relatively furnished it is–a mattress, blankets, pillows, and coloring material–and make note of how your profile was right. 

You don’t spare a glance at Aaron, too invested in making sure the children are safe with EMTs while they’re being checked for harm. Olivia asks you to stay with them and holds your hand, and you don’t bring yourself to leave them. When the EMTs let you know they aren’t injured and can visit the police station without going to the hospital, Aaron reluctantly lets you accompany both of them back to the precinct. 

It’s well after dark by the time both children leave with Jaqueline. JJ and Emily have worked out a deal with local police to keep them under surveillance and protection until Scott has been captured and are instructed not to let Logan near the three of them for the time being. 

You aren’t able to say goodbye to the three of them, instead recounting your story to the local detective who needs your statement for the paperwork while it’s fresh in your memory. You’re on a high after seeing the two girls reunite with their mother and the entire team congratulates you on a job well done when Aaron storms into the office, angry.

“Y/N, go back to the hotel.” 

Aaron stands tall, his hands on his hips and his mouth etched in an angry frown. His voice is low and you can’t believe the words you’re hearing. 

“To the hotel? Hotch, you can’t be serious.”

“You made a reckless decision to abandon your gun and vest. That could have gotten you killed,” Aaron says. “You are not capable of working under pressure.”

“You told the entire team to use our instincts and that’s exactly what I did. I saved two little girls, for God’s sake.”

“You are hot headed and have this overwhelming urge to prove yourself when nobody cares how well you perform,” Aaron says angrily. “The entire time you’ve been with the BAU, you’ve barely contributed aside from piggybacking off of someone else to reach a conclusion.”

That, you know, is a lie. Aaron just wants to hurt you.

“At this very moment, you are incompetent and can’t hold yourself together for the sake of the victims and their families.”

“We have to catch Scott.”

“You can’t do your job, go back to the hotel.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have to be.”

“Hotch.”

“I want you gone, Y/N,” Aaron says firmly. “Go back to the hotel or hand in your badge.” 

Unbelievable. 

You don’t spare Aaron another glance. Your feet carry you out to the lobby and your breath is so uneven that you need to step aside into an empty interrogation room to calm yourself down. Your jaw clenches and you ball your fists to gather some sort of relief, but you don’t find it. Instead, your nails dig into your palm until it turns white and you let go, exiting the room without another word.

The keys to the SUV are still in your pocket. You don’t necessarily care that the team will have to squeeze into the remaining vehicles and you don’t care enough to let one of them know you’ve made it outside. 

Your hands shake when you reach into your pocket. The warmth of the metal is familiar and your hand pulls it out when a stray tear falls from your face and splashes onto your cheek. Hastily, you enter the car and slam the door shut and lock it when you feel yourself overcome with sadness and anxiety. 

The tears fall freely at this point and you bow your head to the steering wheel, your breaths hot and mouth wet from crying. The back of your sleeves are soaked as you try to wipe away your tears to no avail and your vision becomes too blurry to drive. 

You allow yourself a few minutes to cry. The sound of your gasps echo throughout the care and your shoulders feel heavy with every sob. The weight of the world is truly on your shoulders now and you aren’t sure if you have a job when you go back to Quantico. 

But you pull yourself together and drive back to the hotel. It feels much longer than it needs to be and you sit in the driver’s seat for a moment when you park the car. You hate that you feel incapable of being a member of the team without Aaron breathing down your neck. You hate that you can’t live up to his expectations and that you try to in the first place. Working at the BAU wasn’t supposed to be a nightmare. 

You exit the car and lock it behind you, another stray tear escaping. You feverishly rid yourself of the tear and walk to the entrance of the hotel when you feel someone grabbing you from behind and an acute sense of pain at the base of your neck. 

It’s black after that. 

Back in the station, the local police have distracted themselves with their case files and other happenings while the rest of the team looks at Aaron in shock. Spencer's looking at the empty space where you stood and Emily is looking at Aaron like he’s grown a second head. 

“Are you serious?” she begins. “Hotch, we need everyone on this. We need Y/N.”

“She’s too hot headed,” Aaron replies. 

“Oh yeah?” Derek chimes in. “And how about you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You know damn well that Y/N adds as much value to this team as the rest of her. Two years with the BAU and stellar reviews from the board has proven that. Why are you still treating her like a first-day agent?”

“Y/N needs to learn to let go of her ego,” Aaron retaliates. “I don’t need to explain myself to any of you.”

“You’re wrong about her not contributing anything,” Spencer says. It surprises Aaron to hear Reid defy him on your behalf. “For the cases that we’ve worked on with her, she’s been the one to take lead on the preliminary profiles for most of them. Some of our biggest leads have come from her.” 

Aaron breathes and doesn’t say a thing. He looks at his team and knows they don’t approve of his choice to send you back to the hotel, but he stands by it. David looks at him like he’s almost disappointed in him and JJ holds his stare. 

He knows why he’s being extra hard on you. He knows he’s pushing you to your limit by keeping you at arm’s length. Aaron doesn’t want to admit that he sees you as anything other than his subordinate and coworker, but he does. He doesn’t want to be the reason why you don’t advance within the bureau and why there might be a future workplace ban on relationships. Even if he disagrees with how you handled things tonight.

Aaron doesn’t communicate any of this with the team while he stares them down. Instead, he fixes his posture and clears his throat. 

“Get back to work.”

***

When you come to, you’re acutely aware of the handcuffs around your wrist. 

The air is cold and you realize you’re bound to a pole in a barn, and you’re not sure where you are. Everything is suddenly hazy and your vision blurs until you blink rapidly with the hope that you’ll regain full consciousness.

The first thing you can feel is a headache. Your head’s pounding viciously and you wince at the pain, inadvertently tugging in your wrist and against the handcuffs. The metal is cold and it sends a chill up your spine when you realize you’re alone. You try your best to recite what you can sense over and over again in your mind.

The air is cold. You’re sitting on a hard floor with straw and other debris around you. The air smells like manure and hay. You can hear crickets and wind blowing just outside of the barn, and you can see hardware tools towards the back of the building.

The influx of emotions that creep into your chest is enough to make any person an anxiety-ridden mess. Your heart feels like it’s going to lurch out of your chest with every second that passes by because your reality becomes more real; this isn’t a nightmare you’re desperately hoping to wake up from. 

“Look who’s awake.”

It’s Scott. 

He flickers the lights on and that’s when you realize he’s holding a gun. 

“You took quite a while to wake up, actually. I’ve been waiting here for two hours wondering when you’d return to the land of the living.”

Scott dons a smirk that you wish you could wipe off with both of your fists. His right hand grips the gun haphazardly and he waves it around as he gestures while speaking, and the fear of dying has finally crept into the forefront of your mind.

“Where are we?” you ask. 

“South of Los Angeles,” Scott replies. “Far enough that your little team won’t find this patch of land.”

“Why’s that?”

His smirk widens when you stay quiet.

“You know, Agent, I find you interesting.”

“There’s nothing remotely interesting about me,” you say. You try your best to remember the profile and give him what he wants. He hates authority and between the two of you, you legally have all of it. So, you downplay yourself, 

“I beg to differ,” he laughs. Scott takes a step towards you and you recoil. “I’ve been watching this investigation unfold because I need to keep tabs on what’s happening so that I don’t get caught. It’s worked so far, but you were just lucky to have found my little girls.” 

“We found them because you made a mistake,” you chide. “You slipped up.”

Scott’s smirk turns into anger, and he takes another step towards you. 

“I made a mistake because I wasn’t thinking far ahead, Agent.” 

He takes another step and he’s by your thigh. Scott bends down to your level and you’re aware of how close his gun is to your abdomen, and you pray that you don’t say the wrong thing.

“I wasn’t thinking far ahead because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. But it came to me a few nights ago when I realized that you and I are people that don’t naturally get to be in the spotlight.” 

Scott caresses your cheek and you shudder underneath his fingertips. He retracts and stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“See, you and I are people who don’t get enough credit for our work. All it took was one moment watching your horrendous boss dismiss you for your work. I knew you’d be the key in getting my girls back to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scott leans forward. “You’re smart enough to figure it out.”

Unfortunately, it comes to you quickly.

The team had gathered around the house that Jaqueline and Scott had lived in when they were married. Penelope had clued the team in on this location. A new couple lived in that house with no connection to Jaqueline and Scott but you thought it was worth checking out.

Aaron disagreed. That house hadn’t been occupied by either of them for years since they got a divorce but your gut had been telling you to visit the property to look around for extra clues that might’ve turned up. Your insistence angered him, who accused you of disobeying orders, and it was David who had to intervene and remind Aaron never to leave any stone unturned.

Reluctantly, Aaron ordered the team to the house and you successfully convinced the new owners to let you look through their property with the promise that nothing would be disturbed. Two hours into searching and Aaron was ready to write your mishappenings in the file report when he returned to Quantico, but your sudden interest in the backyard piqued everyone’s interest.

You had discovered a well-hidden doorway to an underground room. The new family would’ve never seen it, as it was tucked away with roots and other invasive plants that covered the wooden doorway. When you and Morgan entered the space, it was clear that Scott had been there recently.

Unbeknownst to you, Scott has been hiding out a few houses down watching everything unfold, including the way Aaron distrusted your judgment. He’d been using that bunker as a living space, careful to work around the new family so as to not get caught. It was far enough that they couldn’t see him from where the windows were placed unless they were out in the backyard the same as he was.

“Remember now?” he asks.

You nod, complying. “You watched my boss reprimand me for wasting everyone’s time.”

He nods. “You and I are overworked and underappreciated. We don’t get credit or recognition even though we deserve it.”

“You knew we’d find Gracie and Olivia.”

Scott’s jaw locks but he agrees.

“I knew there was no way I’d be able to get to my girls in time to move them someplace else. So, I let you find them because I knew that I’d have no other chance to get them back if you arrested me.

“Then I followed you all the way back to the precinct so I could keep tabs on you and see where you were staying. It was just my luck that I happened to hear your boss yelling at you because of an open window. I knew my chance was when he ordered you to go back to the hotel.”

“How do I fit into all of this?” you ask.

“You, Agent, are going to help me get my kids back from Jaqueline and cover for me.”

“No chance in hell.” 

Scott doesn’t like that answer. He lunges towards you and tugs on your hair, enough to make your scalp feel like it’s being set on fire. 

“You don’t have a choice. I want my kids back and you aren’t in the position to make any demands.” 

He doesn’t say much after that. Scott looks into your eyes with a murderous expression before letting you go. Your head hits the pole behind you because he pushed you away with enough force that it makes you dizzy again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Scott says from the barn’s entrance. “I need some sleep and so do you.”

He doesn’t uncuff you and you’re left wondering how you can sleep when you’re being held captive.

***

When the team leaves the precinct, everyone is too drained to continue talking about the case on the ride back. They’d only been there two hours after you left but Aaron gets the feeling that the rest of them aren’t happy with him dismissing you. 

The ride is silent and everyone retreats to their rooms respectively. He tries to forget the aching feeling in his chest and goes to sleep. 

He wakes up to a cold sweat. 

Aaron’s still not happy what perspired last night. He nearly made the choice to knock on your door and apologize for being harsh in front of the team and the local police, but he doesn’t. It’s better to put distance. It’s how he rationalizes how he’s treating you because he’ll fall apart if he imagines the consequences of being in a relationship with you. 

You’re the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. He’s surprised he didn’t hear you knocking on his door to give him a piece of your mind, but he was too tired to consider that you didn’t. 

His clock reads six A.M. and he’s sure the rest of the team is waking up and heading to the police station like he is. Aaron feels more tired with each day passing and it feels like his body is on autopilot mode with how fast he’s able to change and get to the precinct. 

The team trickles in one by one and everyone makes their coffee before picking up where they left off last night. Penelope had sent the team a list of possible places that Scott might be and Aaron wants to cover as much ground as possible.

When he’s more awake, he mentally groups the team and the other police officers to search each property. 

He stops when he realizes you’re not in the precinct. 

At first, Aaron feels annoyed because he thinks you’re late. It isn’t completely out of character for you, as he’s watched you stumble into the office a few minutes before debriefing. Still, he prays that you’ll show up so everyone can move on with their day. 

But you don’t come in. Every person that walks through the door isn’t you and Aaron’s annoyance becomes a question of curiosity with fear at the end of it. 

“Where’s L/N?” Morgan asks from beside him. 

“Probably slept in,” JJ snorts. “She sleeps like a brick.” 

Everyone laughs at her comment in good fun because they know it’s true. You’re a heavy sleeper. But Aaron isn’t convinced. Something doesn’t feel right to him but he can’t quite place what it is. 

He gives it another ten minutes. Aaron’s bouncing from leg to leg, anticipating your arrival. He’s waiting for you to hastily apologize about not hearing your alarm and he’s waiting for you to jump right where you left off because of your tardiness.

But you never walk through the door.

“Something’s wrong,” Aaron mutters. Spencer nods at his disheveled expression from where he sits and Emily looks down at her phone.

“I know she’s a heavy sleeper but there’s no way she’d be twenty minutes late with the stakes this high,” Emily points out. 

JJ walks out of the room the BAU is occupying and inquires with everyone outside if they’ve seen you come in, but all of them say they haven’t seen you since last night. JJ walks back into the room with shaking hands and she’s almost reluctant to tell Aaron that nobody has seen you yet.

Emily tries to call your cell phone one more time with no luck. Aaron sends Derek to check on you at the hotel and doesn't bother to respect the speed limit on the ten minute drive to the hotel from the station. The receptionist is more than willing to give him a key to your room when you don’t answer your phone. 

When he walks in, he notices that you aren’t sleeping in the bed. Your room is clean. The bed is made and there’s no indication that you slept in it last night. Your go-bag is perched on the table and a few clothes are haphazardly thrown on the chair beside it. Nothing seems out of place. 

It’s when he walks back outside to return to the station that he hears a phone ringing from the bushes. Derek walks towards the sound and his breath catches in his throat when he realizes the phone is yours. He curses and picks up the phone to see Emily’s contact.

“L/N?”

“It’s me,” Derek says through your phone. “L/N’s not here and her phone was tossed in the bushes.” Metal catches Derek’s eye. “Wait a minute.” 

He walks forward with caution and his heart drops when he realizes it’s a discarded needle and your gun right next to it. 

“What is it?” Emily asks from the other line. She hears Derek sigh and she knows it can’t be good. 

“It’s a needle and her gun, Prentiss. L/N not showing up to the precinct and her belongings being discarded can’t be a coincidence.” 

From the police station, Emily panics. She hangs up when Derek lets her know he’s coming back and her panic rises when she sees her teammates looking at her quizzically. The lump in her throat grows when she realizes everyone is looking at her for an answer. 

“Did you find her?” JJ asks. Emily doesn’t speak for a second. 

“Morgan found her cell phone in the bushes by the front of the hotel,” Emily explains. “He also found a discarded needle...and her gun.” 

Aaron’s attention shifts from the file he’s holding to Emily, who’s fidgeting with her hands. 

“Her gun?” Dave asks for clarification. “Found outside of the hotel room?” 

Emily nods. “Morgan picked up L/N’s phone and said he found it tossed aside.”

“And none of us saw her when she left the precinct?”

Nobody says anything. 

“I think she’s been kidnapped,” Reid says abruptly. “None of us saw her when we got back to the hotel nor when we arrived at the precinct. Scott must know Y/N was the one who rescued his daughters and he’s either kidnapped her out of revenge or because he wants them back.”

Aaron doesn’t like that answer. 

His hands feel warm and his heart is racing too quickly for his liking. Aaron can feel his exterior start to wither away with the realization that you’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t second guess himself when he calls Penelope and asks her to track Scott’s cell phone and to triangulate his last known location.

This is now a rescue mission and he hates that you’re the victim. 

The team doesn’t spare a second in finding a third location he could’ve taken you too. Penelope foregoes any of her other responsibilities to find you and Aaron can hear the frantic pace of her keyboard typing as she speaks. Derek and Spencer are visiting locations that hold significance to Scott in the event that he’s returned, but Aaron's doubtful that he’d make that mistake. 

It’s when JJ explains what’s happening to the lead detective does Aaron feel like his world is crumbling around him. He’s put himself at arm’s length so much as to push you away from him and right into the arms of the unsub, and he feels like he might pass out in the middle of the precinct. 

Emily and Dave pick up how quiet Aaron’s been ever since Penelope hung up. He’s too busy staring at the white board and it doesn’t help that your handwriting is all over it. Aaron’s throat is dry and he’s a second away from starting to blame himself for your disappearance, but he knows that he doesn’t have enough time to feel sorry for himself if he wants to find you.

When Derek comes back and tells the team there’s been no luck in finding you, Aaron’s heart sinks. He’s running out of options and he knows his head isn’t where it should be, but he can’t help it. Aaron does his best to keep himself composed when Spencer tries to piece together your timeline and he hates that they’re treating you like a abduction victim because you should be in this room with them. Instead, you’re God knows where and Aaron doesn’t bring himself to imagine that you might be dead already. 

It’s Spencer who makes the connection between you and his children. He theorizes that Scott must’ve been present when you had rescued the children and kidnapped you for one of two reasons: to exact revenge or to force you to help him get his children back. JJ suspects that it’s the latter because of your profile. Scott wants to get his children back and he’d do anything to do it. 

Dave wonders why Scott would risk kidnapping a federal agent and how he knew you’d be at the precinct or the hotel, and Spencer doesn’t hold his tongue when he said the only common link between the two of you is the way you’d both been treated by your superiors. 

The room goes quiet and Spencer thinks he’s overstepped, but he doesn’t regret his choice of words. 

Everyone looks at Aaron, who’s been silent the entire time. He thinks about how angry you were last night and how he convinced himself he didn’t see you shed a tear as you passed him. The guilt of sending you home and not checking in on you when he got back to the hotel is eating him alive because you’ve been missing for twelve hours and nobody knew about it. 

“Reid’s right,” Aaron says. He feels his voice start to break. “We know why he’s taken L/N but now we need to understand how he’s going to use her in order to get his children back.” 

Aaron’s phone rings and he’s grateful for the distraction. Penelope informs them of a house that was paid in all cash and purchased under a false identity a few months ago, and confirms that it was Scott who paid for the property after speaking with the realtor and showing her a photo. Aaron wastes no time ordering the team to head to the house and he feels like he’s running out of time when Penelope says the property is seventy miles from the precinct. 

The ride to the property is agonizing. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is lethal and he’s swerving between every car with the hopes that he’ll reach you in time. Emily’s sitting in the passenger seat and she knows there’s nothing either of them can do except hope that you’re alive and well.

“We’ll find her,” she says after a long period of silence. “You know L/N. She’s strong and won’t go down without a fight.”

Aaron hesitates to speak. He gulps and he feels like his mouth is far too dry to hold a decent conversation because while he knows that Emily’s right, he can’t help but feel utterly hopeless on the freeway while you’re being held hostage by Scott. 

“I shouldn’t have told her to go to the hotel,” Aaron says. “I should’ve left it at reprimanding her for going in alone. We could’ve avoided all of this.”

“You of all people know you couldn’t have predicted that Scott would’ve done,” Emily said. “It wasn’t in the profile. Neither of us could’ve predicted that he’d kidnap L/N.”

“I know.” Aaron signals and passes three cars who are driving far too slow for his liking. 

He’s silent again, which doesn’t surprise Emily. Aaron sits in the driver’s seat, a million thoughts racing to the front of his head but he can’t seem to choose the right words to speak. He knows how unfair he’s been to you and all the anger and frustration about not being able to be with you has transpired into this mess he’s found himself in. He should’ve never let his feelings get to this point nor let his frustration shift from the forbidden relationship onto you. 

“I’ve been unfair to her,” Aaron croaks. He hears the crack in his voice as it starts to falter, but he keeps talking because he thinks he might go insane if they sit in any more silence. “I’ve pushed her aside and made her second guess herself as an agent of this team all because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check.” 

“What do you mean?” Emily asks. Aaron sighs and he grips his steering wheel, embarrassed that he’s been an unfair leader and that he’s admitting it to one of his colleagues. 

“L/N is an exceptional agent and it’s no wonder why I fell for her.” 

Emily’s quiet and Aaron’s sure he’s made a mistake by confessing that to her. He wishes he could take it back and lie instead of being honest with his friend, but he can’t take back the words he’s said. And he stands by it. 

“I’ve been so busy trying to pretend like I don’t have feelings for her but every day I’m scared that something like this could happen to her. I hate it when she’s reckless and disobeys orders because I’m afraid that it’ll get her killed.

“I know what it looks like on the outside to see me and my subordinate in a romantic relationship. She’s young, career-driven, and I’d hate to stand in the way of whatever’s next for her. I don’t know how to act around her and I thought that pushing all of this down would help me lose feelings for her, but I haven’t.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Emily says. It shocks him and when he looks at her quizzically, Emily chuckles. “What, you think I couldn't see how hopeless you were when it came to L/N? Hotch, you’re like a kid in a candy store when she’s around. The rest of us were ready to start placing bets on you two until you started giving her the short end of the stick.”

He feels awful. Aaron’s guilt causes him to flex and rev the engine. 

“I never meant to hurt her,” he confesses. “But that doesn’t matter now.”

“What matters is that we’re on our way to rescue her and there’s nowhere else she could be,” Emily reassures. “Scott wants his kids back and he knows they’re in LA county. There’s no way he would risk taking her somewhere else when he doesn’t have Gracie and Olivia.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. Neither he nor Emily need to chide him for how he’s been treating you. He knows he’s wrong and Emily knows it too. 

“L/N is the strongest out of all of us. She’ll make it through this.”

Aaron has a sneaking suspicion that Emily’s trying to convince herself, but he doesn’t say anything. 

When the team reaches the property, it’s notably quiet. The next neighbor is two miles down the road and Derek’s ready to search the house when Aaron steps out of his vehicle. 

“More backup’s two minutes out,” Aaron explains, “but we’ve got enough people to start the search. Reid and JJ, check the backyard. Prentiss and Rossi, check the house. Morgan, you’re with me. We’re checking the garage.” 

Aaron orders the police officers to check elsewhere before he and Morgan make their way to the garage. With his gun and flashlight in his hands, he approaches the enclosed space with caution and his heart spikes with anxiety. Before he can think about the worst that could happen, two police officers manage to open the garage door as he and Derek search the place. 

It’s empty. 

Aaron curses under his breath as they check the confined space but find nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of the team relates the same information and Aaron feels like he’s losing hope because he doesn't know where else you could possibly be. 

“Guys, there’s a barn across the landing,” comes JJ’s voice from the communications line. “There’s a truck parked outside and I’m willing to bet it’s Scott’s.”

Aaron’s heart stops beating for a moment. 

“We need to search that barn,” Aaron commands. “Everyone pull your resources and let’s head out.” 

It feels like slow motion to him, the way he diverts his attention to the barn that JJ pointed out. He feels like he’s watching the scene unfold in front of him from another person’s perspective and desperately prays that you’re in there, safe and alive. The grip on his gun is falling from how his hands are trembling but he reminds himself that he has a job to do. 

Dave touches the hood of the car and says it’s warm, which means Scott is most likely inside of the barn. The lead detective is ordering his team to secure the back entrance and surround the building so that Scott has no place to run and Aaron instructs his team to do the same at the front. Under hushed voices, he can almost make out the faint scout of scuffling coming from behind the large wooden doors and feels his throat close. 

Then he hears a gunshot. 

Everyone rushes inside and he’s overcome with dread when he walks inside. Aaron’s heart is racing; he can feel the grip of his gun slipping because of how unsteady his hands are and he’s nearly tripping from all the hay that he’s stepping on. He fears the worst when he enters and does his best to prepare himself to see your lifeless body.

But you’re laying on your stomach with a gun in your hands. 

You don’t process the ringing in your ears until Aaron moves beside you to reach for the gun in your hands. He’s tossed it aside and maneuvers you to check for any injuries. Aaron glances at your face and notices a deep bruise forming on your left temple with scratches and smaller bruises adorning your face, and he hates it. 

He hates that your body and face is covered in Scott’s blood. He hates that your hands are still shaking with fear. He hates that there’s nothing he can say or do that will make everything better for you. 

The shirt you’re wearing is covered in Scott’s blood spatter and you’re barely able to process that you’ve most likely broken a few ribs. You don’t say anything. The overwhelming urge to cry resurfaces and this time, you don’t stop yourself. 

Aaron catches you before you hit your head onto the ground and moves his body to sit behind you. You’re stationed between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you slump over and grab his arm for support as your tears wet his dress shirt. Aaron foregoes all standard procedure and lets you cry in his arms instead of calling for the EMT to whisk you away from the hospital. 

You don’t care that your cries are almost louder than the ambulance sirens. Your adrenaline makes the blood pump loudly in your ears and you grip onto Aaron like you’re afraid Scott will come back to life and kill you if you let go. 

His free arm is secured around you. Aaron’s eyes become glossy as each second passes by and his heart breaks in two when he hears your continual cries.

“You did so good,” Aaron whispers. “So good. You’re safe now.” 

Aaron doesn’t let the EMT get close to you when you’re trembling in his arms. He tells them to wait a moment and they try to argue with him, but they relent when they see Aaron’s stern expression. His voice cracks when he tries to speak upon hearing your soft whimpers. Your eyes are screwed shut and Aaron strokes your hair as you bury yourself further deeper into him.

Dave and Spencer canvas the scene and look around for anything out of the ordinary to report. Derek's speaking with the EMTs while JJ and Emily are patiently waiting with blankets and bottles of water for you. But you don’t get up. Your legs feel numb from sitting down and Aaron’s grip on you is so tight that you feel like you’ll fall back down if you try to stand up.

Your sobs have turned quiet and you almost feel like you’re at peace. But then you remember your bruises and the blood still on your body. You remember Scott’s body and find yourself crying even harder.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” Aaron says in your ear. “We can get you cleaned up and on your way home. Does that sound good?”

His voice is like honey. Sweet.

You nod and you try your best to sit up to no avail. Aaron tries to help you up and the EMTs catch you before you can fall back onto the ground. He reluctantly lets the EMTs take you to the ambulance where JJ and Emily are waiting. He watches as they drape a blanket over you and as you’re wheeled up into the vehicle. Emily offers to follow you to the hospital and JJ steps away, letting the ambulance drive off.

Aaron doesn’t process anything. He doesn’t hear the sirens, the police chatter, or Dave approach him with a concerned look.

“She’s gonna be okay, Aaron.”

Dave’s voice is nothing but a hollow shell to Aaron. It feels like an empty promise even though he knows you’re going to make it out alive. Still, Aaron doesn’t say a word.

“Let’s go meet her at the hospital.”

***

The doctor explains that you’ve suffered a concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, a broken arm, and a grazed bullet wound. You’ll be relatively fine, but Aaron’s heart is racing and can't get past seeing you covered in blood to pay attention to anything the doctor is saying. He hasn’t had time to beat himself up for sending you back to the hotel without accompaniment and he hates that the guilt is crashing in on him when you need him the most.

Aaron looks down at his sleeves and they’re covered in blood, dirt, and your mascara. He stares down in shock and his mind flashes to the barn, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry before. It breaks him.

The doctor explains that they needed to sedate you because of your sudden adrenaline rush. Your shock had caused you to lash out when a nurse had grabbed your wrist, and through your clouded judgment, you’d swung at him with all of your might. Your fretful apologies made you uncontrollably sob afterwards and the nurse could only look at you with sympathy. 

Two hours later, the team was still waiting in the waiting room. Under the guise of wanting to get you something to eat other than stale hospital food, Aaron leaves to buy you a meal. But he needs to get ou and get fresh air before he suffocates. 

Aaron’s guilt eats him alive. He walks aimlessly towards a deli and scolds himself over and over again for making you drive to the hotel unsupervised. In hindsight, Aaron knows his personal feelings came into play when he berated you for your recklessness. He knows he was unfair to you because he would’ve done the same thing if he were in your position.

When he returns, Dave’s looking at him like he knows what he’s thinking, but doesn’t say anything. Aaron appreciates his friend’s concern but the guilt doesn’t relent. He fidgets in his seat and tries to calm his spiking anxiety but nothing seems to work. His mind retracts to the moment he found you covered in Scott’s blood and your cries are enough to make Aaron feel like he might shed a tear in front of his teammates.

His thoughts are disrupted when he sees your doctor approach the group. 

“She’s a little out of it,” says the doctor, “but she’s conscious. You’re all welcome to say hello, but only for a few minutes.” 

When the doctor directs the team to your room, she explains what happened after you reached the hospital. Aaron can’t process anything she’s saying. His ears are ringing and he feels like everyone around him is talking too loudly for him to be able to hear anything the doctor is saying. All he can pick up is “dehydrated” and “concussed.” 

Everyone hastily walks to the room you’re in. JJ files into the room first. It takes Aaron a few breaths to find the courage to step inside of the room and he’s sure Emily’s the one who helped him take the first step.

“What’s the prognosis?” your croaked voice asks. JJ sniffles and laughs at the same time, and the rest of the group watch you try to prop yourself up.

“How you’re able to joke at a time like this is beyond me,” JJ gushes. She takes a pillow from the bed and helps you sit up.

“What, a few broken ribs and a concussion? I’m lucky the bullet only grazed me.”

Nobody laughs but you can tell they’re trying their best.

Aaron towers over everybody easily and he’s in between trying to catch your gaze and trying to avoid it. Emily hands you the sandwich from the local deli and you waste no time, opening the wrapper and letting the aioli slide down the side of your mouth.

It’s easily the most adorable and most heartbreaking thing Aaron has ever seen.

“Slow down, Tiger,” says Derek. He grabs a nearby napkin and wipes the sauce away while you smile sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you mutter, taking slower bites. Spencer’s next to hug you and you welcome the way he refuses to let you go.

Everyone looks at you under the harsh lights of the hospital room and you feel like you’re being observed. The sedative you’d been given is enough to make you feel somewhat normal because no matter how hard you try to panic over the last few hours, you can’t. 

You feel like you’re numb to your experiences and the pain Scott inflicted. Staring at your team feels eerily normal and you almost forget that you’re sitting in a hospital gown with enough injuries to put you out of the field for a few months. 

“You broke my heart, kiddo,” Dave chimes in. He grabs your free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, accompanied by a kiss to the back of your hand. JJ pulls you into a mother-like embrace, kissing the crown of your head. You lean into her touch and Aaron wishes he were the one comforting you.

“I feel like shit,” you confess. “I woke up feeling groggy and I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“We’re so glad you’re okay, Y/N,” Emily says. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say. You take another bite. “This sandwich is good.”

“Aaron bought it,” Emily speaks.

You look at him. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged his presence since he walked into the room.

“Thanks,” you mumble behind the sandwich. “I could eat five of these.” 

“I don’t want to deal with you puking on us,” Spencer jokes, and it makes you feel somewhat normal.

You don’t like feeling as though you’re a delicate piece of glass that’s close to being dropped. You hate feeling useless and pitied. Everyone’s looking at you with sad eyes and it makes you feel like you’ve let your colleagues down, even though you know there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent what transpired.

“I’m really sleepy,” you say, haphazardly throwing the wrapper on the table next to you. It isn’t a lie, but you say it with the hopes of being alone.

“We’ll be back in the morning,” JJ says. She looks at the clock in front of her and doesn’t realize that it’s four in the morning. You squeeze her hand when her eyes well up. JJ wipes her eyes and blinks her tears back and you lean against her side.

Aaron can’t help but stare. You look so vulnerable at this moment and you’re doing your best to keep yourself awake, but the sedatives are making you drowsy. The team says their goodbyes and reluctantly trek back to the hotel, but Aaron can’t bring himself to walk into the building once he’s parked.

“Get changed,” Dave says after a brief moment of silence. Aaron looks at him in confusion. “Take a shower, eat something from the vending machine, and go back to the hospital.”

“She doesn't want me there,” he says slowly. 

“She’s asleep,” Dave dismisses. “She’s not going to know you’re there and I’m sure she’ll want to see a familiar face when she wakes up.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person she wants to see.”

“You were the first person she reached for when we entered the barn,” Dave explains, “and I know you won’t be sleeping a wink tonight unless you’re by L/N’s side. Go get changed and get back to the hospital, Aaron.”

“I just–”

“I know you feel guilty. Whatever feelings you have towards her never went away and that’s why you’ve been so hard on her.” Aaron’s not surprised that he’s picked up on this habit. “I don’t have to agree with how you handled it, but what matters is that she’s alive and she’s resting. We got her back, Aaron. She’s here and Scott isn’t.” 

Aaron knows Dave is right. He thanks him for being a good friend and trudges back into his hotel room, hastily freshening himself up before returning back to the hospital.

***

You wake up later in the morning with little to no recollection of how you got there. You feel extremely out of it, like someone removed a ton of bricks from your chest after keeping it there for a fortnight. You look to your left and see a window that shows you a gloomy D.C. morning. You look to your right and see Aaron Hotchner slumped over in a seat, asleep. 

This wakes you up. You’re blinking the sleep out of your eyes when you realize he’s snoring. It’s soft and unassuming, but you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him sleep. 

The chairs must be uncomfortable, too. You do your best to sit up—which is when you notice the sling on your arm—and manage to prop yourself up on the pillows until you’re sitting upright. Aaron stirs in his sleep at the sound but he’s still asleep.

You’re not close enough to reach him and wake him up. You aren’t sure that you want to either, for the fear that he might start telling you a laundry list of all the things you did wrong throughout the case. 

The doctor from last night walks in and knocks on your door, which shifts your focus. Aaron’s still asleep and the doctor, who reintroduces herself as Dr. Aguta, gently walks around Aaron and to your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” she asks you while holding a clipboard. You notice her colorful print skirt first and it’s a contrast to how grey it is outside. 

“My head hurts,” you say with a croak. It’s the first thing you’ve said since you woke up. “And I realized my arm’s broken. But other than that, I feel fine.” 

Dr. Aguta gives you a pleasant smile. “I’m glad to hear that you’re doing okay. The sedatives we gave you last night seemed to help ease your pain, though I’ll be giving you a prescription for the rest of the month when it wears off.”

She hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Unfortunately, you do. You remember Scott, the gun, and Aaron coaxing you to go with the EMTs. It’s mostly a blur and you can’t remember the details but you remember enough. The softened expression is a dead giveaway and Dr. Aguta doesn’t press any further.

She sees your gaze shift to Aaron, who still hasn’t woken up.

“He came last night and insisted on staying with you,” Dr. Aguta informs. “Typically I’d only let immediate family stay overnight, but your boss seemed extremely worried about you.” 

“He did?” you ask. It’s news to you.

She nods. “When I saw him for the first time last night, I could tell he’s a man of few words and the leader of your team. But last night he was a stuttering mess and I let him stay overnight with the condition that he doesn’t wake you.”

You don’t say anything. Aaron’s mouth is partly ajar and you know he’s going to wake up with a lot of back pain from how he’s positioned. Dr. Aguta performs a routine check up on you and lets you know that you’ll be discharged from the hospital the following day. You thank her profusely and she can only give you a reassuring smile. You ask her to wake Aaron up for you just before she leaves.

Aaron blinks and remembers he’s not in the hotel. Dr. Aguta excuses herself to give the both of you privacy and he sits upright, stretching his back unpleasantly. 

“Morning,” he says, clearing this throat. “How do you feel?”

You’re getting tired of answering this question but you humor him.

“Better,” you say honestly. “Aside from my broken arm and concussion.” Aaron’s gaze shifts to your arm and he almost winces.

“Did you sleep well?” 

“For the most part, but I think the sedatives had more to do with it than anything.”

“Good, I’m glad.” 

An awkward silence falls over the both of you. Aaron desperately tried to pull himself together by waking himself up and you’re fiddling with your hands. You noticed he’s changed since you saw him last night, now in slacks and a quarter zip, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him look so casual.

Aaron’s trying to think of the right words to say. As your boss, he wants to tell you that none of this was your fault and there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it from happening. He wants to tell you he shouldn’t have ordered you back to the hotel, not without anyone accompanying you.

But as someone who has deep feelings for you, Aaron wants to say he was scared to death and thought he might lose another person he cares for. His anxiety skyrocketed through the roof when he saw what you had done to Scott and he wishes that you didn’t have to work through this trauma.

But he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows and you know his brain is working overtime by how often he pulls his eyebrows together. You don’t have it in you to be angry at him like you were the night he sent you away. The sedatives, along with your exhaustion, leaves little room for anger. 

“I’m getting hungry,” you say to break the silence. 

“I can get something from the cafeteria,” he offers immediately, touching his pocket to make sure his wallet didn’t fall out. 

“That would be nice.” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t touched by the offer.

Aaron leaves for a short while and you try your best to process what just happened. He chose to stay with you overnight. He offered to buy you breakfast. You didn’t think Aaron would care for you like that.

He comes back a while later and apologizes for both the sandwich (that looks haphazardly made) and the time it took, as there was a long line. You thank him politely and eat the meal, and you’re grateful that you have anything to eat at all.

Aaron watches you and feels like he’s invading your personal time. He bought himself a fruit cup, knowing Dave would reprimand him for not eating if he were able to buy something. 

“I shouldn’t have told you to go back,” Aaron says softly. You almost didn’t hear him say it. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I did the wrong thing and it got you kidnapped.”

You don’t tell him that it’s okay, because quite frankly he’s right. He shouldn’t have sent you home, but you know it’s not his fault that you were abducted. 

“It’s not your fault that Scott took me,” you say matter-of-factly. Aaron can sense what you’re trying to say and his eyes hang in shame. “But I’m alive. I’m going to have one hell of a transition back to work, but I’m alive. I’m here. That is, if I still have my job.”

Aaron’s eyes snap to you.

“The job is yours for however long you want it,” he says immediately, and he means it. “What you did was reckless but I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing.”

This makes you smile a little and Aaron soars when he sees it. 

“I didn’t mean what I said back at the precinct either, Y/N. You’re a fantastic agent and we’re lucky to have you.”

There are a million things you want to ask him. Why have you been second guessing me? Is my work not satisfactory enough? Why did you stay in the hospital with me? 

But you don’t. There are too many things you want to say to Aaron that it ends up turning into a frustrating mess every time you think of the right question to ask. Aaron doesn’t seem to notice your lack of conversation. Or if he does, you think he’s trying to fill the awkward silence like you are.

“I don’t mean to be a burden,” is what you settle on. “I don’t purposely challenge your authority or how the team operates. I know I haven’t been here as long as everyone else but I like to think I make enough contributions.”

“You do,” Aaron says. “You aren’t a burden.”

You don’t believe him. “I just…lately I feel like I've been getting in the way of things.”

“You haven’t.” Aaron means that honestly but you don’t pick up on it. “You’ve shown immense critical thinking and problem solving skills. This case alone has proven that.”

You don’t disagree with him, but your mind reverts back to Scott and you start to deflate. 

Aaron knows he needs to apologize for how he’s been acting towards you. The abduction and his guilt is eating him alive and it forced him to be truthful with himself about how harsh he’s been treating you upon realizing he likes you more than a colleague should. But he doesn’t know whether this moment is appropriate or not. Ever the professional.

Both of you are saved by Dave showing up unannounced. He’s dressed casually too, with jeans and a sweater for an unusually cloudy day in Southern California. His knocking brings both you and Aaron out of your heads.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dave laments. He enters the room after you beckon him in and gives you a gentle hug on the side that doesn’t have your sling. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling because I’m sure you’re tired of that.”

“Thank you.”

“But I did want to check up on you,” Dave continues. “The rest of the team are slowly waking up, I imagine.” He turns to Aaron. “I assume we’re grounded here until Y/N can fly back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says. “Tell the team they have the rest of the week off. I don’t think Strauss wants us spending more of our budget on flights.”

“Already done,” Dave says with a smile. “You had us worried for a while there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, even though you know you have nothing to be sorry for. “I didn’t mean to make any of you worry about me.”

“We always worry about you, kid. It’s our job.”

“Are the girls okay?” you ask him. 

“Safe and sound. That’s actually why I came to visit, other than to check up on you.” 

You blink out of confusion.

“Jaqueline called the precinct and asked to speak with you,” Dave explains. “Long story short, she got in contact with me and wanted to know if you’d be willing to speak with her. She wants to thank you in person.”

The thought never crossed your mind. Saving her children had always been your first priority, even when Scott threatened to kill you if you didn’t help him. You’re not a mother by any means, but Jaqueline is around your age and you have plenty of nieces and nephews to get an understanding of how difficult this whole ordeal was for her.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to make sure Jaqueline would be okay. 

“Absolutely,” you say immediately. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Aaron asks. “You just got to the hospital.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm, turning your attention back to Dave. “They can come visit me here if they’re willing to. I don’t think I have it in me to go to the precinct.”

“Of course,” Dave says with a small grin. It’s almost like he knows this will heal the both of you. He leaves the room and tells you he’ll be back later this afternoon.

Aaron sits in silence and he’s in awe of your resilience. He’s sure it’s the shock and sedatives talking, but he’s always known you to be someone who puts other people first. 

“I should call Strauss and let her know the situation,” Aaron says. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, and you’re strangely reluctant to let him go. But you do anyway and he walks out of the hospital room, leaving you with your thoughts. 

***

Dave lets you know Jaqueline is here with the girls a few hours later. 

“Agent Y/L/N?” a voice says from beside you. The young mother knocks on the door as two children hide behind her legs. You beckon them inside, with Aaron and Emily supervising from beyond the threshold.

“Jaqueline,” you say, propping yourself up to seem more presentable. “Hi. It’s great to see you.” 

“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” she apologizes, but you’re already waving her off when you see the two children emerge from behind her. “I wanted to thank you in person. For saving my kids.”

“It’s no problem,” you downplay. 

But Jaqueline shakes her head and rushes to grab your hand. She pulls away when she thinks she’s crossed a line, but your grip is devastatingly tight when you squeeze hers. Jaqueline looks at you and tears slip from her eyes, and her children hug her legs like they know something’s wrong.

Jacqueline composes herself and brings Gracie and Olivia in front of her, who each have hand-decorated thank you cards made of colorful cardstock paper, stickers, and glitter. Your heart swells at the gesture and you will yourself not to alarm the family in front of you with your tears, so you promise yourself you’d cry when they leave.

“Hi, Munchkins,” you greet. “What’s all this?”

The girls shyly give you the cards, the eldest taking initiative to put them in your hands.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Mommy says you were very brave and saved us.”

“We drew these last night!” the younger one exclaims. “Mommy let us stay up late because we couldn’t sleep, so we made these for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you compliment, looking at the colors below you. Jaqueline hasn’t let go of your hand. “You girls are very talented.”

“Thank you,” the young one says bashfully. “I hope you get better soon.”

Your heart swells and Jacqueline squeezes your hand again before letting go. You watch her lips flutter and as her children become preoccupied with their dresses, Jaqueline surprises you again.

“Would it be alright if I called you from time to time?” she asks. “To let you know how we’re doing. That we’re okay.” You reach for her one more time.

“I’d love that,” you say honestly.

Jaqueline doesn’t say another word, but the look of gratitude and her quivering lips is enough to make all the hurt from the past few days disappear.

You watch as they leave the room and as the young girls save goodbye. David escorts them to the front of the hospital, which leaves Aaron awkwardly standing in the threshold with his body leaning against the doorframe.

Aaron watches you. Your eyes glaze over and the cards in your hand are slipping through your fingertips, and your lips move as if you’re trying to find the right words to say. But nothing comes out. Aaron listens as your breathing becomes shallow and watches a stray tear slip from the corner of your eyes.

Before he can think, he rushes by your side and envelopes you in his arms.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, somewhere between wanting to give you enough space and wanting to pull you against him. Your fingers are tight on his forearms when he hears your labored breathing become erratic and as your tears soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

Aaron takes the liberty of moving you in front of him, his back against the pillows you were sleeping on. He looks at your frail body in front of him; you always carry yourself as a strong-willed, independent agent on the field, and now he sees that he mistook your brazen character as recklessness when it was false bravado.

His heart aches when your grip on him tightens. Aaron reaches out to move the cards to the side table and pulls you against his chest, thankful that this bed is barely enough to fit the both of you. Aaron notices your craned neck, bringing the hand that isn’t wrapped around your frail figure to your head and gently moves your head to his chest.

Your soft whimpers are enough to make Aaron’s heart break all over again.

“You’re an amazing person,” Aaron says. “You are selfless, caring, and generous.” His words compel you to cry even harder and Aaron lets you weep in his arms until your eyes are dry and you’re hiccuping. 

Aaron doesn’t let you, not for a second, feel embarrassed about breaking down in front of him. His thumbs are drawing soothing circles on your arm and he’s wiping away your tears with a tissue, allowing you to unravel before him. 

Your dry heaving doesn’t bother Aaron, but he coos into your ear and tells you he’s going to get you a bottle of water when you grip his arm. He pries your fingers off of him and melts when you snuggle your head closer to him, but he knows you’re thirsty and the best thing he can do for you is keep you healthy. 

“I’ll be back in two minutes,” he promises. “I’m all yours after that.” 

You nod reluctantly and let him go. The bed feels empty when he leaves and you feel pathetic for hanging onto him like he’s your lifeline, but you don’t care. You just want to be held.

True to his word, Aaron comes back a few minutes later and uncaps the bottle for you. A soft ‘up’ utters from his lips and you sit up straight. He brings the bottle to your lips and tilts your head back enough to let the water slide down your throat. 

Aaron puts it aside when you’ve signaled that you’re done and slides into the spot next to you once again. He puts his arm around your shoulder and brings you to his chest again. 

You don’t tell him, but you feel his heartbeat. It’s irrationally fast and you don’t know what to make of it. You tighten your hold on him as you start to fall asleep and you miss the way Aaron rocks you to sleep. 

***

When it’s time for your discharge, you’re feeling better than you did a few days ago. The team welcomes you back on board once you’ve been cleared to fly and it feels like nothing’s out of place. 

JJ bought a bunch of pastries from a local cafe and everyone (save for Aaron because he was with you the entire time) has written little messages on a decorated card. It’s Spencer who frets over you the most, bringing you cups of tea and asking if there’s anything he can do to ease your pain. You’re quite touched. 

You know you’re in no shape to drive home when you land. Your dominant hand is broken and your car sits in its designated spot, no doubt gathering dust and debris. The team is tired from the trip and everyone checks in on you one by one before leaving, and you don’t know how you’ll get home until you realize your car keys are still in your desk drawer.

Aaron watches you for a moment. He notices your apprehensiveness and the way you look at your car keys, and he puts two and two together. Before he can register what he’s doing, Aaron’s making his way to you and offering to drive you. You start to tell him you don’t need a chauffeur and that he should go home instead, but he’s more worried that you might hurt yourself inadvertently. He persists and you reluctantly say yes because you know he’s right. You could barely open the door to the building, let alone drive home. 

The car ride to your apartment is quiet, save for the sounds of cars passing by on the freeway and the sound of gravel underneath the tires. You look up at your apartment complex when you tell Aaron the code to get into your garage and he parks in the visor spot after you’ve directed him.

The sling on your arm is a nuisance and you already can’t wait to get it off. You’re able to unbuckle yourself with your free hand and you’re surprised that Aaron opens the door for you.

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

“It’s not a problem.” You can tell he means it.

When you get to your apartment, you’re somewhat surprised that you haven’t lost your keys. You struggle to put them into the lock correctly with your non-dominant hand and Aaron can see the quirk of your eyebrow and how you’ve bit your lip out of frustration.

He fears he’s overstepping. He takes the keys out of your hands gently and opens the door for you anyhow. 

When you walk inside, you don’t think you've ever felt happier to see your small one bedroom apartment. Aaron sets your go-bag on the kitchen counter and you stand still for what seems like an eternity until he brings you out of your haze and encourages you to change out of your clothes and take a shower. 

But you don’t move. You stand in the middle of your living room and stare blankly out of your window, unable to appreciate the breathtaking view of D.C. like you always do. Your throat feels dry and your feet feel like they’re permanently planted on the hardwood floor beneath you.

Aaron comes to stand beside you and he leaves distance between the both of you. He looks at the sight before him and makes a comment about how he’s jealous of your view, but not even that gets a reaction out of you.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you mumble after a long pause. “I-I can’t be by myself right now.”

Aaron knows Jack is at sleepaway camp for a school trip and doesn’t get back for another few days. He doesn’t have to think about keeping you company so you don’t feel alone.

“I can stay with you,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turn to look at him and the offer is enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

Aaron sounds so soft, caring, and unlike himself. Your heart tugs at his caring nature and you’re overwhelmed with the notion that he’s caring for you like he cares for your colleagues.

“Please,” you croak.

Aaron nods. He puts his hands on your arms and ushers you into the hallway and you point him in the direction of your bedroom. He’s acutely aware that this is the first time he’s ever been in your apartment, let alone in the room you sleep in, and tries not to dwell on it for your sake. 

“You should take a shower and sleep,” Aaron suggests. “It’ll help clear your head.”

You follow Aaron’s lead. He guides you to your dresser and you grab an extra change of clothes and he accompanies you to the bathroom next door. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” he says. “Don’t be afraid to get me.”

“Okay,” you say meekly. Your voice is far too dry to speak normally.

Aaron closes the bathroom door and you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You’re sure you look like a mess, despite being taken care of in the hospital back in Los Angeles. But you feel sticky from the flight and the sudden change in temperature, and you want nothing more than to cleanse yourself of the memories from LA.

You remove the sling from your arm and try your hardest to take your clothes off but you find it exceptionally difficult with your arm being in a brace. It hurts to lift your arm and you nearly cry out of frustration and exhaustion when you realize you can’t take your shirt off by yourself.

Embarrassed, you contemplate on showering with your clothes on, but ultimately know you’d need to take them off anyway. You open the door and call for Aaron, and you hear his steps as soon as you do.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he realizes you’re still in your clothes.

“I can’t, um, take my clothes off,” you say, clearing your throat. “I can’t bend my right arm and my left one is extremely sore. I can’t take my fucking clothes off.”

Aaron isn’t offended by your defensiveness. He gathers that it’s your coping mechanism because you feel embarrassed, but Aaron doesn’t care. He doesn’t say anything but he nods like he knows what you’re going through and you have a suspicion that he might.

“I’ll close my eyes and take your clothes off for you,” Aaron says. He says it in a way that’s so sincere but it still makes your cheeks redden at the innuendo. Aaron tries to ignore it because he feels a blush coming.

“It’s so pathetic that I can’t do this by myself.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he reassures. “You have a broken arm and your body’s still in pain. Let me help you.” 

You don’t say anything and Aaron takes it as a cue to move closer. True to his word, he puts his arms on your waist and turns his head away from you, careful to not hurt your broken arm. He maneuvers the fabric until it’s free from your body and he’s acutely aware that he’ll need to touch you in order to take the rest of your clothes off.

Aaron’s surprised when you move his hand to the button of your slacks. He clears his throat while you look up at the ceiling and bite your lip, pretending that the situation you’re in is completely normal to keep yourself from blushing too much. Aaron’s fingers work on the button and he’s careful not to put his hands where it’s inappropriate. He almost laughs at the thought, considering he’s your boss and he’s helping you take off your clothes.

You shimmy out of your slacks as Aaron slides it down your legs. He blushes at the thought of what’s to come next and swallows hard. Aaron returns to his stance and finds his neck is sore from craning, so he keeps his eyes closed and faces you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “I-I don’t think I can unclasp my bra.” 

You wince at your words, but it’s true. You tried to reach behind you when Aaron worked on taking off your pants, but the ache in your shoulder was too much. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything and you’re afraid that he might leave you. He’s so quiet that you can barely hear his breathing and you look at his closed eyes and see that his jaw is clenched. He mumbles and you’re barely able to catch it. Aaron lifts his hands to find your shoulders and you nearly shiver underneath his warm hands, despite the fact that your body might be just as hot. 

Aaron reaches behind you and searches for your clasp. You can feel his fingers on your back as he feels for it and he’s incredibly aware that your gaze is on him. It takes all of his willpower not to open his eyes. He’s imagined undressing you before, but not like this. Aaron’s fingers find the clasp and he’s slow to undo it, afraid of tangling the metal.

You feel yourself free from its constraints and Aaron slowly moves his fingertips from your shoulders and down your arm. You comply the best you can with your sore arm and your broken one, and your breathing hitches.

Aaron ignores how fast his heart is beating when he hears your bra drop to the floor. His mind is in overdrive and he bends down again, his fingers immediately coming to your waist and gripping them with gentle care. You look down at him and your mouth is wide open with your jaw hanging when you realize he’s on his knees in front of you. Aaron’s fingers hook on the material of your underwear, but you can’t bear to see him take them off.

“Wait,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily. 

Aaron forces himself to keep his eyes closed and he can hear your shallow breathing. His fingers are wrapped around the fabric of your underwear and suddenly he’s aware that it’s an intimate piece of clothing. Aaron’s cheeks redden and he’s desperately hoping you don’t notice.

“I can do it,” you say. Your voice wavers and you aren���t sure that you won’t be in pain when you take them off, but seeing Aaron on his knees with his hands practically down your underwear is too much for you at this moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, clearing his throat. His fingers detach themselves and he abruptly stands up. Aaron keeps his eyes closed still.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, and you mean it. “I really appreciate you helping me out…I’m sure this has crossed a lot of boundaries.”

Aaron wants to tell you he doesn’t mind it one bit, but he holds his tongue to refrain from making you uncomfortable. His eyes feel heavy and he stumbles when he stands up but catches himself when he feels the doorknob behind him.

“Like I said, I’m here if you need anything.” 

Aaron stands still for a moment and it feels like the both of you had the air knocked out of your lungs. He doesn’t want to overstep or make it seem like he’s taking advantage of your vulnerable state, so he exits the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You lock it immediately and pin yourself against the door. Your heartbeat is irrational and you turn the water on, fixing it to your desired temperature. Bending to take your underwear hurts and your shoulders feel like they’re about to pop off, but you manage.

You’re acutely aware that Aaron’s in your living room, no doubt trying to rid himself of the awkwardness. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful at what transpired because while it’s enough to help you forget about Los Angeles, it makes your cheeks flare into a hot mess and you feel uncomfortably turned on.

Aaron, too, feels the same way. He feels filthy sitting on your couch and results in pacing around the room. His shoes are discarded by the door and it feels all too domestic. Aaron’s tie is suddenly too tight so he tugs on the knot to loosen it. He rids himself of his suit jacket and places it neatly on the arm of the couch, and thinks about anything but you, naked in the shower. His slacks feel a little too tight, so he takes out his phone to check his email. It works for a while,

A while later, Aaron realizes you’ve walked out of the bathroom and you’ve managed to change without his assistance. You comment about how the shower loosened your muscles and you were able to get your clothes in relatively painlessly, but all he can think about is how cute you look in an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

He’s too preoccupied admiring how undone you look because it’s the complete opposite from how he sees you at work. In Quantico, you’re somewhat put together, always wearing appropriate office attire and taking your caseload with grace while the rest of the team complains to no end about the amount of paperwork that needs to be filed.

Now, you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and an old shirt that has lost some lettering. It’s domestic and Aaron loves it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about offering you the bathroom,” you say timidly. 

It’s nerve wracking for you to be in Aaron’s presence because of what happened a few moments ago and because you’re not sure why he’s been so nice to you. It’s fresh and strange at the same time, as you’re used to him looking over your shoulder.

But you don’t feel like he’s being domineering. 

“I’ve got a few shirts that might be your size,” you announce. “And a bunch of sweatpants too.”

Aaron’s heart flutters at how welcoming you are considering all that happened to you, but he’s also found himself standing with jealousy when you mention that you have men’s clothing. Are you dating someone? Does he know he’s there?

“I love thrifting and sleeping in big shirts,” you explain, overcompensating for how awkward you feel to be standing in front of your boss looking like a disheveled mess. “I tend to thrift for clothes in the men's section because you guys have really good clothes for dirt cheap.”

Aaron’s worries are quelled and he doesn’t know why he feels so relieved to know you aren’t seeing anyone. 

“That would be great,” Aaron says. 

You nearly skip to your room and huff at your awkward demeanor, pulling out a large shirt from your dresser and a pair of sweatpants you hope is big enough. When you walk back to the living room, Aaron is still standing in the same spot and you’re somewhat touched that he’s nervous to be in your apartment.

“You can change in the bathroom,” you instruct. “Take as long as you need. There’s an extra toothbrush on the counter and a towel on the rack.” 

Grateful, Aaron scurries into the bathroom and you walk away before you can think of imagining him getting undressed. Instead, you busy yourself by fetching extra blankets and pillows for him. There’s an extra thick blanket in your closet and you pull two pillows from your bed, unsure if Aaron’s the type of guy to care about his pillow count. You find yourself stumped for a moment, each hand two with pillows as you debate on how many to give him, before you realize how idiotic you must seem if someone were to take a peek inside your head.

You settle with two pillows. 

You’re fixing a cup of tea for the both of you when Aaron walks out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. You know he likes to drink chamomile tea on the plane when you’re coming back from a case late at night. You’ve seen him make it a million times. It feels weird to be making him a cup, but you figure it’s the least you could do after he helped you change out of your clothes. 

“I made you tea,” you say lamely, setting the cup down on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Aaron walks towards you and he feels the hardfloor beneath him and how hot the mug is when he touches it. Thinking about this distracts him from your broken arm and the swell of guilt he has in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Aaron says. 

“I put in a little bit of honey. I hope it’s not too much.”

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “How’d you know I liked honey in my tea?”

“You drink it a lot on the plane,” you explain. “I see you make it a lot. You always scold Spencer every time he puts too much of it in.”

He can’t help but smile, but he hides it behind the cup.

Neither of you say anything. You don’t know what more you can say. The words cause you to choke every time you think about what happened back in Los Angeles. Realistically, you know there’s no way Scott can hurt you anymore, but it doesn’t stop you from panicking at the thought of being alone in your apartment. 

But you look at Aaron, who’s looking at you, and you’re able to let your guard down for a little while. 

“Thank you,” you muster. “For taking care of me back at the hospital and back at the barn. It…it meant a lot that you stayed.” 

“Of course,” he says a little too quickly. “You’re a member of this team and your safety is my top priority.”

Your gaze drops to the floor. You aren’t sure what you were expecting. An apology? A confession? Truthfully, you don’t know what you want to hear from Aaron but it hurts knowing that he views you as just another colleague.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t made you feel that way in a long time,” Aaron starts when he realizes you’ve grown quiet. “A member of the team, I mean.” 

“I-I just felt like I should’ve been doing more,” you confess. 

“You’re doing everything right, Y/N. You’re an exceptional agent and an outstanding person. Any part of the bureau would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly. 

“Absolutely.” Aaron means in.

You finish your tea and it all becomes too much for you. The pain of your arm is quelled by the medication your doctor prescribed and Aaron helps you open the bottle. It makes you feel silly that you need someone else’s help to do something so simple and you feel your frustration get the better of you. 

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, okay?” Aaron reassures. “Please don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I promise,” you say and it’s one you’re planning on keeping.

You close the door behind you and turn off the lights. It feels weird to be in your apartment because you feel like everything should be back to normal, but it isn’t. In your years with the BAU, nothing as serious as this kidnapping has ever happened to you. You’ve been trained to deal with kidnappings before and how to talk to the victims and to the survivors, but you’ve never thought you’d have to deal with the aftermath yourself. 

You can’t sleep on your side because of your cast and your body feels like it’s constantly being run over by a stampede. The soft mattress is a contrast of how stiff your body feels and it all feels like it’s too much. 

Aaron can’t sleep either. He’s been staring at the door for the past thirty minutes as he tries to fall asleep. His phone is plugged into the wall behind him and he checks in with Dave, who texted him as he drove you back to your apartment. Aaron briefly thinks about Jack and his heart softens for a moment, but then he hears your soft cries from the room.

Aaron lies completely still and hears your whimpers. He hears you sniffle, blow your nose twice, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he has no idea what to do. He has half a mind of barging into your room to comfort you until you’re asleep, but he doesn’t want to overstep his welcome more than he already has. Aaron feels frozen on the couch and doesn’t know if you’re too nervous to ask him for comfort.

He’s surprised when you walk outside. You don’t turn the lights on and he can barely make your face when you step into the moonlight. But you look frail, broken, and like you’ve been tormented by your memories. Aaron hates that.

“Aaron?” you call out. Your voice is small and his heart cracks. “Can you keep me company?”

Aaron doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He lifts the blankets from his legs and follows you into the bedroom. You sit on the edge of the bed and sniffle. Aaron sits next to you and carefully puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

It’s comforting and it aches. The pain of trauma and knowing that your life will never be the same again makes it seem like you’re never going to recover. Aaron doesn’t say anything, letting you cry into his shoulder and ignores the way your tear stains have soaked through the fabric. 

He’s imagined being in your apartment before; he often wonders what your decor looks like and how often you spend time here. He’s imagined cooking breakfast for you before you wake up, making you cups of your favorite tea, making the bed after you’ve both woken up, and kissing you goodbye when you walk out the door. Being in your bedroom like this feels too intimate, but if he was being honest with himself, Aaron doesn’t really mind it. He likes that he’s the person you choose to lean on. He feels like this is the first step in holding himself accountable for how he’s treated you in the past. 

Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron does everything he can think of to coax you through your sadness. He whispers praise and allows you to cry when you keep apologizing for your behavior, and he keeps telling you that he’s not going anywhere. 

When you manage to calm down, you’re tired. Aaron lets you climb underneath the covers and tucks the blanket under your chin. His hand brushes your skin and he blushes, though he’s sure you can’t tell because of how dark it is. Aaron bids you goodnight and starts to walk back to the living room but you reach out for his hand before he gets the chance to leave. He turns around and feels your soft grip on him. 

“Could you sleep with me?” you ask. “Or at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” Aaron says. He throws all caution in the wind and starts to walk to the other side of the bed and he’s surprised when you open the covers for him.

Your mattress is soft and your blankets smell like you. He tries not to think about it and leaves space between the both of you.

“Did you know I joined the BAU because of you?” you ask in the darkness.

“What?” Aaron says of shock.

You laugh lamely. “You guys held a few seminars at my alma mater and I knew then what I wanted to do with my life. I applied to the academy the next fall.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say. His cheeks are hot and you’ve rendered him utterly speechless. In your tired state, you push yourself as comfortably as you can until the back of your head is leaning on Aaron’s chest, mindful of your broken arm. 

Aaron’s stunned and his body stiffens. But he thinks of all the times he’s thought about laying beside you like this and decides that he’ll cherish it as much as he can. His arm snakes itself underneath you as he tugs you closer, and he whispers a soft goodnight.

***

D.C. is a little cloudy when you wake up. The light peeks through your blinds and you’re made aware of the man sleeping beside you when you realize your face is buried in his chest. Your good arm is beneath you while the other is on top of the blanket. Aaron’s arms are encircled around you and when you feel his warmth. 

You don’t rush to wake him up. Being here with him somehow feels right despite the part of your brain telling you he’s your boss and nothing more. But Aaron wouldn’t stay with you if he didn’t want to, right? 

Part of you thinks he’s doing it just because he feels guilty. You know that there’s some truth to that, but you wonder if it’s the only reason he elected to take care of you. But you decide it’s too early to think about this. Instead, you close your eyes and bask in Aaron’s warmth, and fall asleep again. 

This time, Aaron wakes you up twenty minutes after you fall back asleep. His arms are numb from your weight and he feels like he might try to kiss you if he doesn’t wake you up. 

Your eyes flutter open and you bury your head in his neck. Aaron doesn’t bring himself to push you off of him. He pulls you against him and the both of you lay in silence for what feels like an eternity. 

Eventually, Aaron has to leave because Jack’s coming home from a sleep away camping trip. He apologizes a thousand times over because he knows he said he wasn’t going anywhere, but you tell him that Jack is more important. An unrecognizable expression flashes across his face before he’s out the door, promising you that he’ll call to check in once Jack’s home.

And he does. Aaron calls you a few hours later when Jack’s in the shower and asks you how you’re feeling, if you’ve taken your medication, and if he needs to do anything for you. You decline for his help despite desperately wanting him back in your apartment.

When night falls, Aaron lets Jack stay up an hour later than usual. They’re watching cartoons from the nineties when Aaron gets a sudden idea. He pauses the television and turns to Jack.

“Do you remember Y/N?” Aaron asks his son.

“Of course I do,” Jack says. “She’s the one who buys me snacks when I come to visit you.” 

“That’s right, buddy.” Truthfully, Aaron didn’t know you’ve continuously done that for Jack. But he rolls with it. 

“Is she okay?”

Aaron knows Jack can tell something’s up.

“Not really,” Aaron replies honestly. “She got hurt real bad in our last case and broke her arm.”

Jack opens his mouth in surprise. “Oh no. Do you think she’ll get better soon?”

“I hope so. She needs a lot of help right now because she lives alone.”

“Well she can stay with us until her arm is better,” Jack says as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. Aaron can’t help but smile through his shock. 

“I’ve gotta ask her first, but I think that’s a great idea. That’s actually what I wanted to ask you.”

“It’ll be fun!” Jack exclaims. “Me and Y/N can watch cartoons while you’re at work and she can help me with my homework. She’s nice like that.” 

“Yes she is,” Aaron says, nodding. 

“Do you think I should make her a card so she feels welcomed in our home? I think I have leftover paper and glitter. Girls love glitter.”

“Y/N would love that. I’m going to talk to her first and if she agrees to stay over, you can make her a card.”

“Yay! This is gonna be the best sleepover ever.” 

Aaron’s ecstatic that Jack’s receptive to the idea. He calls you the next morning and proposes the idea of staying at his place until your cast comes off. When you lament how long that’ll be from now, he insists and tells you Jack was the one who came up with the idea.

You can’t say no to Jack. 

Aaron helps you gather belongings from your apartment and tells you that he’ll drive you back here or pick you up any time you want or need to. You double check that you’ve packed enough clothes for a week.

It’s a gradual and awkward start. You feel out of place as you try to navigate his apartment and where he keeps everything, not wanting to feel like you’re already welcomed in his home. But Aaron keeps reminding you that his home is your home and you don’t need permission since you’ll be here for a while.

Jack is sweet, too. He helps you by telling you where everything is stored and goes so far as to hold your hand while doing so. He insisted on tucking you in while you slept in the guest bedroom just to make sure you were comfortable on your first night, and you thought you might start crying in front of him.

At first, you walk on eggshells. You tiptoe around the boys and feel like a burden when Aaron brings home dinner for three or when he buys extra groceries, especially when he refuses to let you chip in. Jack tries to ease your worries after sensing your discomfort by asking you to build legos with him and you do your best despite the pain in your arms.

Aaron reminds you of your medication (and in turn, Jack asks you if you’ve taken your pills), cooks your favorite comfort meals, and drives you to mandated therapy sessions whenever he has the time. It warms your heart at how helpful he’s been since you know how busy he is typically, and you’re not sure what to make of your emotions. 

Time passes by and suddenly staying with Aaron feels somewhat normal. You’re off of work until your arm is healed and you’ve seen your therapist a number of times, and you know you have a couple of months of doing whatever you want until you go back into the field. Against the advice of Strauss, you continue to help with cases and the paperwork load so Aaron can spend more time with Jack.

Gradually, you start to feel comfortable when you’re alone. You use his kitchen, clean his dishes, and busy yourself with tidying Jack’s messes. You explore his neighborhood and have found a few cafes and restaurants you’d like to try out. You feel more comfortable lounging on his couch instead of keeping yourself in the guest bedroom.   

It feels domestic and you can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. There’s still so much left unsaid, including how you’ve felt being his subordinate prior to your abduction. Aaron’s apologized over and over again, has given you time to heal from it and chooses not to ask for forgiveness in lieu of letting you find it yourself. It means a lot. Deep down, you know Aaron isn’t a bad person. You just wish you knew why you were different.

A week turns into two, then into three, and soon enough you find yourself caring after Jack. You feel useless if you sleep in and start waking up early to make breakfast as best you can for everyone (limited to cold breakfasts until you start to feel confident using your dominant arm when it’s out of the sling). Aaron walks into the kitchen to see you making oatmeal one day and you’re worried that you’ve overstepped, but he thanks you profusely.

Jack waddles in and he takes the oatmeal without question and asks if you can put brown sugar and fruit in it. You look around and see apples and blueberries, and Jack chooses the blueberries. He watches as you fix him a bowl and eats his breakfast in silence.

It becomes a routine for you after growing tired of doing nothing all day. Helping Aaron’s around the house as best you can, working remotely on cases, and spending time in his neighborhood feels like you’re recording.

Jessica, Jack’s aunt, has been informed of your stay by Aaron. You’ve met her before in passing but have never spoken to her in depth before staying with Aaron. She picks him up and drops him off, making small talk with you about her life and about your work. It goes so far as coffee dates when she’s available and it feels like your life is getting back on track.

Meanwhile, Aaron realizes he’s bit off more than he can chew when he sees you every morning. He hears your morning voice and finds himself wanting to wake up to it every day. He sees the way you are with Jack, how thoughtful and helpful you’ve been, and thinks it’s where you belong.

And it hurts. It hurts to know that all of his suppressed feelings are suddenly coming to the surface.

Your cast is coming off later today and you’re due for another mandated therapy session and a psychological evaluation before you’re able to return to work. He’s elated, but that means you’re okay to return to your apartment and he’ll have to get used to the house being empty.

Aaron’s parked his car at Quantico and he glances at you in the passenger seat. Your arm sling and cast are gone and you look as good as new, but he’s reluctant to step out of the car. You look back at him, hands fiddling in your lap.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you begin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jack.”

“You’d be just fine,” Aaron assures. “But it was nice seeing you recover. Is your arm doing okay?”

“It’s like I never had a broken arm.” You flex it in front of him for emphasis. “My shoulder’s still a bit sore but I think my physical therapist has expedited the healing process.”

Aaron smiles. “Good. I’m glad.” 

A brief moment of silence falls between the two of you before you both get out of the car. Your therapist had asked you whether or not you were ready to integrate yourself back with the team and was scheduled to supervise your initial day back in the office. You’re apprehensive, however, because you know that you never perform well if you’re being watched closely. 

JJ’s the first to greet you when you walk through the doors. The office smells the same and it looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same. You spend a few extra seconds embracing JJ and gather that she needs this hug more than you do.

Everyone files in and it’s barely eight in the morning. David congratulates you on recovery, Derek and Penelope bombard you with jokes that make your stomach hurt, Emily shows you photos of Sergio upon your request, and Spencer gives you a side hug and tells you he’s glad you’re doing better.

The therapist arrives soon after and you’re on your best behavior without making it seem like you’re trying to be. 

In the end, she permits you to return back to the BAU with the promise of continuing therapy. She refers to you to a few others and tells you that you should try to go in at least once a week, or however frequently your job lets you. You’re clear to fly, yield your gun, and you’re reinstated as a profiler with the BAU.

Aaron drives you back to his place to pick up your belongings before he drives you back to your apartment. He and Dave had been kind enough to drive your car back to your place, where it’s been sitting untouched.

The ride is filled with music from the eighties and you’re so elated from your first day back at work that you don’t mind singing in front of Aaron and pretending you’re shredding on an electric guitar. He takes his time getting home, taking the long way instead of the direct route, and he doesn’t think you notice. Aaron hopes you don’t.

But he arrives at his place and Jessica’s greeting you at the front door, happy to see you’ve recovered before she goes home. The sun has barely set and Jack walks out behind his aunt, asking you what’s for dinner.

You’re stunned for a moment as the realization that this all ends tonight. Staying with Aaron, falling into a life of balancing work and domesticity comes to an end when he drops you off at your apartment. Jack’s tugging on your elbow and Aaron scolds him because you might still be in a little bit of pain. He apologizes sweetly.

Aaron beckons you inside where you've started to pack your belongings. The luggage you've brought seems smaller than when you brought it, as you find it difficult to pack everything. You make the bed and set the room as you found it (to the best of your recollection), and you’re ready to put your shoes on when Aaron rounds the corner.

“I was thinking we could have one last meal here.” He clears his throat. “To celebrate your recovery.”

You don’t hesitate. “I would love that. I finally get to show you my cooking skills.” 

Aaron smiles and Jack runs to your legs, beckoning you to the kitchen. You settle on making oven baked chicken with mashed potatoes and honey glazed carrots, all of which Aaron had in his refrigerator. Jack asks how he can help and you’re touched when he brings a stool to perch on, and you tell him he can help you by rinsing the potatoes. 

Aaron offers to help and you look at him with a silly grin, letting him prepare the carrots while you prepare everything else. Halfway through the process, Jack becomes somewhat irritable because of hunger and because the entire kitchen smells like a Thanksgiving feast. But he relents and waits for the meal to be done when you tell him the food always tastes better when it’s cooked longer.

You almost forget it’s your last time with Aaron and Jack when you eat your meal together. You forget it when Jack insists on ice cream for dessert and when Aaron makes you a cup of tea just the way you like it. You forget about it until Jack asks his father if he can be there when he drops you off at your apartment. 

Your heart breaks a little. Aaron agrees and lets you grab your belongings while he buckles Jack in the car. Your luggage is in the trunk by the time Aaron is done and he opens the passenger door for you before getting in the car himself. Jack talks the entire ride, thanking you for dinner and lamenting how much he loved spending time with you. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is tight and he doesn’t think his heart could swell any bigger.

Eventually, the boys walk you up to your floor and Jack lunges at your abdomen after the three of you have walked into your living room. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Jack mumbles in your sweater.

“You’ll see her around, buddy. She’s not leaving the team,” says Aaron.

“But I’ll miss Y/N at home. I like spending time with her there.” 

You and Aaron share a look. You can’t tell what he’s thinking but you know you’re unable to control the influx of emotions that will eventually spill out of you when they leave. 

“Me too,” Aaron says quietly. 

They leave soon after that.

You spend an hour crying in your living room and you haven’t unpacked your suitcase. Living with Aaron and being so close to him made you realize how your feelings for him, albeit complicated, have always been there. 

You love him. You love his generous nature. You love the adoration he has for Jack and for his team. You love how he knows your beverages of choice and how gentle he’s been with you. You love the way he says your name and you love that you feel right at home with him.

It’s ten o’clock when you grab your phone and you know Jack’s been asleep for at least an hour. You dial Aaron’s contact and in your anxious state of mind, nearly regret your actions. But he picks up and you hear the sweet melody of his voice through the phone. Your voice falters at first, but you push through them anyway. You’re sure Aaron can hear your voice post-crying because of how raspy your voice is, but you don’t care.

You tell him you think you love him and it’s not because he’s been taking care of you. You pour your heart and soul into this speech and you panic when he doesn’t say anything.

“This’ll be one hell of a story we tell Strauss.”

And you laugh. You laugh because you know Aaron feels the same and you laugh because facing paperwork and recounting this conversation to Strauss doesn’t seem like the most frightening thing in the world anymore.

But just for good measure, Aaron tells you he loves you too. 

***

AAAND WE’RE DONE X 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner sceanrios #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner oneshots #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner #SSA aaron hotchner #criminal minds #thomas gibson #my writing #reckless #yall if no one reads this im gonna scream ok bye enjoy #fem reader

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12

MDNI-----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, youngest member

warnings: mentions of wet dream, fantasying of 2 guys, oral f receiving, praise, probably more im not sure

A/N: hope you beautiful humans enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

also requests are still open for aaron hotchner and spencer reid & i would love love to write more so shoot me something :)

haappppy readingggg!

chapter eleven:

With a weary slump of her shoulders, Evelyn followed in Hotch's wake, her feet dragging the ground as though shacked by invisible weights. Her eyelids were heavy, drooping in a slow cadence, fighting the lull of sleep that beckoned with each laboring blink. Her lips parted in a slow, drawn-out motion that mirrored the sluggishness of her body. The latte sat in her hand, a supposed ally against the drowsiness, but her yawns betrayed its ineffectiveness as her eyes grew heavier still. The trip had been a marathon of activity--packing, the airport, the plane--all leading to a touchdown in Somerville just as the sun began to rise.

On the way over, Hotch had briefed her on the details of the case. A couple weeks ago, a polyamorous couple--two older men, and their shared partner, a younger woman--were found dead. Then, two days ago another household with the same victimology were killed. The coincidence wasn't lost on Evelyn as her mind wandered to that god forsaken dream that had haunted her since.

And on top of that, throughout the trip, Hotch's silence was a wall between them, broken only by the case details. Despite herself, Evelyn tried to profile him knowing it was wrong. Evelyn replayed the hot tub scene in her mind, a pang of guilt twisting in her gut. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd crossed a line, even if it was unintentional... right? Her head was a battlefield of jumbled thoughts and creeping doubts, all clamoring for attention. She blamed the fog in her brain on the lack of sleep.

 Evelyn, under the weight of Hotch's intent gaze, gave way to a yawn so extravagantly drawn out it seemed less a sign of fatigue and more a playful challenge to his enduring patience.

"Stop staring; it's too early for judgment," Evelyn murmured, her eyes slits of defiance as she ambled after him towards the station. "This is just my face before the caffeine kicks in. It gets better, I promise."

Hotch offered no reply, merely casting a glance over his shoulder at her. The warmth of their close encounter in the hot tub enveloped his thoughts, an unwelcome yet intoxicating recollection. He wrestled with the memory, a guilty pleasure, even as he held the door open for her. Yet, he steeled himself, shoving those dangerous reflections to the back of his mind, all too conscious of the professional boundaries that he dared not to cross.

"Okay, Hotch, I get it, we can't all be as chatty as me with zero sleep. But come on, give me a smile, or at least a grunt," Evelyn coaxed, her laughter not quite reaching her eyes. "Anything to show you're still with us."

There was a pause, a look from Hotch that cut through her words, heavy with unvoiced thoughts, before he turned and walked away, his back a silent command to keep up. Evelyn's expression dimmed, her lips curving into a faint frown as she trailed behind him. The team's warm welcomes echoed around them as they entered the conference room. Evelyn's smile spread across her face, skillfully painted on to mask the twinge of disappointment that Hotch had left.

The moment Spencer's eyes found Evelyn, a soft blush bloomed across her face, and she offered him a smile tinged with complicity, which he mirrored back, a small but significant lift to her mood. The brief contact of Spencer's hand grazing her shoulder as she passed was enough to deepen the shade on her cheeks as she fought to maintain composure. 

"How was Miami hot stuff?" Morgan questioned, as his arm sling around her shoulder with a teasing squeeze.

"Hot," Evelyn declared, her hand theatrically waving in front of her face in a mock fan, while her elbow lightly collided with Morgan's side. "Nearly had me seeing stars. Poor Hotch was this close to performing CPR," she said, her words a deliberate prod as her eyes sought out Hotch's, hoping for any form of reaction.

"I'd say it was less about the heat and more about you neglecting to eat properly," Hotch commented dryly, his words carrying a hint of reprimand, but hey at least he was talking.

"Well, we really shouldn't dwell on the past," Evelyn said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Speaking of meals," JJ added, sliding a blueberry muffin towards her with a knowing smile. 

"You're a saint, JJ," Evelyn said, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the food. "I'm this close to giving you a thank-you kiss."

"As tempting as that sounds, you can actually thank Hotch for this one," JJ laughed as she nudged her. "He made it clear--no breakfast for you means a mountain of paperwork duties for us."

Evelyn's tension eased a fraction as she shot Hotch a teasing smile, her heart fluttering at the gesture. "Well, sir, rest assured, I strictly adhere to the 'no kissing the boss' clause. It's somewhere in the fine print, right?"

Evelyn's cheeks took a shade of pink at her own words, hanging in the air, laden with the what-ifs she couldn't quite push aside. Hotch's eyes, sharp and discerning, momentarily betrayed him, darting to her lips before he caught himself.

"Agent," he cautioned, his voice low but clear. Evelyn quickly raised her hands, a silent truce, as Hotch redirected his attention to the team. "What do we have?"

"At this rate, they'll be naming the next HR workshop after you," Morgan murmured, barely containing his amusement. 

"What if the unsub is part of a group like this themselves and feels wronged by it?" Rossi muses out loud, his fingers tracing thoughtful patterns against the stubble of his chin as he stands, back pressed against the brick wall.

Reid paced slowly around the table, his fingertips grazing a file as he passed. "It's possible," he began, his voice a soft murmur, eyes narrowing slightly. "The specific targeting and overkill suggest a perceived slight or trauma associated with such relationships."

Prentiss gave a firm nod. "Let's not rule out the possibility of the unsub viewing these groups as a threat to their moral or social beliefs."

"The female-centric dynamic could be important too," Evelyn tossed out, her steps halting beside the pictures of the victims.

As she pondered aloud Spencer found himself focuses intently on her face, her nose scrunching ever so slightly in thought--a gesture that drew a fleeting smile from him as he cast his gaze downwards in hopes no one else noticed how he looked at her. 

"Maybe the unsub feels wronged by the idea of a woman being the main focus? Or it could be jealously. Someone who wanted into a group like this but was rejected," Evelyn continued. 

"Or the opposite," Hotch contemplates, his brow furrowed in thought. "Someone who was in a group and cast out." He pauses, hands clasped as he leaned forward. "Let's dig into the background of the victims and see if there's a common thread."

The conference room was steeped in the day's fatigue, the air heavy with the tang of frustration and the stale scent of coffee. The team had returned from their respective tasks--interviews, crime scenes, and calls--all roads leading to dead ends. 

The room's stillness is shattered by Garcia's voice emanating from the screen. "I've got something," she declares, the pixelated glow casting an ethereal light in the dim room. "Both triads belonged to an ultra-elite society known as 'The Labyrinth.' It's like Fort Knox meets Fight club--no one talks about it, and no one gets in without an invite. I mean, you don't even want to know the lengths I went to find this in the first place."

"I mean, if the society is as exclusive as P says," Evelyn begins, her hand sweeping through her hair in a fluid motion. "Then the unsub is likely also part of it or they have resources that could get them information on it."

Garcia's voice bursts through the speaker. "Prepare to be dazzled," she trills, the clatter of her keystrokes punctuating her excitement. "The Labyrinth is rolling out the red carpet for a gala tomorrow night at the old Whitmore Estate. And you, my darlings, are virtually invited to the ball."

Morgan hunches over the table. "So, we need a cover," he states, "We can't just show up at the doorstep and demand to look around; it'll spook the unsub."

"Evelyn and Reid could blend in," Prentiss nods. "They fit the profile of two of the victims. Maybe they can draw the unsub out." Evelyn's eyes widen as she glances towards Spencer.

JJ chimes in, "And maybe Morgan could--"

But Rossi interrupts, shaking his head. "No, the second male victim's profile is different--older, more experienced. It's more Hotch's profile."

A crease forms between Hotch's eyes, a shadow of concern etching his features as his protective instincts surge to the forefront, coupling with a deep-seated unease about the unfolding plan. A delicate warmth crept up Evelyn's cheeks, her pulse quickening at the thought. The idea of going undercover with Hotch and Reid, a scenario plucked straight from her wet dream, sends a shiver down her spine and her thoughts into a tailspin. She opens her mouth, to joke it off, but it dissolves into a muddled string of half-formed words, leaving her with a bashful silence.

Hotch's words falter, a rare hesitation flickering across his usually impassive features. "I'm not sure if this is the best course of action--," 

Emily interjected swiftly, her words slicing through Hotch's protest. "Hotch, we may not get another shot at this. Using you three as bait isn't ideal, but it might be the only way to corner our unsub."

Hotch's eyes settle on Spencer, who gives a firm nod. His gaze than shifts to Evelyn, and though he resists the urge to analyze, the rosy flush of her skin and the accelerated pace of her breath betray her feelings. It's a jarring contrast to the professional distance he's been striving for. Hotch's nod was there, almost imperceptible, but the frown that follows is deeply etched, a clear sign of his disapproval despite his acceptable. 

The room hums with a focused energy as the team pores over digital and paper archives alike, each article detailed events like this and of the couples who frequent. Garcia curates a comprehensive collection of profiles detailing the Labyrinth and its attendees, while JJ and Morgan sift through social media for the gala's guest list. In a corner, Spencer and Rossi huddled over a cluttered desk examining the blueprint of the Whitmore Estate.

Meanwhile, in a makeshift office provided by the local police chief, Hotch and Evelyn are deep in study. The walls, now a gallery of whiteboards, are dense with the scribbled complexities of polyamorous relationships and the backgrounds of the victims.

"I've come across open relationships in case studies, but an entire society? That's a statistical outlier if I ever heard one--Spence would have a field day with those odds." Evelyn says with a soft shake of her head.

A faint arch forms in Hotch's brow, a muted signal of surprise to the informal reference of Reid. Catching the lift of Hotch's brow, Evelyn quickly adds, "You know, Hotch, the silent treatment isn't going to work when we're undercover," she started with a tilt of her head. "You've going to have to convince everyone we're together soon, remember? So, you might want to start practicing liking me now."

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment, Evelyn." Hotch remarks, his countenance flat, eyes reflecting any readability. 

"Sure, if you say so," Evelyn replied, her eyes thin slits of skepticism. "But if you're not up for this, Rossi could step in. We need to be believable, or people could get hurt."

"That's not going to happen," Hotch assets, his gaze unwavering, the firm set of his jaw sending a flutter to Evelyn's core. "I've played the part before; I can do it again."

"Then what are you so worried about?"

"I just want you to remember boundaries, Evelyn." Hotch reminds. "The seriousness of this cannot be understated, and I need to know your focus will be on the right aspects of the plan."

Hotch could see the subtle crumble of her face, the faint twitch of hurt that flickered across her features. She masked it swiftly, her voice laced with feigned indifference. "Understood. I'll try to keep my inevitable swooning over your pretend affections to a minimum, sir." The lightness of her words contrasted sharply with the hurt in her eyes, and Hotch felt an immediate ache in his stomach for causing it.

"Evelyn, that's not--" Hotch's voice trailed off, the hardness in his eyes giving way to a rare vulnerability. His fingers twitched with the need to reach out, to smooth away the creases of pain from her expression, but the opportunity slipped away as Rossi emerged at the door.

"Hotch, can I see you for a second?" he asked, gesturing subtly with his head.

Hotch offered a silent nod, his gaze holding Evelyn's for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes etching a mental image of her--the tilt of her head, the unresolved tension in her shoulders, before he reluctantly turned to follow Rossi. Spencer, shadowing Rossi's steps, pauses at the threshold, his gaze fixed on the departing figures. With a soft click of the door closing, he turns, the hush of the room settling around him as he turns to Evelyn.

He steps behind her, his hands coming to rest gently upon her shoulders. Evelyn tips her head back, her eyes lifting to meet his. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and soothing.

Evelyn's laughter bubbled up, slicing through the heavy air. "Had a moment with Hotch. Pretty sure he was subtly hinting that I keep my feelings in check as if I'm incapable of that."

Spencer's lips curled into a half-smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Hotch tends to get a bit tense with these high-stakes operations," he reasoned, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on her shoulders, easing the knots. 

Evelyn melts into the warmth of his hands. "That feels good," she sighs, her head gently reclining in contentment. "And tell me about. I'm the one who's going to be all up on my boss and coworker. Talk about awkward."

The thought of sharing Evelyn with Hotch sent an unbidden rush of blood straight to his cock, a visceral response that caught him off caught. He clears his throat, a subtle cover for the fleeting thought that, perhaps, the idea isn't as disconcerting as it should be.

"At least with you I don't have to pretend."

"I don't know, I think additional practice might be beneficial." Reid says, his fingers edging closer to the delicate skin of Evelyn's neck, prompting an involuntary hitch in her breath. "My room tonight? Purely for preparation purposes, of course."

"Dr. Reid, w-what are you suggesting?" Evelyn managed to tease out, despite the gentle pressure of his hand on her pulse point making her senses swim and her focus waver.

He leaned in, his head tilting to plant a gentle kiss in the hollow of her neck. "You're smart enough to deduce it," he murmured softly against her skin, the words almost a sigh, "missed you."

A giggle escaped Evelyn, and she nimbly evaded his grasp. "Spencer, we're practically inviting an audience at this rate."

"Which is precisely why I'm saving it for later, just wanted you to give you a preview, sweetheart."

The remainder of the day unfolded without incident, with Evelyn buried under a towering pile of research papers, its weight causing a dull throb behind her eyes. Every detail was meticulously arranged for tomorrow--the tickets secured, the outfits chose, the escape routes mapped. However, no degree of preparation could quell the fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. This is precisely what led Evelyn to Spencer's hotel door, perched anxiously, her knocks rapid and insistent, her gaze sweeping the corridor for onlookers.

The door finally creaked open, and Evelyn breezed inside, her voice a soft tease, "Took you long enough." Spencer, with a quick glance over his shoulder, closed the door with a silent snap.

Spencer's laughter echoed through the room, a carefree sound that made Evelyn pause. "Sorry, I was in the shower," he said, a sheepish grin on his face. 

It was then that Evelyn really looked at him--his hair damp and tousled, clinging to his forehead, chest bare, skin dotted with water beads that caught the light, the soft material of his pajama pants hanging from his hips. Her eyes lingered, almost hypnotized by the sight, and rendered mute. 

Evelyn's lips parted, ready to unleash a clever comeback, yet only a soft, airy giggle escaped. Without thinking, her arms encircled him, her heart thudding erratically from the sheer nearness of him.

His fingers tenderly framed her face, his laughter a comforting hum. "Evelyn, you're going to get all wet," he teased, thumb softly grazing her cheek.

"That's what I'm counting on," Evelyn replies, a coy smile on her lips as she lets her hands wander down his chest, her fingers flirting with the edge of his pants. "I believe I was promise there would be a rehearsal on the agenda this evening."

"Mmm, is that what you want baby?" He questioned teasingly, his hand guiding her gaze to his with a soft tug at her locks. "Be the good girl I know you are, get undressed, and get on the bed."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled with anticipation, her feet barely touching the ground as she hurried to the bed. Her gaze locked with his and with deliberate care, she pinched the hem of her shirt, swiftly gathering the fabric and sending is flying across the room in a fluid motion before she attended to her pants. His eyes followed her every move as he inhaled a sharp breath, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip. Her gaze followed down to his pajama pants and the tent that was growing within them, excitement growing in her chest. 

She carefully turned her back towards him as she hooked her thumbs around her pants and underwear letting them drop to the floor. She crawled on to the bed, arching her back in an exaggerated motion, giving Spencer a full glance at her glistening pussy. She turned quickly, resting on her elbows as she smiled sweetly at Spence who was all but drooling at the sight.

"You're so good sweetheart," Spencer exhaled, each step towards the bed measured, the corners of his mouth lifting at her eagerness, "so pretty."

Evelyn's legs instinctively clasped together in a silent plea for relief as a wave of warmth surged through her cheeks and pussy.

"Take this off, baby," Spencer commanded, the sound of his tongue clicking in disapproval as his fingers drummed a soft rhythm against the material of her bra, "Wanna see all of my beautiful girl."

She quickly complied, sitting up just enough to unclasp the pesky thing. His large hands splayed over the expanse of her thighs, coaxing them open as he settled between them, his gaze penetrating as her tits bounced out of the cups of the bra. "God, you're so pretty sweetheart."

A soft moan escaped Evelyn's lips as she squirmed on the mattress, "Spencer, need you."

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his hand moving closer to her heat, fingers tracing back and forth in a tantalizing motion. "Gonna take such good care of you baby."

His thumb began to rub slow circles on her swollen clit, Evelyn's breath hitched, her hands frantically searching for something to grasp on to, landing on his wet curls. He teased her slowly, his fingers moving across her soaked folds. Evelyn felt as though she could see stars as she watched Spencer begin to plant soft kisses up her thighs, getting closer and closer to where she wanted him. 

She jutted her hips off the mattress, her fingers curling around his hair as if to move him towards her throbbing cunt. "Evelyn, patience teaches us to regulate our emotions. Neurologically speaking, it's linked to serotonin levels in the brain, did you know that pretty girl?"

"Spencer, please, baby put that good mouth to use."

Spencer let out a soft laugh before placing his mouth to her clit, sucking as if it were his full-time job. The moan that released from her was loud and unrestrained, her body thrusting against his mouth. His tongue curled into her, eating her out like it was his last meal on earth.

"Need you to be quiet, baby. Hotch is on the other side of this wall, don't want him hearing you, do you?" Spencer asked, his voice muffled. "Or maybe you do? Is that what you want? You want Hotch to know how I treat this pussy?"

Evelyn's body trembled with pleasure, her hands grasping against the cool sheets as if to steady herself. His hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her closer as if to suffocate himself between them. "I-I,"

His tongue lapped greedily through Evelyn's folds, her cunt trembling against the pressure as broken moans escaped her lips. He met her eyes, peering up from his position devouring her aching pussy. 

"Spencer I-oh, fuck, I'm so close," Evelyn moaned out, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she humped against his face, his nose brushing against her clit every so often. "I can't, I'm gonna-"

A knock at the door caused Spencer's motion to freeze, a panicked gasp releasing from Evelyn's lips as her orgasm dissipated into thin air.

"Reid, are you up?" Hotch's voice, firm and unexpected, pierced the silence. Evelyn's mind was a whirlwind of foggy thoughts, her body reacting before her brain could catch up. Beside her, Spencer's limbs flailed in a hasty attempt to feign alertness, both like deer caught in headlights.

"Oh my god," Evelyn hissed, her hands flying to shield herself. She leaped from the bed, her eyes darting desperately around the room for her scattered clothes.

"Just a second!" Spencer called to Hotch. Meanwhile, Evelyn snatched the nearest shirt, one of Spencer's and yanked it over her head. It was a clumsy dance, one that nearly ended with her sprawled on the floor, tripping over the bulky obstacle of his go-bag. "Get under the bed."

"Under the bed?" Evelyn's voice was a hushed blend of disbelief and urgency. Spencer returned her gaze with an unwavering stare. "God, you're lucky you're so good with that scholarly mouth of yours."

"Radio waves... they're the longest wavelengths in the electromagnetic spectrum," Spencer began, his voice a low hum as he paced the confines of the room. "First predicted by Maxwell in 1864," he continued, more to himself than to Evelyn. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "And they--"

He was cut off as Evelyn interjected. "Spencer, why are you giving me a physics lesson right now?"

"I'm trying to, uh... calm down."

Evelyn's gaze traced the path of Spencer's, her eyes light up at the sight of the tent still evident in his pants. A soft giggle escaped her lips, a delicate sound in the quiet room. Their eyes met once more, and she exhaled a prolonged, "Oh," the syllable stretching out as brought a hand to her mouth.

"Just get under the bed."

Evelyn's laughter was a soft echo, quickly muffled as she deftly maneuvered herself under the bed. Her breath caught in her throat, the only sound the creak of the door swinging open.

Spencer was met by Hotch, his figure framed by the hallway's dim light. "Reid, can I come in?"

With a subtle clearing of his throat, Spencer managed a casual tone, "Uh, yeah, sure, of course."

He swung the door fully open, his expression carefully schooled into one of practiced composure. Hotch stepped over the threshold, his eyes sweeping over the room. Spencer's gaze flitted after his, a silent prayer of gratitude that the room bore no trace of Evelyn's clothes. 

"I just wanted to talk to you about tomorrow," Hotch stated, his voice betraying none of the scrutiny his eyes had just performed. 

"Sure, what's up?" Spencer asked, the words slightly pinched at the edges, his voice climbing a register.

Hotch's arms locked across his chest like a barrier. "This undercover operation is delicate, and we can't afford any... complications."

Spencer swallows hard, his eyes darting to the bed for a fleeting second. "Of course, I understand."

With a casual lean against the desk, Hotch's features relaxed just perceptibly. "I know you understand, but it's not just about the operation. It's about perception too. Evelyn's already under a bit of scrutiny."

An awkward cough escaped Spencer, a clumsy veil over the tension he felt, knowing well that Evelyn hung on every word. "Right," he responded, an unspoken understanding that they were discussing her father.

"Gideon set a high bar, and it's clear Evelyn is rising to meet it," Hotch begins, his voice steady, a tinge of pride in his tone. "She's carved out her own space on this team, a fact we all recognize. But rumors don't always favor the truth, and any suggestion of her involvement with another agent could be damaging..."

"There's nothing unprofessional going on, Hotch," Spencer quickly countered, his voice a swift defense. 

Hotch raised a hand, a gesture of pause and consideration. "I'm not accusing you of anything," he clarified, his voice firm yet fair. "I'm just asking you to exercise caution," he articulated. "For her sake. She has a bright future, and it shouldn't be jeopardized by baseless chatter."

Under the bed, Evelyn's brain was in overdrive, dissecting every word, her mouth suddenly dry. 

"I understand."

"Good," Hotch affirmed with a supportive squeeze on Spencer's shoulder. "Goodnight, Reid."

"Yeah, you too."

next

taglist: @aceofspades190 @nonamevenus @lukesaprince @doigettokeepyou @tequilya @carley12041 @satellitelh @greatdinosaursalad @malewife-cas

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x oc x aaron hotchner #reverse harem #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #aaron hotchner fic #Spotify #spencerreidfanfic #spencer reid x original character #aaron hotchner x original character #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch

[writinghotchner]

fandom: criminal minds pairing: hotch x fem!reader (could be read as hotch x oc, i guess) rating: M (nsfw) words: 1,224

read below, or on ao3.

insomnia has once again webbed its way through her brain and shattered through her eyelids. it's nothing new, she's dealt with it most of her life. with an annoyed, tired sigh, she turns fully onto her side to face her boyfriend letting her eyes scan his sleeping face as puffs of his breath fans across her nose. she sighs again, frustrated that she can't sleep and that he can. just as she's about to fling the blanket off of herself and stomp to the living room to be grumpy on the couch, he cracks an eye to look at her. she immediately huffs out a laugh.

"did i wake you?"

he clears his throat and rolls onto his back, stretching his body a little. "i felt you staring at me." he turns to look at the clock on his nightstand. two a.m.

she laughs at that, reaching over to palm his cheek, it hits him with a soft unpainful smack. "i'm sorry. i was admiring your ability to sleep."

he rolls back onto his side, wiggling a little closer to her. "can't sleep?"

she sighs. "no, my brain won't shut up long enough."

he hums his response, his eyes slipping closed again.

"aaron..."

his eyes open slowly to look at her. "hm?"

"help me fall asleep...?" she studies his face as well as she can in the dimly lit room, but she sees him crack a grin, his eyes coming to life.

"how do you suppose i do that?" his voice is still rough with sleep sending shivers down her spine, igniting the fire already growing deep in her belly.

without saying anything, she reaches for his left hand and guides it slowly towards her already throbbing center. she lifts her right leg up a little to give him room and he automatically palms the entirety of her, the warmth of his large hand making the heat already boiling between her legs unbearable.

"god, baby, please.." she chokes out in a whisper, but he keeps slowly, lightly, running his hand over her.

"please what?"

she throws him a pointed look and he grins. "i want your fingers inside m-"

before she can even finish that sentence, he skims his fingers up over her mound, and then wiggles them under her panties, brushing through her trimmed pubes. he doesn't pull her lips apart like she's dying for him to, instead he rests his entire palm on her pubic bone and lets his fingers play softly at her opening, feeling how hot and wet she already was. she squirms under him, clenching helplessly at nothing. he chuckles. "already so wet, hm? were you planning on waking me up or were you going to take care of this yourself?"

she huffs out something between a breathy laugh and a moan as she reaches under the blankets to grip at his wrist. "you're killing me here, babe."

"oh, we can't have that, can we?" he says and then quickly presses his two middle fingers down and then up, pulling her lips open and then stopping to press the tips of them against her clit. she squirms against his hand even more, her bottom lip caged between her teeth.

"aaron hotchner, i swear to god," she pants, the grip on his wrist tightening.

he props his head up on his right hand so he can look down at her, the street light from outside barely shining into the room so he can see the shadows of her face. she looks up at him right when he starts moving his fingers in small circles. she licks her lips and lets them fall apart to suck in a breath.

he speeds up his movements, watching as her face as it contorts with pleasure, her chest rises and stutters, an annoyed yet pleasurable groan leaving her throat.

"baby, please," she nearly chokes out. he chuckles to himself, loving that he can do this to her - make her beg and moan.

a few more deep pressure circles to her clit and he slides his fingers down to her opening and presses inside of her slowly. "is this what you want?" his voice is low and teasing and she can practically hear the grin on his face through her now closed eyes. he uses the heel of his hand to press back into her clit and her leg twitches.

the grip on his wrist moves down to grab the back of his hand, her fingers over his, and she makes him push himself deeper into her. her fingers brushing against her own entrance with the movement.

"jesus, fuck, god," she cries out, squeezing her eyes closed. his fingers are thick and always fill her up the way she needs, especially when he uses two. he sets a slow steady pace, pressing them as deep as they can go and then drags them slowly almost all the way out of her before quickly sliding them back in to his knuckles. she squeezes her legs together, trapping their hands in place. she can feel the tendons in his hand every time he moves his fingers, and she grips his knuckles as he picks up the pace.

strangled moans fall from her lips as she moves her hips against him. he curls his fingers and holds it momentarily against the spongey tissue that makes her feral which causes her to immediately arch her back and release a guttural moan. when he starts to move his fingers again, picking up the pace even faster, she slides her right leg back so he can have more room to move his hand. he moves faster now, the wet slapping sound of his hand ramming into her and her strangled breaths filling the room.

it only takes a few more pumps and curls of his fingers before she's squeezing his knuckles tight. she presses her her own middle fingers into his, trying to push his fingers in farther as her orgasm sparks through her, her own two middle fingers slip in with his for a moment and she thrashes against him, her eyes still squeezed shut. he can feel her lower stomach spasming and it makes him bite his lip to stop his own pleasured sounds. her breath catches in her chest as her orgasm continues to static its way through her. he leans in closer to her, "breathe, honey."

a final strangled, broken moan leaves her throat and she sucks in a harsh breath, her body goes limp, and her hand falls away from his as she continues to breathe heavily. he doesn't remove his fingers right away, he leaves them buried inside of her, unmoving. she slowly opens her eyes and looks at him. "fuck," is all she can manage to croak get out.

"tired?" he asks, his voice strangled with his own wants now, but willing to go on if that's what she needs.

before she can answer he's pulling his fingers out of her and sliding them right back up to her clit. she can feel the gush of warmth follow his fingers out and it makes her moan again.

"are you?" she husks.

"wide awake." and with that he leans over and catches her mouth in a heated kiss as he moves his body on top of hers and settles between her parted, shaking legs.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x oc #*nsfw #*mine #*reader #*oc #listen - i havent written smut in so long lmao #hopefully someone out there enjoys it?? #*roadrunner sounds as i book it out of here*

[just-moondust]

Honey & Herbal Tea

Aaron Hotchner x Fem OC

Summary: During an investigation, Hotch ends up being dragged out of a burning building by a fire captain. One he now kinda has feelings for.

A/N: Hotch kinda acts more like Thomas in this, with the giggles and all.

I know I'm a shitty writer, but hey, gotta write my own stuff sometime. This will have more parts eventually, just kinda testing the waters with this...

‐‐-----‐------‐-------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron Hotchner wasn't one to be speechless, but today had been one of those days.

Paramedics were scattered around the scene treating burns and comforting distraught victims. One in particular had been adamant that he stay put till he could get checked out for injuries, but the medical teams were stretched thin as is.

He watched, still a little dazed as the firefighters combed through the smouldering ruins of what was once an office building. One that he had barely made it out of alive. They were too late figuring out that this place was latest on the unsub's list of places to burn. As a result, more than a few people had been hurt. Thankfully no one had been killed. Whether that was down to his own stupidity for choosing to stay in a burning building to help evacuations or just plain luck, he wasn't sure. Either way, being slung over the shoulder of a freakishly strong female fire captain and rescued wasn't in his expectations.

The very same fire captain that was stalking towards him with a furious look on her face.

“Are you stupid?!”

She yells, though he's so taken aback at her aggression he doesn't answer, just blankly staring at her covered in soot. Freckles peak through the dirt on the tip of her nose and where she's away wiped sweat from her forehead.

When he stays quiet, her face turns to concern and she looks him up and down.

“Agent?”

She pulls off a glove and rummages around in the medical kit beside him for an examination pen light, shining in his eyes. It forces him to blink and snap out of whatever trace he was in.

“I-I'm fine” He tries to sound convincing, but all the smoke he'd breathed in had just made his voice crack and the captain shakes her head.

“No, you were in a fire without proper breathing apparatus. So you need to go to the hospital.”

Her voice is stern, almost matching his own when he's ordering his own team. He's not used to being ordered around, and he wasn't about to waste a time on a trip to the emergency room.

“No I don't have time for that-”

Aaron pulls off the oxygen mask and starts to get up, but she pushes him back down on the step of the ambulance, a frown of annoyance now on her face.

“Listen to me very carefully, Agent. You have symptoms of smoke inhalation and you may feel fine now, but if you go home without treatment, it will get worse and you'll die.”

Aaron could see this was an argument he wasn't going to win, this woman was pretty adamant.

The thought of Jack alone crossed his mind and he nods reluctantly, the captain's face softens .

“Good. Make sure you get some rest.”

She pats his shoulder, turning to Morgan and Emily who have appeared at the side of the ambulance, having apparently watched this whole exchange.

“Make sure he goes to the emergency room. Order him if you have to.”

She says, heading back to the singed ruin.

“You heard the lady” Morgan smirks, helping him to his feet. “Let's get you to the hospital”

If Aaron could speak without coughing his lungs up, he'd probably have told Morgan to shove it. He instead shoots him a look of disapproval as he slumps in the back of the suv with several bottles of water.

***

A few days later and he still can't get the dryness out of his throat. He's standing in the BAU kitchen stirring powdered flu medication into his morning coffee, clearing his throat.

“I find herbal tea and honey the best relief.”

He jumps slightly and spins around to the familiar voice.

A light copper haired, freckled faced woman leans against the opposite counter, her dark eyes watch him with amusement as he recognises the now clean and composed fire captain.

“Captain Kneath?”

She nods at the acknowledgement, unfolding her toned arms to reveal a folder tucked underneath that she waves in Aaron's direction.

“I have the latest arson report. I was told to deliver it to the agent in charge.”

He raises an eyebrow, realising she doesn't know she's talking to him.

“Sure, I'll take you to his office.”

She follows as he walks across the empty bullpen and up to his office. She lingers in the doorway as she watches him sit down at his desk and stare at her blankly. She returns the blank look, a thin smile forms on her lips.

“Very funny,” she pulls the door to, reading his name off it, “Agent…Hotchner.”

Aaron shrugs nonchalantly, though inside, he's very proud of his little joke.

She slides the report across his desk and sits in one of the chairs in front of it, smoothing her crisp shirt down as she crosses her legs, waiting for him to read it. In the silence, she glances around his office, taking in the sight of the trinkets and photographs. One in particular catching her eye, Agent Hotchner and a younger boy she could only assume was his son. Cute kid she thinks, not realising the Agent had finished skimming through the report and was observing her.

“So the source of ignition was thermite?” He asks, drawing her attention back to him.

“Yeah, it's pretty common for arsonists. And you can buy it legally.” She sighs, “sorry it doesn't exactly narrow down your suspect list.”

Aaron raises his palms to disagree, “you'd be surprised what tiny details can help. Thank you, Captain.”

He offers his hand, which she accepts with a firm grip.

“And uh, thanks for the rescue.’

That lightens her mood. Even if it does cost him a little dignity. The smile lines and creases by her eyes become more defined as a quiet chuckle escapes her.

“You're Welcome. Just don't do it again, Agent Hotchner.”

She backs out of his office with a smirk, leaving Aaron with an uncomfortably hot blush on his face. One he can't cover before Rossi enters the room, double taking at the departing Captain. The look on his face tells all before he's even opened his mouth.

“Dave, don't.”

Rossi pleads ignorance, “what? I never said anything.” He makes himself comfortable in the previously occupied seat, nosing through the arson report.

“I'm just saying, she's pretty smokin’. Pun intended.”

“Please, stop…”

“Oh look, she left her number on the report. For official queries though.”

Hotch sighs loudly, airing that his patience was wearing thin. He knew Dave was only teasing, but it was the last thing he needed.

After a long, gruelling brainstorming session, the team came to the unwanted conclusion that it could only be a firefighter setting such the blazes. That meant questioning the responders.

Before Aaron can even begin to dish out assignments, Rossi volunteers himself and Aaron to go to the downtown station.

They bring Reid along, mainly because Aaron knows he'll stay focused on the work.

As the three of them enter the open bay, they're greeted by a group of firefighters who look up from the kit they're inspecting, faces dropping to looks of aversion when federal badges are shown.

One reluctantly shows Aaron up to their captain's office, knocking on the open door.

“Cap, feds are here.”

She briefly glances up from what she's typing, spotting Aaron behind the shorter woman in the doorframe, an eyebrow raised in interest.

“Thanks, Em. Tell the others to play nicely please?”

She nods, letting Aaron into the office, not before passing him with a glare as she heads back downstairs.

“They know why you're here, that's why they're being so hostile…”

Kneath says, continuing to type away. She makes a gesture for him to sit and he obliges. The similarity of the scene from this morning in his head as he inspects the shelves behind her. Books, old helmets and a singular photograph. Looked so be the entire crew with a few extra family members gathered round a loaded up Christmas dinner table. Happy smiles on everyone.

The sound of the captain's laptop shutting brings Aaron's attention back. Her face appearing more stern than disapproving, her hands rest atop of the closed laptop together. Why did he feel like he was about to get told off?

“Agent Hotchner, it may not be a surprise to know that I'm quite familiar with the profiles of arsonists.” She begins to explain, he doesn't interrupt, opting to hear what she has to say.

“I know that you're here because there is a theory that firefighters are often responsible for these specific types of fires. That they're often male, white, young and have a history of trouble.” Her eyes narrow and she leans forward, “That's just under half my team. And while I appreciate you have a job to do, what I don't like is the fact you didn't think to consult me first before interrogating my guys.”

Aaron takes a moment, he feels like he's 16 year old again, being lectured by the young teacher in high school he'd had a crush on for getting into too many fights. He didn't really think straight then either.

“Captain, you're right and I apologise,”

He swallows, fighting the urge to look away from her face and down to his lap.

“But we still need to question everyone. Any details, no matter how small, are important.”

She sighs, rubbing her temples as she thinks it over.

“Fine. You can ask questions. But I will be present as well as a union rep, if they choose to have one there.”

Aaron sees this as good as it's going to get, nodding in agreement.

“Come back tomorrow, I'll have everything ready.”

They both stand, walking down to the bay to Rossi and Reid in some kind of territorial standoff with two of the men.

“Griff, Phil, that's enough.”

She calls, and the two back off. Aaron can't help the nerves from somewhere in his stomach emerging at her authority over them, her composure, her voice sounding so stern. Did he even find it.. attractive?

Rossi certainly knew he did by the smug look on his face when he spots Aaron's split second look of distress from his internal debate.

He waits till they're back in the car to start digging for details.

“So we like a woman in charge now, hmm?”

Hotch tightens his grip on the wheel, refusing to play along with the tease. Reid however, hasn't had the memo.

“What'd you mean?” He asks, popping his head between the front seats, looking at Rossi, who's in turn still smirking at Aaron.

“Hotch has the hots for the lady fire captain…”

“What? No way” Reid frowns, looking between the two of them, “right?”

“I can fire both of you.”

“Hmm interesting choice of words-”

“Shut up, Dave.”

***

“Thank you Emma, you can go. Send in Callum next.”

Captain Kneath says as the fifth interview is concluded. She sighs heavily, her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose as she paces behind Reid and Hotch at a table.

This wasn't looking good for a few of her crew, the feeling of unease that someone in her crew was responsible. The loyalty they all had to one another was becoming a problem, though she felt she was the one betraying that trust by letting this whole thing happen.

“We can take a break, Captain?”

The older agent suggests from his spot in the corner of the room, but she dismisses the idea.

“No, it's alright. I want this over as soon as possible..”

The next interviewee appears in the doorway, she looks up at the newest addition to her team with an eased smile.

“Callum, please have a seat. This is the station's union rep, Graeme. Are you happy for him to sit in?”

“Uh, yeah…Sure Cap.”

The two shake hands briefly as Callum sits with him opposite the two federal agents as they introduce themselves.

“Can you tell us your whereabouts on Tuesday from 5:45 am to 6:30 am?”

“I was here, on shift. Cap was here too, she saw me.”

She nods when Aaron glances over his shoulder at her for verification. He scribbles down a note before asking the next few questions. Callum seems to be the most cooperative yet, maybe due to his status as the newbie. He wasn't quite all in on the family bond the rest of them shared.

“And did you notice anything unusual about your colleagues' behaviour before you were dispatched to the fire?”

He shakes his head.

“Everyone was cranky. We were about to clock off and then we had another 4 hours of work”

“What about during the response?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks back, shifting in his seat as he looks up at his Captain for a second. She catches on, her face softening as she notices.

“Cal if you think somethings wrong, say it” she encourages gently, the young man nods, looking back at Reid and Hotch.

“When we were looking for signs of a reflash…I was with Griff in the sublevel, he told me to split off. And I know you say that's the number one no go Cap, but we were all tired and wanted to get the job done faster…”

Kneath audibly exhales through her nose, her face resting in her hand to keep her disappointment hidden from him.

“...when I'd cleared my half, I went back to find Griff, he was picking up something and he put it in the pocket of his tunic…”

“Did you see what it was?”

“No, I was too far away” Callum shakes his head again, looking back up at his captain with an apologetic look.

“Cap, I'm real sorry-” He starts, but she raises a hand to cut him off.

“We'll talk about this later Cal. Is that everything agents?”

Hotch agrees and Cal is dismissed. Captain Kneath begins her pacing again, but the calmness she had before is now some kind of amused annoyance as the agents all look at one another.

“I can't believe this” she laughs, “they all know there are procedures for a reason. Griff, most of all.”

“How so?” Reid asks, sensing there's a tension between them. She shakes her head, beginning to unfold the story.

“Griff and I were both in line for the captain job. But he's reckless and cuts corners for efficiency and it got one of our own killed.”

The bitterness in her tone says all, a frustration that a few others in the crew no doubt harbour.

“Do you want him back in here?” She asks, the agents nod.

“We need his permission to search his belongings. If he still has whatever he took from the scene, it may be here.”

She calmly requests the rep to fetch her disgruntled lieutenant.

“He won't give you permission. Even if he had nothing to hide, he wouldn't.”

Hotch and Rossi exchange a look before Aaron stands up, “Captain, perhaps it would be better if we spoke to Lieutenant Griffiths without you present, given the strained relationship between you.”

The suggestion is accepted, and she follows Aaron back to her office, leaving Rossi and Reid to the questioning.

He shuts the door behind them and she slumps down in her desk chair, shutting her eyes and taking several deep breaths.

He takes a seat on the other side, observing her stress.

“Captain I understand you're frustrated-”

“Seren.” She corrects him, “ I don't think I can really say what I want to say as a captain.”

He nods, crossing his legs and sitting back in the chair. He's had members of his team under suspicion before, but never a betrayal that it looked like this was heading for. He can't blame her for wanting to kick and scream. He felt that way too sometimes. It was after all, as they say, lonely at the top.

“He is one stubborn son of a bitch. He hates that I got the job over him. Even after he got Jason killed….” She trails off, shaking her head in hurt.

“He's misogynistic and he's disobedient! Thinks because I'm a woman, I'm too soft on everyone. And don't get me started on the rumours he started…”

She sighs heavily, seemingly to have got the worst of her grievances out.

Aaron's eyebrows raise at the mention of gossip, but he doesn't press it. He can guess what it is, so instead he considers the position it puts her in, something that he'd never have to experience. Is this how JJ and Emily feel? He can't say he understands her.

“From what I've seen of this station and its crew, I think it's clear you were the correct choice.”

He says with a small smile involuntarily curling at the edges of his mouth.

She seems to accept the compliment reluctantly, a thin smile on her lips.

“Thanks, Agent Hotchner.”

“Aaron. Please.”

“Thank you then, Aaron.” She says, the tension of the situation beginning to ease a little. They wait in silence a few minutes more, then there's a commotion outside. When they both get downstairs, Rossi has Griff in cuffs on the ground and he's yelling at Callum for snitching. The rest of the crew are gathered round in stunned silence, one that Seren joins.

“What happened?” Hotch asks Reid, who's holding a makeshift evidence bag.

“We found what was left of the thermite container in his locker and he tried to run…”

“...and you both took down a 178 lbs guy?”

He asks in disbelief. Rossi perks up as he hauls Griff to his feet, who's now uttering insults towards Seren under his breath.

“Actually, we had help” He grins, gesturing to the crew around them.

“Well no one's gonna bad mouth our captain and get away with it,” one says.

Seren feels her heart swell with a little pride at her team as she realises they really didn't think less of her for going along with the intrusive investigation.

“It seems like Lieutenant Griffiths here, had quite the vendetta against you Captain.”

Rossi explains, returning from putting Griff in the car. Though that still doesn't answer the million questions she has.

“I don't get it though, why target those buildings? If he wanted to get rid of me, he could've done it in easier ways…”

She frowns, crossing her arms, looking between the agent for answers.

“We'll know more when we question him.” Aaron says, “for now, just try to put it to the back of your head.”

She nods, “please keep us updated” she asks as they head towards the car. “And thank you!” She calls after them, and heads back inside.

***

“Sorry I'm late” Seren apologises, taking the opposite seat to Aaron. He glances at his watch and grins, seeing she's only over by a few minutes.

“Busy day?” He wonders, she gives a wide eyed nod.

“Like you wouldn't believe. Though things are running alot smoother now I have a Lieutenant that actually works with me.”

Aaron nods along, pleased things had turned out okay.

Things had gotten a little messy during the court case, but Seren had kept her composure unlike her opposition. His legal counsel had reverted to trying to discredit her, that's when Aaron had heard the rumour she'd mentioned.

There was of course, no truth behind it. But she'd sat through the questions and the slut shaming till the jury was satisfied. Aaron felt angry for her. Emily saw it, the silent look of judgement Hotch so often wore in interrogations when people are undoubtedly guilty and still denying it.

She'd told him that it was an unfortunate truth about women in power, even having experienced it herself.

Aaron was aware of it, even realising he'd been quicker to jump to conclusions about how capable his female colleagues were. But seeing it so blatantly used was infuriating.

He'd met up with her several times after the court case had ended, much to Rossi's delight. Though he told himself it was more out of a sense of obligation.

They talked, got on more of a first name basis. She'd laughed at his little efforts at jokes and listened when he had shared frustrations.

Aaron was alot more involved than he knew he should have been. The stickler for procedure, the drill sergeant, as Morgan had once put it. Despite that and the persistent comments from Rossi, he'd worked up the nerve to ask for a date.

And now she was sitting across from him, cradling the cup of chamomile tea with honey in her hands. Wisps of stray hairs fall down the side of her face, having escaped the tight bun the rest of hair was still pulled back into. Her soft smile changes as she recalls a particularly funny rescue that has Aaron blurting out a giggle. He couldn't help it, but she noticed. Her eyes widen in surprise and her smile follows suit. His cheeks go red when she says it's cute.

God he was a mess in front of this woman.

Soon it's late, and the baristas behind the counter are shooting them looks till they take the hint to leave. They walk slowly and closely, fingers occasionally brushing as they exchange glances and words in the evening breeze till they're at her doorstep. They stand in silence a moment, wondering which of them would be the braver one. It's her of course, Aaron watches in mild amusement as she climbs two steps and pulls him by his tie into a kiss that he gladly accepts.

The sweet taste of honey and herbal tea lingers on his lips when she pulls away and says goodnight, leaving him in some kind of weak-legged, giddy state to wander home in.

#aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x oc #aaron hotchner x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fic

[sweetdulcets]

Hotch: Tonight, one of you will betray us.

Rossi: Is it me, Hotch?

Hotch: No, it’s not you.

Josie: Is it me, Hotch?

Hotch: It’s not you either.

Emily: Is it me, Hotch?

Hotch:

Hotch, mockingly: Is IT mE Hotch?

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #nefarious #spencer reid #incorrect criminal minds #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x oc #incorrect criminal minds quotes #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #david rossi

[natalie-hotchner]

Natalie likes watching her husband, but he likes watching her just as much.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #original character #romance #fluff #kate beckett #stana katic #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotch hotchner #married #couple

[crystalflwr]

˚₊· ━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗧 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧!

𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁! ᵇᵉ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵖᵒˢᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ

"𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞"

No one is safe.

When 5 years ago the first dead body of a male turned up, the police thought it was a one time thing created by pure rage. They should've known better — the bau should've known better.

The velvet killer. The lady in red. The most horrific female killer known in history. Her brute was unmarkable but the skill to throw the bau off every time again also preoccupied her a spot in everyone's worst dreams.

But what happens when one of the bau's team members gets taken by the uncatchable killer?

Only what they don't know is, she's closer than expected.

➸ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: late 20's Spencer Reid × early 20's fem oc! — early 40's Aaron Hotchner × early 20's fem oc!.

↳ fem oc = Sienna Carter

➸ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: angst and smut.

➸ 𝐖𝐂: 2.8k (ongoing)

➸ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: violence, heavy nsfw themes. (more specific details will be found in the chapter warnings).

➸ 𝐀/𝐍: If you want to get tagged, comment to let me know and you'll be notified!

series taglist: none

���𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗,

► PROLOGUE : shadows

synopsis: Agent Carter finds herself at the mercy of a psychopathic killer but it wasn't just any killer... the velvet killer has finally stepped from the shadows.

↳ (coming soon)

► CHAPTER ONE : religion

synopsis: Hidden truths finally present themselves and the impossible becomes possible when Spencer finds himself tied to a bed with the one person he once trusted most holding a gun to his head.

► CHAPTER TWO : bloody red

synopsis: revealed soon.

► CHAPTER THREE : inner demons

synopsis: revealed soon.

► EPILOGUE : it never ends

synopsis: revealed soon.

#crystalflwr #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Anything for you

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Tags: hotch x oc, criminal Minds Imagine, aaron Hotchner x reader, hotch x reader, inter-office relationships, criminal minds, aaron hotchner x oc, penelope garcia, emily prentiss, jj, jennifer jareau, aaron hotchner, derek morgan, david rossi, spencer reid

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, mentions of murder, torture, general criminal minds lingo

Summary: You're kidnapped during a case. Post-rescue fluffiness ensues.

word count: 2.8k+

The first time you're kidnapped on the job, you feel like no training has prepared you. 

It was a normal work day- the BAU had been sent to Saginaw, Michigan, and you had been working with Morgan to clear a hideout associated with a possible suspect. The unsub was targeting blonde females of short stature, and the team was aware that you and JJ both fit the victimology. Regardless, it wasn’t the first time someone on the team looked similar to their victims. 

Girls are being lured out of their cars by a wounded animal on the road, and snatched in late evening or early morning hours. The unsub had been profiled as someone withdrawn and non-confrontational, so every inch of that theory is invalidated when you’re taken in broad daylight.

 After clearing the house, you had made your way through a side gate in the backyard with intentions of talking to the neighbor while Morgan searched through personal items inside. 

And your last recollection before the pain started was hopping down the back porch steps. 

And fuck, did your head hurt when you slipped into awareness.

Once you regain some semblance of consciousness, you conclude the unsub must have fled into the neighbor’s yard from his hideout and panicked when you unknowingly followed.

 Hence, the current predicament. Spread out on what you’re trying not to imagine as medieval torture device, the unsub has your arms bound high above your head. Your feet barely brush the ground, and the muscles in your shoulders scream with every move. You try to negotiate with your captor, though the words only exchange for a few moments before he plunges a needle into the thick muscles of your thigh.

 A cool rush floods through your veins shortly thereafter, and your limbs feel heavier by the second. Your eyesight blurs without contacts or glasses and dry mouth creeps up from whatever drug is flaring in your system.

Thoughts of the team invade logical thought, trying to drown out the haunting images your brain is interpreting from your squinting eyes. 

A hooded figure with an oddly deep voice comes into the room and photographs you at regular intervals . He takes more items of clothing each time, sometimes ripping and other times taking a whole article. If you were in your right mind, you would have caught on to the child-like nature and tantrums when your subdued body can’t coordinate with his movements.

“What’s your name?”

You blink slowly, awakening to a dark room. Your arms are sore, and your shoulders still ache. The toes of your boots brush what looks to be an old wood floor, though you are  unsure due to the lack of visual acuity. An attempt to lift your head fails, and it instead droops until your chin hits your chest.

A limb shoots towards you, and instinct forces you to jerk. Rough fingers brush your reddened cheeks as the gag is taken from your mouth. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“S-scare..?” You  squint, but only the shadow cast by his hood is visible. “W-where am I?”

A childlike giggle.

 “At my house. My Momma said we could have a sleepover.”

Even in a delusional and dazed, you’re able to feel the shiver down your spine. 

“A sleepover?”

FLASH. 

The sound of a camera shutter corrupted the functioning state you had started to develop, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but nothing in your brain could pull together enough info to react. 

“You’re beautiful… just stay right there, I’m gonna take more.

- - -

“He’s not smart. In fact, disorganized to the point where he can’t even keep up.”

Aaron Hotchner sits across the table from Rossi, who is trying to explain their newest theory to the local police chief. With you taken, everyone’s nerves are on edge, and Hotch finds himself tasked with keeping his emotions under control.

It was exactly why workplace relationships- even those based in casual sex and physical comfort- were not allowed. 

Additionally, it wasn’t as if members of the team hadn’t been kidnapped or put in danger before. Despite this, Hotch's mind is racing, trying to discern the best way to track an unsub who was so unorganized he didn’t even know what to do next. They got lucky discovering the first abandoned house Morgan and yourself had raided, but Hotch wasn’t sure they’d get that lucky again.

“We thought he was withdrawn, but maybe he’s escalating?” Reid suggested. It had been over twelve hours since the abduction of their teammate, and they were all pouring over case files in the station’s conference room. 

Hotch stared down at crime scene photos, including the ones from where you were taken. Prentiss is doing the same, and lifts her head at Spencer’s remark.

“What if she scared him?” Emily offers, “There’s a chance he was just trying to flee and got cornered. It would maintain the withdrawn nature.”

“He took her in the middle of broad daylight.” Morgan contradicts, obviously feeling a bit guilty as he was your partner when the kidnapping occurred. “Into the woods, and away he went.”

Reid closes the folder in his hand. “Actually, it is a good theory. She has specialized training in hand-to-hand combat, it would be very hard to subdue her quietly. If the unsub is withdrawn and scared, he might have come from behind once he realized there was no way out.”

Chief Ballard of the local department speaks up. “She’s a fairly small woman, even with specialized combat it’s hard to fight back if you take a surprise blow to the head.”

  Hotch looked up. He had sparred with you on many occasions in the gym, and knew firsthand the amount of tricks used to fend off larger attackers. However, an ambush and a good enough blow would render even himself unconscious.

“She could do it if given the opportunity. Between her hand-to-hand and her gun, there should have been some struggle. Though as Reid said, it doesn’t appear she had that chance.” Hotch concludes. 

“That could be indicative of someone lying in wait, or someone scared to show their face.” JJ says, “It really doesn’t allow us a good lead either way.”

“Damn.” Hotch grinds his teeth, nerves getting the best of him once again. “You did a cognitive interview?”

“At the scene. I had-”

A knock from the room’s entrance makes them all  jump, and an officer steps in the doorway. His eyes turn to Hotch. “Sir, there’s a woman on the phone for your team.”

Reid stands, moving towards the speaker setup in the corner of the room. “I called Garcia a little while ago, that’s probably her.”

The phone line crackles to life when Spencer picks up. “Hey, Garcia.”

“...S-Spence?”

Hotch’s blood runs cold, and he shoots to his feet. The team allows him the next move, murmuring your name as he approaches the receiver.

“Aaron… hey.” Your speech is slow and slurred, but it’s a clear sign of life.

“Where are you? Are you with the unsub?” Hotch feels the team’s eyes on him, but all that matters in the moment is the sound of your voice. 

“N-No. I-I’m with my friend Jake. He wants to have a sleepover, is that okay with you?”

Rossi makes brief eye contact with Hotch, who nodded his head in silent agreement of how to play out the call. 

Hotch takes it upon himself to answer and softens his tone.  “You know honey, I just need to know what house Jake is in. Do you remember?”

A breathy laugh came through the background of the call, and Hotch assumed it was ‘Jake’ listening in. Your heavy breathing is the dominant noise, and it takes a minute for an answer. 

“Y-yeah. Next door to the Youngs in a r-really pretty old house.” 

Rossi taps the mute button in a flash of tanned fingers. “Our unsub has reverted to a childlike state. If he’s letting her make phone calls-”

“She’s gained his trust.” Hotch finishes, finally feeling like they’re on the same page. 

“Smart girl. I’m calling Garcia to find a list of people with the last name Young in the area.” Morgan already had his phone to his ear.

“Those who live next door to old houses.” Hotch added. 

“Did you notice the way she said ‘really pretty’?” Rossi rubbed his chin. “With the emphasis on ‘pretty’? Is she trying to appease him?”

“Morgan, narrow that down to Youngs who live next door to abandoned or condemned establishments.” 

Hotch opens the line, your name sliding from his lips in that honey-soaked tone he usually reserves for early mornings and late nights in.

“Aaron?” Your words are still slow, though relatively coherent. 

“I think a sleepover is a great idea.” He swallows the lump in his throat, “We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“T-Thanks, it’s gonna be fun.”

The line goes dead after, and Hotch drags in a deep breath. 

“There’s only one place in the area with those parameters.” Morgan shoves his phone into his pocket as the team stands.

“Let’s go.”

You’ve been lowered to sit, but your hands are still suspended, fingers tingling with numbness. The unsub, or rather, Jake, as he told you to call him, is sitting with legs crossed underneath him a few feet away. There is a lop-sided grin on his face, and his child-like excitement is palpable. 

“Do you wanna play a game?” He asks eagerly. 

You manage to lift your head, filled with some hope after Jake’s strange allowance of a phone call a few minutes prior. While he might have killed two girls already, they were held for over 48 hours before Jake snapped. You are lucky enough to understand his mindset and play into it, even through whatever drug has been pushed into your system every few hours. The best guess you can muster was that the other girls were unable to deal with the strange kidnapper, and something they said or did broke his facade and led to murder. It was vague and unclear, but all you had. 

“What kind of game?” You ask through a shiver. The tremors never seem to end. 

“Tag.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

Jake opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of stairs creaking. He freezes, turning towards the broken and sideways hanging bedroom door. 

“Jake, hey.”

You pray the sounds are the rest of your team, but want to keep his attention away if it is. 

“Yes?” His boyish gaze falls back to you. 

“What about I Spy?”

  Jake breaks out into a smile. “That’s a great idea! I just gotta do your medicine first.”

The man, who you now recognize as a white male in his late twenties with blonde hair and a pudgy face, drew another syringe out of his pocket and plunged it into your thigh. If your counting is still correct, it would be the sixth injection. 

“Jake... “ You inhale as the freeze begins to spread, “I spy something… white.”

Eyes wide, they scour the room for your challenge. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you blink as the door moves ever so slightly. It’s slow, until a creak echoes through the empty room. Jake whirls around, coming face-to-face with Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss holding him at gunpoint. 

“Who are you?” He demands, scrambling to his feet. “Why are you at my sleepover?”

You sag with relief, shoulders hanging heavily on their bounds. “J-jake, they’re my friends.”

“Friends don’t point guns!” 

Jake rockets towards the left, where your pistol, badge, and shoes are discarded, Prentiss sees his motivation, and a gunshot echoes through the room. The man cries out, and your pounding head flinches away from the noise. 

“Stay on the ground!” Emily keeps her gun on him, and you druggedly take note of the wound in his leg as opposed to center mass. 

JJ moves to kneel in front of you. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

You fight the new sedation as best you can. “J-J?”

“I’ve got you.”

The other blonde turns, yelling towards the door that they were clear and needed help. Morgan appears in the doorway, rushing in to assist JJ. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants pocket, slicing the rope and cable ties binding your arms. Your exhausted body slumps into his chest, clinging to his shirt. You notice the purple tint to her hands, and hope it isn’t a bad sign. 

“You with me?” Morgan’s deep voice made you lift your head, unfocused eyes searching his face. 

“You found me…” 

“Yeah we did. You’re a smart cookie, gorgeous.”

You huff a laugh against his neck and suddenly take note of bright lights against your eyelids. Upon further inspection, you deduce it to be the sun. Morgan must have carried you all the way out.

“T-That’s bright.” You murmur, trying to shelter your eyes as Morgan lowers you to the grass.

“Medical is on their way. Where’s Hotch?”

The voices blend together for a few minutes, and you  focus on breathing in. Another presence  approaches and kneels down, surrounding you with a musky cologne and blanket of safety. A familiar hand rests on your cheek, and you blink up at his face.

Aaron Hotchner stares back at you, and a wave of emotion breaks through the drugs. “Aaron…” 

“I’m right here. You did good work today.” 

You take a moment to gaze at his familiar features. Dark hair, dark eyes. He’s kneeling beside you, but the size of his frame is still imposing. Against your will, you feel your throat tighten and eyes swell to accommodate tears. One hand extends towards him. 

“I need…” You pause, trying to collect yourself. “Hotch- please.”

Hotchner doesn’t answer her, only draws you against his chest. Your arms lift to wrap around his neck, face hiding against the sun-warmed skin of his neck. Despite the ache it causes to rake across his shoulders, Aaron remains wrapped in your embrace as your body begins to shake. You smell of sweat and captivity, remnants of the ordeal you’d just been through. The clothes you wore were the same Aaron had seen you in last, though there were small holes scattered about your black trousers. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He murmurs against  greasy hair, gripping the back of your skull with his hand. “I should have-”

You lift her head at his tone and point a wavering finger. “No, d-don’t blame yourself.”

The cloudy haze of pharmaceuticals is creeping into your eyes as you chastise him. “I know how you are… Aaron, y-you’ll beat yourself up.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s just get you to the hospital, alright?”

Hotch picks you up with little effort, strolling towards the ambulance and stretcher where it was waiting. “...N-No. I’m alright.”

Once you’re placed on the stretcher, the arguing starts weakly and you’re swaying like a daisy in the wind. Hands still fisted in Hotch’s vest hold him in place beside you. 

“We need to find out what you were given. Do the tests, and I’ll be satisfied.” Hotch orders, hand on your wrist rubbing gentle circles. “JJ can go with you.”

The blonde steps up beside their boss, soft smile on her face as she wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

“No… I don’t-” You pause and swallow, panic rising as Hotchner attempts to step back

Your fingers tremble against Hotch’s torso where they’re wrapped in his shirt, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes. Of all the years Hotch had known you on the BAU, he has never seen you so upset. You’re all trained to deal with these types of things, but nothing prepares you for the actual thing. Especially when you’re being pumped full of illicit drugs to keep you sedate. 

JJ rubbed your back, eyes lifting to Hotch. “You know boss, Morgan and I can handle the clean up and reports. You’re gonna have enough paperwork as it is.”

Thank God  for Jennifer Jareau.

Hotchner stares at the two women before dipping his head in a nod. “Alright. We’ll meet you back at the station as soon as possible.”

“Sounds great.” JJ turns on her heel and bustles off towards a group of local detectives and beat cops.

The medics were prepping the gurney to go up, carefully arranging your loose limbs on the cushion. Hotch watches in amusement, as you’re looking more stoned by the second.

“Sir, are you coming?” One of the medics asks, motioning to the back of the rig. 

“Yes, sorry.” Hotchner pulls himself into the back of the ambulance, accepting the hand you hold out to him. 

“Thanks for comin’, boss.” You tug his hand close, lips brushing against his knuckles. His body was warm, and you stretched towards it. 

Aaron leans in before the paramedics begin bustling to press a kiss against your forehead. “Anything for you.”

---

Criminal Minds Masterlist || Send me ideas

#Hotch x OC #Criminal Minds Imagine #Aaron Hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #inter-office relationships #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x oc #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #david rossi #spencer reid #unsub #cm imagine #hotchner fluff #hotch fluff #soft hotch

[judithlevvy]

teaser <3 possible new fanfic coming

Author’s note: please let me know if you find any grammar/spelling/syntax mistake, cause I’m not English mother tongue 🥰 hope you’ll like it

She kept staring across the street, ready in case any movement called her attention. She could feel his presence in the passenger seat, but she didn’t have the strength to bring herself to care about it: she had given up on it. He would never treat her with the same attitude he had with anyone else on the team and she had made peace with it… sort of.

Okay, it was possible she wasn’t totally fine with it, but she knew she had no control over the way he saw her, so she just gave up. It was a first-time occurrence: she never gave up on anything, especially not if she wanted to prove herself with someone. However, she had become old enough to recognize a losing battle, and trying to change the way Hotch saw her was one of those.

The sound of agent Hotchner clearing his throat drawer her attention back to the present. “You still there, Graham?”

She had to resist the impulse of rolling her eyes, and barely acknowledge him. “Fine, just sleepy”.

“We need to be focused, if you’re too tired I can have you switch turns with Morgan perhaps”.

oh, fantastic. Now it turned out she couldn’t even manage an ordinary stakeout. Her week was getting better by the second. She didn’t even bother meeting his eyes and made her eyes jump from one side to the other of the road. “I’m not going to fall asleep on the job if that’s what you’re suggesting, sir”. and yes, she made it on purpose, the “sir” thing. She was way too polite, but her newfound coldness in front of him could cut like a knife, albeit this came with cutting herself too in the process.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron+hotchner+x+reader #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

[natashasfilms]

Chapter Eight - Machismo

Summary: FBI agent Leila faces a profound life change after giving birth to a baby girl, supported by her loving husband. Despite the challenges of motherhood, Leila returns to her role as a dedicated agent a few months later, ready to confront gruesome and haunting cases with the BAU team.

Pairing: BAU!Fem!OC x Male!OC , EVENTUAL Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem!OC (Like much later)

Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death. All the usual Criminal Minds stuff. And there is NO CHEATING.

Note 1: I imagine Leila Kade as South Asian but I have decided to let you, the reader, imagine her appearance, hence the reason why I have not given her a face claim. However, her race does not affect the story, whatsoever. You, as the reader, are free to imagine her however you want. If you don't see her as South Asian, then that's fine. It won't affect the storyline. I also imagine the OC!Male as South Asian, but again, it won't affect the storyline.

Note 2: The team will consist of the main cast (Emily, Derek, JJ, Spencer, Penelope, Aaron, and Rossi) but will also include Elle Greenaway and Jason Gideon because they were some of my favorite characters and I wanted to include them with the rest of the team. Basically, Elle and Gideon never leave when Emily and Rossi join.

Note 3: There will be multiple time skips throughout this series. For example, the first chapter will begin on the first season and episode of the show but then there will be a time skip to later episodes (because there are obviously way too many episodes to write this series on and I wanted to include specific episodes that would help the plot of this story). This means that this series will be a slow burn romance but I believe it to be better this way. This will also stray from the actual show a lot, so don't expect it to follow the plot precisely.

Series Masterlist

Season 1, Episode 19

Leila settled beside the kitchen counter, enjoying a warm cup of tea while waiting for Zaid to tuck Jasmine into bed. Her last day of the break was approaching its end. Although she missed her colleagues, she acknowledged that this time off had been thoroughly deserved.

As she stood in the kitchen, Leila sensed approaching footsteps and then felt a familiar embrace encircle her waist, drawing her backward against Zaid's chest. She smiled as she recognized his soft kiss on her neck, reaching up to stroke his hair. Setting down her mug on the counter, she turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You're going back to work tomorrow, so let's do something fun." Zaid suggested, grinning at her.

Arching an eyebrow, Leila tilted her head slightly. "Oh really? What's on your mind?"

"I don't know. Maybe watch a movie, bake some cookies, makeout…"

Leila laughed, bringing his head down to her, attaching her lips to his. They smiled against the kiss as he picked her up, walking all the way over to the couch. Laying her down, Zaid broke the kiss, beginning to pull her shirt off. Leila held herself up with her elbows, looking up at her husband. Her eyes traced his form, down to his arms, falling on the watch she gifted him for his birthday when they first started dating.

"I can't believe you still wear that stupid watch." Leila chuckled, nodding her head towards his wrist. "You could buy any watch that includes better functions but you choose to keep this one."

He looks down onto his wrist, the black enclosing around the time device putting a soft smile on his face. "It's the first present you ever gave me. You best believe I'll be wearing this for the rest of my life." He pecked her lips. "Plus, it still works like it's new. You have some magic in you, I suppose, because all my past watches before you broke after the second day."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe because you didn't know how to work a watch until I came along, dumbass."

He scoffed, putting a hand over his heart. "Name calling is very bad. Don't be a bully."

Leila groaned, cupping the back of his neck to smash their lips together. "Enough with your stupid jokes." She mumbled against his lips, causing him to grin even wider. He pushed her down onto the couch, kissing her with intense passion as Leila took off his shirt. Zaid began to untie his sweatpants, kicking them off along with the rest of the clothes on the floor. Leila pulled back enough to utter one more sentence. "And don't tease."

"Yes, ma'am." He replied teasingly, slowly entering her with a groan. Leila let out a moan as he began to stretch her out, her mouth hanging open at the pleasure.

Her hands gripped right onto his biceps, Zaid pulling back to push back in once again. He leaned down to muffle her moans with his lips, not wanting to cause any loud noise throughout the house. He continued a steady pace, only increasing his speed once she adjusted.

"Shit, baby." He grunted against her lips, feeling her tight walls squeezing him. "You always feel so good around me."

Leila ran her hand through his hair, gently pulling. "Plea—fuck." Her words were cut off by him hitting a spot inside her that shook her, the pleasure coursing throughout her entire body.

"Yeah? That feel good?"

She only quietly cried out in pleasure, unable to form any coherent thoughts other than him on top of her.

"Words, honey. I need to hear you say it." He breathed out, kissing down her neck. He ensured to leave a mark.

"Yes, it feels so good." She whispered, her lips attaching to his again. They moved in sync until they finally reached their climax, moaning into each other's mouth before Zaid gently collapsed on top of her, using his arms to hold himself up to make sure he didn't push all his weight onto her.

Zaid lifted his head from in between her breasts to softly kiss her all over her face. Starting from her forehead, to her cheeks, to her chin, all the way around until he reached her lips. He carefully scooped her up with his arms, flipping her over to hug her, and kissed the top of her head.

Leila cupped his cheek, locking eyes with him. "I love you so much, Zaid Divan."

He nudged his nose with hers before he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "I love you more, Leila Kade."

Leila yawned, her eyes slowly shutting as she felt Zaid pull a blanket over them that had been near the couch. He kissed her forehead once more before the two of them fell fast asleep.

Stepping out of the elevator, Leila entered the office through the glass doors, greeted by her colleagues quietly working in the cubicle.

"Look who's back!" Derek chimed in with a hint of teasing in his voice, rising from his desk to welcome her with a brief hug. He then took a step back, appraising her appearance. "Looking sharp as ever, boss lady."

Leila returned his playful tone with a grin, playfully pinching Derek's cheek. "Always the charmer, aren't you?"

Spencer hugged her next, with Elle following right after, embracing her with a warm hug. "Missed you. How did your break go? Feeling refreshed?" The brunette asked.

Leila nodded her head, widening her eyes for the extra effect. "A lot better, actually. So, what's new?"

"There's a new case." JJ interrupted, giving Leila a quick hug. "I'm glad you're back but we'll catch up on the plane." The blonde said before she walked up the stairs towards the conference room.

Leila grinned, looking at her three friends in front of her. "Cool. Where's Aaron and Gideon?"

"Gideon is in his office calling Hotch." Spencer explained. "He took some time off this weekend since it's his birthday today but I guess he has to come in again."

Leila opened her mouth in surprise, her eyes growing wide. "It's his birthday? I completely forgot." However, she thought back to what she told him last week and was glad he decided to take a small break for himself, despite the fact he had to come in for a new case.

"Well, good thing he's here now so you can tell him." Elle stated, her eyes falling on the man who just entered the room. Leila turned around and the four of them immediately yelled out a quick "happy birthday!"

"Thank you." Aaron responded, a little flustered at the gesture. Leila hugged him and he reciprocated, the woman patting his back. "Nice to see you back."

Leila gave him a smile, following all the others who were walking towards the conference room. "Yeah, it gets boring without me, doesn't it?"

Aaron chuckled in response, nodding towards Elle. "Elle may have complained about your absence more than once. Perhaps Spencer too. And Penelope. Derek said he missed going up to your office to annoy you."

She looked up at him, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. "And you?"

He shrugged, but she could see a hint of a smile on his face. "I took your advice and decided to take the weekend off."

Leila grimaced, knowing how the plan didn't turn out all the way successful. "I'm sorry you have to come to work on your birthday."

He shook his head, allowing her to walk in first to the conference room. "Don't worry about it."

Their new case led them to Mexico, where several women had been fatally stabbed. Although local newspapers reported a series of killings and labeled it the work of a serial killer, the Mexican government held a contrary view, asserting that there was no such killer on the loose.

Despite the Mexican government's denial of the serial killer rumors, the team was summoned because they had the latest victim's son in custody as their primary suspect. The authorities wanted the team to travel to Mexico and confirm if this was a one time murder.

After the brief meeting concluded, the team rose from their seats to prepare their bags. As Leila stood up, she noticed Aaron's disappointed expression while he held his phone. Gideon, stationed by the door, also seemed to have observed it.

"Hotch," Gideon called out, prompting the dark-haired man to look up. "Call from the car." Aaron nodded but remained fixated on his phone. Leila sensed that he hadn't anticipated leaving for a case today and perhaps hadn't informed Haley that he wouldn't be back immediately after the meeting. Not wanting to intrude, she left the room, empathizing with him and his family.

After a swift briefing on the jet, Leila settled into her seat toward the back. Gideon approached and took a seat in front of her, placing a cup of coffee on the tray in front of her. Leila looked up at him and expressed her gratitude with a quick thank you.

"I take it you're feeling better?" He asked genuinely, nodding towards the others on the jet who were engrossed in their own activities. "It's been a little hectic without you. All I've been hearing are complaints from these people."

Leila smirked, savoring a sip of her coffee. "Admit it. You missed me."

Wearing a lopsided smile, he returned to perusing the case file. Leila's grin expanded even more, appreciating the camaraderie she shared with her teammates.

Arriving at the Mexico PD, Captain Navarro immediately recognized Gideon. He introduced them to Lieutenant Borquez and shook hands with Gideon. After everyone was acquainted, they were ready to inspect the crime scenes and commence their case.

"I didn't realize you spoke Spanish," Leila remarked, looking at Elle, referring to the moment on the jet when she corrected Spencer. The brunette smiled in response.

"Yeah, it's pretty useful. My mother's Cuban," Elle answered. The two women joined Aaron, Gideon, and Captain Navarro in the car to head to one of the crime scenes. "I don't suppose you know a language that may surprise me?"

"Estarías sorprendido," Leila smirked, prompting Elle to raise an eyebrow, not surprised that her friend also knew Spanish. "Sé mucho más."

Elle chuckled, shaking her head. "At this point, nothing surprises me with you anymore."

After inspecting the victim's house and noting they were searching for a heterosexual male, they returned to the PD. Captain Navarro decided to introduce them to the District Attorney General, Maria Sanchez. Upon their return, Sanchez approached them. "Do not be afraid," Captain Navarro said quietly to them.

"Agente Gideon, Agente Hotchner, Agente Kade," she greeted, shaking all of their hands with remarkable confidence. "It's an honor. Our papers are fascinated with the idea of a serial killer, and when Navarro suggested that I invite you in to dispel this nonsense, I immediately saw the wisdom."

Leila maintained a tight-lipped smile, impressed with Sanchez's boldness but still holding onto her skepticism.

"But enough formalities. I will let you get down to business," Sanchez concluded, her smile never wavering. She excused herself, moving past them with the three agents stepping aside to let her through, followed by her bodyguards.

"She's worse in Spanish," Captain Navarro informed them, leading them inside the PD.

While the guys engaged in conversation with Miguel, the prime suspect in his mother's murder, Leila took a seat beside JJ. The blonde looked up, a grin forming on her face upon realizing who it was. "Hey, you're back."

Leila raised an eyebrow, supporting her chin with a hand. "Yeah, and I just met the District Attorney General. Confident woman."

JJ laughed, nodding in agreement. "Definitely, but she really does not want to believe there's a serial killer here."

Leila bit her lip before sighing. "That's unfortunate. She's going to have to learn the truth sooner or later."

"Mhm. Love how the day you get back, you're already going to Mexico, huh?" The blonde asked.

"Hey, it's a nice surprise, I'm not going to lie," Leila laughed, raising her hands. "Who doesn't love a lovely trip outside of the states?"

JJ held up a finger, pointing at her. "You're not wrong." She glanced back at the guys talking to Miguel and then turned back to Leila. "So, what do you think?"

Leila shrugged. "I think that Miguel is hiding something, but he didn't kill his mother." She spoke truthfully. "His mother hid a photo of him in a drawer, away from all of the family photos on display. He had a fight with his mother before he left, but I believe it was because of something completely different."

JJ furrowed her eyebrows, still confused. "What do you think he's hiding?"

"His sexuality," Leila confirmed, crossing her arms. "Miguel is gay. That's why he'd rather stay quiet than reveal that part about him. If anyone were to find out, they'd kill him. Things work differently around here. He's scared because he knows he'll never be accepted for who he is."

The blonde nodded in understanding, her eyes shifting to the men walking back into the room. Aaron called them over to talk outside, and the two women followed.

"The best way to bring the attorney general on board is by providing a complete profile," Gideon told Navarro, making his case.

Navarro shrugged, looking at Gideon. "What do you need from me?"

"We'll need the files on all the murders," Derek said, his arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against a car.

The captain nodded. "Of course, but I must warn you. These reports were taken by local police in the area who are not used to this type of killer," he said honestly, sharing all the information. "Most basic details are missing."

"We'll take a look at them," Spencer responded.

"We also need to get the whole story out of Miguel Trejo, and right now, he's not talking," Aaron continued.

"But why does that matter?" Navarro sighed. "Obviously, he's not a serial killer."

Leila tried her best to make him understand, recognizing the difficulty of the situation. "Yes, we know that, but we need people to understand that these are serial killings and not just a crime of passion. The family is angry, and we understand that, but keeping it a secret would only escalate things further."

"And why wouldn't Miguel talk if he's innocent?" Derek questioned.

Captain Navarro leaned against the wall, shaking his head. "It must have something to do with the fact that he is homosexual."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "He'd rather be straight in jail than gay as a free man?"

Navarro pointed towards the PD. "I can protect him in here, but if he's taken to a prison in Mexico City and the other inmates find out that he is gay, he will be killed. That's the way things work here."

Spencer creased his eyebrows in confusion, not seeing any other solution. "So how do we get him to talk?"

Leila looked toward the woman sitting inside, and an idea instantly popped into her head. "His sister."

After questioning Miguel's sister and his boyfriend, Roberto, and uncovering more evidence, they reached the conclusion that the unsub was a man disguised as a woman. They presented the profile to the police at the department, but as soon as they finished, news came in that another body had been found.

The latest victim was identified as Isabel Santiago, displaying the same wounds found on the previous victims. The team went to the victim's house to search for new clues, paying particular attention to the necklace that had been torn off her neck.

"That's the first time he's taken jewelry from the victims," Leila observed, standing up after inspecting the victim.

"So, why was this one different?" Derek questioned, glancing at everyone in the room.

They exited the house and walked outside. The victim's daughter was sobbing near the police car, and Leila frowned at the heartbreaking scene.

"Over the past two years, we've had an average of one killing every nine weeks," Navarro stated, hands on his hips.

"Now two in three days," Aaron added.

"That's a pretty extreme escalation," Gideon commented. "He'll kill again soon."

Derek pointed to the daughter. "Who's that over there?"

"That's the daughter of the victim," one of the officers answered.

"Maybe she can tell us something about the necklace," Derek suggested.

Leila and Elle proceeded to question the daughter, Anna, while Derek stood by their side. They asked about the jewelry, and Anna responded, telling them that the necklace was hers, as her mother never wore jewelry herself.

Aaron approached them and spoke quietly, informing them that there was a disturbance at the police station.

They arrived at the PD, witnessing the chaos that had transpired in a short amount of time. "What is going on here, Borquez?" Navarro asked. "What did they do?"

Borquez shrugged. "They are following the orders of the FBI. Bringing in the sex criminals."

"What did you tell them?" Navarro asked the team.

Aaron stepped forward. "We put out there the possibility that he dresses like a woman. We told them to look into people convicted of sex crimes. We didn't mean this."

Leila looked around, her mouth agape at all the people being detained by the officers. A car pulled up, and Maria Sanchez stepped out in a rush. Leila could tell she was angry.

"These men were supposed to put the serial killer rumors to rest, and now they are making us look like a joke," Maria said with frustration. "What do you want people to think of us?"

"It was a misunderstanding," Navarro responded, trying to deescalate the situation.

"And it won't happen again," Maria looked towards the team. "It was your idea to bring them here, and obviously, it was a waste of time. Please, go home." She finished, turning around to walk back towards the car and entering it. They watched her drive away, and Leila leaned towards Aaron.

"She's scary," she said quietly, and the man chuckled in response.

Finally, they located the unsub and identified his next target. The pattern emerged: he targeted victims by assaulting and subsequently killing their mothers. With this realization, they rushed to intercept the imminent attack on the last person they believed the unsub would target.

Barging into the house, guns raised, they moved toward the back of the house. There, they discovered a person on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. As they approached for a closer look, Derek flipped the person over onto their back, revealing the unsub who had been brutally stabbed.

Noises emanated from the bushes, causing them all to raise their guns in that direction. They lowered them once they realized it was the women who had been the unsub's victims. "He pretended to be a woman," one of the women spoke. "Now he doesn't have to pretend." They all dropped their weapons, standing up straight as the team and the officers maintained their focus on them.

Having successfully wrapped up the case, the team headed back home. They gathered their belongings from the hotel and made their way to the jet, eager to return to the states.

Upon reaching the BAU, they collected the remainder of their belongings and prepared to head to their respective homes. Leila walked into her office, turned on the lights, and noticed something on her desk. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she picked it up.

She instantly recognized the handwriting and chuckled, shaking her head. "Left this for you after you come back from your case. Jasmine says hi. We both miss you." She read the note, whispering to herself. Underneath was a photo of Zaid and Jasmine, and she tucked the note into her jacket pocket. "You just have to be so extra, don't you Divan?" She couldn't wipe away the grin on her face, knowing her husband would be the person to leave a physical note instead of a text message just to be dramatic. Grabbing her bag once again, she exited her office.

#angst #fluff #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds series #one shot #revelations series #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x oc

[ptersparkers]

So ive been reading Spencer R. x hot wife, could You do Aaron with hot wife reader too? 🔥

omg it’s so funny that you sent me this because i was talking to @hotchsdoormat about a lil idea i had before i saw this in my inbox x

***

As your husband and boss, Aaron knows you can handle yourself. That doesn’t mean he likes seeing men try to get in your pants.

The BAU is on a case in Virginia and he’s grateful he doesn’t need to travel. The lead detective introduces himself as Det. Franklin and because neither you or Aaron want to confuse the officers, you introduce yourself with your maiden name while Aaron introduces himself as Hotchner.

He regrets it on this particular case. Aaron’s not blind either. He knows men and women alike look at you because of how you carry yourself. You’re naturally charismatic, talkative, and have the ability to make all heads turn when you walk into the room.

Usually, it doesn’t affect him too much. He knows he’s lucky because you come home to him every night and sleep next to him when you’re away on cases. He’s the only one who sees and touches your body, and he’s the only person you reach for when you wake up in the morning.

He knows this, but it doesn’t stop his blood from boiling when he realizes Franklin is hitting on you.

“Y/N, he’s trying to get into your pants,” Aaron says in a hushed tone after pulling you into the interrogation room.

“Look, honey, I know. I don’t like it either but we need to focus on the case before the unsub kills again.”

“I know,” Aaron mutters. You kiss him sweetly and he seems to relent.

“When this is all over, you can have me any way you want. Screw Franklin. I know you’ll treat me right.” You squeeze his bicep and wink before leaving the interrogation room. Aaron clears his throat, needing a moment to regain his composure.

When you catch the killer, the team feels liberated and opts to spend a few hours at a local bar to celebrate. Aaron’s given the team the night off since the jet won’t be ready until the following morning and no one complains.

But Franklin doesn’t relent. Aaron watches him corner you despite your clear boundaries. He lets you be like you asked, knowing fully well you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but he can’t help himself when he hears Franklin proposition you.

“Let’s go back to my place and celebrate. I bet you’re a real slut in the sack.”

Aaron strides to where Franklin is standing and pins his back against the wall, bracing his arm on Franklin’s throat. The sound of him slamming Franklin against the wall is enough to catch the team’s attention and they look at the scene that unfolded in front of them, amused at the way their boss is over protective.

“Don’t talk about my wife like that.”

He lets Franklin go after staring at him a second too long. The detective retreats into his office, no doubt embarrassed.

Aaron’s cheeks are red and you up your hand along his bicep and give him a squeeze. The team stifles a laugh and when JJ asks if you guys are coming to get drinks with them, it’s Emily who speaks up.

“I think Mom and Dad need some alone time.” Aaron’s cheeks flare up while you wink at her.

Everyone files out of the precinct and when Aaron finds himself planted in his spot, you touch his chest and tug on his tie.

“Come on, handsome. Feel like celebrating with me tonight?”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner oneshots #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x you #my writing #ask #anonymous

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch

Chapter Eight:

The coffee machine gurgled in the quiet of the break room as Evelyn filled her cup, her hands carefully cradling her favorite pink mug as the steam raised in delicate swirls. The rich aroma of the freshly brewed substance wafted through the air, Evelyn was moments from savoring her first sip when Spencer made his entrance. 

He moved with an awkward grace, his lean frame wrapped in a sweater, the morning light casting a scholarly glow on his thoughtful expression. Evelyn took a moment, as she often did, to admire the earnest curiosity etched into his features. She pivoted gracefully, a playful glint in her eye, the corners crinkling in silent laughter.

"Morning, Dr. Reid," she chimed. "Joining me for the most important meal of the day?"

Spencer offered a small, hesitant grin, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as if anticipating an unwelcome audience. When he turned back, finding the coast clear, his gaze couldn't help but sweep over her, a slow, involuntary trail from her eyes down to her heels and back up again.

"Did you know caffeine can actually increase cortisol levels?" Spencer inquired, his tone shifting to that of a lecturer as he warmed to the subject. "Cortisol is secreted by the adrenal glands and plays a critical role in regulating various bodily functions. While it's essential for survival, elevated cortisol over prolonged periods can lead to a host of issues. So, while that cup of coffee might seem like a good idea, it's worth considering the potential endocrine implications."

Evelyn closed the distance between them with a playful step, her eyes gleaming. "I love when you talk nerdy to me, Dr. Reid," she started. "But if you deprive me of my morning coffee, I won't be the only ones suffering the consequences."

Spencer's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily giving Evelyn's ass a quick, teasing tap. She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a feigned expression of shock. 

"In the workplace, Dr. Reid?" Evelyn chided, her voice laced with mock scandal.

Spencer's chuckle was a soft counterpart to the florescent hum of the break room. Evelyn stood there, the light catching the subtle highlights in her hair, her smartly tailored suit accentuating her figure.

"Speaking of which, and presuming your neurons are adequately myelinated for the day, how about those ground rules?" Spencer's question came with a half-smile.

"I'm going to pretend for a second that myelinated is part of my daily vocabulary," Evelyn retorted with a playful roll of her eyes. "Upstairs is all clear," she tapped her temple for emphasis before taking another step towards the genius, "but after last night, I can't say the same for downstairs."

Spencer cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as memories of the previous night flickered through his mind. "Don't start with me."

"Me? Start with you? Never," she said, her eyes dancing with humor. "But in all seriousness. This," she gestured between them, "stays between us. We can't do anything here."

She straightened up, her expression mock serious. "I'm already juggling enough with these legacy rumors. If I start adding 'sleeping with my mentor' to my resume, I'll need to write a survival guide."

Spencer's response was quick. "I can do that," he said, his eyes accusing. "As long as you behave."

"I'm always on my best behavior, sir," she declared with a sly smile, her voice trailing off as she sauntered out of the break room, "my place or yours tonight?"

Spencer's hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently as if to ward off an impending headache, the universal gesture of a man both charmed and utterly undone by the woman before him.

--

The tech lab was alive with whirring machines and the subtle glow of displays. Evelyn glided into the room, her steps light and her grin spreading. 

The hum of computers and the soft glow of screens set the backdrop as Evelyn breezed into the tech lab, her steps light and her smile wide. She found Garcia, the queen of all things digital, her dominion sprawling before her in an array of flickering pixels and streaming data.

"Hey, P! Need your magic fingers to trace a number for me. And maybe sprinkle a little of that fairy dust to make the results come faster." Evelyn says with a lighthearted twinkle.

With a flourish, Garcia twirled in her chair, her clothes a riot of color that defied that room's monochrome sterility. She peered at Evelyn over the top of her pink-rimmed glasses, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Sweetie, you're radiating more energy than my entire tech setup. What's got you bouncing off the walls? Extra shot of your coffee or just high on life?" Penlope questioned, her voice laced with humor as she watched Evelyn practically vibrating through the room.

"What? No, I'm not. It's just a good day, that's all," Evelyn laughed, the sound bubbling up effortlessly.

Garcia tilted forward, a teasing glint in her gaze. "Uh-huh. You can't fool me, Miss Sunshine. You've got that 'I just got laid' glow," she pushed, "spill it. Who's the lucky guy?"

"Garcia, quit it," she giggled, brushing off the insinuation with a wave of her hand. "There's no guy. Just... work stuff, you know?"

But Garcia remained skeptical, playfully wagging a finger bedecked with a glittering ring. "Oh, come on! You've got that look. The one that says, 'I did not get my eight hours, but boy, was it worth it.'"

Laughter spilled from Evelyn, a rich sound that reverberated against the walls. "Seriously, Penelope, drop it. I'm just happy. Can't a girl have a good day without an interrogation?"

Garcia shot her a knowing glance, but she conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. I'll let you off the hook... for now. But I've got my eye on you. Now what's this number you need traced?"

Evelyn passed a slip of paper across the table, her grin unwavering. She offered a swift thanks and retreated to the bustling bullpen. 

Evelyn's desk was a splash of color in the otherwise muted tones of the bullpen. Pink post-its fluttered like flags, each scrawled with affirmations and tiny tributes to her teammates. Amidst this cheerful chaos, Hotch stood, his hands clasped behind him as he surveyed the landscape of girlish whimsy.

At the sight, Evelyn's steps hastened, she darted forward to intercept his gaze, positioning herself squarely before him. "Hotch, sir, hi! Can I help you with something?"

Hotch met her gaze, his eyebrow lifted in mild inquiry, the shadow of a smile on his face. "I was looking for the Simmons report. You were supposed to turn in it yesterday." He tried to peer around her, amusement flickering in his eyes at the sight of her cluttered workspace. 

His eyes settled on the pen holder, an extravagant display of sparkle and faux gems. He remarked with dry wit, "Does that... fit the bureau's decor standards?"

Evelyn's smile was unapologetic as she shrugged lightly. "Mm, probably not. But it brightens up the place don't you think?" She rifled through the stack of papers, her face a canvas of sheepish charm. "About that report... I, uh, totally forgot. But it will be done, pinky promise."

She extended her pinky towards him. Hotch regarded the small gesture, his features betraying no reaction. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but his stance was unwavering. "I'm not going to do that," he declared, eyes flicking to her upheld finger. "I expect the report on my desk by the end of the day."

Evelyn snapped to attention, grin never faltering. "Aye, aye, captain," she chimed cheerfully. "You'll have it before you can say 'bureaucracy'."

With a parting nod, he moved back to his office. In the corner, Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss stood in a tight knot, their quiet conversation floating in the air near the water cooler. 

"There's no way," Morgan asserted, his head moving in a firm denial, his eyes reflecting staunch disbelief.

"I told you soooo," Prentiss crooned, her voice dripping in smug satisfaction.

"Huh?" Evelyn's question hung in the air as she swiveled towards the group, her eyebrow arching in a silent demand for clarity. "What are you talking about?" 

"There's an ongoing bet to see how long it'll take you to really get in trouble with Hotch," JJ confesses, her grin spreading as she looked towards the other.

Evelyn's voice rose in protest. "What? I do get in trouble!" she insisted. "Did you not just see that? Or when I went rogue on my first takedown?"

Prentiss let out a soft chuckle, her eyes meeting Morgan's knowingly. "Please that was 'Evie trouble.' It's like being scolded by a teddy bear."

"And what does that even mean?" Evelyn asked, her laughter rising through the room as she shook her head.

"Baby girl, your definition of trouble with Hotch is a lot different than ours," Morgan said with a playful wag of his finger. "You barely get a slap on the wrist, while we'd get the whole paddle," he teased.

"That is so not true!" Evelyn's giggle bubbled up uncontrollably, her shoulders bouncing with each note of disbelief. She playfully rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head.

As if summoned by the very topic, Rossi and Reid appeared in the doorway. They caught the end of the conversation and, with impeccable timing, chimed in together, "It's true."

"If I forgot my paperwork, I'm pretty sure I'd be relegated to coffee duty for a month--minimum," Spencer said as he gave a small, resigned shrug. 

"I'll have you know, I can get into trouble," she declared, puffing up in feigned offense. "I'm always getting under Hotch's skin."

Skepticism was written all over their faces, each look a playful jab at the very ideas. "Oh, we're sure you're a regular rebel," Morgan said, his tone heavy with irony.

"Yeah, right. They day you get a real scolding is the day I'll dye my hair pink," Prentiss declared, her laughter softening the edges of her sarcasm.

"And I'll wear a feather boa to work," Rossi added, the twinkle in his eyes suggesting he found the image as ludicrous as it sounded. 

"Statistically speaking, Evelyn, the probability of you inciting Hotch's ire is remarkably low," Spencer articulated, his brows furrowing in thought. "Considering the standard deviation of workplace interactions, it's more probably likely for an asteroid to graze our atmosphere."

Evelyn rolls her eyes, taking their words as a challenge. "We'll see about that."

Noon struck, and with it, a cast of golden rays pierced through the blinds of Hotch's office, painting the surfaces with a light hue of daylight. Evelyn, her arms cradling a stack of tardy documents, sauntered into the room. Her hair, a cascade of chestnut waves, framed her face, and her eyes, sharp as flint, scanned the room.

"Special delivery!" The announcement echoed off the walls, as Evelyn, framed by the doorway, held the papers aloft like a trophy. "The prodigal paperwork returns." Her smile was a bright flash in the subdued light.

The click of the mouse ceased as Hotch's gaze lifted slowly from the computer, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Thank you, Evelyn," he uttered, each word measured. "I was beginning to think it had gone into witness protection."

The room was filled with the sound of Evelyn's giggle as she perched against the doorframe. Her smirk was a playful twist of her full, rose-tinted lips. "Oh, you know me. I like to keep things interesting. Life's too short for bureaucracy. "

Hotch's fingers moved methodically through the stack, each page turning with a crisp snap. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never strayed as he spoke. "Interesting isn't quite the Bureau's motto. We prefer efficiency."

"And yet, here I am, brightening your day with my inefficiency," she teased.

The folder landed softly on the desk as Hotch straightened, his gaze piercing as it met Evelyn's. "Evelyn, is there something else you needed?"

"Just checking on my favorite unit chief," she declared with a shrug, "making sure you're not bored under a mountain of dullness."

Hotch's eyes took on a sharper focus, an almost accusatory gaze. "I'm quite capable of digging myself out, thank you," he stated, the hint of a smile lurking beneath his serious expression. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have work to do."

Evelyn's smirk was unwavering, a silent ally as she acknowledged his words with a graceful nod. "Of course, sir. Duty calls."

--

The bullpen thrummed with life, agents weaving through the maze of desks, papers shuffled, and phones rang, the air buzzing with the collective focus. Evelyn's presence was a silent counterpoint, a different mission in mind. Her fingers sifted across the documents in front of her. With a feigned slip of the hand, she accidentally exchanged the contents of two folders. As she handed Hotch the Thompson report, masquerading as the Henderson case, she could barely contain her amusement.

Evelyn glanced up at Hotch with feigned surprise, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Oh, did those get mixed up? That's totally on me," she said, her voice dripping with faux contrition as she sat perched on the edge of her chair.

Hotch's hand clasped around the correct folder, his gaze drifting across Evelyn's features, a wordless pause hanging in the air. It was a look that lingered just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

With a serene composure, Hotch handed back the folder, his words deliberate and clear. "Please double-check your work in the future." 

"Absolutely, won't happen again, sir," Evelyn responded.

Watching Hotch disappear behind his office door, Prentiss and JJ, couldn't help but shake their heads. "You are playing with fire."

With a playful toss of her hair, Evelyn responded, "It's what I do best." Her wink sailed across the room to the women as she swiveled back to her desk.

Later, she sent Hotch on a wild goose chase for a non-existent file. Hotch reappeared, the absence of the file evident in his empty hands and the slight crease of annoyance on his brow. His irritation was barely veiled by his professional composure and the sight stirred a warmth across her cheeks and spread through her. It was as if the air had thickened, her body responding with a clench of her thighs. 

Evelyn snapped her attention back to her task, letting out an exaggerated gasp, her eyes widening with feigned realization.

Evelyn's eyes lifted to meet Hotch's, a flutter of her lashes accentuating her apology. "Oh, my mistake. It's actually for next week's briefing. My apologies, sir."

A collective gaze tracked Hotch, the team's faces etched with a blend admiration and disbelief at the boldness. Hotch's head shook slightly as he closed the door behind him. 

With a subtle lean, Morgan caught Rossi's attention, a smirk playing on his lips. "You seeing this, Rossi?" he asked, his voice low, carrying the weight of disbelief.

"Hard to miss," Rossi mused, "she's got guts, I'll give her that," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile, "but she's doing a great job of proving our point."

"Hey," Evelyn's whisper was a soft accusation, a conspiratorial murmur that barely reached between the three of them. "Just you wait, I've got more up my sleeve."

With a gentle head shake that sent his curls swaying, Spencer loomed over her desk. "At this rate," he said, looking down at her with an amused glint in his eye, "you're going to need your own section in the employee handbook."

--

The bullpen fell into an abrupt hush, the agents' heads turning as Hotch's commanding tone sliced through the idle banter. Without missing a beat, he looked eyes with Evelyn. "Gideon, my office. Now."

The team's eyes flickered from one to another, the collective oooh sounding more like a drawn-out sigh as Evelyn got to her feet. The air seemed to still as she offered a nod, her face the picture of innocence. With a gentle tilt of her head, she responded sweetly. "Of course, sir."

Hotch stood behind his desk, the stern set of his jaw softening despite his best efforts. His words came with struggle, weighted with disappointment rather than anger. "This isn't like you, Evelyn. Misplacing evidence is a serious offense."

With eyes wide and innocent, Evelyn held her poise, her hands neatly folded in front of her. "I'm so sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

The room felt smaller as Hotch sighed, his authoritative demeanor dissolving into a softer, more approachable one. His voice lowered, tinged with an unexpected warmth. "What's going on with you today?"

"Hotch," Evelyn burst out, the playful strain in her voice belying the seriousness of her words. "I've been an absolute terror today--don't I deserve a better scolding that that? Everyone thinks you go easy on me."

Hotch's eyes sharpened, the hint of annoyance seeping through his demeanor. "So that's what this has been about? You've been testing my patience all day because of what--some office wager?"

Evelyn watched, a spark of mischief in her eyes as Hotch's composure began to fray. The fabric of his suit jacket tensed, subtly outlining the firm set of his shoulders. His jaw worked silently, a clear sign of his growing irritation, a detail she found inexplicably enthralling. 

"See, right there!" she exclaimed, her finger jabbing the air with theatrical emphasis. "That's what I'm talking about--that's the look!"

A barely perceptible quirk of his lips betrayed him. "You're unbelievable."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled with sheer desperation shimmering within. "Hotch, can you please--pretty please--pretend to yell at me? I need to win this bet."

"At this point, Evelyn, I don't think I need to pretend."

She offered him a pout, her lower lip protruding just so, a silent plea.

He exhaled a deep sigh, a reluctant white flag. "Fine. Shut the door."

"Thank you, thank you!" Evelyn sang out, her mind already racing ahead. "Oh, wait, I need to look scared, right?" She whirled around, her hand hovering over the door handle as she caught the team's collective gaze, wide and expectant, peering through the blinds.

Hotch positioned himself with his back to the window, his silhouette casting a commanding shadow across the room. With a flourish, he gestured towards the scattered paperwork on his desk, his voice booming just enough to be heard through the glass.

Evelyn's lip caught between her teeth, an effort to rein in the giggles that bubbled over. Her shoulders trembled, betraying her struggle as she dipped her head, a strategic move to conceal from the curious glances beyond the glass.

"Evelyn, you're terrible at this."

"I-I know, I'm sorry," she sputtered between fits of laughter. "But I think they bought it."

"I doubt it."

"You're the best boss ever, Hotch," Evelyn beamed.

Hotch's head gave a slow shake, the barest hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Too much if I cry on the way out?" she teased, feigning distress as she inched towards the door.

"Just go, Agent."

--

The day was winding down with the low hum of the office, Evelyn glided through the bullpen, her smirk as loud as the click of her heels. She tossed a bag onto Prentiss's desk, the contents clicking softly. The bag, clear and plastic, revealed the pink hair dye inside.

Evelyn leaned closer, the bag crinkling between them. "For your new look, Em," she teased with a wink. "I want to see a brand-new you by tomorrow."

Prentiss examined the dye, eyebrow raised in playful defiance. "Dream on, Evie," she chuckled. "This going in your Secret Santa gift."

Next the feather boa found its new home around Rossi's neck, courtesy of Evelyn's hands. "This is non-negotiable, Rossi," she declared. "Your suit needs a touch of pizzazz."

"But let's be real, Evie," Morgan chuckled. "You didn't really win the bet, did you?"

Evelyn gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Whaaaatt?" she uttered. "I have absolutely no idea what you're implying."

"Oh, come on," Emily scoffed, "we all know what Hotch looks like when he's chewing someone out. And that, my friend, was a performance worthy of an Oscar."

Evelyn's eyes widened, her act faltering under the team's knowing looks. "Oh! You know, I-I totally forgot, I have that thing I was totally supposed to do."

--

Evelyn was in her own world, surrounded by the familiar end-of-day bustle. As she slid her laptop into its case, her phone chimed--her eyes lit up, a smile curving subtly as she read the message from Spencer: My place. 8 pm.

Evelyn's gaze lifted, catching Spencer's eye across the room, a knowing look shared between them. She typed her response with haste: I'll be there. No sooner had she done so than Hotch's voice sliced through the buzz of the office. "Evelyn, my office."

She breezed in, her retort poised on her lips. "You didn't call me in here to actually yell at me, did you? Because, despite popular belief, I'm about as good with confrontation as a cat is with a bathtub. I'd probably start crying, it'd be this whole thing, and--"

"Evelyn." Hotch's voice was firm, a verbal full stop that demanded attention.

"Right. What's up?"

"Miami. Next week. A conference on behavior analysis," he began. "I want you there, presenting your research on the correlation between language patterns and criminal behavior."

"A paid trip to the beach? Count me in!" Evelyn squealed.

Hotch's reply came as a dry gust. "This is a business trip, Evelyn. Not a vacation."

She nodded, her grin undiminished. "Sorry, what? My mind's already sunbathing in Miami," she teased, twirling on her heel.

"Oh, and Evelyn?"

"Mhm?"

"The team's right," he confessed. "Don't let it go to your head."

next

taglist: @nonamevenus@aceofspades190

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[im-turnip]

#spnfanfic #911 fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #supernatural #jensen ackles #criminal minds #911 abc #911 fandom #spnfandom

[alicewonderao3]

Rumor Has It

Title: Rumor Has It

Summary: Haley can't believe that Aaron's dating someone, let alone dating her for six months. She wants to know why she hasn't met her yet, and confronts him, but what happens when she finds out something she wasn't expecting?

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Haley Hotchner, (Ex-wife), OC female character. Jack Hotchner.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OC female character

Word count: 1,729

Authors note: So, this is another song fic. I heard this song and couldn't help but think of what would have happened if Aaron had dated someone else and Haley found out that he loved this new girlfriend of his. This is from the prospective of the new girlfriend and then Haley's at the end. I have no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine, and I don't own Criminal minds or the lyrics to the Reba song at the end. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Warnings: None, mentions of cheating. *I know we technically don't know if Haley cheated on Aaron, but for this story, that's what I'm suggesting.

I'd been seeing Aaron for a few weeks now. He was funny and gorgeous, and once you got past the often cold expressions he wore, he had such a reserve of warmth under it. We'd met at a parent's night, my niece attending the same school as his son, Jack. I'd given him my number and gone on my way, and when he called, we started dating. 

I knew he'd been married before, he'd been very upfront about it. His ex-wife, Haley, was active with Jack, although I hadn't met her yet. Aaron said the time wasn't right, and we enjoyed each other's company when he wasn't gone on cases. 

I knew he was working late one night and went to drop by with dinner for him, Morgan being kind enough to let me in. I slowly approached Aaron's office, stopping only when I heard his voice and another one. I knew it had to be Haley's, simply by the frustrated tone in Aaron's voice. 

The office was mostly empty, and so no one noticed me as I heard Aaron and Haley speaking to each other. He was frustrated and she seemed upset almost. It was Haley's voice I heard first. "Why won't you let me meet her, Aaron? She's met Jack, she should meet me." 

I hear Aaron sigh, and I know he's making that face. His voice is tight, clipped. "Because it's not time, Haley. And it's none of your business anyway." He adds although I heard the quiet sound of frustration that leaves him when Haley says, "But it is, Aaron. She's around our son. I need to make sure she's a good person." 

Aaron's voice is sharp. "Do you have a problem with my judgment, Haley?" There's this silence between them, and I hear Haley say. "You know I don't, Aaron." Then his voice again, frustrated, angry almost. "You do if you're questioning Alice's character. She's wonderful, and she and Jack get along well. It's just not the right time for you two to meet." 

Haley's voice grows frustrated at that, "Oh, forgive me for questioning Alice's character." There is a sarcastic note to her tone, and I hear Aaron set down a file, I know he's angry now, I can hear it in his voice. "She's a good woman, Haley. She's kind and smart and she and Jack get along. Why are you pressing the issue? What's the real reason you want to meet her?" 

There's a silence, and Haley says, "No reason. I just thought it was time. How long have you been dating, Aaron, or is too hard to remember?" I hear the dig at him, knowing Haley hated the nights he was gone, the anniversaries he missed because of work, the old hurts from their divorce taking over the conversation again as they both aired old hurts and arguments. 

Aaron's voice is sharp as he says, "If you must know, Haley, we've been seeing each other for almost 6 months now." I can hear the surprise in Haley's tone, and if I could see her face, I imagine I'd see it on her face. "You've been seeing this woman for six months and don't think it's time for me to meet her?" I hear Aaron's angry tone, "No, I don't. And it's none of your business why, so don't ask." 

But she asks, and they go around and around again in more pointless arguing. I'm about to step away when I hear Haley say, a chuckle in her tone, her voice angry. "The only reason you'd be defending her like this is if you loved her, Aaron." There is this silence, and outside his office, my heart skips a beat. Aaron and I hadn't said those words to each other yet. 

I'd felt them, sure, but hadn't been brave enough to tell him how my heart skipped a beat every time I saw him, or how I enjoyed our movie nights with Jack. But it was there, in the texts I sent when he was gone on cases, in how I attended all of Jack's soccer games, his plays everything. I tune back in to hear Haley's shocked voice, surprise laced through her tone. "You can't possibly love her Aaron. No, it's not true." 

Aaron's silence speaks volumes. I know the expression he has on his face, and he says, in a tone that clearly says he does love me, "It's none of your business, Haley, so drop it. You said you left Jack with Garcia, and I'm gonna go fetch him." His tone is brisk, and cold as he speaks to hear. 

Haley's voice rings out with surprise and hurt as she says, "You do. You love her, already? How? Why?" Aaron doesn't answer her, except to tell her that it's none of her business who he loves anymore. "We're divorced, Haley. You've moved on, and now it's my turn. Let me be happy." 

I hear Haley's angry laugh. "Happy is one thing, Aaron, loving another woman a year after our divorce is another thing entirely." This is when I hear Aaron get angrier, if possible. "Did you think I'd sit and pine over you forever, Haley?" There's a silence that follows his question and I hear him scoff. "Fine, since you wanna know the truth, let me tell you the truth, Haley." 

I freeze, and my mind tells me to leave, to go away, that I shouldn't be standing here listening to this in the first place but I can't move my feet. Aaron's voice is sharp, frustrated, "Yes, I love her Haley. Alice makes me feel important. She listens to me and brings me dinner when I work late. She's kind and special and I'm grateful she's in my life." 

I hear some kind of noise leave Haley but Aaron continues, "She doesn't toy with my emotions and most of all," I hear Aaron's voice drop here, and something tells me this is a low blow, especially by the way Haley's breath catches. "She doesn't cheat on me, Haley." 

Silence reigns. Aaron never told me how it ended, but hearing that leave his lips made my heart break for him. It explained so many things, the way he'd always check in on me, the way he always tugged me closer when other men checked me out while we were on dates. He was afraid I'd do to him what Haley had done. 

Aaron speaks again, and his tone is no less angry or cold. "I love her, Haley. I love Alice, and I'd like to tell her before she meets you." Haley is silent, and when she speaks, I hear the anger in her tone. "First of all, Aaron, I could care less if you love her." Aaron scoffs, "You do if you're here asking me about it." 

There's more silence, and Haley's voice is angry. "Fine. Jack is with Garcia. I don't care about your little girlfriend, Aaron. This relationship of yours won't last long anyway, once Alice learns how little time you have for her." I hear her footsteps get closer to the door and I barely manage to hide as she leaves, going to get Jack for Aaron. 

I give him a few seconds to calm down before I walk over to his door, knocking softly. "Hey, Aaron, got a second for me?" I push it open, watching as he smiles softly at me. "For you? Always," He says, and I set the plate down and act like I didn't just hear him tell his ex-wife that he loved me. 

He thanks me for dinner and then pulls me into a hug, holding me against him. I don't question him, I just let him hold me. For several long seconds, we're both silent. "What's wrong?" I ask, deciding to see how much he'll tell me. I hear him sigh and feel how he tugs me closer, almost as if he's debating that very question in his mind. 

I expect him to brush me off, so it surprises me when he tells me what's wrong, his voice soft as he sort of explains his argument with Haley, leaving out the part where he mentions he loves me. I offer up what little advice I can think of, but mostly just let him ramble as he holds me. 

He pulls back to look down at me, his expression soft as he tucks a dark curl behind my ear. The words leave him so effortlessly, they still hit me with the same shock value as they had outside his door. "I love you," He whispers to me and my breath catches a moment, my soft eyes staring up at him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. 

"I love you too," I whisper, holding his gaze, searching his eyes, and finding the truth reflected as he looked at me. He leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and sweet against mine, as I melt in his arms, only parting from me as Jack runs in, his voice excited as he spots me. I hug him, not realizing Haley is outside the door. 

Outside Aaron's office, Haley watches with an ache in her heart as Aaron greets Alice when she walks in. She's pretty, she has to admit, with her honey-colored eyes and dark hair. She watches him hug her, and then he tells her. He tells her he loves her. She watches Alice's breath catch, as the two stare up at each other with love in their eyes before he kisses her. 

But it's the way he does it, cupping her face in his hands, holding her as if she's the most precious thing in the world to him, that breaks her heart, pieces shattering on the ground like a broken vase, sending Jack in to greet Aaron through the film of tears that form over her face. She watches Jack greet Alice, but can't do anything but feel her heartbreak. She thought Aaron would love her forever. But watching him profess his love to another woman makes her ache in a way she hadn't expected to feel a year out of their divorce. 

"Oh, Rumor has it. She has you. Rumor has it, you love her too. Oh, talk is cheap but the price is high when it's true. Oh, rumor has it, she has you." 

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner imagine #sort of a song fic #if you squint

[sweetdulcets]

Josie: What time is it?

Emily: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Emily: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Derek: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Emily: It’s 2 am

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #nefarious #spencer reid #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #incorrect criminal minds #incorrect criminal minds quotes

[natalie-hotchner]

Hotch and Natalie are caught up in staring each other down arms crossed over their chests this is mainly because Natalie is certain Hotch ate the last of her favourite German snack. He attempts to stand his ground.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #romance #cute #fluff #stana katic #stubbornness #original character #Natalie #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x oc #BAU #bau team #wholesome