#aaron hotchner x bau!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 year

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𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You're not sure you're ready to come back. Hotch has total faith in you. Or, your transition back into the team after your abduction doesn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped.

6k words, fem!reader, bau!reader, some mutual pining, reader is suffering from effects of ptsd, allusions to kidnapping + torture, hurt/comfort, hotch has a soft spot for you (as do most of the team)

༺༻

Reid was abducted, once.

You can remember the anxiety of it like a hand around your throat. It feels cruel to say that his abduction and torture had effected you more than if it had been a stranger, but you meet so many people, so many victims of cruelty, that the fear starts to blunt.

Though it doesn't blur. You find it impossible to forget the people that you've failed, and failing a team mate? That had been excruciating.

Only when you'd been taken yourself had you realised it wasn't a failure at all.

You wish the others would understand that.

"Are you feeling okay?" Prentiss asks as you sit down.

You suppose you had gone down a bit hard. "Mm?" you hum in question, pulling a copy of the initial case file toward you.

"You looked a little wobbly."

"Long night?" Morgan asks.

There's both sympathy and mirth in his voice. If you did have a long night, it wouldn’t be from anything fun. He knows that. Everybody knows that. That's why they're treating you like glass.

"I actually slept really well," you say softly, returning his smile with one that's entirely genuine.

"That's good, considering," he says, bracing his forearm against the conference table.

He's been your number one supporter since you came back. Probably because he feels very guilty about what happened. You'd been paired up at the time.

"Actually, it's common for people who've been abducted to sleep incredibly well for a long period afterward. It's similar to the leisure sickness phenomena- Your body would have been in defence mode, and-"

"Reid," Hotch says firmly, stepping into the room with his usual lowbrow.

"Sorry."

And the spiel begins. JJ lays out the details of the case she's triaged and the team gives their first input. The barest beginnings of a working theory. You try to contribute and find your tongue a leaden weight in your mouth. Ever since you got back, you've been useless.

You can't do your job, but thank god you can sleep at night, right?

You miss the start of his sentence, your focus latching onto Hotch's conclusive, "Wheels up in thirty."

Your team are standing in seconds, trained in the art of quick departures. You used to be good at this part. You're a good agent, even when you're a mediocre profiler.

"L/N?"

You blink. "Mm?" you hum, meeting your unit chief's concerned look with a perfected blasé.

You've come to a stand in front of the table, and everyone else has left. It's you and Hotch alone.

"If you're not ready to go back into the field, that's okay."

If you were Reid, or Prentiss, or especially Morgan, you'd get defensive here, and you would lie well, but you’re a bad liar and Hotch is a great detector for them, so you tell the truth.

"I'm not sure that I'm ready, but I'd like to go. I won't be a burden. I can work effectively."

"I know you won't be a burden."

You tilt your head to one side and feel your hair shift over your thick sweater. You haven't felt like showing much skin, lately. Everybody has noticed, because they notice everything, and nobody has made you feel bad about it. In fact, your fellow agents have made numerous comments about the chilly weather. It's July.

Hotch's eyes fall to your long sleeves for a split-second.

"Do you think he's alive?" you ask.

"Sorry?"

You nod your head toward the board, where the portrait of your kidnapping victim hangs in full colour. "Do you think he's alive?"

"Unless there's evidence that would suggest otherwise, we shouldn't assume. You know that."

"I know that that's the answer you're used to giving."

His voice goes too soft, like he's talking to somebody in grief. "I think he is."

You honestly can't stand it when he talks to you like this. You tilt your head a little further and see him the way he'd been that morning, his tenderness, his fear. He'd opened the door and suddenly you'd known you were safe.

He hasn't looked at you right since he found you.

"I have all my best clothes in my go-bag," you offer.

"Well, go get it. This might be a long one."

—

The jet is a really nice jet.

It's hard not to feel impressed by it. It's a vehicle that can take you from one crime scene to another, and it's a necessary expense, but it feels lavish. The clean smells, the comfort, the kitchenette. It has a full-sized toilet.

"Missed this?" Morgan asks knowingly.

You wheedle your way into one of the four seats surrounding the main table and smile when he drops down next to you. "Missed using you as my personal pillow, maybe," you tease.

"Table hogs," Prentiss complains, sitting on the armrest of the couch in defeat.

You laugh under your breath. Morgan pulls out his laptop and turns the screen so everyone can see Garcia, and as soon as the jet's taken off the second round of speculation begins.

You regret sitting where you had quickly. You can feel Hotch's analysing gaze where he sits opposite. He doesn't believe you're ready to come back.

You lick your lips.

"Why would she cut him open just to kill him straight afterward?" JJ asks. "I mean, if she didn't assault him?"

"It's unlikely that she's a sadist," Reid infers.

"Disembowelment is a pretty painful, horrific way to die. Maybe she realised that and killed him," Morgan suggests.

"Remorse?" you murmur. "Could mean she's… younger. And revenge killers don't always see it through."

"Why take another one if you can't commit to the first?" Prentiss asks.

"Maybe that's why she took him. She wants time to work herself up," you mutter.

You hide your hands under the table. It's hard to ignore the similarities with the current case and the one you're investigating. The unsub who'd taken you had been narcissistic and self-righteous, punishing the BAU for stopping her second murder — you'd predicted her next victim and moved him before she could take him.

So her victimology had changed, and she'd stolen you.

She couldn't commit to her first session of torture: hesitant cuts, loose ligatures. By your turn she'd improved, but her tentative resolve had remained and she'd run after three days. It's the worst thing she could've done, buying herself less than a week on the run and leaving you with no outside communication.

You'd almost died of dehydration.

"She's choosing from a specific group," Reid says. He holds up a photograph of the first victim. He'd been murdered in his bedroom, and the walls are plastered in playboy. Kill all men has been written across his forehead in red lipstick. "Our abductee, he was wearing a t-shirt featuring popular bikini model Miss Olympia. In a state of undress."

“Is that specific?” Prentiss asks wryly.

"She's angry," you say.

Hotch leans forward and clicks Garcia's call button. "Garcia?"

"Sir."

"Are there any prolific feminist groups in the area? Radicals?"

They fall into conversation, a pulling and pushing of information. Something about online forums, flame wars, political arguments.

It's not the strongest theory in the world but they can make it work. You should be making it work with them.

The flight is an early morning longhaul to Idaho and you work the case the entire time you're in the air. There's an abundance of coffee that you reject because you're worried it'll rehash your on-again off-again migraine, and while your teammates are offering theories, intertwining details with bright eyes and bushy tails, you struggle to keep up.

There's a lull before landing where everybody parts ways. JJ moves to sit with Prentiss where they talk in hushed but conspicuous giggles. You hear the words Will and dishes and back rub and decide to stop listening for your own sake.

Morgan laughs, having heard what you just heard and liking it a far deal more, and stands. "Coffee?" he asks as you yawn.

You shake your head sluggishly. "Be quick, we'll be landing soon."

"I know, sweetheart, I heard the same announcement as you." He takes your empty water glass with a supportive squint. "Let me get you another."

"Thanks."

You'd regretted your seat as soon as you'd taken it, the feeling of being boxed in having grown and grown over the course of the journey, and Morgan’s brief departure gives you some much needed space.

You squeeze your hands together until your knuckles ache.

"L/N?"

Hotch is looking at you. You know exactly what he sees. Someone who isn't ready to be back in the field. Someone who isn't being effective, as you'd promised.

"You okay?"

"Just warm,” you lie, pushing your hair away from your neck.

You're a bad liar. He gets up to turn on the air conditioning anyway.

You slouch down in your chair and pretend to nap for the rest of the flight.

—

Crime scenes where people died smell bad. It's a fact. They smell like pee, the sharp stick of ammonia, and the metallic aftertaste of blood. You're trying hard not to fall into your own memories of the two.

You need to move past what happened. The only way you're gonna be able to do that is to re-desensitise yourself, and that includes volunteering for the nasty stuff when Hotch tries to relegate you to questioning witnesses.

"I'm not good at interviews," you'd said plainly.

And he'd taken it for what it was and let you do what you usually do: you look for clues. If anybody could hear you think that you'd be ridiculed, but they can't. You enjoy yourself.

Let's Scooby Doo this bitch.

"Careful," Hotch says, holding a hand near your hip. You'd almost stepped into the largest puddle of blood still wet in the very middle.

Right. He'd let you take the gross job but now you're being babysat.

What did she do in this room? Why did she kill him here but abduct the second man?

"If it weren't for the photos, I'd never link this victimology," you confess.

The photos. The unsub had sent pictures of her abductee with Kill all men written across his forehead. In lipstick.

What changed the MO? Why kill the first at home and steal the second?

The political theory feels more plausible.

"I think you would've." Hotch casts his gaze over the desk. "This is a messy one. Opportunistic but personal. Our unsub, she…" His voice turns to a mutter, as it tends to do when he hits a roadblock. "She wants attention, because the first murder didn't do what she'd hoped."

"What is she hoping for?"

He picks up a piece of coloured paper and holds it up to his chest so you can see it. It's a flyer for speed dating at a Café Martini, every Friday at 6PM.

"Where was Paul last seen?" you ask.

"Good question."

He takes his phone from his pocket to call Garcia.

You listen to their conversation for a while, his serious questions and her flirtatious answers.

You look back to the floor and push the white toe of your tennis shoe into the rug until the rubber's red with blood. It's not good practice. You're now a walking biohazard. Why is the blood still wet? It should've sunk into the carpeting hours ago. How much did he bleed?

When you'd been abducted your unsub hadn't been keen on torture. She'd made small, quick cuts over your upper arms, more to punish you than because she truly enjoyed it, and she'd hit something important by accident.

The blood had pooled in the crook of your elbow. It had stayed wet for a long time. You remember trying to clean yourself up with your t-shirt, too drugged up to move right, and eventually the drugs had worn off and it had really, really hurt.

This boy had been cut from hip to hip.

"Maybe you should go sit in the car," Hotch says.

"Why?"

"I've been talking to you."

"I've been listening."

"Don't lie." Hotch takes a step forward, black shoe close to your white. "Look at me."

You look up, eyebrows raised as you try to blink yourself awake. His eye contact is something you've always struggled to hold, knowing he's learning a lot more from your expression than you are from his. You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks and find them hot with embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry," you apologise, eyes aching. Not burning, just aching. Like a bruise.

Hotch nods, expression impassive. "It's okay. Go sit in the car."

He outranks you as an SSA, he's your boss for every intent and purpose. He's your friend, sometimes, and you've yet to see him make a bad call. You listen and go back out and down to the car. You've already broken your promise not to be a burden.

Best to play along and play well. You don't want a desk job. You don't want to lose the team.

In the car, things feel better. It smells like new and you take some time to breathe it in with slow, deep breaths. The pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror is still soft and wet to touch. You rub it between two fingers, pensive, until Hotch appears from the house. He looks severe and solemn as usual when he opens the car door and climbs inside.

"Tell me if you can't do this," he says. He never beats around the bush. You wish that he would.

"I don't know."

"I need a yes or no."

You're screaming at yourself to say yes. Hotch stalls with his hand poised at the ignition, waiting for your answer before he turns the key. If you say no, I can't do this, he'll take you back to the room. You know he won't hold it against you because he'd tried to persuade you to take more time off, as much as you needed.

Being alone reminds you too much of your abduction. You hate how you can't stop thinking about it. At work, at home. What if this is it? This is the only thing you're going to think of for the rest of your life.

Unless you can get some new memories.

"I can do this."

"I know that. Do you know that?" he asks firmly.

You lean your head back against the headrest and turn your face to look at him fully. You hadn't been expecting any praise, any softness. You're fucking up on a time-sensitive case — he should be reprimanding you. He should send you packing to Virginia.

"I'm sorry," you say softly.

"For what?" he asks. His eyebrows pinch up at the starts, his lips curve into a frown.

It's startling to see so much emotion on his face on the job; Aaron Hotchner has a switch. He comes to work and he turns off everything that doesn't help the case. Only on rare occasions do you get to see him as a friend — his laughter over group dinner dates, his gentle smiles when he'd kept you company in the hospital.

"For being- For being disorganised," you explain choppily. It is not the right word.

He turns the key and reverses out of the parking space before speaking. "You are an asset to this team. If you can't be an asset right now, that's fine. If you need to go home-"

"I don't need to go home."

He doesn't seem offended at being interrupted. "Your wellbeing is more important than your effectiveness as a profiler. But you can't get in the way."

"I won't."

"I know you won't. Just…" He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dials a number. He's not looking at you when he finishes, "Calm down. Stay present. We need you with us."

You turn your face to the window so he can't see your smile. He hasn't been this nice to you since your birthday.

—

The thirty six hour mark comes to pass quickly and you find yourselves no closer to a positive ID on the unsub or their location. Any leads you follow dry up, witnesses won't cooperate, nobody has slept properly (besides yourself), and the boy's parents are hysterical. Hysterical and an irritant.

You can hear them arguing with Hotch and the police chief in the other room.

"You look amazing," JJ says tiredly. You can't tell if her annoyance is genuine or not.

"Did you sleep?" you ask.

JJ looks amazing herself despite what she might say, all perfect skin and lovely blonde hair like a moving sheet of silver-gold. You revere her pretty thin sweater with poorly hidden envy as she yawns and stretches against her straight-backed chair.

"I slept. Bed was about as comfy as this chair," she says ruefully.

"Ninety percent of all abduction victims are killed within the first thirty-six hours," Hotch says as he enters the room, in what Morgan would call his drill sergeant's drawl. "Every hour past that point, the percentage increases."

Everybody in the room knows that statistic. His passive aggressive reminder serves to electrify a dozing Reid and a slumped Prentiss, both of which sit up in their chairs and pretend to be busier than they are as he makes his way into the room.

"Actually," Reid whispers to you, voice rough with fatigue, "the math isn't that simple."

"Do you want to explain it to me?" you whisper back.

You can't admit to really truly listening to Reid's explanation. You want him to feel heard even when you don't have the capacity for it, so you nod and hum as he explains, heads bent together as the rest of the team trade new theories. He talks surprisingly quickly for all his fatigue, and before you've realised it he's talking about something new.

"Reid," you intrerupt gently, "can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

You look up. Everyone seems too busy to be listening to you. You take what semblance of privacy you can and push your chair an inch closer.

"Do you think I've been an efficient agent these last two days?"

He juts his head forward. "You've been distracted. Tired, unfocused. But your insight on the unsub's age and what you said about her propensity for regret are both incomparable parts of the profile."

"But easily something someone else would've suggested?"

"Not necessarily." He smiles at you, a mirthful quirk. "Psychologically, the effect that working a case so close to your own trauma," — you bite your tongue in surprise — "would render the average person prone with memory. It also gives you a thought pattern that not everybody else would have."

"You have it."

"Let's focus on the behaviour pattern," Hotch says.

You'd agreed to run point today. Or rather, Hotch had said, "L/N, you'll run point," and you hadn't argued. After all, yesterday had been telling on how much you can handle. Crime scenes are a no go.

Not that there's any crime scene left to analyse. Your team have spent hours and hours trying to draw blood from stone. The case hadn't felt so impossible on the jet, and now…

"I'm benched," you murmur.

"You're not benched," Morgan says, which is irksome because you'd been talking to Reid. "If you were benched you'd be back in Virginia typing up my paperwork."

"She doesn't care about the crime scene, she doesn't care about the crime itself. There's nothing in it for her besides making a statement. So why take a hostage with no ransom, no instruction? Why tell us you have a hostage and cut communication?"

You rub your eyes at Reid's questions and find you have no theories to offer. You have nothing.

"Work the problem," you mumble to yourself. "Work the problem. Where would she go?"

She cut that boy from hip to hip. She killed him quickly after rather than leave him in pain, but she disembowelled him for the statement it would make. For the… mess?

You feel off-kilter enough to stand. You weave through people and hesitate in front of Hotch where he's reading over the timeline, waiting for his face to turn before you talk.

"Hotch," you say tentatively, "what if she's like… an arsonist? Disemboweling is messy. The blood was still wet when we got here two days later, and it ruined the floor."

He thinks for a second. "Her escalation from a private mess to a public one would make sense."

"We thought the pathway from murder to taking a hostage was a step backwards, but what if it's not about the murder at all, it's about the blood?"

"It's common for arsonists to suffer paternal violence," Reid chimes in. "Could explain the unsub targeting men with outward misogynistic attitudes."

You turn to find the whole team looking at you, a familiar drive on each of their faces.

They rebuild the profile. Reid fiddles with what you've said, they specify, they redirect.

Your moment of clarity dissolves quickly but you try to help as they move on to possible locations. If the unsub wants to make a scene, light a metaphorical fire, there are plenty of places she can do it this weekend.

Surprise surprise, Garcia confirms a 'men's rights' rally happening in around two hours, and suddenly everybody's in motion. Hotch lists instructions and the team disperses. You've done it all a hundred times before, Hotch quadruple that, Rossi octuple.

"L/N," Hotch says.

You lift your face to his.

He's really quite close.

"Do you want to stay here?"

You take note of his wording. Do you want to stay here?

His phone is already in his hand. You don't wanna waste anymore of his time. You're pretty useless during movements anyways.

"Is that okay?" you ask.

He doesn't say yes or no, his head doesn't give the slightest nod or shake. His eyebrows remain in their usual pushed down position. "Expand the profile. Make sure we haven't missed anything." In case the unsub isn't where you think.

And then he leaves.

You take your seat at a now hastily vacated table and spend an hour on the laptop with Garcia. She's mostly at the beck and call of the rest of the team, but it's nice to listen to her clicking away.

She hangs up when the team are about to storm the rally venue and things get difficult.

You'd passed all your psych evaluations to return. You can be an effective agent. You can work.

You know all of this.

It won't stick.

You don't have a clue how long you spend staring at the table when your phone starts to ring. "Morgan?" you ask, pressing the screen to your cheek.

"Hey, sweetheart, we got her. And Paul, safe and sound. You ready to go home?"

"Uh," you say, trying to understand what he's said. "I'm not sure." Your migraine is coming back.

When a person gets dehydrated your head starts to pound. It's like a heartbeat, a pulsing ache at the base of your skull and your temples.

You know that it's all in your head, but ever since you got back you've been victim to what feels like a hundred headaches.

Your head hurts, and you look at the floor and suddenly the floor isn't the dull blue carpeting of the police station, but the plywood of your unsub's warehouse.

"Are you there?"

"Morgan, I don't feel well," you say. Your mouth is full of cotton.

"What?"

You cast your gaze around the room.

You leave your phone on the table, unsure if you've hung up, and make your way out of the conference room they've delegated to the BAU. You're in two minds. You know where you are, and who you are, but you feel like you're back there. The walls look like the police station walls but the floor looks like the base plywood of the warehouse.

I'm just thirsty, you think. When you'd been kidnapped you'd become dehydrated somewhere between the fourth and fifth day, and that had come with some minor auditory and visual hallucinations. Dark spots in your peripherals shaped mildly like people, murmurings that could've been the cicadas. Right now, there's a low pitched ringing in your ears. I'm dehydrated. I'm fine. I need a drink, and I'll be okay.

You don't have the facilities to smile at the people you pass, easing your way through officers and into an empty break room. There's nobody here.

You round the table in the middle of the room and move to the cabinets and the sink basin. You take a mug into shaking hands and turn the faucet on.

The water is frigid and soon your fingers are like ice. You part them in the stream, watching the water worm down your palms and wet the cuffs of your sleeves.

"Agent L/N, is everything okay?"

You turn with a smile, ready to assuage any fears, but it's her.

It's obviously not her. It's not her, but she looks like her. Same face, same hair. You turn back to sink and fill your mug.

"Agent L/N?"

"Please," you say quietly.

"Agent L/N?"

"Detective, would you excuse us?"

His voice. Your shoulders relax just enough to ease the ache in your neck. You hear the woman depart, but you're disorientated enough to ask, "Is she still here?"

"She's not here."

“She looked-“ like her. You press your wet hands to the bottom of the sink. It's silver and covered in scratches, a thousand scratches that glow white with the fluorescents. "I don't think I should be here," you mumble.

"I think you're overwhelmed."

"I am." You cringe at the numbness spreading up your arms. "I don't know how to make it go away."

Hotch isn't just your boss. He's a father. He was a husband. He knows how to comfort somebody and he's proven that to you already, but you're still surprised when he pulls your hands out of the sink. He holds both in one palm while he turns off the faucet, and then he tears off a wad of paper towels and starts to dry your fingers.

"You're not in any danger here," he says, turning your hands palm up. "There are a wall of people out there who would stand in front of you. Nothing is going to happen to you."

Despite his careful reassurances you're curling in on yourself, trying to hide. You don't want to be here. You're not sure where you want to be. You have the self-awareness to know you're being awful, that this is embarrassing, and you've put Hotch in a position he likely doesn't want to be in, too.

You blink at his chest. "Where's your suit jacket?" you ask. Your voice sounds far away in one ear and too loud in the other.

"I left it in the car," he says lightly. "We just got back from the rally. You were waiting for us here."

"I didn't go."

"No. You haven't been at your best."

"I'm trying."

"I know," he says softly, thumbs rubbing over your warming fingers. "I know you are. You're doing really well. Why don't we sit down?"

You let him lead you backward into a hard-backed chair. He doesn't sit with you, but he doesn't let go of your hands. They're limp in his and smaller, colder.

You think he might be the only thing keeping you here.

"I've never been that scared before. I've had a… gun to my head and… it wasn't even her-" You choke on it. "Her. She hurt me and it wasn't even the worst part."

He frowns down at you. "What was the worst part?"

You let your fingers unfurl across his open palm. He pulls your hands to his chest, sandwiches them between his own hands and his crisp white shirt. His tie feels silky soft.

"I didn't want to be alone. I," — you close your eyes and press your chin to your chest, hiding, always hiding — "knew I wasn't going to last long by myself. I could see that bottle of water on the table and I couldn't reach it and I just kept waiting for somebody to open the door and pass it to me, and I was so scared that nobody was ever going to do that.

"I close my eyes and- and I see it. I see the wood flooring, and I see the table. I can't remember anything that she said to me anymore, but I remember thinking you weren't ever coming to get me."

You can see the way the light from a crack in the corrugated roof had lit the water bottle up like a lamp. You barely have to think about it and the image of it is there. Your mouth had ached.

You can see him if you try a little harder. The door flying open. Hotch in his vest with his hair falling onto his forehead, a gun in one hand and a flashlight held high in the other. His broad, quick sweep, and then the way he'd leapt for you. His voice, shouting, screaming instructions. You can feel his hand behind your head, his fingers pushed roughly into your hair.

"You're okay," he'd said.

You trust him with your life. You've never had cause to doubt him. But you hadn't believed him then, and you're not sure you do now.

His expression changes slowly. He moves both of your hands into one of his own and squeezes them reassuringly as he cups your cheek. It's a quick touch, a half-second of contact.

"You made a mistake, in that case," he says, hand moving from your cheek to the hill of your shoulder.

You tamp down a wince. "Yeah." He's being generous. You'd made hundreds of mistakes. Every opportunity to save yourself wasted.

"Your mistake," he says, holding your eye, his voice gritty with severity, "was thinking I wouldn't find you.”

He turns to a blur the longer you stare at him, panicked tears welling up with nowhere to go. You tip your head forward so he can't see them, and he steps closer in turn, ushering your face into his abdomen.

His hand falls to your trembling back.

"That was your only error. You did everything else right."

Your tears come thick and fast. Hotch doesn't baulk.

—

You agree to take some more time off.

Realistically, you can't be an effective agent or a reliable member of the team whilst smothered in memories as you are. You don't take it personally when Hotch insists, as he takes great care to explain to you what's happening.

This isn't a punishment. You need more time.

You're a safety risk. Not that your consultation isn't valuable, it is, you're still a good profiler — an amazing profiler, if your team are to be believed — but you're in the aftershocks of a traumatic event.

A wound can't heal if it's being picked at.

"He said that?" you ask quietly, bed sheets upto your chin.

Hotch's voice rings scratchy with tiredness down the line, "He said you can have all of the blue ones."

"He's generous. He gets that from his dad."

"He's much kinder than I am." You hear a small voice on the other end, and then a muffled, "Yeah, g-man, I'll tell her. I'll tell her right now. Okay. Y/N?"

"Yeah, still here."

"Jack says," he recounts, parent tone in play that tells you his son is nearby, "that you can have all the blue and all of the green band-aids, if you need them."

You stare up at the white plaster ceiling of your apartment, a tiny smile playing on your lips.

"Tell him I said thank you. I'm sure they'll make me all better in no time."

He tells Jack what you've said. You hear his lovely voice saying something too quiet. "What was that?" Hotch asks him.

"I said," Jack says, voice close to the receiver, "she just needs a kiss because they always make me feel better."

"I've been getting lots of kisses!" you promise him, turning to look at your nightstand.

Propped up proudly is a picture of you and your team in that restaurant in Las Vegas, where Reid hadn't been able to use his chopsticks, and where Hotch had laughed so loudly you'd felt your heart skip twice. It's surrounded by a sea of 'Get Well Soon' cards, and backdropped by a small bouquet of sweetpeas.

Tell me when they wilt, Reid had said. And I'll get you another bunch. It's been proven that flowers have a long term positive effect on moods. People who received flowers regularly reported less agitation, less depression, and an overall sense of satisfaction.

Beside the sweetpeas, in pride of place, is a handmade card from none other than Jack himself, though the message inside was penned by an older hand.

"I'm well looked after," you say, smiling softly.

"You're well loved," Hotch adds.

That, too.

༺༻

again, im not that used to writing hotch so despite my character study he may feel a little ooc that's my bad, hard to show him pining bc he's such a professional at work. thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging i promise it means so much to me ♡

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aaronhotchnersworld · 3 months

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in sickness and in health

Aaron hotchner x bau wife reader

summary- y/n is sick and Aaron takes care of her

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It was about 11pm and you guys had just finished up a case and were now back at the BAU, thankfully the case was local.

It had been extremely exhausting and the pounding in your head continues to grow along with the tiredness you feel.

You all had some paperwork to finish, Aaron having the most, as always.

You cringe at the paperwork in front of you, wondering if the words on the paper are even going to make sense considering the pounding in your head.

“y/n, just go home. You’re obviously fatigued, running a fever, and you just don’t look well,” Spencer tells you.

“do I seriously look that bad,” you question.

“you just look sick, that’s all.”

You tell him, once again, that you don’t need to go home and he drops it.

For someone as smart as him, you wish he would get the hint that you don’t want Aaron to find out you feel unwell.

Emily walks over to you with a sympathetic look and hands you a bottle of water which you immediately take while thanking her.

“he’s right y/n. it’s clear you don’t feel well,” she tells you before going back to her desk to do her paperwork.

You sigh and prop yourself up in your chair.

As you look around, everyone is focused on there paperwork, you look up to Aarons office, debating on going up there, but the blinds are closed and you figure he has too much paperwork.

You don’t want him to worry about you.

You open up the first folder and the words all look like a blur and your head begins to spin. You close the folder and lay your head on your desk.

“y/n.” You don’t even have to lift your head to know it belonged to Aaron, your husband. You slowly lift your head, the bright lights hurting.

You see Aaron kneeling down next to you, his hand on your back and a concerned look on his face.

“let’s go home y/n/n,” he says as he puts the back of his hand on your forehead.

“i’m fine,” you tell him.

“you’re burning up honey, let’s go,” he tells you as he helps you up. You realize you two are the only ones here.

“where’s everyone else,” you question, extremely confused.

“I told everyone to go home, take the day off tomorrow and that i’d see them all on monday. You were sleeping,” he says softly.

“I feel asleep,” you question disoriented.

“yes honey you fell asleep,” he tells you as you both walk towards the elavator, his hand resting on your back to support you.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you wait for the elevator. Aaron kisses your head.

You both walk into the elevator as the doors open and exit once you get to the ground floor. He opens the passenger side door for you and then closes it once your in.

He walks over to his side and gets in. He pulls out of the parking lot and begins driving home. It’s about a 15 minute drive home.

You really don’t feel good.

As soon as he pulls into the driveway and parks the car, you both get out and walk to the front door. He unlocks it and you both walk in.

Jessica had taken Jack to a sleepover so he won’t be home until tomorrow.

“let’s get you to bed honey,” he says softly as you make your way to the bedroom.

You immediately sit on the bed while Aaron begins grabbing some clothes for him and you.

He grabs himself a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt while he grabs you a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his shirts.

You both change.

The pounding in your head seems to be getting worse and Aaron quickly notices and grabs you some medicine.

You both going into the bathroom connecting to your bedroom and brush your teeth, going straight to bed after.

You hoped you would be able to fall asleep quick since you’re exhausted, but the pounding in your head made it nearly impossible.

Your head is resting on aaron’s chest and he begins rubbing your back, knowing it’ll put you to sleep. “close your eyes, you’ll feel better in the morning honey,” he whispers.

You eventually fall asleep but are woken up at the early hour of 2am, nausea taking over you.

You practically jump out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, barely making it before collapsing onto your knees as you start throwing up in the toilet.

You feel Aaron pull your hair back and rub your back. “it’s okay you’re okay,” he tells you.

“aar-” you try to say are but cut off as you continue to throw up.

“it’s okay I gotcha,” he says in a soft tone.

After you finish throwing up, he grabs a washcloth, wets in with cold water and holds it against the back of your neck while you lean against him.

“i’m sorry Aaron I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper to him.

“honey don’t apologize, I want to take care of you when your sick. I love you,” he says softly, as he grabs a hair tie and pulls your hair up.

“I love you too.”

“do you think you’re ready to go back to bed,” he quietly asks you.

You start to feel the nausea coming back and you immediately shake your head no as you put your head back over the toilet, throwing up again.

Aaron continues to rub your back and reassure you that you’ll be okay.

“aaron,” you whine.

“I know y/n i’m sorry,” he says softly.

You lean back onto his chest as you finish throwing up. He kisses your head and puts the washcloth back onto the back on your neck.

“i’m gonna go get you some water, okay?” he asks you. You just nod.

He comes back not even a minute later with a glass of water. “rinse your mouth out honey.” He lifts the glass up to your lips, allowing you to get the water in your mouth.

Everything hurts.

“let’s get you back to bed honey,” aaron tells you. He picks you up gently and take you over to the bed, lifting the comforter to put you under it.

“i’ll be right back,” he tells you softly before walking out.

He returns moments later, a bucket in his hand along with another glass of water.

He sets the bucket on the ground, next to you, just in case you need to throw up again. He sits next to you and puts his hand on your forehand, disappointed to see how warm it feels.

He walks into the bathroom and comes out with another wet washcloth and sets it on your forehead this time.

“drink some more water sweetie,” he says softly as he lifts the glass of water to your lips. You take a few sips of water.

“Thank you for staying with me Aaron, I love you,” you tell him sleepily.

“I’ll always be here for you y/n. In sickness and in health, remember? I love you. Get some rest, i’ll be here when you wake up,” he tells you as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You close your eyes and let sleep consume you, knowing you have the best husband in the world.

#aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch imagine #sickfic #married life #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff

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slutforsilverfoxes · 8 months

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Pls enjoy a mostly fluffy but also slightly suggestive Hotch x gn!reader imagine below the cut bc this man plagues my thots 25/8 🙃

You’re brushing your teeth on a lazy Saturday morning, leaning against the wall of the bathroom while your husband stands at the sink. He lets the foamy remnants of toothpaste fall from between his parted lips into the basin before rinsing out his mouth and releasing a soft sigh, ready to start the day. Then he looks up in the mirror to meet your eyes and finds your hand stalled, toothbrush unmoving while you stare at him.

“There’s no way,” he rumbles out through a laugh, and your eyebrows scrunch adorably in confusion. “I mean,” he clarifies, turning around to face you and leaning against the marble countertop with his arms crossed, “there’s no way you’re turned on right now.”

“‘m not!” you protest, the sound garbled by the toothbrush hanging between your lips. You push him aside to get to the sink and finish brushing your teeth, the back of your neck heating up under his knowing gaze.

His hands settle on your waist, giving an affectionate squeeze. With a teasing lilt in his voice, he asks, “What was it that did it for you this time?” He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck and mumbles, “Thinking about my teeth biting you perhaps?” Then a delicate kiss to your shoulder and, “How small the toothbrush looks in my hand? I know that’s one of your favorites.” He wraps his arms fully around your smaller frame and rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. Finally, with a wicked grin he concludes, “No, no, I’ve got it. It was the spitting that did it for you, you little freak.”

“Sometimes being married to a profiler sucks,” you laugh, breaking out of his hold and moving back into the bedroom to get dressed in a failed attempt to hide your flushed cheeks.

“I’ll give you that,” he hums in agreement, poking his head around the corner to watch you dress. You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you mentally prepare yourself for the out of pocket comment sure to come. “But aren’t I lucky the profiler I’m married to always swallows?”

“Aaron Hotchner!”

The bathroom door squeaks on its hinges when he rushes to close it with a cheeky laugh, narrowly missing your shirt hitting him in the face.

—————

I am simply unwell.

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24

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floralemi12 · 2 months

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This is my first time writing, so please be kind :) let me know anymore hotch x reader or criminal minds x reader stories you want to see💗

The bad morning

Y/N was having bad morning. Her car broke down, so she had to take the metro, and to top it all off, as soon as she stepped out of the platform, the clouds broke and down came heavy rainfall, soaking her from top to bottom. That’s how she found herself rushing through the bullpen, and practically throwing herself at her desk.

“Rough morning” Derek teased, from where he was sat at his own desk. “Rough life” y/n groaned, trying to ring her clothes out from the rain. “What happened sugar plum?” Garcia asked, dropping a fresh cup of coffee onto y/n’s desk. “Thank you” she smiled appreciatively. “Just a bad morning” she added, taking a sip. “I’m sorry, do you need anything?” Garcia smiled, wiping some of the dripping mascara from underneath y/n’s eye. “I’m okay, I think I’m just going to change into some clothes from my go bag” y/n said, reaching underneath her bag for the bag in question.

Without saying anything else y/n stalked off to the bathrooms, bumping into a chest as she went. “Sorry.. sorry!” She quickly apologised. “you okay?” A familiar voice asked, she looked up to see who she had bumped into, and was met with the face of her long time crush, and boss, Hotch. “I’m fine, sorry” she rushed out, taking a step back. “What happened?” He asked, taking in her appearance. “Ugh, a bad morning” she sighed, wanting to get out of her clothes, and forget about her terrible morning. “Is there anything I can do?” Hotch asked her, hating the sad look that had appeared in her eyes. It took him by surprise when he saw the state of her, the normally happy, carefree woman, looking frazzled, he missed the smile that he was used to her sporting. “No I’m okay, thank you Hotch, I’m just going to change and I’ll be good as new” she smiled up at him, before continuing to the bathroom.

A few hours later, a fresh outfit, and a dozen files of paperwork completed, y/n stretched her arms above her head before standing from her desk. “Anyone want any coffee?” She asked, looking over at her team. “Me please!” Spencer smiled, a chorus of agreement from Derek and Emily followed. Y/n made her way to the kitchenette to start a fresh pot of coffee, taking out 4 mugs and preparing them each to how her friends like it. Once she was done, she handed them out and returned to her desk, only to find it with a small box, which definitely wasn’t there before. “Huh?” She whispered to herself, opening up the box to find a singular, cupcake with rainbow sprinkles, her favourite. Looking around, she took note to see if anyone was watching her, trying to figure out who the mysterious sender was. Not noticing anything suspicious, she shrugged and accepted the cupcake with a real smile on her face for the first time that day.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes were watching her through the slit in his office blinds, wearing a grin that he wouldn’t admit to anyone, as he saw the happy expression make its way back onto her face.

Just as y/n finished the sweet treat, her phone buzzed from beside her on the desk. Picking it up she saw the familiar contact name of her boss and couldn’t help the grin that followed.

Boss Man: I hope it made up for your bad day :)

#criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #bau x reader #criminal minds fluff #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner

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mrs-prentiss · 3 months

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with all due respect you guys better count your days because if i click “emily prentiss x reader” and there’s a fucking aaron hotchner fic there instead of emily’s i’m going to start flipping tables…so stop 😐

#emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #criminal minds

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ebullientheart · 9 months

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dogs. aaron hotchner x reader

content — dogs🤍. fluff. humour. fem!bau!reader. brief mention of case. one swear. sorta sunshine!reader.

5 times you try to convince hotch to get a dog with you +1 time it works.

1. the scent dogs

a frazzled officer had handed you the leads of two sniffer dogs, running away on the insistence his captain was going to ‘kill me for letting them piss on his van again’. you had snorted sympathetically, meaning to tell him you’d love to help out but your unit chief would be expecting you; he was already running away.

you laughed and accepted your fate, wrapping the leads tightly around your knuckles and sitting cross-legged with them. they were eager for your affection and silly voices, even though they were squashing you in their best attempt at hugging. two large german shepherds, but probably the friendliest police dogs you’d ever seen.

“how do these things always happen to you, agent?”

hotch saw the way your shoulders stiffened, and regretted scaring you. the dogs seemed to pick up on this too, turning to the man with low growls at his interruption. you stifled your mirth at their reaction and twisted on the spot to look up at your slightly formidable, but currently intimidated by the dogs, boss.

you chanced a shrug, careful not to dislodge the canine leaning on your shoulder, “one of many mysteries, sir. wanna say hi?”

the look he gave you then was priceless; it was pure disgust. but at your giddy grin, he did crack the smallest of smiles on the hard stone of his face.

i wish i could make him smile all the time. no, shut up.

your mind was not on your side as you tried not to flush, instead burying yourself in between the dogs and letting them yip happily at the attention.

“don’t you just want one of them forever? or maybe both. look how cute they are!” you put your face between theirs.

hotch risked a muffled laugh and extended a hand, wondering how you were an adult. instead of putting your palm in his own, though you were severely tempted, you handed him the leads for the dogs.

“careful, there’s an angry captain on the prowl with a piss stained van. okay paperwork, bye!”

like the officer before you, you were gone before he could open his mouth to reprimand you. not that he was planning on reprimanding you. he was planning on asking if you wanted to get a drink post-case, but for now he had two other problems in the form of two disgruntled german shepherds.

2. the stray

the neighbourhood you were canvassing was not exactly upmarket. it had a high concentration of crime and poverty, and with that, plenty of malnourished animals that likely carried many diseases. no matter how much you loved them, and you did still love them, you were not planning to kneel down with them and touch. you weren’t carrying hand sanitizer.

“the unsub should be familiar to almost all of these people, he’s prominent in this community, so if- erm, shoo?”

seeing hotch startle back and weakly attempt to ‘shoo’ a stray dog was probably the highlight of your day. she was a small thing, possibly some kind of terrier, but too underfed to tell for sure. she sniffed at his ankles as though he’d have any food kept there, but besides that, made no threatening move. you took pity, unwrapping the sandwich you’d got from the hotel cafeteria to eat for lunch, and ripped it up into pieces to make it easier for her to chew. she wolfed it down and skittered off.

hotch frowned, “why would you give your lunch away?”

“she clearly needed it more than me. i hate people who abandon their pets….” you lamented, watching the assortment of strays on the outskirts of each alley. the dogs formed small packs, while the cats hunted alone, equipped with the ability to catch birds and mice.

the two of you kept walking, knocking on doors, when the idea struck you on the way back to the local precinct. you were only teasing, lacking even an ounce of sincerity.

“you should adopt one! i’m sure jack would be thrilled, and i don’t mind holding it on the plane home.”

he just deadpanned you and walked away at a pace you struggled to catch up with. eventually, he took pity as you had on the dog, and slowed down for you to fall in step next to him once more.

3. movie night

it had taken him quite a while, but hotch did eventually ask you out for that post-case drink, which turned into a few dinners, which turned into regular dates, until the two of you had a designated saturday night. this time, you were at his apartment watching a film he’d picked out from his limited stack of dvd’s.

“oh my god!”

hotch had left you alone for two minutes to get you a glass of water.

he raced back into the room, causing his hair to become disarrayed for probably the first time in his life, only to see you pausing the movie to point out… a dog.

he huffed, “are you kidding? my knees can’t cope with that, woman.”

you laughed, beckoning him over, “i didn’t mean to scare you, but look how cute he is.”

“i can see just fine from here.”

“suit yourself.”

but he caved, and crossed the distance between you. not to stare enthusiastically at the dog, but to kiss you on the cheek and press play on the remote while you were distracted by his affection.

you hummed, “i think i’m gonna get a dog.”

he raised a brow, “it’s never moving in here.”

now both completely ignoring the film playing behind his back, you smiled, “and i am?”

at the risk of sounding too forward and scaring you off, despite you being one of the most intense people he knew (and he knew garcia), hotch merely offered you a shrug and another quick peck before returning to the kitchen. you could hardly contain the glee on your face as you burrowed into the cushion you were clutching and tried not to let your thoughts get ahead of themselves.

4. jack’s plea

“i made a mistake.” hotch murmured to himself, watching you and jack bond.

as he once predicted, you were going to be the death of him. albeit a happy, glittery death.

your activity of choice to bond with the child you’d only officially met once so far, was to take him to a park. a dog park, where you volunteered in your free time. some people took their dogs there, others dropped them off with a volunteer for the workday. jack was jovially bonding with your daily pups, a young golden retriever, and an elderly pomeranian.

he tried to stack them, but you quickly intervened.

“mistake? the only mistake was not letting me get matching boots for him and the dogs.”

hotch just looked at you blankly, lacking the heat of a glare, but clearly unamused with your antics. externally, at least, because on the inside he was definitely smiling fondly at you. you took that from his eyes.

jack, at that moment, rushed to you with the enthusiastic dogs on his heels. you didn’t miss the fact hotch didn’t flinch as they jumped at him, whereas a few months ago he definitely would of. you decided that was progress, kissed him on the cheek, and knelt down to speak to jack.

he whispered conspiratorially, though loud enough for his father to hear, “i want to take one home.”

hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, while you looked between the two gleeful you, “well, little man, these lovely guys belong to some other lovely people who would miss them very much.”

you weren’t going to promise him on of his own. it wasn’t your place, and you were not in the business of making empty promises; you’d all but accepted that aaron’s reluctance translated to ‘never gonna happen’. it was just fun to tease.

jack nodded, “that’s true. i like the big ones, anyway.”

that was not what his dad wanted to hear, but you were elated.

“finally,” you laughed, entwining your arms behind aaron’s neck when jack went back to play, “a hotchner after my own heart.”

he only laughed back, spinning you around so you both had eyes on the adventurous kid, and keeping his arm firmly around your waist. eventually, he responded, “we work too much for a dog.”

the fact he’d even got that far in thinking about it? you considered it a win.

5. clooney

morgan didn’t ask the team for favours all that often, but occasionally he asked one of you to dogsit, if he knew nobody else could check in, feed, walk, and so on. reid never took that bait.

one extended, long weekend, on which he planned to travel to a nice resort on his time off, he handed responsibility to you. at first, you’d been delighted, but not even a day into bonding with your new pal, you’d fallen with the flu. fallen being an accurate term for your dramatics. luckily for you, you’d recently moved in with aaron.

luckily for him too, because you made much better pancakes than he did.

so while you were ill and uncharacteristically miserable, he was playing tug of war with the dog, and cursing himself for thoroughly enjoying it. jack rolled around laughing, and he was struggling to fend off the invasive thoughts that were result of your persistence. he had once promised to dedicating the parts of his life that weren’t reserved for profiling to making you happy, and while that was usually an easy task, a dog would…

but he cut the thoughts off when clooney peed on his kitchen floor.

yeah, fuck no.

later on in the day, he ventured into your shared room to check on you. pitifully, you curled into his side of the bed and offered a morose sniff in reply to his gentle greeting.

“how’re you feeling, honey?”

you sighed, unfolding the covers from where they were tucked into your chin, “you know how you felt when jack accidentally hit you in the skull with his metal lunchbox? worse.”

despite your detailed description, aaron took your verbose approach to his question as a sign you were on the mend. he brought you another glass of water, and let jack give you a get well soon card, while holding your breath to risk contaminating him. on the front, a rough sketch of clooney, holding a flower.

“this is the best card i’ve ever seen, jack.” you assured him, propping it on your nightstand.

“if we had a dog, i could put him on the card!”

you nodded, “that is true.” aaron rolled his eyes.

he was saved by your chest racking cough, ushering jack out the room to let you rest. jack was happy to run back down to clooney.

aaron gave you ‘the look’; it meant calm down and go to sleep. he gave it to the team a lot.

you had to giggle as he went downstairs to jack’s onslaught of ‘can we get a dog? when?’. you were proud of your little ally as you laid back down.

having to work a case on your birthday was unfortunate but unavoidable. the team bought you a cake, which you really appreciated, and until the strangulations, there was a celebratory air to the unit. on the plane home two days later, spencer even offered to let you win at chess. you flipped him off for that.

in the car, you yawned dramatically. amused, aaron asked, “tired?”

you mumbled back, “jus’ wanna go home and see jack.”

he couldn’t ignore the way his heart tightened at that admission. glancing over to your sleepy face, he didn’t think he’d yet been this in love with you. if he regretted the decision he’d made on a phone call to jessica while in california, he would remember this moment. by the time he pulled into the driveway, you’d long since closed your eyes.

“honey, wake up. we’re home.”

you all but slugged your way to the front door, aaron’s hand between your shoulder blades, urging you onward. he carried both your bags, and tomorrow you’d apologise for not helping. today, you just wanted to check your stepson was tucked in for the night, then crawl into your own bed and collapse.

to your confusion, the tv was still playing. which wouldn’t be strange, jessica did put it on sometimes, but it was playing cartoons. you frowned, off to investigate. if you’d turned and seen aaron’s smile, you would’ve been more confused.

“hey, little man, what are you still doing up?” you opened your arms and he ran to them, while you gave his aunt a quizzical look. she gestured for you to turn around, jack giggling.

behind you, aaron held a gorgeous puppy, looking at you with round, brown eyes, inset in a face of smooth fur. his tail whipped back and forth excitedly as you reached out to hold him. aaron deposited him carefully in your arms, overcome with second hand joy at the expression on your face.

tearfully, from your exhausted state and fear of his answer, you asked, “are you kidding?”

he shook his head, while jack drew your attention again. he wanted to pet the puppy.

you lightly put him to the floor, where he ambled around with little grace, absorbing all the attention you had to offer him. at some point, aaron had to intervene and put jack to bed, but you stayed with the dog for hours on.

almost nervously, aaron asked, “do you like him?”

you gaped at the ridiculous question, “i love him. and i love you.”

there was a quiet moment, where he admired the happiness before him, and you hugged your new friend some more.

“can he sleep in with us, aaron?”

“absolutely not.”

#🤍ebullientheart #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #humour #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x reader #hotch fluff #dog #cute dogs #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #sunshine!reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #bau!reader #hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x sunshine!reader #grumpy x sunshine

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austinshotbutlers · 1 year

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The Wedding Date - Part Four

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner × Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: Your sister's wedding is approaching fast and the thought of showing your boyfriend off to you family and your ex-boyfriend seems like a very appealing idea. The only problem is... you don't have a boyfriend. Luckily your stony faced, serious, sexy boss has agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.9K

TW: Smut (Hotch is a boob man at the start, semi-public sex? (they have a quickie in a bathroom), unprotected sex, vaginal fingering), swear words, violence.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! Part four is finally here! I’m sorry it took so long and this part is also the longest one so far. I apologise for any mistakes, I don’t know how well I proofread it! But I hope you enjoy it, it’s fluffy, smutty and also a little bit angsty. Please let me know what you’d like to see in part 5!

Being woken up by the bright sun shining through the gap in the curtains was not ideal when dealing with a hangover. Your head pounded as you buried it in the pillow, trying to remember just how much you had to drink at the party. You smiled to yourself as you replayed the events of last night in your brain; you couldn’t believe you and Aaron had sex. You couldn’t believe the two of you had admitted your love for one another.

You sat up slowly, expecting to see Aaron still asleep but there was no sign of him. You laid back against the headboard, chewing lightly on your thumbnail with a look of pure satisfaction on your face. You hadn’t slept with anyone in a long time and it had been an even longer time since anyone had left you feeling so satisfied, so loved. No man had ever made love to you the way Aaron did last night and it was just incredible.

Then, your bedroom door opened gently and Aaron walked in, carrying a tray of food and drink. He looked up and smiled when he saw you were awake.

“Morning.” He smiled, as he walked in and placed the tray down on your bedside cabinet. “I thought you might be hungover so I took the liberty to bring you Advil, water, black coffee, plain toast and a banana. Whatever might do the trick.”

Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness and you immediately reached out for the pack of Advil and water. “Thank you so much.” You smiled, popping the Advil in your mouth and taking a huge sip of water.

Aaron sat down on the bed beside you and leaned forward for a kiss which you happily reciprocated, placing a soft kiss on his slightly chapped lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling Aaron in deeper and he adjusted your bodies so that you were back lying down. You both leaned in for another kiss but you bumped heads in eagerness and laughed but Aaron quickly captured your lips again.

“I’m still naked from last night.” You giggled and Aaron groaned into your ear.

“God you make me feel like a horny teenager again.” He murmured and you laughed, placing light kisses behind his ear. Aaron pulled the duvet down to reveal your breasts and you shuddered at the sudden loss of warmth the fabric was providing. Aaron spread kisses from you neck down to the valley of your breasts and you took a deep breath as his mouth fell to your right.

“Oh!” You managed to moan out as Aaron closed his mouth around your nipple, his tongue swirling while his other hand massaged your left. “That feels so good.” You mumble breathlessly, running your hand through his hair. The pleasure from Aaron’s tongue flicking and sucking on your nipple while his other hand kneaded your left breast made your brain foggy with rapture as the building pleasure settled in your lower abdomen.

Suddenly, your bedroom door creaked open and you could hear you mom chatting away as she was about to enter. You shoved Aaron off, who fell back against the mattress, and you frantically pulled the duvet back up to cover yourself.

“Oh my god mom! Have you ever heard of knocking!” You groaned frustratedly. “It’s like being 15 all over again.”

“Sorry, I forgot! It’s all the excitement of the rehearsal dinner tonight!” She said cheerily which told you she didn’t see anything, much to your relief. “How were the parties last night?” She asked as she wondered into your room, opening the curtains and the sun blinding you.

“Jesus mom.” You hissed and squinted your eyes. “Well the bachelorette was fun, you should have seen Sarah dancing.” You laughed.

“Well I heard you at 3 this morning.” Your mom said and you and Aaron threw each other a panicked look. Had your mom really heard you two have sex last night? “You slammed the front door so loud,” she went on to say. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake up your dad and Aaron as well.” And the two of you relaxed. “So! Tonight, we need to be heading to Thomas’ Parents’ house at around 4, guests will be arriving from 5 and I expect you not to drink so much tonight please Y/N. I do not want you hungover on your sister’s wedding day.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re making it sound like I have a problem but whatever, it all sounds good.” You said trying to get your mom to leave the two of you.

“Make sure you wear a nice dress and Aaron, I hope to see you in a suit again.” You mom winked to him and Aaron awkwardly chuckled.

“Of course Mrs Y/L/N.” He smiled politely.

“Great! I shall leave you two now. I can tell when my company is not wanted.” She joked and quickly walked out of your room, closing the door behind her.

“Well…” you sighed. “That killed the mood a bit didn’t it?”

“Just a little.” Aaron said, turning back to look at you.

You started to laugh. “The way we both looked at each other when my mom said she heard me come home last night.” You tried to catch your breath. “We really thought we had been caught! It’s like being a teenager again when I used to sneak my boyfriends in through the window in the bathroom and always being so scared my parents were gonna hear us.”

Aaron laughed. “You were quite the rebellious teen.”

“Weren’t we all? At least I didn’t have a punk phase like Emily did.” You giggled. “What were you like as a teenager?”

“While you may not have had a punk phase in high school, I hate to say that mine was in college.” Aaron said.

“Shut up! There is absolutely no way you were a punk. I couldn’t even imagine what you would have looked like.” You’re practically in hysterics now, trying to picture Aaron in college.

“When you come to my apartment, I’ll have to show you the photos.” He said, amused at how entertained you were by the thought of his, very awful attempt, at a punk phase.

***

“I miss you too buddy.” Aaron smiled into the phone “But I’ll be home in 3 days and you can tell me all about your museum trip with aunt Jessica as soon as I get back. I can’t wait to hear what you saw.”

You smiled from your place at the dressing table, listening to Aaron talk to Jack as you put mascara on your lashes.

“I love you too.” Aaron said. “Be good for Jessica. Yes I love you too Jack.” He chuckled. “Bye buddy.” And he hung up the phone.

“How is he?” You asked, turning to face Aaron.

“He’s good. He went to the museum today and bought a giant shark teddy.” He said.

“He’ll have to show it to me when I next see him.” You smiled , going back to finishing your makeup and Aaron’s heart swelled because Jack loved you. Whenever he would come to the BAU, he would always make a beeline for your desk knowing you would have a chocolate for him in your drawer and make him laugh with some silly story that he would then go home and tell Aaron about 15 times.

“He would love that.” Aaron smiled.

You stood up and turned to show Aaron your dress. “How do I look?”

Aaron felt like he’d stopped breathing as he took in the gorgeous dark green dress you had on. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating every curve and falling just above your knee.

“You look gorgeous.” He breathed out and walked over to you. “So, so gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning in and placing soft kisses behind your ear.

“If you keep that up, we’re going to be late to the dinner.” You mumbled breathlessly as Aaron continued to kiss your neck.

“I don’t care.” He said lowly against your skin.

“Neither do I but my mom will go pure psycho on us and the rest of the team will be coming to claim our dead bodies.” You joked and Aaron chuckled. “But I promise we can continue this later tonight.”

“Deal.” Aaron smirked as he pulled away, standing up straight to look at you. You reached up to tighten and straighten the silky red tie he was wearing and smoothed down his shirt.

“You look very handsome Agent Hotchner.” And you reached up to give him a peck on the lips. “We better get going before my mom starts hassling us.”

Aaron reached for his suit jacket and swiftly put it on before the two of you exited your bedroom and made your way down the stairs. Your mom came into view and she gasped when she saw you.

“Oh sweetheart! You look beautiful.” She smiled.

“Thanks mom.” You said smiling back.

Aaron placed his hand on your lower back and you both made your way to the car.

“So Aaron,” you dad started as he drove. “Have you enjoyed your time in LA?”

“Yes, very much Sir,” Aaron said. “It’s nice to be here for leisure and not dealing with a case.”

“Do you enjoy working for the BA…. Whatever it is?” Your mom asked.

“I do enjoy working at the BAU, my son thinks I’m a superhero.” Aaron chuckled.

“Oh you have a son?” Your mom questioned obnoxiously.

“Yes, his name is Jack. He’s almost 8 now.” He said with a smile and you placed your hand on Aaron’s thigh to apologise for your mom’s abruptness.

“Would you want anymore children?” She continued.

“Mom!” You called our frustratedly. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s fine Y/N,” Aaron smiled to you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. “I suppose I am open to more children but only if it feels right.”

The rest of the car ride went in a silence, your mom and dad occasionally exchanging a few words and sentences but you soon arrived at the house of you sister’s future in-laws. You took in the extravagant building.

“At least we know Sarah is going to be rich for the rest of her life.” You joked to Aaron and he chuckled.

“Oh shush!” Your mom reprimanded you and she knocked a few times on the door before Sarah excitedly ran to open it.

“Can you believe I’m getting married tomorrow!” She said excitedly.

You all made your way into the lavish home and were greeted by Thomas and his parents.

“Luke is here, he’s just in the dining room.” Thomas smiled as he shook your dad’s hand.

Anger flared in Aaron’s chest at the mention of Luke as their conversation from last night replayed in his head. You noticed Aaron tense up and placed your hand on his back, rubbing softly to help him relax.

***

The large party sat around the dining table as the second course had just been finished, chatter and laughter filling the room.

“Sarah and Y/N never used to get on! They hated each other growing up.” Your mom was telling the table.

“That’s because Y/N couldn’t stand the fact that I was more popular than her.” Sarah interjected. “She was far more interested in her boring criminology books.”

“We all know you were only popular because mom had to beg the coach to let you on the cheer squad.” You laughed and Sarah threw you a glare.

“Well at least you two girls get on together now.” Your dad said, trying to calm the conversation.

“Get on? No. Tolerate? Yes.” You said laughing and a few chuckles came from around the room.

Aaron looked around the large table at the guests and his eyes settled on Luke who was downing another drink, much to his girlfriend’s dismay. She was muttering something to him and he replied angrily. Always the gentleman.

“Do you want more wine?” Your voice drew Aaron from his thoughts and he turned to you.

“Please.” He smiled, holding out his glass as your poured. “Thank you.”

Aaron pulled his chair in closer so that he could rest his hand on your thigh and the small action sent instant waves of calmness through your body.

“So, Aaron and Y/N. Why don’t you tell us what it’s like working for the FBI.” Thomas said, everyone’s eyes falling onto the two of you.

“It’s hard work but we love it.” You said, looking up at Aaron with a smile.

“Tell us about the serial killers.” Thomas pleaded.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate dinner talk honey.” Sarah said.

“I’d like to hear about it.” Your dad interjected.

“Maybe we should leave this talk until after the wedding.” Thomas’ mother said unimpressed.

You and Aaron looked at each other as everyone spoke over one another and laughed.

“We profile more than just serial killers.” You said.

“Have you ever shot anyone?” Thomas asked eagerly.

Aaron opened his mouth to respond but your mom’s desperate tone cut him off. “Why don’t we go back to talking about the wedding!”

You turned to Aaron and rolled your eyes before the excited chatter of the wedding filled the room again.

Eventually, the guests dispersed from the table, mingling around the grand house with one another. Your mom was excitedly chatting away with Sarah, Thomas and Thomas’ mom while your dad was talking to a couple of your great aunts. Luke was solemnly stood in the corner, sipping slowly at a large tumbler of whiskey. Aaron had his hand placed at the small of your back, holding you close as your cousin spoke.

“You should have seen your mom’s face when Thomas asked if you had ever shot anyone!” Liv laughed. “She looked absolutely horrified.”

“Well, you know better than anyone my mom hates my job.” You replied with an eye roll. “She never wanted me to take my job at the BAU.”

“I’m glad you did take it.” Aaron said, rubbing a circle on your back. “Or we never would have met.”

“Blah!” Liv said. “You guys are so in love it makes me sick. Where can I get myself an Aaron?” She joked.

“Join the FBI.” You replied with a laugh.

“I’m going to go and get another drink and consider your proposal.” Liv chuckled and walked off to the kitchen.

You looked up at Aaron with a smile and leaned in for a kiss which he happily reciprocated, placing a gentle peck on your lips. You leaned in for another but Aaron pulled away.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.” He mumbled into your ear. “You look so breathtaking in this dress.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled shyly into Aaron’s neck. “Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to control myself.” You replied and looked around the room. Everyone was occupied or engaged in conversation, all centred around Sarah and Thomas. “I don’t think anyone would notice if we disappeared.” You said and the implications in your tone told Aaron exactly what you were thinking.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his hands sliding to yours hips and you nodded eagerly.

The two of you quickly made your way down the long hall to the ostentatious bathroom and checked if anyone was around before you both stepped into the room, locking the door behind you. In an instant, Aaron’s lips were on yours, catching them in a hungry kiss and you stepped back, the back of your legs hitting the the bathroom counter. Aaron swiftly lifted you up and effortlessly placed you softly onto the counter. You parted your legs so Aaron could stand between them, letting him be closer to you as he kissed your jaw and you pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders.

“I never took you as a quickie in the bathroom kind of guy.” You joked breathlessly.

“Neither did I.” He said as lips trailed down to your collarbone. “But you can be quite persuasive Agent Y/L/N.”

You pushed your clothed centre into Aaron’s crotch and he groaned into your ear as you slid your body closer to his from your position on the counter. You could feel him getting harder as each second passed and your kiss grew rougher and more passionate.

“This dress is just so beautiful.” Aaron mumbled. “You are so beautiful.”

You kissed him again hard on the lips and began to unbuckle his belt.

“Eager?” He jokingly muttered as you unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them.

“We don’t have long until they realise we’ve disappeared.” You said. “And I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Aaron pulled you closer to him and hastily hiked the skirt of your dress up. You could feel how hard he was through his pants and leaned into his ear.

“I need you.” You mumbled desperately.

He reached for his wallet out his back pocket and quickly ruffled through before muttering frustratedly.

“Fuck! I don’t have anything.” He said gruffly.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled as you pulled him back to you by his tie. “I’m on birth control.”

“Are you sure?” He asked. “It’s not always 100% effective…”

You cut him off with a kiss before reaching for his boxers, slipping your hand beneath the waistband and pulling his cock free. Aaron groaned as you took him in your hand and reached down to your panties, pushing the fabric to the side and sliding his fingers inside your slick folds.

“So wet already.” Aaron grumbled and you gasped as he began to pump his index and middle fingers in and out of you slowly.

“Please Aaron.” You pleaded and helped line his length up to your entrance.

Aaron pushed his cock inside you slowly and your hands grabbed onto the edge of the counter tightly. Once he was completely inside of you, he stilled and gave a moment for your body to adjust.

“You ok?” Aaron mumbled and you nodded.

“Yes!” You exhaled.

Aaron began slow thrusts, rocking back and forth, driving into you over and over again. Each thrust felt like ecstasy to him as your walls clenched around his length. It was enough to send him into overdrive. You moaned out quietly and bit your lips to stifle any noises.

“Feel so good.” Aaron grumbled into your neck as his pace picked up and his grip on your hips tightened.

“Aaron!” You moaned at the building pressure between your legs, your grip on the edge of the counter so tight as Aaron’s thrusts grew faster and harder. He placed soft kisses on your neck as he continued to fuck you against the counter and you felt as though you were about to crumble from the pleasure. “Fuck! Right there…” you gasped out as he hit the perfect spot and he positioned himself to make sure he continued hitting the right spot.

“Where do you want me to?…” Aaron began to ask but was cut off by a moan from himself as his own pleasure neared its climax.

“Inside.” You managed to mumble. “Aaron! I’m going to…” all brain function was clouded as your orgasm took over your body.

Aaron buried his head into your shoulder, his thrusts growing sloppy as his own climax neared. A soft moan from your lips was all he needed and he was tumbling over the edge and you gasped at the sudden hot sensation as he filled you up. Aaron continued rocking his hips as he rode out his orgasm. Then, the two of you froze as the doorknob began to aggressively twist as someone attempted to enter the bathroom.

“Occupied!” You managed to call out and you heard a gruff mumble reply from the other side of the door. “Quick, we should get cleaned up.” You whispered and Aaron nodded, pulling out of you slowly and reaching for several tissues from the countertop.

Once you were both cleaned up and looking much more presentable than you were a mere 5 minutes prior, you unlocked the door and quickly exited.

“Remember the quick fucks we used to have?” A voice mumbled from behind you as you and Aaron began to walk down the hall. You turned to see Luke standing against the wall, taking a large swig from his glass.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, taken aback by his abruptness.

“Don’t act dumb Y/N, we all know you two just fucked in the bathroom. We used to do it all the time.” Luke slurred as he walked towards you and Aaron. “I told you she was a good fuck didn’t I?”

“I don’t want any trouble Luke,” Aaron said sternly as he stepped in front of you, shielding you from Luke in a protective manner.

“Come on Aaron, admit it! You’re only with Y/N for the sex. God knows that’s the only reason I stayed with her for five years.”

Anger grew inside Aaron and he stepped forward to Luke. “Just go back to the party and stop bothering Y/N. I warned you last night to leave her alone.”

Luke stepped away and threw his hands up defensively. “Hey whatever! We’re cool man. I mean, I can’t say I envy you being stuck with the needy slut.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate, his fist formed a ball and without a second thought, he threw a punch to Luke’s jaw and he fell to the floor from the impact. Everything happened so fast and you barely had time to process the situation but you were back at Aaron’s side in an instant and he wrapped his arms around you. Luke slowly stumbled upright as he found his feet, clinging onto his nose as bright red blood spilled over his suit.

“What the fuck! I think you broke my fucking nose!” Luke shouted.

All the commotion had drawn people’s attention from the party as they all made their way to the hallway to see what had happened.

“Oh my god! What have you done?” Sarah shrieked as she looked at the scene before her.

“Broke my fucking nose!” Luke responded angrily.

“It’s not broken.” Aaron rolled his eyes.

“You had to make this about you didn’t you?!” Sarah fumed, turning to you.

“Wh…what?” You fumbled in shock.

“You couldn’t stand the fact that this week was about me and you had to create a scene!”

You started to laugh at her preposterous suggestion. “Are you serious?”

“Girls! Let’s leave this argument until after the wedding.” Your mom said as she tried to intervene.

“You just can’t get over that I’m getting married first so you had to ruin it.” Sarah continued.

“No Sarah! I just couldn’t stand the fact that your let that,” you aggressively pointed at Luke who was now being fussed over by his girlfriend and Thomas. “Asshole to be a part of it.”

“He dumped you two years ago! Get over it.” Sarah replied angrily.

“Trust me Sarah, I’m fucking over it! And you know what? I’m over this wedding as well.” You exclaimed.

“Y/N!” Your mom hissed.

“She’s a fucking psycho mom!” Sarah said. “No wonder she catches them for a living.

Aaron’s grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer to him, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Why don’t we all calm down and go back to the party?” You dad suggested as he tried to calm the situation.

“I think me and Aaron should go.” You muttered.

“Yes. I think you should.” Sarah said venomously.

“I’ll drive you home.” Your dad offered but you shook your head.

“We’ll just get a cab.” You replied and took Aaron’s hand in yours.

***

“I’m sorry.” Aaron said as the two of you walked into the deserted house.

“For what?” You asked, turning around to face him.

“I escalated the situation. I should have never punched Luke but I couldn’t stand listening to how he spoke about you.” He loosened his tie as he spoke.

“Don’t apologise.” You said sternly, walking over to him and intertwining your hands with his. “I’m lucky to have you defending my honour.” Your tried to joke and Aaron smiled.

“But you’re sister…” He began but you cut him off.

“Needs to realise that not everything is going to be perfectly smooth.” You rolled your eyes. “We’ll know in the morning if I’m still maid of honour. But, it’s going to be hilarious seeing Luke tomorrow standing at the end of the aisle with a broken nose.”

Aaron groaned and rolled his eyes. “I did not break it! It was just a light punch.”

“A light punch? You nearly killed him!” You laughed and Aaron sighed defeatedly despite the small smile on his lips. “But I must admit, it was very sexy.”

Aaron chuckled sheepishly and placed his hands on your hips, still in awe of your appearance and your dress. You leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let’s go upstairs and pretend everything today didn’t happen.” You muttered against Aaron’s lips.

“Everything?” He quizzed, pulling away and raising an eyebrow which caused your to giggle.

“Ok, not everything.” You laughed and the two of you began to trek up the stairs to your bedroom.

When you entered your room, you immediately kicked off your heels and began to unzip your dress. Aaron followed closely behind, taking off his jacket and tie before sitting down on the bed to untie his shoes.

Soon, you and Aaron were sat in bed together, he had his arm wrapped around your shoulders while you nestled into his side. It felt so natural, so domestic. You could still smell Aaron’s cologne on his neck and it smelt like heaven, sending ripples of relaxation through your body.

“I could spend all day in your arms.” You mumbled into his chest.

“I’d love nothing better than to lay in bed with you all day.”Aaron replied.

“What will the team say when they find out about this?” You asked.

“They will definitely tease us. Dave would claim he’d always known we would get together.” Aaron scoffed. “He actually…” he paused, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. “He actually tried to get me to ask you out.”

“Really?” You asked surprise, sitting up straight so that you were facing him.

He chuckled nervously. “Yes. His voice kept circling my head that night I agreed to do this with you. I could hear Dave’s words repeating over and over.”

“What did he say to you?” You asked eagerly.

“He said ‘If you don’t tell Y/N how you feel, I’ll do it for you’ and I couldn’t stand the thought of you finding out how I felt about you from David Rossi of all people.” Aaron laughed.

You suddenly gasped. “Oh my god! Rossi is the reason you bought me those earrings for my birthday isn’t he?”

Heat rose to Aaron’s cheeks before he nodded slowly. “Dave saw you show a picture of them to Garcia and JJ and told me to get them for you. I rarely listen to Dave’s advice when it comes to relationships but this was the one time I listened to a suggestion from him.”

You leaned forward and kissed Aaron passionately, wrapping your arms round his neck. His hand instinctively went to your hips as he held you in place. You pulled away and looked deeply into his eyes.

“I love you.” You said breathlessly.

Aaron smiled brightly. “I love you too.” He said before leaning in to kiss you again.

***

“Did you go to that party with a plan to ruin your sister’s wedding?” Your mom shrieked as she burst into your room. You and Aaron jolted apart at her sudden entrance, her shrill voice piercing your ears.

“Mom, oh my god.” You sighed. “You made us jump!”

“You were very rude to your sister at her rehearsal dinner.” You mom continued, a sour look on her face. “She is downstairs so upset with what happened. You’re lucky she still wants you to be her maid of honour tomorrow.”

“I think you’re both being over dramatic. Luke got what he deserved.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s not my fault Sarah started an unnecessary argument.”

“Luke has got a potential broken nose! We don’t know of he’ll be able to go to the wedding tomorrow.”

“Would that really be so terrible?” You asked.

“Enough! Tomorrow is Sarah’s day, let the past with Luke go and try and behave for the wedding tomorrow.”

“Jesus mom, I’m not 5 anymore.” You huffed at her ridiculous words.

“In Y/N’s defence,” Aaron spoke from his position next to you on the bed. “Luke has said some disgusting things about Y/N this weekend. I don’t usually go round throwing punches but I couldn’t stand there and let him call my girlfriend, your daughter a slut.”

Your mom was taken aback by what Aaron said. She struggled to find the words she wanted to speak.

“Just make sure you apologise to Sarah in the morning, she’s staying here tonight. The night before her wedding and all that.” Your mom muttered and then swiftly exited your room, shutting the door behind her.

“Christ tomorrow is going to be painful.” You groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow.

***

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vxntagedior · 1 year

Text

boss' baby

summary | a drunken night lands you in bed with your unit chief and now pregnant with his baby

pairing | aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warning | angst, CM violence, guns, violence, protective!hotch, possessive!hotch, labor, fluff ending, you and aaron have an unclear relationship status

word count | 2.1k

You held onto your bump as you walked towards the scene. The team was the last to arrive, SWAT and the local PD already on the scene. This was your last case before you went to maternity leave and technically you were supposed to be on desk duty and stay with Garcia. But with it being in DC, Hotch brought Garcia with the rest of them, and in turn Garcia wanted to bring you because she didn’t want to leave you alone.

Practically waddling onto the scene, standing slightly behind Hotch while holding your bump because your vest stopped fitting months ago.

Feeling helpless in your situation, you went to sit by the tents where the radio had been set up, being the only communication that came through the building.

“Is there any communication coming through?” You asked one of the local agents.

“You with the BAU?” You nodded, letting them continue. “He’s asking for your agents.”

You looked back at the team seeing them all engrossed in their tasks, before turning back to the agent, “Call, I’ll talk.”

“Yes, this is SSA L/n.” You said professionally.

“Y/n.” You felt shivers go down your spine, chilled that he knew your name, he must have known the whole team. “Finally pop yet.”

Your eyes widened, your arm wrapping around your bump, who was this man and how did he know about you.

“I’ve heard you’ve been asking for an agent.” You ignored his question, staying on topic, hoping to get him out.

“You let one of your agents in, I let out the kids.” His command was clear, hanging up before you even got the chance to answer.

There were no words for you to say, shocked, you knew that no one could go in, there wasn’t a line of communication and you knew that you’d have to drop your gun when you got in, and there wasn’t a direct shot from the outside.

Hotch would be furious if he heard that you’d talk to the unsub on the phone but once hearing the gunshot from the inside, you couldn’t wait any longer.

While the rest of the team tried to find a way to look in, you were able to find a vest that was big enough to go around your bump, one of the agents giving you an earpiece so you could give the go signal to come in.

You ran as quickly as you could towards the scene, passing the rest of the team who didn’t notice, until they heard the sounds of other officers.

“L/n!” Hotch yelled, starting to run after you, the rest of the team looking what was right in front of them. “Y/n, stop!”

Morgan was quick enough to grab his unit chief, pulling him back before going in. “Hotch, Hotch!”

Aaron couldn’t breathe, seeing you go into the building, not understanding why you went in without saying anything.

“You can’t go in after her.”

“The b-baby.” He muttered.

Hotch never really talked about the pregnancy to the team much, they all knew you were pregnant with his baby, but the two of you weren’t together. Throughout your pregnancy, Hotch continued to treat you the same but once your bump started to grow, he became more protective and the whole team saw.

He felt helpless in the situation, all he could do was just stand by and wait for something to know that you were alright. Turning, he made his way towards the comm station.

“Is there anything?”

“The unsub called, he told SSA L/n that either her or one of your team members would have to go in so he would release the hostages.” They explained.

Hotch closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting it out and opening his eyes back up. “Does she have a line of communication?”

“She has an earpiece to let us know when it’s clear to come in.”

“Thank you.” He nodded before walking back to the team.

“The hostages should come out any minute now.” He said. “The unsub wanted a trade.”

“One of us for them.” Spencer whispered.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Garcia whispered, “One of you would have gone in.”

“I don’t know babygirl, but it's done.”

Hotch didn’t know how long he had been waiting, the kids should have been out by now.

“Agent Hotchner!” Hotch turned, seeing an agent coming towards him with one of the phones, “it’s the unsub, he’s asking for you.”

“Hotchner.” Hotch’s voice was deep, raw, he was angry at this point. “Where are the children?”

“Oh, don’t be impatient Aaron.” The unsub laughed, “Must you ruin a good time, we’re having so much fun aren’t we Y/n.”

“Aaron!” You sounded winded.

“Y/n, are you-” Hotch didn’t finish his sentence.

“Ah, ah ah.” The unsub cackled. “Agent L/n is busy at the moment.”

“Don’t you dare touch her.” Since the pregnancy, you learned that Hotch was possessive of not only the baby but you. Any night where you weren’t on a case, he’d be at your apartment and out in different states, he’d always share a room with you.

The two of you danced around your feelings for years, everyone knew that. Everyone had their bets on when one of you would finally confess your love for each other. He doted towards you during the pregnancy, getting up in the middle night to go to your apartment because you called wanting food at 3am.

It was clear as day the two of you were going to be wonderful parents and the team was happy that the two of you happy with each other.

“The children should be out any minute.” Once again, the unsub hung up before Hotch could get another word in. The team surrounded the perimeter waiting for them while Hotch stormed towards the Comm station.

“Where is the line that directs to L/n.” He was heaving, he needed to hear your voice, to make sure you were okay.

“Y/n.” He spoke into the microphone.

“Aaron.” You whispered, he could barely hear it and wasn’t expecting you to answer. He sighed, relief filling him.

“Hi sweetheart.” He whispered, smiling. “I know I should be mad at you but I’m happy you're okay. I need to listen to me sweetheart, you need to give me the word for us to move in, once those children are out, I can’t keep you in there, I need you, okay.”

He didn't hear anything for you, keeping the microphone in his hand, turning back to see the children coming out of the building into the hands of the team.

Hotch was practically glaring at the microphone just waiting to hear your voice.

“Now!” You said in the microphone.

“Move in!” He yelled towards SWAT and the team, running in with them.

Hotch practically jumped up the stairs, searching every floor briefly before going up to the next.

“Robert Handson, stay right there!” He shouted, seeing the unsub starting to make his way towards you.

You were pushed against the wall, your vest and gun thrown across the floor, your hands protecting your bump.

“Agent Hotchner, come to save your damsel.” He stalked towards you, pulling you against his chest, pressing the gun to your temple.

You whimpered, closing your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Put the gun down.” Hotch tried to keep his voice as clear as possible not wanting the unsub to hear how scared he was.

“Why should I?” He smirked, pressing it further into your head. You were practically sobbing at this point, trying to fight your way out of his touch.

You knew this couldn’t be where it ended, you opened your eyes to see Aaron looking at the both of you, his eyes glassy, trying not to cry.

Coming to your senses, you kicked your foot between his legs, making him flinch and let go of you, letting you run so Aaron could take the shot. Once clearing that the unsub was down, Aaron made his way to you.

Letting his emotions take a hold of him, his hands held the sides of your face as his lips pressed against yours. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him closer towards you. Pushing away, you rested your forehead against his.

“Never.” He whispered, tears running down his face too, “Never do that again.”

“I don’t think I can promise that.” You whispered, smiling. Aaron smiled with you, going to kiss you again, softly.

You smiled into the kiss, before breaking away. “As much as I dreamed of this happening, maybe we move this somewhere else.”

Aaron smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist, helping you back outside.

Joining the rest of the team, each saying their worries, giving you hugs of relief. As you hugged Garcia while she practically lectured you about going in, your eyes widened, pulling away from her.

“What’s wrong?” She looked at you.

“I think my water broke.” You looked down at your gray pants, seeing a dark line starting to trickle down your pant leg.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed, gaining the attention of the rest of the team. “Oh my god, she’s going into labor!”

The ride to the hospital was eventual, Garcia and Hotch arguing over who should ride in the ambulance with you, Morgan taking Garcia away letting Hotch stay with you.

“You ready sweetheart?” Hotch asked, holding onto your hand as you felt your contractions.

“Yea-ahhhhhh!” You screamed as another contraction started. “No.”

“It’s alright, we’re almost there.”

“I want drugs.” You cried, “I can’t do this.”

Aaron just smiled, pressing a kiss to your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Finally coming to the hospital, you were put into a bed and rolled into the delivery room, luckily all the doctors and nurses were present when the two of you came in and the morphine was given to you.

“Alright, Mrs. Hotchner, let’s get this baby.” You were so out of it that you didn’t correct it and Aaron was stunned just to hear the doctor call you Mrs. Hotchner.

“Okay, just one more big push.” It was a relief to you, hearing you just needed to push once more. Aaron was nothing but supportive, holding onto your hand the entire time, wiping away the sweat that was dripping down your face, whispering sweet nothing in your ear.

“There we go!” The doctor smiled, lifting the baby up to your eyes, “Congratulations it’s a girl.”

The two of you cried in happiness, hearing her little cries, you finally closed your eyes, leaning back on the bed.

“You did amazing.” Aaron smiled, moving the hair away from your eyes. Aaron kept an eye on you and the babe as she was cleaned and finally brought over to the two of you.

“Here we go mom.” The nurse handed her into your arms.

You could cry about how beautiful and small she was. Though just being born, you could already tell she took many of Hotch’s features.

“She looks like you.” You looked up at him.

“Hi baby.” You softly rubbed her cheek with the pad of your thumb. That seemed to wake her, her eyes opening, blinking rapidly before settling.

“Oh my, Aaron, look at her eyes.” Aaron leaned down to look at his daughter, seeing her eyes, one brown, the other hazel.

“She has heterochromia.” He said in awe. Lifting her up to Hotch, he softly took her out of your arms.

“My sweet girl.” You couldn’t look away from them, seeing the bond that was already being created.

“Do we have a name for your special girl?” The nurse asked.

“Isabella Hotchner.” You said softly, looking up at Hotch, “Izzy.”

The nurses and doctors stepped out of the room letting the three of you settle before letting any visitors come in.

You all ended up falling asleep before the team came in. Isabella was in the bassinet while you scooted over to have Hotch in the bed with you. It was a tight fit but you were adamant with sleeping with him.

JJ was the first to walk in, the rest of the coming in, seeing the two of you. JJ swooned at the scene, seeing sleeping Isabella and you and Aaron cuddling together.

He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, but his arms were wrapped against your back, letting your head rest on your chest while the blanket covered the two of you.

Everyone just set down their flowers and balloons, leaving the phone, just before Garcia was able to snag a photo of the three of you.

Rossi smiled at the two of you together, remembering the nights that Aaron stayed late talking about you to him. Setting down his flowers, he dimmed the lights and closed the door, leaving your family together.

fin.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x pregnant!reader #pregnant!reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x mom!reader #dad!aaron hotchner x mom!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #dad!aaron hotchner

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

steady hand

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: probably very inaccurate descriptions of r’s job (it’s for the plot, okay??), shy!reader, a very small injury description, yearning (?), first kiss, fluff !!!

a/n: hiiiii this is my very first hotch fic (gasp) so i hope i did okay!!! i’m excited to be writing for him and i have enjoyed it so far and i hope you will too!!! please please let me know what you think and if you’d want to see more of him from me <33

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People are usually impressed when you tell them you work at the BAU.

Which, you won’t lie, is something to be proud of, but their first thought is always that you’re doing something big and solving cases. They ask you if you were there when this case was solved or when that killer was caught.

Then there’s the nodding and dissipation of their excitement when you explain that you work a desk job there. Organize files, write reports, that sort of thing. That is a lot less impressive to most.

You’re no Agent Morgan, or Dr. Reid. Certainly no Agent Hotchner or Prentiss. Instead of being on the field, you spend your time fighting with a printer.

Getting the papers you needed should have been simple, a quick in and out that would have you back hiding behind your desk in minutes. Of course, the universe or something must be against you, because instead, you’ve spent at least twenty minutes trying to figure out what’s wrong.

It isn’t jammed (you’ve checked about five times to be sure) and you’re not educated in printers enough to know how to fix whatever’s going on. You’re just lucky nobody else has needed it yet.

“Come on,” you mutter, trying to pull it away from the wall to get a better look.

You’re sure there’s stress sweat building on your forehead. The last thing you want to do is ask someone for help, to make yourself too visible in this place full of important, intimidating people. You’d rather struggle on your own for now.

You make sure that the thing is plugged in (it is) and then check if it’s jammed. Again.

“Piece of shit,” you’re mumbling at the thing, leaning over it looking for anything out of place.

That’s when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. The sound has you jumping, your knuckles smacking against the wall where your hand had been wedged between it and the printer. You turn around to find Agent Hotchner.

He’d been walking by the printer room when he heard the grumbled curse words. Peeking inside, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find you fussing over the printer. He bit back a chuckle before making his presence known.

You tug your skirt down where it’d ridden up, fiddling with the hem as you try to push down your embarrassment. Of course he’d be the one to see you, in his crisp suit and all. He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely. You swallow and try not to look at his biceps.

“Sorry, sir. The printer doesn’t seem to be, um, printing.”

“I’m assuming that’s why you were fighting with it.”

You fight a wince, “you heard that?”

“Heard what?” He asks, though by the twitch of his lips, you know that he’s well aware of what you’re talking about. He then gestures at the cause of your issues behind you, “it’s not jammed, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t when I checked, at least.”

You’re trying not to act as nervous as you are. You don’t think you’ve ever really spoken to Agent Hotchner, save for small ‘hello’s and that one time you apologized for bumping into him. He’s handsome—you’ve always thought so—and, more importantly, he’s basically your boss.

“Let me take a look,” he says, walking over. You step aside, staying out of the way.

“It’s alright,” you start as he looks over it, “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than fix a printer, sir.”

Hotch’s eyes flick over to where you stand, a hand still fiddling with the hem of your skirt, your hair a little messy, your eyes a little wide and worried. You look pretty, he thinks. And sure, he does have things he should be doing instead of trying to fix this printer, but he doesn’t really care.

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you.

He looks back to the printer, and he seems pretty convinced about trying to help, so you drop it.

While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to look at his profile. The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched a little in focus. It’s unfair, you think, for him to be smart and brave, and be so good-looking on top of it all.

Like he’d heard your thoughts, felt your gaze, he looks over at you again. You turn your eyes toward the floor quickly.

It’s a couple of minutes before anyone speaks. You, staring at the carpet until your vision goes a little fuzzy. Hotch, pushing buttons and flicking switches trying to figure out whatever was going on with the damn printer.

Then, the sound of the ink swiping over the pages, the papers spitting from the printer. You look over at it, mouth slightly parted. What can’t he do?

The sound of your name has your eyes snapping up to his. It’s yet another surprise, him knowing your name. You’re not that important, in the grand scheme of things at the BAU, in the world, really. Someone meant to stay hidden in the background. And still, he knows your name.

“It should be fine now,” he says, grabbing your papers from the cartridge and handing them to you as he stands up straight. “Let me know if it gives you trouble again.”

You grab the pages from him slowly, still shocked at the whole exchange. Your fingers brush against his as you do. “I- Thank you, sir.”

He nods, moving towards the hall. He pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you. “Hotch is fine.”

“Sorry?”

“You keep calling me ‘sir.’ You don’t have to. Just Hotch is fine.”

“Right. Sorry, sir- I mean, Hotch,” you test it out. “Thank you again.”

Yes, Hotch thinks, he likes you saying his name a whole lot more. He sends you a kind smile, “no problem.”

Hotch walks away, probably towards his office where he has very important things to do. Stuff that was surely delayed because he paused to help you. You stare at the doorway for a minute, until you give yourself a papercut and look down at it.

Aaron Hotchner knows who you are.

You’re two shitty coffees deep so far, your report open on your desk, the typing bar blinking on the screen of your computer.

There’s pages to go, though you’re not sure how many. You’ve been doing the sort of mindless, robot typing you do when you’re tired. When you’re preoccupied with trying not to glance in the direction of Hotch’s office.

The team got back sometime last night, long after you’d already gone home. From somewhere in Indiana, you think. You’re not sure how they do it, flying about and still coming into the office. You’re tired and you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been on a plane. Add the crime fighting and you’d be a goner.

Blinking yourself from your thoughts, you look back at the blank pages spread out in front of you. It’s not unusual for you to be missing pieces that you need to complete things, it’s just inconvenient. You always end up having to ask someone for the files you need, and then you feel like a burden.

It’s stupid, but in a place full of important people, it’s easy to feel like you’re just in the way.

Anyway, it’s your job, so you push away from your desk and stand, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your first thought is to go to Reid. As far as friendship goes, you’d consider yourself closest to that definition with him. He’s also the least intimidating of the bunch, probably because you see the most of yourself in him.

You find him in the kitchen with Agent Jareau, both holding their own mugs, probably filled with the same coffee as the one that sits on your desk. You knock gently on the door even though it’s open.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if either of you have the files from that case you worked a couple weeks back. The one in Ohio,” you shuffle on your feet under their gaze. “I need them for this report.”

“Hey,” Reid speaks first, smiling kindly, “I don’t remember keeping them, but I can double check in my desk if you would like.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll find them somewhere.”

You’re about to head out the door when Agent Jareau stops you, “wait, I’m pretty sure Hotch has them. I can go ask him for you.”

It’s silly to feel nervous talking to them, especially when nobody’s ever been anything but nice to you. A little bit of the twist in your gut comes undone.

“No, no. I’ll go ask him if he isn’t busy, thank you though.”

“You should be fine, the door’s open,” she tells you.

You nod, sending the both of them a smile you hope doesn’t look awkward. “Thanks again.”

Their voices picking up their conversation follow you out the door. You cross the space, saying small ‘hello’s to Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss when they greet you. You try to ignore the prickle of eyes on you as you climb the steps and head to Hotch’s office.

His jacket is draped across the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms. It’s probably the most disheveled you’ve ever seen him, and he’s only missing a single layer. You look away from his arms when he says your name.

Hotch had his head bent, looking over a case when he’d heard footsteps, and he’d been glad to find you standing in his doorway. You work in the same place, yet he barely sees you. That’s probably why something lightens in his chest every time he does. The rarity, that’s all.

“Is this a bad time?” You ask.

“Not at all,” he leans back in his chair, “what can I do for you?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, sir-”

“Hotch,” he reminds gently. His voice is easy, a hum that you think would sound good no matter what he was saying.

“Right, sorry. Hotch. I was just looking for some files that I need from a case you guys had for this report.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

Then, he smiles in that way that Aaron Hotchner so often does. A small twitch of his lips, a lift in the corners. One that you probably wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t paying so much attention. One that feels sort of like a gift.

You shake your head at yourself and elaborate, “the Ohio case. Three weeks ago, I think. I asked Agent Jareau, but she said you had them, so…”

Hotch wants to reassure you, but he’s not sure how to do it without standing up and letting himself grab your hand and squeeze it the way he’d like. And he can’t do that, not when you’re already nervous. Not when he’s not sure he could hold back after one touch.

“It’s no problem,” he opens one of his drawers, flips through folders until he finds what you’re looking for.

He stands up and walks around his desk until he’s in front of you, and he lets his gaze flick over your face while he has the chance. Your eyes find his easily, and you hope he can’t hear the catch in your breath.

Aaron isn’t usually so quiet with his affections, but that’s because he’s never found himself feeling this way at work. He wishes your desk was on his way to his office, just so he’d have an excuse to stop and talk to you. He makes sure never to use your favorite mug from the cupboard, just so you’ll be more likely to have it.

Hotch clears his throat, “here they are.”

He holds up the folder between you, his hand holding it loosely, the other hanging by his side. His fingers twitch.

You’re embarrassingly distracted by his exposed forearms, eyes trailing from his hand to the skin of his arm, to the way his shirt is tight where the sleeves are rolled. Then, it’s the color of his tie today, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.

His hand reaching for yours is enough to erase everything else. He lifts it and places the folder in your hold for you. Your skin burns even when he pulls away.

“You alright?” He asks. Probably because you’d been staring at him like a weirdo.

Get it together.

“Yeah. Yes, sorry. Just sort of spacey today, I guess.”

When you look back to his face, there’s nothing but a sort of softness in his eyes you can’t identify. He smiles at you, and for the second time, you feel like you’ve won something.

“Is that what you needed?” He asks.

You open the folder and peek inside. You find exactly what you’d been looking for, not that you’re surprised. Hotch knew what you’d meant and you didn’t doubt that.

“It is. Thank you, Hotch,” you grin lightly when you get that part right. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way.”

Hotch says the words like he’d known you needed to hear them, like he’d known what runs through your mind so often, like he can read you. He probably can, you think. He is a profiler after all.

Still, the words make your heart do a stupid little jump.

“I’ll bring them back when I’m done,” you say.

“No rush. They’ll just be going back in the drawer anyway.”

“Well, thank you again.”

“It’s no problem, really.”

Hotch watches you walk back to your desk with your head down. Looking at the folder in your hand, he thinks, at least it’s an excuse for you to come see him again.

Hotch isn’t in his office when you return the files.

Since you can’t thank him in person—assuming he’s off with the team somewhere saving lives—you leave a sticky note on top of the folder. You drop it on his desk and leave before you second-guess yourself and rip the note off.

You can’t help but think that the office feels sort of empty without the team there. Without Hotch there. It’s how it is most days, so you’re not sure why the absence feels so present now. You shake it off.

The day passes by, then your drive home, and the rest of your night, too. Through it all, you can’t stop wondering what Hotch is doing, wherever he is. Hoping he’s safe.

You’re certainly not expecting to see him the next day, back so soon, but you can’t say you’re upset about it. It’s a brief glance, him walking into his office, the rest of the team and their chatter following, but it’s enough to make your work seem less tiring for some reason.

It was a quick case, and Aaron was glad to at least get a couple of hours of sleep in before coming into the office. When he sits at his desk, the first thing he notices is the folder you’ve left there. The small note in your handwriting.

‘Thank you :)’

He peels the note away and folds it up. Without thinking, it ends up tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s a simple piece of paper, but it’s heavy where it sits. He rubs a hand over the pocket where the note is and gets to work.

It’s not until a couple of hours later that Hotch ends up leaving his office. Conveniently, in the direction of your desk.

You’ve been burying yourself in your work, your leg bouncing nonstop, your nose inches away from the pages on your desk, your chair pushed in as close as it’ll go. You have to, because if you take a break, if you look away, your eyes will search for Hotch, and you don’t really want to think about what that means right now.

About the ache in your chest when he’s gone, the urge to go ask him a stupid question just to talk to him. It’s awful.

The pen you’re using suddenly runs out of ink, and it makes you pause long enough to feel a cramp in your hand. You sit up and huff, pulling your drawer open and digging around for another pen. Your name in Hotch’s voice has you shutting the drawer and spinning quickly.

It’s just your luck that your shirt gets caught, that the sound of the rip is too loud to play off or ignore.

“Oh gosh,” you whisper, looking down at the damage.

It’s a cheap shirt, you shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s worse than you’d expected. This is what you get for sitting so damn close. The side seam is split, and if you move too much, your bra would probably be visible.

“This is so embarrassing,” you say, holding the rip shut with one hand and holding the other on your forehead. Of course this would happen to you in front of him.

Aaron’s eyes hover where your skin had been exposed, even now that you hold your shirt shut, wondering if it’d feel as soft as it looks. He can’t even remember what he came over to do or say.

He swallows and looks at your face, “do you have another?”

You shake your head, still hiding behind your hand, “no. I really, really wish I did, though.”

“I have an extra one in my go bag. If you’d like?” He hears himself say the words, and he doesn’t regret them, necessarily, but it’s clear to him that you mess with his brain. He doesn’t think straight where you’re involved.

You peek up at him, dropping your hand to your side. “Are you sure? I could probably just use some paper clips, or something.”

“Nonsense. I’ll go get it, okay? I’ll bring it to the bathroom so you can change.”

“You don’t have to-”

Your name leaves his mouth again, gentle but firm. “I’ll grab it.”

“Okay.”

You speed-walk over to the washroom and walk in, closing the door only to block out the rest of the office, who surely noticed what just happened. You’re probably never gonna live this down.

Your overthinking doesn’t get very far, because after only a minute, Hotch is knocking on the door.

“It’s just me,” he says. ‘Just,’ like that word could ever be used to describe him. “You can just open the door a crack and I’ll pass the shirt through.”

You do as he says, tugging the door open until you can see a white dress shirt (of course) in his hand. You reach out and he hands it to you easily.

“Thank you, Hotch. I’ll wash it and give it back, I promise. Sorry for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, closing the door.

His shirt is wrinkled from being packed in his bag, and the sleeves are long when you put it on, but it smells like him and isn’t ripped so you really can’t complain. You roll the sleeves and tuck the bottom into your pants, looking in the mirror to make sure you look at least a little bit put together.

Holy shit, you think. I’m wearing Aaron Hotchner’s shirt. What world have you been living in recently? To be interacting with him more often, to be feeling this sick skip in your heartbeat whenever you do.

You toss your ripped shirt in the garbage, look up, and huff out a breath before leaving the bathroom. You’re surprised to see Hotch still standing there.

“Oh,” you nearly bump into his chest when you walk out the door, but the warmth of his hand on your shoulder steadies you. “I didn’t know you were still there, sorry.”

“You don’t need to say sorry so much, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You’re dreaming, surely. You pinch yourself on the inside of your arm, just in case. You don’t wake up.

“I- um,” you’re fumbling for words because he’s standing there, looking at you softly, calling you ‘sweetheart’ in that voice of his.

Aaron doesn’t know where that came from, but he’s said it and it’s happened. With the way he thinks about you, how often he does, he can’t really be surprised. Besides, seeing you get flustered because of him is absolutely worth it.

“I wanted to thank you for getting those files back to me so quickly.”

Your eyes flick over to his arm, and it’s then he realizes that his hand is still on your shoulder. He pulls it away and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s probably imagining it, but he swears his palm is tingling.

You wipe your hands over your thighs, “right. It was no problem, really. I was mostly done with my report, so… Thanks for giving them to me.”

“I’m glad to be able to help,” he says. Then he walks back to his office.

You’re standing in front of the bathroom for what’s surely an odd amount of time. Even back at your desk, you can’t shake the haze you feel, a pink tint to your vision, a flutter in your gut.

You spend the rest of your day with your nose buried in the collar of Hotch’s shirt, avoiding the gazes of your coworkers around you.

Aaron spends the rest of the day thinking about how you looked in his shirt. About how you’d look in it and nothing else. He drags a hand over his face when that pops into his head.

“You good, boss?” Morgan asks from the doorway.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t miss the knowing smirk on Morgan’s face.

It’s very rare that Aaron leaves work at a reasonable time. So rare that he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t the last person there.

He’s used to the late nights, the empty spaces, deserted desks. Even so, it’s nice to finish up earlier than he’d expected. He looks forward to the extra sleep he’ll get, the longer time frame to decompress.

Leaving work early already felt like a small victory for the day, and he feels like he’s won something bigger when he sees you in your car, still in the parking lot.

You’d left maybe twenty minutes before Hotch, though you’d assumed he’d be leaving hours after you like he usually does. Everything was fine, normal as you bid your goodbyes to your desk neighbors, as you rode the elevator down.

The sun has started setting, and the air gets cooler as it sinks. You fish your car keys from your bag and unlock it, getting in quickly and tossing your bag onto the passenger seat.

You like your job, sometimes you love it, even, but you look forward to going home either way. You think about the warm shower you’ll take, the shitty dinner you’ll end up eating. Your lonely plans are ruined as you twist your car key in the ignition, it sputters and doesn’t start.

“No, no. Come on,” your head falls back, you huff and take the key out.

You try again, and still, no luck. And again, and once more until you’re fed up with it and drop the keys in your lap. Your head is dropped against the steering wheel, allowing yourself a moment of dramatics from your defeat.

A knock on your window startles you upright. Your heart races for reasons other than fear when you look at who it is.

Hotch stands outside, leaning towards your window with a scrunch in his brows. When he catches your eye, he steps back from your door and gives you room to open it and step out.

You shut your car door behind you and lean your back against it, “hi.”

“Hi. Sorry to scare you, but I wanted to check that you were alright?”

“It’s okay,” your arms are folded behind your back, your hands twisting. “Um, it’s nothing, just some car troubles.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I guess not. It won’t start for some reason. I don’t know.” If he wasn’t standing right there, you’d probably smack yourself for how unsure you sound. “You keep catching me at the worst times, Hotch.”

He disagrees. Aaron can’t think of a time where seeing you could ever be a bad thing.

“You’re fine,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, “trust me.”

Despite the bite of the wind outside, the way he speaks warms you. He’s so honest in the way he speaks, in the sense that he sounds sure, even if it isn’t necessarily vulnerable. You don’t know how he does it.

A small smile spreads on your face before you can stop it, “okay, good. And thank you for checking on me. I’ll just call a cab and figure this out tomorrow.”

There’s no way he can let you take a cab. It’s obvious that with what he does, the things he sees, he’d rather know for sure you’d be safe getting home. But then, there’s the sort of floating feeling he has when he’s around you, one he’d like to feel for a little longer if he could.

“Let me drive you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll be fine.”

He ducks his head a little, catches your eye and holds you with that soft gaze of his. “Please, it’s not a problem. For my peace of mind.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, really. You’d much rather sit in a car that probably smells like him than in the back of a cab that smells like sweat.

“For your peace of mind, then. That’d be great.”

You grab your bag from your car before following Aaron to his, where he opens the passenger door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before shutting it. He jogs around the front of his car and gets in.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks, starting his car. The radio hums softly through the speakers, and Hotch reaches over to turn on the heating when he catches you shivering a little.

You tell him your address, “you don’t have to drive me if it’s out of your way, Hotch. I mean it.”

“It isn’t out of my way,” he assures you, and he could easily be lying, but you accept it anyway.

It’s quiet for a little bit, besides the odd question from Aaron for which way to turn. You take the chance to look at him as he drives, his hands on the wheel, the street lights hitting his face. Your head lulls against the seat.

“You’re finished earlier than usual today,” you say. “Not that I know your schedule, or anything, I just-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, a smile spreading. It’s wider than what you’ve seen at work, unguarded enough to show his teeth. It’s really pretty. “It’s alright. It’s work I can be doing at home.”

“That’s good. A change of scenery, at least.”

“Exactly.”

You’re not sure what it is that feels different now, in the car. Maybe it’s because it’s only you and him, no prying eyes in the office, no concerns about what this is, what’s allowed. It might only be you, that feels this sort of spark with him, fizzing i’m the air between you. Either way, you’ll soak it up for the duration of the ride to yours.

Maybe that’s why you’re saying, “you know, I always thought you didn’t even know who I was. Until the printer thing.”

Aaron peeks over at you, leaned in his passenger seat. You look like you belong there, like there’s always been a spot for you in his life. Even when you’d started at the BAU, when he first saw you, he felt like it was right that you were there.

Hell, he’d asked Garcia who you were and has had your name in the back of his head since.

“I’ve always liked you,” he admits. He doesn’t say he’s always known you. Liked.

“Really?” You can’t help but ask. Someone like him even noticing you seemed unfathomable. But liking you? He’s gotta be lying.

“Really. Even when you were bumping into me.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. You were looking down at the ground, walking like you were being timed. And you had on this light pink sweater.”

Your eyes go wide, focused on his face. You had been wearing a light pink sweater that day. And he remembers all of that? You think, if you looked at yourself in the mirror right now, your eyes would be in the shape of hearts, pulsing in your pupils.

“I can’t believe you noticed all of that.”

“I notice a lot of things,” he says.

Aaron has always had his guard up around new people, has always made himself more serious at work than anywhere else. Then you came along and he had to fight to keep things that way. It makes sense that the minute he sees you outside of work his walls would crumble to dust.

It was inevitable, really.

“I’ve always liked you, too.” Then, before he can say anything, you point at your building, “it’s this one here.”

The car rolls to a stop slowly, his turn signal flashing as he pulls over by the entrance of your apartment building. He puts the car in park and turns to you fully.

“Thank you for driving me.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out before he can really think about it, fingertips featherlight over your cheekbone, sliding over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then, like it was never there, he pulls back. There’s a glow in his fingers where they’d brushed your skin, golden.

It matches the one you feel on your cheek, sparkling.

“Get in safe, okay?”

“It’s a few feet from here to the front door, Hotch. I’ll be alright.”

He huffs softly, twin smiles on your faces. Lovesick and shy, nervous and pink-hazed all at once.

“For my peace of mind,” he says.

“Fine, then. Your peace of mind,” you reach for the door handle, tugging it and pushing the door open. You look at Hotch again, like you can’t get yourself to stop. “Thanks again.”

“See you, sweetheart.”

“Bye.”

You step out and head to your door, turning around before walking inside to give him a wave. Aaron grins and waves back, watching you walk inside.

He stays parked by the curb until he sees a light flick on a couple of floors up.

There’s a reason that Hotch is Unit Chief. He thinks quickly, keeps his head straight even with what he deals with every day. There’s also a reason his leadership has been questioned before, but never revoked.

He can be reckless, throwing himself into situations when he knows he probably should’ve waited for backup. This time, it only got him a split eyebrow and a few stitches. It’s been worse; this is nothing.

It is, however, proving to be an inconvenience. He’d gotten stitched up in the ER of whatever hospital was closest to where the team had caught their unsub. It had to be quick, from the hospital straight to the jet.

They’d told him to clean it up again and put a new bandage on it when he got back, which is what he’s trying to do now, in his office, with his laptop’s grainy camera as a mirror. He has the supplies the hospital gave him on his desk, but he can’t really see what he’s doing, and the task is taking much longer than he’d like.

His hands are a little shaky from the adrenaline of his day, and every time his arm comes up to reach his stitches, it blocks his view.

Then, he sees you walking up to his office.

Usually, you’d already be home by now, but you’d been yourself and messed up some of your paperwork, so you had to stay late to re-do it. When you catch sight of Hotch in his office, you’re not so annoyed with yourself.

You notice the things on his desk, the blood on the front of his shirt. Your feet carry you to his doorway easily. Last time you’d really spoken to him was that night in his car, and ever since, there’s been something boiling, a noticeable shift.

You tap your knuckles on his open door twice, “you okay?”

He gives up on dealing with his cut and looks at you instead, the slightly rumpled state of your clothes from a long day, the smile you wear that doesn’t exactly hide the concern in your eyes, the light from the hallway a halo around you. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m alright. Just can't seem to do this right,” he says, gesturing to his eyebrow.

“Do you need help?”

Aaron has never been one to accept help easily, always one to do things on his own. But, when you’re offering so sweetly, when your help means your hands on his skin, how could he ever say no?

“That would be great.”

He pushes his chair back to give you room to stand in front of him. Your legs between his, leaning against the edge of his desk. His knees bump into the sides of your legs, little bursts of the kind of warmth sunlight emits on skin.

You reach for the wipes first, holding them in one hand and reaching up to his eyebrow, the other grasping his chin gently to keep his head steady.

His hand reaches up to hold your elbow. It could so easily be innocent, be almost nothing, but it feels like more. His thumb running back and forth, your face close enough to his to have your breaths mingling. It really feels like more.

“You’re here late,” he says, low and quiet.

“Spilled coffee all over my work. Had to start over. Can you believe it?” You speak just as quietly, eyes flicking from his cut down to his, just for a second.

“I can, actually. You’re sort of clumsy.”

“Hey!” He’s right, of course, but the warm chuckle he lets out is worth your dramatic gasp.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he assures you, squeezing your elbow. “I think it’s cute.”

“Well, thank you, then.”

You set the wipe aside and reach for the bandage next, placing it over his eyebrow and smoothing down the edges with a light touch. When you’re done, you pull back but don’t go far. Your hands fall from his face to grasp the edge of his desk instead.

“All done,” you say.

Aaron’s hands have shifted to your waist. His touch is so delicate, but you’d never ignore it. It might as well be bruising, the way his hands affect you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Hotch.”

Now would be the time to walk out the door, to say ‘goodnight’ and head home, but you’re in no hurry. Not when his eyes are shining in the dimmed light of his office, soft and practically melting.

They seem to beckon you closer, and though you don’t have a reason this time, your face ends up near his, noses almost touching. It’s as far as you go, afraid you’re misreading things, afraid you’ll be wrong about this.

Hotch closes the space for you.

His chin tilts up, his mouth catching yours softly at first. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips slightly chapped and completely perfect against yours.

You think your knees might buckle, so you put your hands on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his skin, like you’re trying to make sure he’s real. You’re not sure how you manage to kiss him back but you do, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when you push back.

The kiss doesn’t deepen, but it doesn’t have to. You can feel plenty in it already.

It’s not long before Hotch pulls away, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to look up at you. He removes one of your hands from his shoulder and holds it in his.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he says, his thumb running over your knuckles.

You look down at your feet, at his legs next to yours. The hand still on his shoulder falls to your side, suddenly feeling nervous.

“You’re right, I’m so-”

“But,” he stops your apology before you can say it. As if you’d ever need to apologize for kissing him. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime. If you’d want that.”

You look back at his face, eyes searching. He smiles so softly at you, it’s the kind of smile you could only ever give someone you like in this way. Someone you like enough to kiss.

“I’d really like that, Hotch.”

“Good,” he stands, but his hands don’t leave you. “And sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Call me Aaron.”

When you test it out, he’s sure of it; his name on your lips is his absolute favorite sound.

༄

thank you so much for reading!!! please please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it helps a whole bunch more than you’d think and would mean a lot!! <3

5K notes · View notes

irndad · 1 month

Note

just read your runner!hotch x sunshine!reader and omigosh that was soooooooooooooooo cute! I'm so happy you're happy to continue with those two in an au!

can I request one of them where hotch manages to get reader to go on a run with him? <3

“You hate me. You hate me and want me to die.”

Aaron can tell she wants to be deadpan but the gasps give it away. He’s hopelessly endeared but he sight of her, her little vest zip up that he’d gotten for her for their three mont-anniversary. He tries to be courteous like that, remembering the months. It’s not like he forgets.

She looks adorable, her bottom lip jutting out into an involuntary pout, her expressive brows pinched into frustration. Her hair is in a claw clip, and she’s still worn the lipstick she loves in flagrant disregard of good sense. That’s my girl, he thinks to himself.

“I’d like to think you know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do that,” he replies, smiling.

“There’s nothing else this could be!” she says, finally touching the bench. They’d done one lap. “You’re a sadist, Agent Hotchner. Someone should investigate you.”

It’s actually quite comical, how she leans down and holds the arm of her bench, and catches her breath. He feels light in a way he hasn’t in a long time. There’s now ay she could know this- he hasn’t told her, likes to meet her in her lightness and sweetness when he can- but this past week has been punishing. She’s been the highlight of it, greeting him at his home with a bright smile and a book for Jack. He’d felt an immense gratefulness, for her attention and her affection. How rare is it, for someone like Aaron to be cherished like this?

“Sweetheart,” he says, warmth dripping from his tone, “I swear to you I only am looking for your health.”

She turns around to be facing him, and despite the fact he’s sure it’s not the most sensory pleasant experience, she wraps her arms around his neck. He returns in kind, wrapping her in his strong arms. It’s nice, the feeling of enveloping her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Hotchner.”

He’s very, very lucky indeed.

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supercriminalbean · 6 months

Text

Fight Club. Part 2

Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Summary: The reader gets closer to exposing the unsubs that ruined his life, but does his team find out?

Warning: Dark fic. Torture, cutting, blood, fighting, death, abuse, kidnapping, swearing, drugs, unsub violence, bad eatting habits, bad self care, scars, angst. This whole fic is just dark and strange the ask it self is amazing and may help you know if this is something you can handle. (Any other warnings let me know xx)

Words: 6.7k

A/N: Check out part one here!!I suggest reading part one to understand this. Next part post next week also tagging thoes I think interested thanking you for the love 💜🖤💜🖤

Part one. Part three. Part four.

Tagging thoes that seem interesed or asked: @xweirdo101x @alecmores @yn-addams @winter-world @xdark-acadamiax @rexspersonalhell

If you wish to untagged let me know xx if you wish to be tagged let know 💜💜

PART TWO

You're sharing a room with Hotch, the hotel doesn’t have enough room so somehow you're sharing with the boss. While he’s having a shower, you quickly go through your files, finding the one on Ryan. Reading through it as you hide the other files once more, wishing you could also hide the guilty feelings with all the information you aren’t sharing with your team.

“I thought you left all the files behind” Aaron sighs as he looks at you sitting up on the bed, leaning against the wall. You look up sheepishly at him, so far in your own mind you never heard the bathroom door open.

“I did, this is Ryans” You admit, doing your best to keep your eyes off the water sliding down his neck as he dries his hair, a small knowing smirk sliding onto his lips.

“Right of course you have that” Aaron chuckles softly before sitting down on his own bed.

“And you're not surprised?” Raising an eyebrow up at him, a smirk of your own playing on your lips.

“It's you, I’ve learnt to not be surprised with this case” He sends you a cheeky smile before holding his hand out. “Let me read through it while you go shower”

“Is that an order bossman?” Sending him a teasing smile as you stand up, passing over the file.

“It's normally the only way you listen to me” He laughs softly, one you haven’t heard in a long time. Smiling lightly as you pass him the file before grabbing your towel and heading into the bathroom.

~~~

You manage to fall asleep for a few hours, before waking up from another nightmare. Shooting forward in bed, breathing quickly and shallow as you look around the room, reminding yourself where you are. Your eyes land on Aaron and notice just how peaceful he looks as he sleeps. Taking some deep breaths to calm yourself down you listen to his soft snores, smiling lightly at the comforting sounds. After you have calmed down you check the time, it's now four am. You have three hours before the team has to be at the precinct and two hours before Aaron wakes up. Quietly you get up, grabbing your bag as you head into the bathroom to change and pack a small bag you will need for the day before sneaking out of the room.

Seven o’clock rolls around quickly and Hotch is waiting for the team to arrive. He was expecting you to be here when he first woke up and noticed your bed empty but you weren’t. He has an uneasy feeling in his gut but he’s hoping he’s wrong, maybe you went for a run and will be walking in with the team any minute.

“Morning Hotch” JJ is the first to walk into the room, holding two cups of coffee, handing him one just as the rest of the team minus you walks in.

“Thanks JJ” He forces a small smile before looking through his team searching for you. “(Y/n) Isn’t with you” He sighs as he sets his cup down, the team's faces fall.

“No we thought he was with you already” Morgan responds, watching Hotch with concern, glancing at Reid as he walks past them and towards the map on the board.

“I woke up and he was gone already, I was hoping he was here but no one has seen him” Hotch informs them, keeping the disappointment and anger from his voice. He should have seen this coming.

“There's a boxing gym around the corner” Reid speaks up and just like that the tension in the room disappears.

“Of course there is,” Rossi smirks, shaking his head, grabbing the car keys from the table.

“Morgan go get him” Hotch orders, making Morgan tenses up.

“Do you think that's a good idea?” Morgan questions, not entirely looking forward to getting a black eye.

“Go, and make up with him” Hotch huffs before turning away from him, not catching Emily's comment about having ice on stand-by.

~~~

You lost track of time as you let your anger out on the boxing bag, your music blurring through your headphones. You had done a work out before moving onto the bag and now you don’t want to stop, finding comfort in letting yourself go. While punching away on the bag it suddenly stops moving, arms wrapping around it pulling it away from you. Glancing up at the person behind you, you slide your headphones off, taking some deep breath to try and catch your breathing.

“Morgan, hey”

“How long have you been here?” Morgan stares at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Um I went for a run before getting here so around five ish” Shrugging your shoulders as you take the gloves off, your fingers all red and aching.

“Jesus kid, It's seven am, you have been in here since five” Morgan sighs softly looking up at you with sympathy. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself”

“I’m not doing anything” You deny as you start wiping down the equipment and start putting it away.

“Bullshit, you might think your a mystery but your not”

“Oh then what am I, Morgan?” You stare up at him as you come to a stop.

“You're in pain, you clearly haven’t dealt with the trauma you have so you hide it, hoping it will go away, news flash kid it won’t” Morgan speaks firmly, but looking at you with kindness something that somehow makes you uncomfortable. You quickly look away from him as his words sink in, having to fix your mask that had slipped away, replacing it with a joking smile.

“Are you trying to get me to punch you again Derek?” Derek, you barely call him that, that's how he knows his words touched you.

“No, that hurt” He laughs deeply, smiling widely at you.

“Oh that was just a warning shot, if I really wanted to hurt you, you would have been on the ground” You laugh along with him, as you head towards the changing room as he goes to wait for you.

“Wait kid” He calls for you, waiting until you turn to him to continue. “You can keep pushing us away, but we aren’t going anyway”

Your smile falters at his words, you don’t believe him. Everyone always leaves you once it becomes too much.

‘Thanks Morgan” You fake a smile as you walk to the changing room leaving behind a worried Derek.

~~~

Once you are freshly showered and dressed you head out, climbing into the SUV where Morgan is waiting for you. You hold your jacket in your lap, normally you would be wearing it already, but Morgan has already seen your arms before so you find trying to hide them this morning useless.

“So how mad is Hotch that I’m late?” Flicking a small smile at Morgan as he starts driving.

“I think he’s just relieved that you didn’t take off to investigate something by yourself,” Morgan chuckles, glancing at you, his eyes flickering down to your arms. Normally you're always wearing a jacket or blazer or just about to cover up your arms, even in summertime. He has seen your bare arms maybe four times over the past three years, and he doesn’t blame you for covering up he just wishes you didn’t feel like you had to when it comes to the team. Your arms are covered in scars, deep ones that look like they never truly healed properly, some scars are in shapes of letters and patterns. Derek may never know what you went through or who did it to you, but one day he hopes you talk to someone about it because whatever you went through you clearly haven’t healed from it. His eyes flicker down to your right upper arm where a tattoo sits.

“You got inked?” Derek smiles vulgarly as he looks back to the road.

“Oh yeah I got it a few months ago” Shrugging as you remember just how difficult the appointment was, the tattoo artist was kind and lovely giving you plenty of breaks when her touching got to be too much.

“What does it say?” Derek smiles a bit more as he pulls up outside the precinct, looking back at your tombstone tattoo.

“My last words: Well that didn’t work” Chuckling softly as you smirk at Derek, an amused look over his face.

“You think that's what your last words will be?”

“Oh definitely”

~~~

The day goes by with Rossi, JJ and Emily taking the jet to Ohio, where Ryan last was and according to Garcia about four other victims that she has identified in the videos. Morgan, Hotch and Garica work together to go through the videos and look for anything in the background to help narrow down where the unsubs could be. Meanwhile you and Reid work on the geographic profile, which is going seemingly well.

“This abandoned shed is in their comfort zone Reid” You argue once more.

“They don’t have a comfort zone yet (Y/l)” Reid groans, arguing with you again. “They keep travelling the country, they have a comfort zone in each state”

“Fine you can think this, but right here” You stab your finger aggressively against the map. “This is in one of their comfort zones we need to check it out”

“It's too small to house anything!” Reid raises his voice, which you respond with a deadly glare.

“No shit dumbass, but I don’t think they are above ground” Scoffing at him as you see the wheels in his mind spinning.

“That might make sense”

“Of course it makes sense” You take a sharp deep breath. “Look at the videos we have, there is only artificial lighting, everything looks dark and they are clearly in a swimming pool” Your voice gets louder and a dangerous edge comes to it. Reid’s eyebrows narrow as he stares at you.

“Swimming pools can be underground, so much space and no one would hear a thing no would ever know someone or anyone is down there” You keep arguing, a dark look emerging in your eyes once more.

“So you think that could be the entrance way?”

“Yes!” You almost scream at him. You know it's underground, you remember sprinting up those stairs and entering a tiny little shed before leaving it forever.

“We should tell Hotch” Reid nods at you before walking out.

~~~

You shouldn’t be doing this, you really shouldn’t be. But you don’t care because as soon as Reid is out of the room you grab the car keys and walk towards the SUV, climbing inside. Your mind is spinning as you place your hands on the steering wheel, the car remains shut off. You stare at the road ahead of you, your mind begging you to go and find the place by yourself, but you can’t betray your team like that. A sharp knock on the window makes you jump before glaring at the man on the other side. Soon the door opens and Hotch is standing on the other side looking furious.

“I didn’t technically leave so I shouldn’t be in trouble” You reason staring back at him.

“Were you going to?” It was an honest question, because Aaron couldn’t tell what was going through your mind.

“Unsure” Sighing, leaning your head back, resting it on the headrest.

“Come back inside, please” Aaron eyes scan over you, noticing the furstate burning inside of you.

“I can’t, I need a break” Groaning as you look at him, your eyes pleading for some time. Without another word Hotch climbs into the car with you.

“Then drive” He gives you a vague smile, one that you return before turning the car on and driving off.

You drive in silence for a little while, enjoying the quietness. You drive for a while, heading out of town.

“So Reid showed us what you found and told us what you think but why don’t you tell me why you think they are underground?” His voice is kind as he speaks, wanting to hear your ideas.

“Well there is so much more space, and you can go undetected, no one would hear them, you could scream so loud and no one would hear you. Plus there are so many abandoned underground swimming pools and halls, somebody thought they would take off but it became an issue once some started collapsing so they closed them down” Your eyes stay focused on the road and not on the memories playing in your mind. How you first discover you were trapped underground, you and Ryan were playing around and somehow got into a locked door and found a dodgy staircase that led somewhere. It was perfect for the escape plan.

“So do you have a list?” Hotch notices the far away look you have on, the way your hands tighten on the wheel as you drive.

“Of course I do” Smirking at him, as you open your mouth to inform him of some information you stumbled onto last month.

“Fuck Aaron” You scream loudly slamming the breaks on but your to late.

~~~

Morgan is the first out of the car, showing the officer in charge his badge before sprinting over to Hotch who is sitting on the back of the ambulance. Reid lets him go ahead, deciding to investigate the car crash instead.

“Hotch what the hell happened?” Morgan asks, his eyes widening at the stitches across his boss's forehead.

“We were ambushed, I was knocked unconscious, and when I came to (Y/n) was gone” Hotch groans, half in pain and half annoyed at himself.

“So they know we are onto them” Morgan huffs, holding his hand out to stop Hotch who is getting to his feet. “Hotch, sit back down”

“I can’t we need to go and find him” Hotch ignores the dizziness he feels as he stumbles to his feet. He only cares about finding you. Morgan places a firm hand on Aaron's shoulder and pushes him back down.

“No, you need to go to hospital and get properly checked out, me and Reid are on this and the others are already on their way back” Morgan informs him, watching Aaron closely. He can tell Aaron is thinking deeply trying to put things together.

“Can you tell me about the car?” Morgan asks, hoping a small task can help focus his mind again.

“It was silver, I saw it for a quick second but then It hit straight into us” Hotch groans rubbing his hand, just wishing the throbbing would stop.

“Okay that's something, you go to the hospital and I will ring if we find something” Morgan states his eyes narrowing when Hotch goes to argue. “We have a narrow time frame Hotch, us worrying about you isn’t going to help us find him, don’t argue with me” Morgan snaps, taking some breaths doing his best to keep in control.

“Fine,” Hotch sighs, finally giving in. “But the second you know something”

“I will call, now go” Morgan demands, stepping back from the ambulance as Hotch climbs in and the doors shut.

~~~

Hours seem to drag by, Morgan and Reid are at the precinct on the phone with Garcia all three of them bouncing ideas between them, waiting for the rest of the team to get back.

“But I don’t get why they would leave Hotch behind?” Garcia ask, sighing deeply as she leans against her desk, trying not to fall into the pit of fear of anxiety surrounding her.

“He wasn’t their main target, (Y/n) has been investigating them for months” Reid replies, looking over his map.

“Or longer” Derek supplies, staring daggers at the wall. His anger coming to light, he’s scared of what is happening to you but he knows he can’t allow himself to worry so he turns it into anger once more.

“You think he lied about when he started looking into this?” Garcia's eyes widened as she asks.

“He knew Ryan may have been there, whos to say he hasn’t been looking into this for a long time” Derek sighs, his head popping up as the door opens, JJ and Emily walking in.

“Please tell me we have a lead?” JJ requires as she sits down next to Reid, passing the boys some coffee.

“Nothing yet” Reid smiles gratefully at her as he takes his cup.

“Where's mum and dad?” Morgan asks, looking at Emily.

“Rossi took Hotch back to the hotel to change, they should be back soon” Emily sips her own coffee before grabbing the crime scene photos of the car crash and starts looking through them.

“Where were they going?” Emily looks up at them, her heart racing. She can only guess what is happening to (Y/n) right now, and that is something she doesn’t wish to picture.

“No idea, (Y/L) said he needed a break so Hotch went with him” Derek supplies.

“I thought he could have been heading to this abandoned shed he thought could have been important but he was going in the wrong direction” Reid answer, pointing at the map as he does so.

“So what is in the direction they were heading in?” JJ asks, looking over the map.

“As far as I can tell, nothing” Reid groans, sipping on his coffee.

“Baby girl have you found anything on where they could be hiding yet?” Derek turns his attention to the lady on the phone.

“Not yet, but I'm searching” She answers while analysing the photos and videos on her screens.

“Alright while keep us updated Garcia” Emily holds back a groan as speaks, dread filling inside her as the door swings wide open and Hotch storms inside.

~~~

“We might have something” Rossi announces as he follows Hotch inside. Both of them carrying a big stack of files each, some looking old and tatted. Setting them down in front of the team, Aaron keeps one firmly in his grasp.

“We found these in (Y/n) to-go bag, they go back years even before they joined the BAU” Hotch informs them, his jaw clenching shut.

“Holy shit” Emily eyes widen as she opens one of them, the file has three different people inside them, piled with information of their last whereabouts, age, and home life.

“There's about 20 of them here” JJ gulps, flicking through it. “Why didn’t they tell us sooner”

“This is…alot” Morgan glanced up at the rage filled eyes of his boss.

“Garcia, go into (Y/L) personal file” Hotch stares at the phone, his voice growing cold as he goes to confirm his suspicions.

“Um yes sir” Garcia's voice grows softer as she types away, gaining access. “What am I looking for?”

“He has a sealed file, unseal it” Hotch orders, crossing his arms.

“But it's a sealed file” Her voice is barely audible as she stares at it, feeling frozen.

“Garcia!” Hotch snaps at her, his jaw clenching even tighter.

“Okay” Tears spring to her eyes as she hacks away, feeling guilty as she invades your privacy. The room doubles in tension as it grows silent, the only sound is Penelope tapping away.

“Im in.. holy shit” Garcia breaks the silence, her hands falling away from the keyboard as her screen fills with more icky knowledge.

“Penelope, what is it?” JJ asks, leaning forward, her heart skipping beats.

“I'm sending you the file now.. But it's not good” Tears slides down her cheeks as she sends them the files, scrolling past the gruesome photos of you.

Morgan grabs the laptop, screening the file on the tv for everyone to see. The team's hearts all drop as the photos of you fill the screen.

“Thats..thats (Y/n)?” Emily stares in terror at the photo of you in a hospital gown, posing for photos. You look to be about twenty in that photo, you seem to be all bones and muscles, except you are covered in cuts and bruises. There's almost not one part of your skin that's not covered in an old scar or a new one. The look of horror and numbness is pressed into your eyes, you're covered in dirt and grime, dried blood all over you.

‘A young unname man was found on the edge of riverstone, he seems to be sensitive to light and touch. He has trouble understanding a lot of words and doesn’t seem to know how to read or write. He doesn’t understand where he is or what alot of basic things are. He is skittish and afraid, keeps yelling for someone called Victor and Ryan. The FBI has been contacted and an Agent Jason Gideon from the behavioural analysis unit is on his way. This young man has yet to tell us his name or his age.’

The File is full of more information, but nothing regarding what happened to (Y/n) or how they were found.

“Gideon was on the case” Morgan states, swallowing thickly as what happened to you finally starts setting in.

“I'll be back” Dave declares before pulling out his phone as he leaves the room.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Garcia's broken voice breaks through the phone, bringing everyone back to the room.

“He didn’t want us to know” Reid speaks slowly, quietly as he processes it.

“We could have helped… we are family” JJ has to take a deep breath, tears threatening to fall.

“He's never had a family before” Emily rubs her hand softly over JJ's shoulder, doing her best to keep herself together as well.

“We need to go through all his files and notes, we need to know everything he knows” Hotch finally speaks up, he knows he should comfort his team but he can’t find it in himself to do that. He knew you had it rough, but he just wishes you could have told him, you came to him for help and that's all he has ever wanted to do. No matter how bad it is.

“Do you..” Garcia has to stop herself, taking a deep breath before trying again. “He knew they video them while fighting, do you think his videos are still up?” Her question brings the team to silence again, no one wants to find them yet let alone watch and analyse them.

~~~

“Guys” Rossi calls their attention as he walks back in, phone in hand. He settles down between Morganand Emily putting the phone on speaker before setting it down.

“Jason, are you still there?” Dave asks, bringing the team's attention quickly to the phone.

“Still here, It's been a while I wish this was under better circumstances” Gideons voice floats through the phone, bringing the team to have mixed emotions at this moment.

“So do we, but you were on (Y/n) case?” Hotch speaks up, finally taking a seat.

“I was, I'm surprised but happy to hear he did indeed make it to become an agent. When I first met him, he was different, he was terrified of everything. He used violence as a normal way of life, someone touched him, even if it was briefly he was ready to attack. He didn’t understand what a hospital was, and he differently preferred women over men” Gideon informs them quickly, remembering how only female nurses were allowed to touch him, making him assume it was a male unsub.

“He still hates touch” JJ sighs, just imagining how scared you must have been.

“Do you know how long he was there?” Derek taps away at the table as he asks, he doesn’t want to know but he must ask.

“He never said, but I came to the conclusion he was really young, maybe around 6, he never knew his proper age we came up with around age 20” Gideon rubs his forehead as he speaks, this is a case he could never really get over. “I worked with him for years, even after his case closed, he didn’t have anyone so we bonded. We even decided when his birth date would be, because he couldn’t even remember it.”

“He was there for about 14 years?” Dave's heart drops, god it could be longer and no one on this team knew.

“Yes around about” Gideon conforms.

“Did he ever tell you what happened to him?” Hotch asks, checking his watch. It's been 7 hours since they took you back.

“Nothing with details, he told me they used to train so he could become strong enough to fight. He told me no one ever lasts long, he is the one that lasted the longest, him and his friend Ryan.”

“Ryan, how did they meet?” Emily's eyes shoot open. Gideon goes quiet for a little bit, before finally answering.

“Something you should know first, the unsubs running the place would give them other names and change them a lot. (Y/n) told me his old name was Juptier, and Ryan's name was Victor. (Y/n) was told to go and recruit some boys one day, someone dropped him off at a boxing gym for boys his age, he thinks he was about ten at the time. He went for a few months and got close to a boy named Ryan they became friends” Gideon stops for a breather before continuing. “A few years later Ryan went missing and It must have been the same unsubs, but here's the thing it wasn’t the first time (Y/n) was ordered to do this, but he told me this was the only time he felt guilty about it when he meet Ryan”

The room falls silent as the team takes this information on board, the unsubs are using the boys to recruit more boys, thats fucked.

“How did he escape?” Reid asks, his throat tightening up at what (Y/n) has been through.

“Him and Ryan somehow managed to keep each other sane enough at points and planned an escape plan. They tried to get out together but Ryan got caught and (Y/n) was too scared to go back for him. (Y/n) refused to tell me much more from that.”

“We think they could be being held underground, did (Y/l) mention anything like that to you?” Hotch asks, his cheating tightening up at the thought of you being hurt.

“Nothing like that, sorry Hotch” Gideon sighs, he's glad the young boy he once knew made something of his life and joined his old team.

“Okay well thanks Jason” Dave sighs, looking around at the scared, empty, afraid looks on his team's face.

“If there's anything else I can do, let me know” Soon the line goes dead and no one speaks, soaking in the information.

~~~

“Alright, I need half of us to go back to the hotel and get some rest” Hotch declares, regaining everyone's attention. “Dave, Reid and Prentiss I want you three to go get some sleep and in the morning, Reid I want you to get a map of this town from ten to twenty years ago, see what has changed. Dave, Emily you two will go to the crash site as soon as the sun comes up” Hotch orders, small agreements and nods come from the agents as they get up and make their way out.

“Garcia” Hotch calls out, softening his voice as he turns to the phone.

“Yes boss?” She replies, stretching her fingers ready to keep searching.

“Go home, get some rest”

“What no, I’ll be too far away from my computers if you need me” She argues back immediately.

“You need rest, this is not a debate” Hotch holds back a huff, he knows how she goes when someone she loves is in trouble.

“But Hotch,” Garcia grumbles, going to argue.

“There's a blanket and pillow under my desk, get some sleep in my office baby girl” Morgan pipes up, knowing that's the best arrangement that can be made with his stubborn girl.

“Fine, but the second—”

“The second we need you we will ring now go to sleep” JJ cuts her off, smiling softly at the phone.

“Fine goodnight, I love you all” Penelope's stubborn voice fills the phone before she hangs up.

“What’s the plan boss?” Morgan sips his coffee turning to Aaron.

“JJ, can you go through these files, make a list of all these names, put them in order of when they were taken and see if any of them knew each other, run them through the missing person reports” Hotch orders, turning to her.

“Got it” She nods as she pulls out her laptop grabbing a file to start on.

“Morgan” Hotch takes a deep breath, hating what they have to do next.

“We are going to find his videos” Morgan's eyes shut briefly, mentally preparing himself.

“Yeah” Hotch agrees, grabbing the laptop, clicking onto the previous link.

~~~

Groaning softly in pain as you pull yourself into a sitting position, trying to move your hands behind your back. Your eyes flutter open when you realise they are immobile, hiss quietly as a bright light shines down at you altering you to your surroundings. You seem to be tied to a chair, a bright light and a camera facing you. You do your best to look around, but you don’t have to, you know where you are. You’re back where it all began, back in the swimming pool of death. The smell of dried old dirty blood mixed with fresh bleach fills your nose making your skin crawl, you promised yourself you would never turn back into that thing you used to be. You keep searching around the room looking for a way out, you know deep down it's useless, there's no escape. A rough ‘Ahem’ echoes through the room, redirectioning your eyes, glancing over to the only other light source in the room, right by the door. She even so slowly makes her way out of the darkness making her presence known. Beside her stood the man of your nightmares, the one you refuse to think of even with this investigation.

“You fuckers” You hiss violently at them, they make it to the edge of the pool before stopping, looking down at you with sickening grins.

“Oh Jupiter, you thought you could leave us?” Her sickening sweet voice fills your ears once more. Your stomach flips making you want to hurl as he chuckles beside her.

“I’m not letting you get away with this” Glaring up at them as you do your best to calm the rage stirring awake inside you.

“Oh darling boy, you think we would ever let you get us?” His laugh booms around the room. “You never had us, we gave you enough over the years to come back to us, so you could find your way home” His fake caring smile yanks at your heart, it's all you wanted to see as a kid. All you wanted was his approval, wanted him to be proud of your achievements and be proud to have you around. You now know it's wrong, but what's even worse is, you still crave his approval.

“This isn’t the end” You argue, fighting in your restraints.

“Oh but it is, Jupiter” She can’t help but giggle at you, your body on fire when she calls you that again. “We won, you are never getting out of here alive”

“My team—” Glaring up at her, before he regains your attention.

“Your team already left, they don’t want anything to do with you” He looks at you pointedly, a knowing smirk in his eyes.

“Bullshit!” You scream at him. No, he has to be lying to you, they wouldn’t leave you. Would they?

“Oh honey, they did and we have proof” She smirks joyfully at you, before he jumps down into the pool with you.

“Careful old man, might break a knee” You scoff up at him, which results in a strong slap across the face. A chuckle slips out from you, glaring up at him. “Oh now the fun begins”

“You sadistic bastard”

“Oh you have no idea”

~~~

The morning comes by slowly, when Dave walks into the precinct he notices JJ curl up in a chair fast asleep and Morgan and Hotch both asleep on the couch. Sigh softly as he looks around, the team was working themself to the bone once more just trying to find any lead. Everyone knew deep down that this case wasn’t going to have a happy ending, all they can hope for is that they get you out alive. Before even if you live, you might not stay around on the team, you have already broken so many FBI rules and laws it may be impossible for you to continue working with them. But Dave also can’t help notice the effort this case is taking more of a toll on Aaron than anyone else, and he can’t help but wonder why. This isn’t the first time he has assumed there is something between them, and the last time he asked Aaron his head was nearly taken off with his defensiveness. Dave let it be, because the following week and those two didn’t speak a word to each other and a coldness loomed between them. Dave knows with you missing he would have to keep a close eye on Aaron and make sure he doesn’t go overboard. Moving slowly and quietly around the room, Rossi starts to clean up, moving all their empty glasses to the sink and putting all the files back into piles getting prepared to wake them up. But before he can, the door swings open and the three sleeping agents all shoot awake.

“Well good morning” Emily smirks at them all before making her way to JJ, handing her a coffee.

“Oh caffeine, I love you” JJ groans, taking a long sip closing her eyes.

“Good sleep?” Reid smirks playfully at Morgan before handing him and Hotch some coffee.

“Great” Morgan grumbles before taking a sip. Hotch takes his with a small thanks before moving and sitting at the table, where Rossi joins him, getting ready to ask him something.

“What Dave?” Aaron huffs rubbing his forehead.

“You know you need—” Before Dave could continue, Hotch's phone rings.

“Its Garcia” Hotch announces before putting it on speaker. “Yeah Garcia, your on speaker”

“Sir” Her voice is full of dread, grabbing everyone's attention.

“Garcia what is it?” His voice is sharp as he prepares for the worse.

“They just went live, I sent you the link just prepare yourself” Her voice trails off becoming wobbly.

It's JJ that grabs the laptop, clicking on the link and casting it on the tv quickly. Everyone's face drops as they see the blood dripping from your face and the next words haunt them forever.

“So what they left me, I’m someone people leave. If my team doesn’t want to help me then they can go rot in hell” The words drip from you like venom, your heart breaking as the realisation of just how alone you truly are sinks in.

~~~

“Let's turn this into a show huh?” He kneels down behind you, his breath lingering on your neck.

“Go screw yourself” You sneer at him trying to lean out of his reach, you're too late. He wraps his hand around your neck, forcing you to stay still, aiming your face towards the camera. Next second you know the light turns red and you know its recording, your blood runs cold. You promised yourself this would never happen again, another promise you get to break.

“Say hi to the viewers darling boy” His breath lingers on your ear, before licking a stripe up your neck making you squirm and fight against him.

“Don’t!” You snap at him, fighting against the hand wrapped around your neck, making yourself choke.

“Don’t, oh don’t hurt me, oh please I’ll be good” He pouts mocking you, a cruel chuckle rumbles in his chest. He missed the way you would define him, he has been looking forward to breaking you again. “Oh I have so many plans for you”

“Oh honey, here” She calls out to her partner, grabbing both of your attentions. She climbs into the pool, placing a small table and laptop down, the laptop has a chatroom up all ready.

“Thank you love, leave it there and go check on the other boys and make sure Robin is ready” He licks his lips as he reads the chat messages, ideas on what he should do to you.

“You don’t want Victor?” Her charming smile makes your heart drop, Ryan you can’t fight Ryan, hell you can’t fight anyone!

“Not yet, not until we have broken him” He finally lets go of your neck, making his way to the other side of the pool grabbing something from the edge as she leaves.

“He’s still here?” Your voice breaks as you look at him, your body shaking already.

“Yes your little boyfriend is still here” His evil smirk makes you fall silent. “Don’t worry he got punished properly for helping you escape”

“Don’t fuck touch him!” You try to stay quiet you know you should, he's trying to get under your skin and he’s winning.

“Too late little boy” He sighs before walking back over to you, kneeling down behind you, his hand in your hair yanking it backwards, sliding a knife underneath your chin.

~~~

“Now how about we be polite and say hello to our viewers, and let's see if any of our older viewers remember you” His gruff voice brings you terror but you have had your whole life at being able to practise hiding it.

“Sup fuckers” Smirking at the camera, licking your lip teasingly. He lets go of your hair for a moment, before slapping you hard across the face, your head moves quickly slicing your neck lightly on the knife. A small amount of blood is brought to the surface, you bite your tongue to stay quite glaring at the camera with a powerful smirk. He moves the knife up to just below our eye, pressing just enough to dent the skin.

“Be polite, I taught you manners you ungrateful cunt” He growls loudly in your ear, before pulling his lips away from your body. “Tell them your name”

You don’t respond straight away, thinking over your answer. “(Y/n)” You stare daggers at the camera, bracing yourself for the pain. It comes quick, he slices the knife down your cheek, and it takes everything in you to only let out a deep breath.

“Do not lie” His voice is full of anger, his pulse racing as he cuts into your skin again. “Tell them your name”

“(Y/n)” You push the name out through gritted teeth, shutting your eyes tightly to shut out the pain.

“Try again” He screams at you, slapping you painfully hard over the cts making you whimper.

“No” You argue, but he’s had enough. Moving the knife up to your ear, cutting it into your skin moving it slowly downwards towards your eye.

“Again!”

“(Y/n)! My name is (Y/N) (Y/L)” You scream at him, a scream full of pain, your eyes shooing open landing on the camera, begging for help.

“Fucking barstard” He grumbles, dropping the knife. “You know I was trying to stop this, you might not understand but I love you, you are my kid, I wouldn’t hurt you like this but enough is enough” He snaps at you, pulling out some papers from his pocket. “You don’t believe me that your team would leave you but here's the proof this was taken last night, just hours after we took you back” His voice softens at the end as he shows you the photographs. Rossi, Morgan and Hotch board the jet, your heart breaks as you see it, Hotch has stitches on his head due to the crash you guess. You can feel your world around your crumble, you thought they cared about you, what a bunch of lies. How many times had Aaron held you in his arms telling you the team was grateful you were there, or the amount of times Penelope and Reid would drag you to movie nights. What about Morgan and Rossi just the other day when they both told you they would always be there for you. What fucking liars they are. You take a few deep breaths before glaring up at him, fixing your mask.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotchner x male reader #aaron hotchner one shot #Aaron Hotchner fic #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

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