#hotch fanfic

[criminalskies]

Not Alone. Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader

Hi all! so, this is actually a birthday gift to a beautiful friend and mutual who has been struggling recently. I heard him say that Aaron would not be proud of him at this very point in time, and well. I just couldn’t disagree more. So! That sparked this. I hope all of you reading can hear the message I originally intended to shine through the words. <3 And Happy Birthday, Casper!!!!! @softhairedhotch

word count: 3,400.

THIS IS HEAAAAAAVY ON THE HURT AND HEAVY ON THE COMFORT SO PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!

This fic contains: graphic depictions of depression/depressing imagery. Brief mentions of alcoholism/alcohol as a coping mechanism. Some allusions to suicidal thoughts and loneliness/bullying. Mentions of reader shaving and accidental cuts (no mentions of where on their body). Mentions of caffeine consumption.* *not tagging due to the heavy themes in this particular fic, I don't want to pressure anyone into reading if they aren't completely comfortable*

Numb. The only way to describe the way you’ve been feeling, or rather, unfeeling lately. What you know to have been weeks, feels like months, could have been years stretching on and on feeling this way. You have, of course had moments of joy and happiness, seemingly outnumbered by those where you’ve felt a kind of misery seeping in through the windows at night, staining your carpet with its seething despair. You’ve been trying and trying and trying to avoid it, standing on the furniture as it rises and rises. Now you must be clinging to your raised curtain like a cat, trying still to escape the dreary fog. 

Of course, you wake up every morning, noticing there is no stain at all. The sunny daylight bleaches every fiber in sight and washes away all your signs of last night’s struggle. You turn off your blaring alarm, wipe a restless sleep from your eyes and have to get on with your day. Every. Damn. Day. You throw on your uniform and you begin the endless trudge to Quantico. You can’t help but look around on your long commute, wondering if every other train passenger feels the same way you do. You see the same faces appearing time and time again, expressionless on their way to their same mind numbing 9 to 5. But surely, not everybody feels this weighed down. Not everybody feels like their boots are packed with lead and every step is in the wrong direction. They can’t all have been pushed to their last limit, violating every rule they set for themselves because they just can’t deny themselves a moment’s pleasure. A moment’s reprieve in a world that is otherwise frankly draining. 

Looking around, you note the absence of a particular man you’ve labelled Hat Guy. Until two days ago, you saw this man every morning on the same commute. He’ll often share a row with Newspaper Dude and sit in their comfortable silence. They never greet each other, though. In fact, you wonder if any of these people find the same brimming sense of familiarity and calm that you feel seeing the same faces each day. Actually, do any of them even know you? Would they notice if you stopped riding this train? If you were here every day for the past who knows how many months and then you weren’t?

Luckily, that crisis is cut off by the shrill sound of the doors grating open, you’re finally at your stop. You pick up your daily energy drink from the corner store before beginning your short hike to Quantico’s FBI Headquarters. Greeting the guards at the security checkpoint, you’re predictably asked to remove your bag and belt, putting your drink aside while you make your way through the scanners. The metal alarm sounds as you rush to explain to the guards you have a plate in your arm from an injury as a child. The guards seem equally surprised by this every day. Every day the same. You’re starting to wonder if you’re actually living the plot of groundhog day as the younger, more by-the-books guard picks up the metal detector wand, waving it over your body ‘Just to be sure’. You narrowly avoid telling him, like every single morning. that you’re quite literally one of a few people entering this building without a gun on your hip. There are about a thousand armed agents he should be more concerned with than you. 

You take the elevator up to the sixth floor, barely needing to glance ahead of you to know the path towards the BAU doors like the back of your hand. You push through the doors, the ever predictable Dr Reid being the first to turn and notice your figure trudging past his desk. 

“Morning.” He offers you a tight lipped smile as you note that he’s never even greeted you by name. If he didn’t have an eidetic memory you’d be convinced he didn’t know it. 

“Morning, Reid.” You offer him a similarly forced little smile as you trudge by the other familiar faces of your coworkers, all too absorbed in their work or in quite literally anything more interesting than you, you suppose. You set down your things with a sigh, shedding your jacket over the chair and looking over to see your three fellow evidence technicians deep in conversation, all sat around your ex-partner’s desk, laughing about how much they enjoyed going out for karaoke with the team’s field agents last night. None of them seem to notice your presence as you wake your computer and start rummaging through your desk drawers for your notepad, yesterday’s nearly finished evidence logs, pens and a calculator. 

One of your peers laughs so hard at a joke the infamous Derek Morgan made that she tips backwards, her hand flying out to catch her as it collides with the cold metal of your energy drink, spilling it all over your desk. The fizzy liquid quickly soaks into the loose pages of your entire week’s work as you just watch the can gulp more and more sticky drink over your things. You raise your hands to your head, taking a moment to breathe and tell yourself that you can redo the work. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Things can be replaced. It’s just useless. Seriously, what’s the point of trying anyway if everything is just ruined in the end? This is always the way it goes. You feel before you see the now empty can picked up and placed gently into the wastebasket by your desk, a long set of legs planting two shiny soles beside your chair as a throat clears, loudly beside you. 

The room comes to a grinding halt, your coworkers piling off the desks around yours, clambering to their feet to face their very unimpressed boss. 

“Agent Summers.” You hear a cold but familiar tone directed at the particular ass which collided with your morning caffeine. 

“Yes? Um, sir.” She stutters, clearly surprised to be greeted at 9:02 sharp with such a directed reprimand.

“Clean this mess up, please. This is furniture, not a playground. We don’t go swinging beverages over important documents. Although, I expect since you and your colleagues were meeting in your paid hours, you guys can come up with some plan to make up for this lost work? I trust you can make out which documents you just carelessly ruined on your own?”  

“U-Um, yes, sir. I’m sure we can, We can fix these-” She began peeling the dripping messes of paper off the desk as Agent Hotchner carefully wheeled your chair back just out of the splash zone. 

“Good. And don’t let this happen again.” He gave one last icy stare to the group of fools you once called friends as he carefully moved a hand to your shoulder. He bent down closer to you as his tone turned to one of delicate care. “Come with me.” He offered you a very neutral, soft expression as you pulled yourself to your feet, willing to just move one in front of the other, like always, and stay calm. Whatever he’s about to hit you with, you probably deserve it. 

It’s worth noting that you and Agent Hotchner had been in a sort of dance for months now, both of you had clearly been harbouring feelings for one another but each time one of you took a small step forwards, the other was nearly sent flying back. It was torture. His unwillingness to just be seen as even a little bit unprofessional even once in his life made it impossible to read him as anything other than neutral, if not even a little off-put by your continued presence in his life. Your building anxiety over his indeterminable feelings for you eventually led to the mounds of dead weight you’re now forced to carry with you day to day. The notion you weren’t enough for him to risk his reputation for and the nagging feeling that he only ever did what was right or polite of him to do towards you, and no feelings ever really existed for you continues to burn your throat where your loving words had once died trying to work their way to him. In any case, you’ve been actively avoiding him ever since your strong feelings of regret towards him began following you around like a bad smell. 

You follow him up the stairs to his office where his blinds are already drawn, his hand resting on the door as he allows you in before shutting it behind you. You walk towards the chairs opposite his desk, ready to be fired honestly for someone finally noticing your sluggish and lazy work ethic these past few months, only to be stopped in your tracks. 

“Not there. Over here, please.” You turn and see Aaron gesturing to the small couch by the window. You take a seat, pointedly staring at your now stained work pants as you feel Hotch lower himself onto the couch next to you. You sit for a moment, hand fiddling with the seam of your pants at your side while you await your doomed fate. 

“Y/N. Please, try to look at me when I say this.” Your head turns towards the more seasoned agent, but your eyes stay glued on your reflection in his overpolished shoes. ��I’m worried about you.” You’re caught off guard by this, fully expecting the reprimand of the century for your lackluster job performance. You turn to him fully now, a frown pulling at your features as you try to think of what to say next. 

“You mean… like, worried about my job performance, or?” He doesn’t care. Mister professional, mister perfectly fine can only care about one thing and it’s this unit. 

“No. I mean you. Come on, Y/N. You think a seasoned FBI Profiler can’t notice when somebody is clearly struggling?” You resent that he had to say clearly, as if all of your efforts to hide your anguish and your pain have been for nothing, if it’s as clear as day anyway. “I don’t say this just to hurt you. I want to help you. I’ve seen you shrugging off every person who tries getting close to you recently, and I don’t want to let that happen here. I can’t let you push me away.” The gentle tone of Aaron’s voice drifting through the narrow space between the two of you almost moved you to tears. His offer to help you hanging in the air while you took a deep breath, trying to keep the beads in your eyes at bay. 

“I don’t know how to fix this, Hotch. Even if I wanted to let you help. Everything I’ve tried has only made this worse. I can’t get out. I come close but then each time I think I have a handle on my senses, I end up sinking further from the surface again.” You hear your boss actually take an audible gulp. His throat is tightening hearing you admit you’ve been struggling this much. The way your voice keeps wavering mid sentence is making his chest feel tight. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep treading water, Aaron. I’m tired. I’m so, so tired. There’s just no end to this.” You bury your head in your hands, only when your palms meet your cheeks do you realise they’re wet with tears you’ve held back for too long. The dam has burst.

“You start by admitting you’re not okay. You start by talking to a friend, or even just someone you can bear, and you admit that one person cannot move this mountain alone. You just did that.” A warm hand lands on your shaking shoulder as you move to sit more upright again, finally turning to look at the kind soul seated next to you. ‘Someone you can bear’ you note that this must be the sentiment aaron thinks he holds in your mind. God you’ve made such a mess of things. “It’s hard. I can’t pretend that reaching the other side of this is easy, or even that it’s fast… or linear. There are a dozen ups and downs and it’s so so slow going, but one day, you look up and it dawns on you that you haven’t been carrying such a weight around for a while. You realise it’s lifted. Little by little, without you even knowing, it got better… It does get better, Y/N. It did for me, at least.” 

You face the older man fully now, searching those deep, soulful eyes of his for the slightest hint that he’s lying. That he’s making this up just so you won’t stop treading water. 

“And I was like you. I won’t lie. I thought I was handling it, and I was handling it, and even as I lost my handle on it, I refused to let people in. To let them even see how bad things were. I couldn’t face my own employees knowing they’d seen me so weak or so vulnerable. I thought they’d all be disappointed to learn their unshakeable unbreakable boss was exactly as terrified and shattered as a person can be. But, you start with a conversation, and then you start changing the way you talk to yourself. The way you treat yourself. If we treated ourselves half as well as we’re willing to treat other people, I really think we’d live an awful lot longer. Fuller lives, too. But, I digress. I just wanted to say that I’m in no way disappointed in you. In fact I’m proud of you. Every day, no matter how bad you’ve been feeling, you have walked through that door and you have tried, even for a second, greeting this unit with a smile. Every day you’ve tried. Even if there was a whiff of alcohol on your breath from the long night before, or if you had to take home half your work for the day, trying to complete a respectable amount even though your brain is so clouded with shit that you can’t even find the lead end of a pencil. Even the mornings you’ve come in with fresh nicks and cuts from shaving yourself with shaking hands. I have been proud of you. You’ve never quit trying.” 

You swear you must be staring at Aaron like he has three heads by now. He saw everything. He saw right through you, all of your greatest faults and flaws, and he felt… pride? You feel a gasp rip through your chest, your now thick lens of tears in your eyes making it hard to tell if this is a dream, finally, the sweet dreams you’ve been hoping would interrupt the endless cacophony of hurt you’ve felt every night as you tossed and turned in restless sleep. Aaron’s weight shuffles closer to you on the couch as he moves to wrap his arms around you. Seeing your trembling form blubber beside him was beginning to make his chest physically ache as he saw himself in you. He thinks maybe that’s why he’s so inclined to help you. You helped him. The part of his story he didn’t disclose, was that the moment he realised the weight had long since left his shoulders, was the same moment he saw you setting down your things at a desk in the bullpen. Your quirked smile as you bounced from foot to foot, shaking your new colleagues hands had cut through the ashy gray of his known world like a beam of light. He had only then noticed that his back had stopped aching from carrying all of his grief with him. 

Right now, he pulls you into him as your fists ball in his neatly pressed shirt in the back, his cupped hand finds the back of your head and he instinctively rocks a little, side to side, his hand smoothing over your mess of hair so gently. The two of you feel yourselves drifting slowly apart from the flow of time as you sit there, heart to heart. All of your months of stress and heartache and dread finally move away from the forefront of your mind, drawn to the back for once, out of the spotlight. You can’t help but wonder if Aaron’s hand is a magnet for negative thoughts, but surely that is a thing of fiction. His smoothing motions over your slowing mind sure are dulling the terror and sadness that usually run rampant through your every synapse, though. Your mind feels almost clear when you pull back from Aaron, sniffling and removing your hands from his now very wrinkled, tear stained shirt as his arms loosen their hold around you. 

“I’m sorry, I-” 

“Don’t be. You are more important to me. Okay?” 

“Okay… then can I at least apologise for being such an ass every time you tried asking me out?” You look at the wonderful, sensitive, caring man before you and cross your every finger, toe and hair follicle that he’ll let you express your regret for the way you acted towards him. He clearly doesn’t deserve to be treated so hot and cold. 

“Pfft, only if you let me apologise for your probable whiplash the morning I scolded you for trying to take everyone’s coffee orders in a classified briefing right after I’d told you I had feelings for you the night before. I think I was trying to appear impartial to you but I very, very badly overcompensated and swung the other way towards disdain. If anyone should apologise for you not meeting me on the roof for dinner, it’s me. That was my own doing.” 

“Wait, that was you going for impartial? You threatened to charge me with Unauthorised Disclosure if you saw me even blink at Morgan’s open casefile again.” Now it’s Hotch’s turn to bring his hands to his face and groan. 

“God. Maybe impartial isn’t my strong suit. Actually, maybe dating isn’t my strong suit. But, dating or not, I really want to make sure you have someone in your corner for this. Even if you’d rather that’s Garcia, or, or Rossi. I just need to know you’re not alone. That you know you’re far from alone.” 

“I think you’re about the only person who’s been able to draw me out of my own head in months, Aaron. I really think you’re the best person for me to turn to here. Besides, it sounds like however far you’ve come since you were, um, treading water, you could maybe use somebody in your corner too. I’d like to do that for you.” You only notice now that the other agent had let go of you completely when he relented his role to the other agents in the unit. You make the move this time to be the one to put a warm hand on Aaron’s shoulder. Letting him know he’s also not alone. “Deal?” You offer your spare hand for him to shake. You think for a moment you catch sight of the stone-faced agent’s chin wobbling as he steadies himself in your grasp and moves to hold your hand, not shaking it. Interlacing both of your fingers between your laps where your bodies are exchanging the same warmth. 

“Deal” He offers you a shaky smile, letting a moment pass before he turns, checking the blinds are still closed and that time isn’t really at a standstill since you two fused with this couch. “Now, let me try look up what can get Mango Loco Monster out of cotton workpants.” He stands, moving to his desk too swiftly to peel open his laptop. You don’t miss the moment where he brings a knuckle up to his eye, wiping a stray tear onto his own pants as he rounds the desk. 

In that moment, you decide that you don’t particularly care if none of the other commuters, none of the other evidence technicians or even the field agents know you exist or notice your absence. You know now more than ever that you’re not nearly as alone as you thought you were. Once Aaron Hotchner is in your corner, he’s immovable. Destined to remind you that you’re worthy of love and of pride, even in your darkest moments. And you, in his.

banners custom designed by @ssaahthings please do not copy without permission from the artist. <3 thank you.

#rome's writing! #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x gn!reader #hotch x gender neutral reader #hotch angst #hotch hurt/comfort #hotch fic #hotch fanfic #hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x you

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- epilogue

Well, we've reached the end guys. Thank you endlessly for going on this wild ride with me. I didn't really know what to expect when I started posting this fic because I wasn't sure it would be anyone's cup of tea, but as usual, you guys went insane with me for it and it never gets old. Love you guys so so much (and thanks for letting me be the evil author that tortures you with such sad stories) 💛💛

Warnings: sadness. just so, so much sadness.

“I have survived, but I have not been spared.” --Catherynne M. Valente

“You understand the agreement you are entering by accepting this retirement package from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit?” Strauss reads aloud for the tape.

“Yes ma’am,” you reply with a nod, signing your life and career away.

“You are not to disclose any of the details of this case with anyone. Family, friends, coworkers past, present, or future, and so on. You understand?”

It’s not like I want to tell anyone. “Yes, I understand.” You sign again.

“Please give me your credentials.” Your firearm was taken days ago. You slide your badge and keycard across the table toward Strauss. “Thank you.”

She recites her name and title, the date, this case number. You recite your name, your former title, the date. 

The tape clicks. Strauss exhales. You stare blankly at the space in front of you, drained of all energy.

“I am sorry,” Strauss says. “For all of this.”

You look up at her. You nod slowly. “Thank you.”

“If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to call.”

You nod. Slow. Everything moved so fast. Now time struggles to breathe.

“You are dismissed,” Strauss says finally. “Thank you for your time. During this interview, and at the FBI.”

You manage a smile. Both of you stood and exchanged formal handshakes, and you left.

The rest of the team is waiting for you in the bullpen by your desk. Your go-bag and cardboard box of your belongings that you packed sit on your chair. 

You don’t say a single word. Rossi pulls you in for a hug first, soothing you while you openly sob into his shoulder. Everyone gathers around you in a group hug, and it isn’t long before everyone is crying, too.

No one knows what else to do. The BAU will never be the same, nor will you, or anyone here. All there is to do is hold one another and cry. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to do anything else.

They help you carry your things to your car. Derek has your go bag over his shoulder. Reid is carrying the cardboard box. Rossi is holding onto your coat until you’re ready for it. Penelope hasn’t let go of your hand. Emily is rubbing perpetual circles into your spine. JJ has her arm linked with yours, and you rest your head on her shoulder in the elevator. 

“Dinner at mine tomorrow,” Rossi says in the elevator. Everyone nods their silent agreement. 

Nothing in the world can fix this feeling or make any of it better, but a homemade dinner with expensive wine in Rossi’s back garden will, at the very least, take the edge off.

Derek insists on driving you to your apartment and you don’t have it in you to argue. All it took was one look from you and he knew.

After another round of hugs, you’re in the passenger seat as Derek drives your car out of the Quantico parking deck for the last time. You fall asleep on the way home.

He wakes you gently when he gets to your apartment, unbuckling you and helping you out. Up the stairs and into your apartment. 

You stand like a ghost in the middle of the kitchen. The place on the counter that once held the bottle of wine you shared with Aaron now sits empty, glaring. The couch where you have tossed and turned countless nights -- and where Aaron once slept -- threatens to swallow you whole. 

You didn’t realize how much of Aaron is in this apartment until he’s gone forever. He’ll never be here again, but there is no getting rid of these memories, his shadow that still dances on the far wall. A time long forgotten, a man that hasn’t existed for some months. 

You turn around to see Morgan watching you, tears filling his eyes. You blink and feel the warm tears rush down your cheeks. Morgan has his arms wrapped around you in the next second, tucking you into his chest.

“I know,” he says softly, propping his chin on the top of your head. “I’m so sorry.”

Your sobs only grow louder, your grip on his shirt tighter. You’ll fall over if he doesn’t hold you up. He holds you up for as long as you need.

“I can’t stay here,” you say, the words muffled into his chest. 

But he hears you. “I know.”

+++

You move out of the apartment the next week, after staying in a guest bedroom at Rossi’s. Derek lets you live in one of the properties he recently renovated, free of charge, until you can find another place of your own.  

You don’t know if you’ll stay in the area, or if you’ll move farther away. The truth is, no amount of distance would suffice. No matter where you go, you’ll forever be running away from the memories of this.

So, you decide to stay close to your friends. Derek becomes Unit Chief (Rossi refused to take on that much responsibility). JJ becomes less liaison and more field agent. Emily toys with the idea of leaving, but nothing sticks. Reid is going nowhere. And as long as Derek is there, Penelope is there. You don’t know what the next years will bring, but for now, everyone is close, and dinners at Rossi’s house are frequent.

You’re in therapy twice a week and meeting with your psychiatrist once a month. You don’t know how much any of it is helping, but you’re able to eat and somewhat sleep, so things are better. Relatively.

Aaron is buried next to Haley and Jack. You visit him once. You haven’t gone back since. But you think about him every day.

Love is a funny, funny thing. For you to still love him after everything that happened, after the attempts on your life. For your heart to still hold onto the small parts, the moments before it all, when he was nothing but a crush, a casual affair, a man you stumbled into bed with while laughing, a man that if he had stuck around a little longer, you might’ve seen a future with. 

Letting go of him means letting go of all of it -- good days included -- and a part of you just isn’t ready for that yet. 

So, you spend your days floating. Making it through. Fighting the ghosts that crawl their way onto your back. Letting them linger and letting them go. One by one. Until the only one left is Aaron himself, hanging off of you, arms around your neck, face nuzzled into your shoulder. 

You’ll always miss him, probably as much as you’ll always love him. The version before he became the person you killed. Part of you died when you fired your gun that day. A part of you that you’ll never be able to get back. But you’re not sure if you want it back. Maybe it was meant to die. The consequence of killing him meant you killed part of yourself, too. 

So, you get through your days as best as you can. As a person half-alive. Forever changed, and not for the better. Always wishing for the past to return, hating the present, and dreading the future.

Because you were happy once -- with Aaron. You don’t know if you’ll ever be happy again.

You dream of him almost every night, though you don't tell your therapist the dreams are that frequent. You dream of what could've been. The life the two of you might've built. A fantasy world where you moved on from the BAU, he stayed Unit Chief, and the two of you grew closer, bought rings, settled down. A life worth living. A life better than the one you got.

He will always be gone. You will never be in his arms ever again. And these are the facts that haunt you every morning when you open your eyes.

You killed a man. Who happened to be the man you loved. Facts you can't escape. A judge ruling in favor of your self-defense doesn't quiet the thoughts, the questions of if you had behaved differently. You took a life. And it was the life you wanted most to save.

In the end, are you any better than he was?

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #unsub!hotch x fem!reader #unsub!hotch x reader #unsub!hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch fanfiction #hotch fanfic #unsub!hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

[cavillsbitch]

Love Sense

Aaron Hotchner x NonBAU fem!reader

Summary: Aaron is away on a case for your first Valentine’s day as a couple, and he surprises you with a gift.

Warnings: None really, flufffffffff, there will probably be mistakes sorry

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hiiii Hotch girlies, allow me to enter your space. I’ve been wanting to write something for Aaron for a while, but as usual I don’t ever finish anything and that leads me to not even start sometimes. BUT I saw a tiktok where a girl got a similar gift to the one reader gets here, which lead me to this. Let me know what you think, see you on the other side 🫡

—

You hadn’t predicted that you would be spending your first Valentine’s day in a very long time with a partner… alone in your apartment.

You were very aware, since before the two of you were officially in a relationship, that Aaron’s job was demanding of his time, and you respected that. He worked very hard, and put a lot of himself into his job. He saved lives every single day, and you were so proud of him. You only wished that he was home for Valentine’s day. You felt selfish at the thought, but knew you had a gift for him waiting when he got home, whenever that may be.

Speaking of, your phone chimed as soon as your Keurig began dispensing your coffee. As you looked down, you saw that the message was from Aaron.

Your heart skipped and the waiting message, assuming and hoping that it was a loving holiday wish.

Aaron: Check your front porch.

You raised your eyebrows as your heart rate quickened with anticipation. As your coffee finished brewing, you took a few quick steps to the door and opened it, revealing a huge vase full of red roses and a gift bag. You also noticed the card taped to the front of the vase with your name on it.

Picking up the gifts, practically skipping back inside, you closed the door and set the flowers on the counter. Taking a quick selfie next to the roses and holding your gift, you sent it in response.

Y/N: Seems I’ve got a secret admirer.

Aaron: Ask Jess, I know nothing.

Aaron: Kidding. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. I wish I could spend it with you. I promise I will make it up to you. And, you look beautiful as always.

You felt yourself beginning to get emotional reading the last message, feeling guilty for not thinking to send his gift with one of his team members when they left for the case.

Y/N: Sorry that you have to wait for your Valentine’s gift. You don’t have to make up anything. It’s incredible that you even thought to have Jess drop this off for me. You are too sweet, Hotchner.

Aaron: Only for you. See you soon, hopefully. I will keep you posted. Enjoy your day.

Sending a quick response and making sure to tell him to be careful as always, you took a deep inhale near the roses, taking in the sweet fresh scent. You couldn’t wait, practically ripping the card open. The front was a beautiful velvet textured photo of a rose, and the inside had no print. However, the message in Aaron’s signature block lettering was much nicer.

“My Dear Y/N,

Happy Valentine’s Day. It’s just my luck that I get called away during our first Valentine’s day, and I’m so sorry. I promise I will make it up to you when I get back, in as many ways as you’ll let me.

Speaking of, I know we haven’t been together for too long just yet, but I want you to know that I care about you and I feel very lucky to have a woman like you in my life. I hope that you know how I feel. You overwhelm my senses in a way that I have never felt before, and I mean that. I hope you enjoy your day even though we can’t spend it together.

See you soon, sweetheart.

Aaron”

The heartfelt intent in his message was clear and genuine, and it made your chest feel warm. You felt just as lucky to have this amazing man in your life. Neither of you had said ‘I love you’ yet, and you knew he wanted to take things slowly in that regard, but the fact that he had written, “our first Valentine’s day” was a clear indicator to you that he was serious about moving forward in your relationship, and you couldn’t wait to see what the future held. As you took out some of the white and pink tissue paper, you noticed a few things wrapped in the same paper inside the bag. You took out the first one you could grab, and noticed a small index-like card taped to it.

“Smell”

Your eyebrows crinkled with curiosity reading the script on the card. Smell? You peaked inside the bag, moving some more tissue to the side and noticed another visible card that read, “Taste”.

He coordinated gifts to each of the five senses.

As realization began setting in, you smiled softly thinking about how he must have spent time trying to find things you liked, or thought you might, to go with each sense. Also, five gifts? You wondered if this was typical of men like Aaron, or if you were just truly that lucky. Your smile didn’t fade as you turned the card in your hand over to read the reverse side.

“I can’t stop dreaming of your perfume, which made it very easy for me to find.”

Before the butterflies made you swoon completely, you gently tore open the tissue paper to reveal a good sized bottle of your not-so-cheap perfume, one of the only things you’d mentioned to Aaron that you allowed yourself to splurge on when he complimented it, you think, on your first date. The memory was fond, and you could barely believe he remembered it.

Your smile was bigger now as you reached into the bag to pull out the next gift, the one you’d already seen, “Taste”. You flipped the card over to read the message.

“I know we can’t exactly have dinner together while I’m away, but I can at least buy dinner for you.”

This package was much smaller and thin, so much so that you wouldn’t have known it was a gift if the label wasn’t taped to it. As you tore the paper, a gift card for Doordash fell into your hands. This one made you chuckle and shake your head. Even as he’s miles away from you, he’s making sure that he gets to treat you. In the 6 or so months that you’d been together, he always made a point to treat you in some way, even if you were stubborn enough to convince him to buy dinner or split a bill. You set the gift card aside, contemplating what you might order yourself for dinner tonight as you reached in and grabbed one of the larger gifts.

“Touch”

Before flipping the card over, you noticed the fact that although it was one of the biggest gifts, it was quite light. Turning the card to the reverse side, you read, “Alright, this one might be just as much for my sense of touch as it is yours. I hope you’ll enjoy it all the same, I know I will.”

Excitement struck in your stomach as you still carefully tore the pink tissue paper to reveal a gorgeous set of silk and lace lingerie. The color was gorgeous, a deep sage green, and you knew it would compliment your skin tone and the few tattoos you had. The top had a bodice shape, though it was soft and lacy. There was a silky soft robe to pair with it, also a garter set and g-string. This is the first moment so far that you are grateful Aaron isn’t in the room with you, because your face is a deep red and your jaw is on the floor.

You and Aaron had been pretty physical from the beginning of your relationship, you loved how giving he was and how he always made sure to satisfy you in the best ways. You hadn’t really had the attention from a man before in the same way as with Aaron. You attributed it to his age and experience, but learned over time that he was just an excellent lover. He listened to you and your body, he learned what you liked and didn’t, and you’ve had some of the best sex of your life in his bed. He knows that you have some deep rooted hard-to-shake insecurities, and he is always complimentary both intimately and casually. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction when you wear this set for him when he comes home.

The next gift was labeled “Hearing”. This was a sizable box, you noticed as you turned the card over. “Hopefully these won’t bother your ears as much as what you have. I have a feeling they won’t. I hope the first thing you use them for is to listen to the Beatles.”

Headphones. It couldn’t be…

You tore the paper excitedly and you were met with a box with very new and very expensive over-the-ear headphones. You actually squealed at the sight, another item in green, and something you seriously needed but could never spend the money on yourself. You had mentioned once on a run with Aaron that you couldn’t wear your earbuds as long as you’d like to because after a while they bothered your ears. You knew he was attentive and always listening and learning about you, it was still technically early in your relationship even now, but you were pretty blown away at the fact that he was putting in this much effort.

Part of you felt a twinge of guilt, maybe you didn’t deserve this. You had never been spoiled before, and you didn’t want to take advantage of having a boyfriend that was well off. However, you are typically stubborn about him spending money on you, so you guessed this was a chance he took to splurge for you. You were already dreaming of the ways you would repay him, probably while wearing your new lingerie. Shaking your head at that thought, you set the headphones down next to the vase.

Knowing there was one last gift, “Sight”, you reached in and pulled out the final card-shaped gift that was sat at the bottom of the bag. On the reverse side of the card, you read, “I can’t wait to share this experience with you.”

You noticed it was only a few sheets of folded paper that the card was taped to, and you unfolded to see a screenshot of what appeared to be an AirBnB booking for this coming weekend as well as a photo of Niagara Falls. The paper folded underneath was a flight confirmation.

You couldn’t hold back your tears as your mouth fell agape. A few weeks ago, Aaron had been called away on a case near the falls in New York. You had told him that when you were young, your mom bought you a few books about different locations in the United States, Niagara Falls being one of them. In the book, it mentioned the Canadian and American sides of the falls, and you’d never gotten the chance to visit either. You knew, you told him, that the Canadian side was the better side and that you hoped to visit it one day, you just hadn’t gotten around to it.

Setting the papers down and looking around at the countertop surface adorned with gifts and crumpled tissue paper, you were so full of joy and disbelief. Growing up, you’d thought this kind of thing only happened to girls in movies and books, but here you were feeling so special that it was hard to believe and feel like you deserved it.

You couldn’t wait to call Aaron, but you cautioned yourself that he was working, so a short text would have to do for now.

Y/N: Aaron… I don’t even know what to say. I don’t deserve you. I can’t believe how thoughtful you are. I am so lucky. I can’t wait to see you.

Fighting the urge at this point to end a text with “I love you” was getting difficult, but you knew especially given Aaron’s past that you had to leave that first step to him, no matter what you felt. You must’ve caught him at a good time, because his response was almost immediate.

Aaron: You deserve all of it and more, honey. I can’t wait for this weekend. Hopefully I will be home by tomorrow night or the next morning. I will call you later, okay?

Y/N: Sounds good. Please be safe, talk to you later. Try to enjoy your Valentine’s day (:

Setting your phone down, you sighed contently, completely forgetting about your now cold cup of coffee, dreaming about your upcoming weekend with the man you love.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfic #valentines fanfic #hotchner valentines #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #bau x reader

[beelmons]

Golf lessons pt. 2

Pt2 of this blurb! Pairing: dbf!hotch x Fem!Reader Rating: NSFW, 18+ Word count: 2,757 CW: unprotected sex, kinda public sex, overstimulation, vaginal penetration. Tagging the two moots that inspired part 2 <3 @ssahotchnerr @ssamorganhotchner

As it turns out, being able to hit the ball was not enough golf expertise for the ever-so-perfectionist Aaron Hotchner. Regardless of both of your urges to do something entirely different, Aaron’s commitment to making you the next Tiger Woods forced you to stay in the golf club until almost midnight, and by that time everything was either closed or too lousy for him to ever consider taking you. At the end, he dropped you back home so you could pack for the retreat.

The thought of not seeing him again for an entire weekend was saddening, specially when it meant being shoved inside a room with your dad and his snobby friends, but the picture of him smiling at you, the proud, sly smile he would wear when you told him just how many holes in ones you scored, and how your pars were the best, and about your putts (you didn’t understand golf, like, at all) was the token you held onto to keep going.

The retreat was okay, you came up sixth out of the total twenty teams, so at least your dad was not a sulky mess, and he would go around showcasing your golf skills and how you “took after him”, even if it was also his first time seeing you play. To wrap up the event, there was an additional party with a “Sunday golf” theme, which meant everyone would go dressed in fancy sports clothes. Looking through your wardrobe, you were lost in your own mind trying to figure out what to wear when your phone chimed.

Mr. Aaron Hotchner: Apparently, today’s Sunday Golf party is open to friends and family as well. Your father has decided to invite me. Will you be attending?

Your eyes skimmed through the notification and a bright smile appeared on your face. Great, you got to see him sooner than you expected.

You: Yes, I’ll be there!

Mr. Aaron Hotchner: Great. Can’t wait to hear all about the golf competition.

You hugged the device to your chest in excitement, and the decision of what to wear suddenly seemed like a life and death situation, or so you felt until a very risky idea popped into your head.

The party looked like everything else you had seen during the weekend: bland and uninteresting. Across the venue you spotted your dad, who had gone ahead without you, sucking up to his boss and some other higher-ups. Your sight then landed on a handsome gentleman standing by the appetizers table, a couple of men his age chatting him up. He was wearing a white polo and khaki dress pants with a pair of brown shoes. He looked stunning as per usual. As if sensing your eyes on him, Hotch’s sight travelled to you; you watched him mutter an ‘excuse me’ to his acquaintances and he hurried in your direction.

“Hey!” he shouted lightly when he got closer, his arms quickly surrounding your waist to pull you into a happy hug, which you gladly returned “I have been hearing great things about you all day.” he pulled back from you to be able to look at your face.

“Well, apparently I did very good for a first timer” you answered him with a smile.

“I can tell. Your dad has done nothing but brag about it the whole night.”

“He has?” you asked with genuine surprise “So, golf, huh? Who would have thought that’s what it took for him to finally be proud of me.” you said in a self-deprecating tone.

“Don’t be so hard on him, he can be tough to deal with, but you are the apple of his eye” he tried to reassure you, but the huff of your cheeks let him know the comment was not exactly well received “Well, for that matter, I’m incredibly proud of you. You truly learned fast.” he continued in attempt to lessen the tension.

His strategy worked, because shortly you were back to a smiling mess. “I had a great teacher” you said with your eyes locked onto his “which reminds me, I still have to repay the favor. If I remember correctly, you asked for two, very simple things, didn’t you, Aaron?” you batted your eyelashes innocently as you spoke. Your hands travelled down to play with the hem of your skirt, raising it slightly to reveal some of the skin on your thighs. He couldn’t help but stare for a second, solely focused on how good your legs looked.

The moment your words dawned on him, his entire demeanor switched. His fingers gripped your wrist firmly, and with a rather rough tug he pulled you to the closest wall, forcing your back to be pressed against it, his body shielding your front from curious eyes. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked with a low voice “It’s bad enough that half these men have taken at least one look at your legs, do you know what would happen if someone noticed you’re not wearing underwear?” you could detect a hint of possessiveness in his tone, a frown plastered on his face, and so you found the opportunity to finally get what you wanted: him. Your fingers tugged at the sides of his shirt, his body still covering you from the stares of the rest of the guests.

“Then take me somewhere only you can see.” you almost whispered. He turned his head to try and spot your dad among the crowd, he seemed to be engrossed in whatever conversation he was having. He took a second look at you, and you watched as his eyes travelled quickly to your bottom piece of clothing.

He slipped his hand behind your back to guide you away from the main area of the venue and towards the bathrooms, constantly walking behind you to make sure no one else would try and pry at your rear. As you walked through the halls, you watched him snatch an ‘out of order’ sign from a random surface. Once you reached the entrance of the men’s bathroom, he gave you an order to wait for a second, he opened the door and tilted his head to look inside, once he made sure all the stalls were clear he gently pushed you in by the shoulders and hung the sign on the outside of the door.

“The men’s bathroom?” you cocked an eyebrow in his direction, a playful smile on your face.

“If your dad notices you’re gone, the first place he’ll look is your room. I don’t have one of my own because I’m an foreign guest, and men are three times less likely to ask staff for clarification about services not being provided than women.” he clarified as he locked the door; once he made sure it wouldn’t open he took a couple of steps closer to land his hands on your hips “but of course, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can always do this some other time.”

“Hell no, you’re not escaping this twice.” your tone was resolute and almost desperate, without wasting anymore time your arms threw themselves around his neck and you pulled him closer to land a kiss to his lips.

The gentleness which with he usually treated you was absolutely absent from the kiss, his mouth moved roughly against yours with his body pressing forward to close the gap between the two of you. Without so much as a warning, his hands slid from your hips to your thighs instead, he caressed his way up, lifting the skirt in the process, until he landed on your buttocks, the tightness of the squeeze he gave to them was for sure going to leave a mark, and the sensation and slight pain caused you to wince; the newly opened mouth was an invitation for his tongue to take control, you could feel it explore yours hungrily, heavy pants accompanying his movements.

“Hop.” he commanded against your lips, without a second thought you complied, and soon you were sitting on top of the lavatory counter. The coldness of the marble against your bare skin caused you to moan, and Aaron broke the kiss to shoot you a playful smile “Seems like you didn’t think this through.”

His comment allowed a blush to spread on your face. He had nailed it, you didn’t think anything through, actually, you were just so excited to see him, to be with him again, that you wanted to do something that would make him happy. “I thought this is what you wanted” you admitted with a shy tone.

“It’s you I want.” his eyes took a second to stare tenderly into yours before his lips attached to the base of your neck. Your hands tangled on his hair and your body arched forward, trying desperately to feel more of him. His own fingers snuck in between your pressed bodies to caress your slick, his middle finger prodded at the entrance, and you let out an unholy moan. His mouth attached onto yours once again with the full intention of shutting you up, two fingers slipping inside your hole. His pace was slow, painfully so, pulling in and out as if he was trying to figure out where to press best.

“Aaron.” you whispered into his mouth “No teasing, please, I need you.” you begged. He let out a chuckle, a little embarrassed of being found out, and nodded. He took a second to undo the zipper of his pants, seems like you weren’t the only one without underwear, and shortly after his member was freed.

Your legs instinctively pulled him closer at the sight. “Seems like someone’s eager.” he whispered, however he was just as desperate as you were, his right arm snaked around your body, pulling you to an angle that allowed his tip to hover at your entrance. Slowly, he began to thrust forward, giving you some time to adjust to his size. You buried your face in his neck and muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ against it. His hips began to move steadily, you could feel him fill you up, they were deep and passionate, his groans were ringing in your ear “you feel so good” he muttered against it.  

You were trying to keep your pants quiet, not wanting to cause a scene and have your dad find out you were fucking his best friend in the hotel bathroom, but he felt so good, so deep, that you couldn’t help but to let out a cry. Aaron pulled back and out of you, which caused you to whimper in protest, without a word, he forced you off the marble counter and turned you around, his hand pushing your head forward to have you bent over it instead “if you can’t keep quiet on your own, I will have to do it for you.” he raised the fabric covering your ass to expose the skin and gently guided his dick back to your entrance, his thrust, however, was way rougher compared to before. You almost let out another moan, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth tightly and it ended up muffled “seems like this will do” he whispered with a mocking tone.

His hips began to snap against yours again, faster and rougher, he was much more in control in this position. His lips focused on nibbling around the shell of your ear, trying his best for his moans to also be muffled. You could feel his balls hitting against the lower part of your pussy, your hands desperately looking for a place to grip, your throat emitting sounds trying to keep yourself sane. He felt you began to clench around him, and so he decided to slide his free hand down to rub around your sensitive clit. You could feel his rhythm become more erratic by the second, with you clenching furiously around him trying to hold back your orgasm and prolong the delicious encounter. Seeking for his release, he used one of his legs to push in between yours and slide your feet on the ground to spread them further open.

The mere gesture caused another muffled moan and you threw your head back. You were able to see yourself on the lavatory mirror, the whimpering mess you had become, and the focused, pleased expression that he had on his face. His fingers quickened the pace “Don’t push yourself for me, sweetheart, show me how good I’m making you feel.” he ordered against your ear; he leaned forward and landed a sweet kiss to your cheek, his hips never giving yours a second of rest. You snapped yours in return and when one of the thrusts was particularly deep, you let your climax take over you.

He clutched the area of your mouth tighter, making his best to push back most of the long moan that you let out. His hips began to lower his speed and his hand moved away from your face. “You still haven’t come.” you whispered trying to do your best to keep yourself propped onto your elbows.

“I’m close.” he answered as he straightened his back. He watched how his member entered and exited you, and the mere sight was making him even more excited “Can you behave for a little?” he mentioned referring to your sounds. You turned around to give him an eager nod and he responded with a smile. “Or perhaps you should let your voice out, so everyone out there can know how good I can treat you.”

You opened your mouth to answer, and in that instant his hands gripped your hips once again to snap your hips into his. You bit down on your bottom lip, hard, to avoid letting your wince come out. His thrusts went back to the original pace, and you could feel yourself just bouncing against the counter, your hands gripping the marble for dear life. His hands squeezed your ass tightly, pulling them back and forth to meet his rhythm. His member began to throb inside you, and you could feel him getting closer. “Inside.” you let out as you turned back to look at him “I want you to fill me up, Aaron” you whispered in between quiet moans.

Your expression was so erotic he couldn’t help himself. His hands gripped tighter on your already reddened rear, and they held your hips in position for his cock to slide all the way in, letting you feel the sensation of being filled up with his cum. You whimpered loudly and allowed him, slightly weak at the overstimulation he had accidentally caused.

He leaned forward to grab one of the paper towels before sliding out of you, his hand pressing it against your entrance to prevent his seed from dripping out on the floor. “We should clean you up.” he mentioned, suddenly very aware of what, and where, he had done.

“I can take care of it.” you said with a gentle smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“After we go out, please go back to your room and put something underneath.” he said almost like an order.

“Yes, sir.” you answered with a purposedly innocent smile.

He nodded approvingly and turned in the direction of the door, he was planning on  waiting outside to make sure no one would be there when you came out, that could cause suspicion, but before he actually exited he turned back around and gripped your face, in a blink, his lips were back on yours with such passion you would have thought round two was about to come. You responded with a gentle caress of his cheek and an opening of your mouth for his tongue to slip in once again. After a couple of seconds, he let go, and without another word he sneaked outside the bathroom. You were left dumbfounded and smitten in front of the stalls, giggling to yourself at what just had happened.

Aaron waited patiently, making sure no one would come around and try to get into the bathroom in spite of the ‘out of order’ sign that still hung from the door. After a few minutes, you came out of the room and he offered a gentle smile to welcome you back.

“Well, seems like I paid off my debt” you said jokingly. His arm folded and was offered in your direction, which you took gladly, for him to escort you back to the main hall.

“In that case, next time I can teach you some racquetball.”

#i know its midnight and i have work tomorrow but i got carried away #fic: mine #fic: hotchner #fic: criminal minds #mine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher x reader #aaron hotchner/reader #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch/reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fan fic #aaron hotchner fic #hotch fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #crimnal minds #criminal minds fic #tagging is always a pain

[ssahotchhner]

could you do a blurb about hotch rubbing your shoulders/back to try to calm and comfort you? or just anything hotch and physical contact? I love your writing 🫶🏻🫶🏻

thank you for sending this in!!! i hope this is what you were looking for

tw: panic attacks, anxiety

Part of the reason you had fallen in love with Aaron had been his gentle demeanor. You knew he could be authoritative, scary even, when he needed to be. But he was never like that with you. 

The beginning of your relationship was difficult, before he knew you. It took him a while to learn your rhythms and signals. It took him longer to convince you that your anxiety wasn’t just something you had to live with, that you could get professional help and it didn’t make you weak.

But it wasn’t a cure, you both knew that. All the same, the stretches between your panic attacks lengthened. Before you met Aaron they were up to an average of once a week. After he convinced you to see a therapist and a psychiatrist had prescribed something for emergencies, it had gone down to once a month. Then once every other month. It plateaued somewhere around once every six months.

You knew exactly what triggered them, now, but sometimes it wasn’t enough to stop them in time. Though you had learned to handle them on your own, it was much easier to slow the storm with Aaron around until they became nothing more than a gentle wave against the shore.

He had been away on a case for two weeks now, promising you every night over the phone that he’d be home soon. You knew he wasn’t purposely misleading you, but with each day he wasn’t home you could feel your frustration building. It had been an incredibly stressful week at your own job and when you came home that Friday night, the first thing you did was uncork a bottle of wine that you had been saving for when Aaron came home.

Swirling the wine in your glass, you stared at that orange bottle that sat on the window sill above the sink, conscious of the pressure that seemed to be building in your chest. It doesn’t make you weak to take one, you could hear Aaron in your head, it just means you know your body and your brain and what it needs. Just like eating when you’re hungry.

You bite the inside of your cheek and reach for the bottle. You hold it there in your hand for a few moments, taking some deep breaths as you did so. Then, you opened a cupboard and placed the little bottle there, not wanting to look at it anymore.

Finishing off the glass of wine, you pour yourself another. There was a voice in the back of your head telling you that the alcohol was only going to make it worse, but you pushed that away. You were fine. You hadn’t had an attack in months, you couldn’t even pinpoint what had triggered it anymore. You didn’t need the pills, you didn’t need anything. Plenty of people open a bottle of wine to unwind after a bad week, and that was enough for them. So why was your heart still racing?

You bent your head, trying to stretch out the tension in your neck and shoulders. It wasn’t helping. You tried to pay attention to your breathing, slow it down,, but that only made you feel like you weren’t getting enough oxygen. Suddenly, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, your chest rising and falling too fast. Seemingly from a distance, you hear the front door and then Aaron calling for you. The sound of his voice becoming increasingly more concerned at your lack of response.

Then, you hear his briefcase hit the couch and his footsteps get closer. “Hey,” He’s next to you now, that soft low voice in your ear, it cuts through all the noise, “Are you alright?” He only needs to look you over for a moment before he can see what’s happening. You want to say something, but you can’t get enough air in your lungs. “That’s okay,” He says when you don’t respond, “Have you taken your meds?”

You manage to shake your head, the hyperventilation is making you dizzy. You feel like you’re choking, like someone’s standing on your chest. You’ve been through this so many times, but you never get used to the feeling. The surety that this time you were dying.

“Honey, where are they?” He’s noticed the little orange bottle isn’t on the window sill like they usually are. 

“Had wine,” You manage. His shoulders droop immediately and the disappointment there is evident. It makes you feel even worse. This isn’t the first time you’d turned to alcohol instead of your meds, knowing you can’t mix the two.

“Let’s sit down, then.” He says softly, leading you to the couch. He sits first, taking off his suit jacket and tie, before opening his arms to you, gesturing for you to sit between his legs.

When you lower yourself to the couch, his arms snake around your front, pulling you to rest your back against his chest. You close your eyes at the feeling of his body against yours. His breaths are slow and deep, the complete opposite of yours.

“Breathe with me.” He says, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Can’t.” You manage, your breathing still rapid and shallow.

“Try.” He kisses your hair, “In…” He instructs, breathing in slow and deep, “Out…” He repeats this a few more times until your breathing seems to have slowed significantly. He can no longer feel your heart racing against your back. “Good.” He murmurs.

You can feel the panic leaving you, slowly. Sometimes, it feels like coming down from a high. You’re starting to feel shaky, “I’m sorry, Aaron.”

He pulls his hands back from your waist and begins moving them slowly up your back to your shoulders, “You weren’t this tense when I left you.” He says as he gently kneads your muscles, “What happened?”

You close your eyes against his touch. With the panic having left in a rush, the wine, and Aaron’s touch, your eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden. “Bad week at work. Too much work, not enough time. The usual.” He’s quiet, continuing to work his fingers into your shoulders. He’s being gentle and calm, but you can tell from his silence he’s disappointed in you. “I know I shouldn’t have had the wine, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He runs his hands under your shirt, applying gentle pressure along your back, “Just relax.”

The shakiness has started to pass, “I missed you.” You turn in his arms, straddling his hips. 

His face is filled with tenderness as he looks at you, gently stroking your face with one hand, “I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeat. The insistent apologies are a habit of yours, especially when your anxiety is on high alert. Always worrying that you’re being too needy, too bossy, too sensitive.

“Baby,” He leans your foreheads together, “I’m not mad. It’s okay. I promise.”

He sinks lower into the couch and you lay yourself on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat is a comfort in your ear. He slides a hand under your shirt again, running his calloused fingertips gently across your skin. “Bad case?” You ask.

“I’ve had worse.” He murmurs, “Just relieved to be here with you.”

You smile and push yourself up, connecting your lips to his. He kisses you back, his hand at the back of your neck. When he slips his tongue into your mouth, you moan softly and his hand tightens on your neck in response. He pulls away a moment, smiling softly, “Let’s go to bed.”

You nod, and he leads you up the stairs by the hand. Your panic has completely dissipated now, proving to be no match for the comfort of your sweet boyfriend.

#answered #twwobsessed #mine #blurb #cm #criminal minds #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #hotch fic #hotch fanfic #hotch fluff

[can-youimagine]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Criminal Minds (US TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Original Male Character(s), Aaron Hotchner & David Rossi Characters: Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner's Father, Aaron Hotchner's Mother, Original Male Character(s), Jack Hotchner, Haley Hotchner, Unsub (Criminal Minds), Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Gay Aaron Hotchner, Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hate Crimes, told through flashbacks, Coming Out Summary:

When a case hits a little too close to home, Aaron is forced to confront his past.

This is a bit different from my usual content, so I wanted to post only on ao3 rather than this account. Hope you enjoy!

#Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch fic #hotch fanfic

[headkiss]

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

༄

Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

-

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

-

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

-

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

-

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

-

+1

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch fic #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #agent hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[luveline]

hi, i have a request for hotch if that's okay with you :)

when they're on the jet, yn is smiling a lot at her phone so the team starts to tease her because the think that she has a mysterious boyfriend. and she does, but he's sitting right next to her and he's also wondering who's making her smile like that since it's clearly not him

tysm!

Hotch is trying hard to award you your privacy, but your smile makes it difficult. You're actually squared away from him despite sitting in the seat beside him of your own free will, your phone to your chest, a huge smile curved across your cute mouth. 'Cute mouth', Hotch thinks to himself with derision. He's thoroughly whipped for you. It might not work out. 

You've been secretive and strange on your phone for an hour now. With nothing left to do but wait for the jet to touch down, you can watch whatever or text whenever you want. Hotch just wishes it wasn't so distracting. Who are you texting? He feels ill. 

"Who's that?" 

The dam finally breaks. As soon as Morgan asks, Emily pipes up, "Yeah, who is it?" as Rossi laughs and declares, "I know that look. Young Y/N's in love." 

You side eye Hotch. "Workplace harassment," you say. 

"Who is it?" Hotch asks. 

You gawp but laugh at his unprofessional questioning, pressing your phone screen tight to your chest. "Hotch, it's–" 

"Your not-so-secret boyfriend? Come on, we all know you have one," Morgan says. 

"I know you know, you're like sharks," you say, giving them all a great long look. 

For weeks now, you've glowed. This overzealous smiling and laughing is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Your nosy coworkers can't hold back their curiosity any longer. Hotch was stupid enough to think that your secretive dates and nights spent curled in on one another might be the reason behind your new hopped up sprightliness, but apparently not. 

"So you admit it!" Emily cheers. 

"Maybe. But it's not what's happening on my phone." 

"Well, what is it?" Spencer asks. 

They've leaned in on you, a circle of eager faces. Your sudden decision to admit you —maybe— have a boyfriend is as much as anyone's gotten out of you in weeks. If anyone could tease the truth from you, of course it's Hotch, and so the team looks to their leader pleadingly. 

He's not sure he wants to know. "They won't leave you alone otherwise," he says, hoping that his expression shows his leniency. Your secrets are your own if you want to keep them. 

You smile at him. Again, he thinks you have a cute mouth, and that he's biassed but you definitely smile sweeter at him than anyone else. You and Hotch know something the others don't, amusement like light behind your irises. "I'll show you," you say smugly, "and only you, Hotch." 

"Typical," Morgan murmurs, sitting back on the couch. 

Hotch clenches his sweaty palms beneath the table. "Alright." 

You lean in against his shoulder. Your phone turns on, and he's taking deep breaths as you click to your photo app, and then an album labelled with a simple, '<3'. 

It's photos of him. Most he knows you took, sitting across from you in dark restaurants or kneeling in your apartment putting together a new set of drawers. Your giggles begin in earnest as you swipe through them to a more recent photograph. You couldn't have taken it more than a week ago, when he'd stayed the night with you by accident, too tired to leave. His face is slack in sleep. He realises it's a video when you click a button and the sound of crinkling fabric plays from your speaker. In the video, you unbutton the tight collar of his shirt, stroking his neck briefly with a loving knuckle. The video moves down to frame his arm, his hand clinging to your other one like a sucker. 

Hotch looks up from the video and blinks at you. Your hand on his sleeping neck, the sound of your tired laughter —he can't not smile. "Oh. That's…"

"What did you show him?" Morgan asks, his voice coloured with both amusement and frustration. The team echo his question.

"I can't kiss and tell," you say, still tucked up by his side. 

"I think it's best if you don't, L/N," Hotch agrees. 

He'd lose all credibility. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch fic #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #agent hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[archermind]

I Can See You

Spencer Reid x F!Reader - Smut (18+)

Description: “and we kept everything professional but something changed, it's something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best if we move fast and keep quiet.”. You and Spencer are each other's dirty little secret, no one in the BAU knows what is going on between you both.

Word count: 1,800 approx.

Content Warning: Mentions of f!masturbation, kissing, PinV, Receiving Oral F, swearing, Fingering, dom!spencer, good girl, dirty talk

author note: okay.. so i tried writing a smut. idk how i feel about it. i read smut and think the things people write are really good but when i write it i always think it’s so bad. i hope it isn’t too bad. feel free to give me feedback! hope you enjoy <3

Stolen glances and longing stares, that was how this all started. You and Spencer found yourselves sneaking between each other's hotel rooms while on cases, searching for comfort in a form of lust. The first time was supposed to be a one time thing… never to happen again. Yet, you couldn’t help yourself… you longed for his touch and he longed for yours. Your mind is forever replaying the first moment he made, the way he-

“Earth to Y/N!” Derek announced, waving his hands in front of my face.

“Oh, sorry” you mumbled, realizing your zoning out and complete oblivious state to the world around you.

“What has gotten into you girl” Derek scoffed

“More like who!” emily remarked, causing JJ to snicker “we have seen that extra pep in your step lately Y/N”

You shifted in your seat becoming anxious that people were going to crack onto what was going on between you and Reid. Everyday you were nervous to even look in Reid’s direction… It didn't help that everyone that surrounded you both were some of the best profilers you know. You rolled your eyes putting on a confident facade and prepared your fighting argument against Emily’s wrong, but so right, speculation. 

“Right everyone let’s just focus on the case” Hotch ordered, “Agent Y/N’s love life will just have to remain a mystery for you all until you solve this one”

“Oh c'mon Hotch, you are supposed to be on my side!” you called out desperately as everyone laughed, “i am reporting you all to HR for bullying on the job!”

“Boohoo babygirl!” Morgan said, pouting.

Throughout the rest of the flight you all spoke about the case, trying to build a profile upon the characteristics of the murder. Words like sadist and sociopath were thrown around while you yet again zoned out, this time focused on Reid and his soft snores. You had woken up, naked, to the sound of his snores a couple times now. Each time was just as good as the last. You found yourself counting down the time until you landed, wishing the minutes would go by fast. 

-

Landing came by painfully and slowly. Some time before the flight landed, Spencer had woken up. He seemed shifty and irritated. Not to mention, he could not take his eyes off of you. You felt yourself become more and more needy for him with every passing second. Clock watching made it worse. 

By the time you all arrived at the hotel that you were staying at, it was midnight. Everyone had no energy. The goodbyes and goodnights were a mix of mumbles and grumbles. Your room was right down the hall from Spencer. Emily and JJ across the hall, Morgan next door to Reid, and Hotch was one floor above us all. A dim pale yellow light tried to light the room as you walked through to the bathroom, a hot soak was well needed. Today had seemed to be so long and exhausting.

As you plunged yourself into the bubbles and warmth, you leant back allowing yourself to relax in the tub. Soap suds covered your body as you massaged your aching muscles. You moaned at the release you felt, free from tension that ached your body. As you were massaging your sore body, you felt your mind racing back to Dr. Spencer Reid and your hand inching further to the place you wanted him right now. As your hand grazed your core, you heard a ping to your phone. 

You sighed as the moment had been rudely interrupted and ruined. You grabbed your robe, exiting the tub and putting it over your body. Grasping your phone, your stomach fluttered. ‘Spence’. ‘I need you Y/N’. you bit back a smirk, knowing what was about to happen. ‘Don’t let them see you..’ you responded back. 

Quickly, you ran to the door ready to let the man you wanted most into your hotel room. It was scandalous and thrilling sneaking around with him. It was what you both needed while dealing with stressful cases. A source of release.. Mentally and physically. 

As you opened the door, the slender built boy slipped past quickly into the room to avoid being seen and perhaps questioned as to why he was entering his co-workers' hotel room at 1am. You closed the door silently and instantly you were pressed against it. Spencer’s lips fit yours perfectly. You felt his wet tongue swipe along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. It was heated and vulgar. The desperation for each other was filthy. Your tongues played war with each other until like always Spencer won dominance. You were like a putty in his hands, allowing him to take control of your every movement. 

“You don't understand how beautiful you looked all day” spencer rambled, “i've been wanting to get you alone and worship your body since i first laid eyes on you this morning” 

You moaned at his sweet nothings, moving your lips to trail down his neck as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. You were eager to rid him of his clothes, eager for him. As your hand went down each button, you slowly freed him out of his shirt. You gasped, running your hands along his chest and to his lower abdomen. 

“I have missed you spence” you stated, breathlessly. 

He slowly walked you backwards towards the bed, peppering kisses around your face. You giggled at the childish move but felt adored. Slowly, he lowered you to lie on the bed and hooked his arms around your legs giving you a strong tug to the edge of the bed. 

“Trust me, Y/N not as much as i missed you doll” he smirked, undoing the tie on your robe. 

Your chest rose and fell fast. You lay there in front of him naked and for the taking. Allowing him to see the most vulnerable and insecure side of yourself. He slowly lowered himself allowing his mouth to come in contact with your soft skin. Spencer kissed and nipped with his teeth, your most sensitive areas. Your neck. Your collarbone. Your breasts. You couldn't help but let the moans fall from your lips. He chuckled at your reaction, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted.

Spencer caressed your left breast pinching your nipple. all while he licked, sucked and bit the right one. You felt wetness pool at your core. All. For. Him. slowly, you felt his nose brush down your abdomen as the pit of your stomach flipped. No matter how many late nights you spent together and how much you prepared yourself, you still got nervous when giving yourself to spencer. Even if he was cautious and gentle.

You squirmed and wriggled as you felt his hot breath on your clit. You were dripping with anticipation at this point. Spencer began to kiss each thigh, slowly working his way closer to the place you wanted him most. Soon enough, Spencer pressed his lips against your clit licking and biting. Slowly, he circled his tongue against your clit as you became more and more sensitive with each lap. Your hand tangled in his brown curls, causing him to moan in response. You cried out in pleasure as he inserted two fingers into you and began pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck spencer” you breathed out.

“Does that feel good Y/N?” he questioned you, already knowing the answer from the way you were a mess below him. 

“Mhm” you mumbled. 

Spencer pulled away from your clit and took his fingers out from with you, gripping your thighs and turning you on your stomach. You heard his zipper become undone. You looked back and bit your bottom lip suppressing a moan as you saw him in nothing but his underwear. You could see his hard bulge and it made you even more desperate for him.

“Look at you so needy!” Spencer whispered, grabbing a condom from his jean pocket. 

You eyed him up and down as his teeth ripped the small packet open. 

“Hurry… im so fucking desperate” you were a wreck as you tried to speak your wants, “i do need you spencer” 

“Good girls wait” he remarked

You watched him slowly slide the rubber on his hard length, he held a strong eye contact with yours. Enjoying the way you watched him, eagerly waiting for him. You bit your lip hard trying to suppress your moans - considering your co-workers were just down the hall and above you. You hissed in pleasure and pain when Spencer unexpectedly forced his entire length into you without warning. 

It was raw and animalistic the way you both wanted eachother, needed eachother and fucked eachother. Spencer Reid was a quiet boy. Yet, who you now grew to know and spend time with, you saw him in a much different light. He was a gentle, passionate man who adored and cared for you. Reid didnt just use you for sex… he worshipped your body while he fucked you. 

The room was filled with the sound of your breathless moans and the sound of your skin meeting each other. Spencer was deep inside you and with every stroke he made in and out of you, you grew closer to your release. 

“You feel so fucking good Y/N” spencer moaned as he flipped you onto your back, allowing him to watch your face as he fucked you senseless. 

You tried responding but you were a moaning mess. No words could be formed. You were drunk on Spencer’s cock. With every thrust, your tits bounced, sending Spencer's mind on a spiral. 

“You look so fucking good taking my cock, doll” spencer exclaimed, as his hand connected with your clit rubbing small quick circles. 

You felt your stomach ball as you grew closer to your orgasm. You cried in pleasure as he thrusted deeper and slower, hitting your g-spot each time. 

“I- fuck- please spence” you begged him growing more sensitive to his touch and nearing your finish. 

“I know Y/N” he grunted as he entered in and out of you, feeling closer to his orgasm each time, “cum for me” 

You cried out at your release, digging your nails down Spencer's back for some stability on the edge of your pleasure. Your ears rang out from the overwhelming stimulation, while Spencer rode out to his orgasm. It came quickly as he collapsed tired and breathless onto your chest. Time passed as you two lay tangled within each other's arms, trying to calm down from your high.

“Y/N?” he questioned

“Yea” you huffed out

“I’m glad you joined the Quantico BAU team” he stated letting out a breathy laugh

“Yeah me too” you smirked, “the benefits are pretty good too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #mgg fanfiction #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

[criminalskies]

hello hello icon, love your writing, hope your doing good today!! 🩷

if you're taking requests do you think you could write something that gives "my big fat greek wedding" where the reader is bringing hotch over to meet their family and while reader has been warning him that their family is kinda crazy it's not til the night of, that hotch really gets it because hes just watching reader get more overwhelmed throughout the night while they drag him through all the introductions and dodge every plate of food and little mean comments from cousins. I just feel like he'd be so good about pulling reader away for a sec and comforting them through the loving chaos that is a huge and wild family and being like "yeah still love you tho". also like change whatever you want, do whatever bestie xx

Hi lovely anon! I must apologise rq for this taking me A CENTURY to write. I hope you're still there to read this <3 Aaron hotchner x GN!Reader. 5.4k words. warnings: mentions of testicular injury. your aunt is kiiiiiiind of a pervert, but just longing stares. No copping a feel. mentions of alcohol. that should be it! please enjoy!

Since working at the BAU, you have tried awfully hard to keep your biological family and your work family separate. You’ve successfully intercepted every one of your aunt’s offerings to surprise you with food at your office (and three to five of your younger cousins in-tow). You’ve successfully kept your loving parents from appearing at the doors of the BAU with over exaggerations of just how classified and gruesome your work is, no civilians past the front doors of Quantico, etc. You thank all the layers of misrepresentation of FBI work in the media for getting away with that one. 

It’s been hard work, ten months of intercepting family group texts and abating their offers to bring you food with pictures of your home-cooked meals sent no less than three times a day. You’ve had to recycle a lot of the same photos to cover up your habit of buying takeout after a long day, but they don’t seem to have noticed. So far, it’s all been worth it. You’ve successfully convinced your coworkers that you’re a perfectly normal FBI agent with a perfectly normal family. It’s even worked on the one person you have most hoped to impress, your boss. SSA Aaron Hotchner. It has been even harder work convincing your family to steer clear of your apartment whenever he’s over and the biggest effort of all has been getting out of your family’s weekly Sunday Dinner. Which is in reality a twelve hour event. You’ve only had a few lazy Sunday dates with Aaron, but they have been some of your favorites. Shed of his suit and tie, you see him let loose of all his usual restraint. You see him relax, and that’s something you wouldn’t trade for anything. So you can take all the quips from your mother, aunts, cousins, nephews and grandfather as long as you have to, to keep your little bubble from bursting. 

Aaron seems to believe you have a peaceful, quiet life. You’ve tried very hard to stage your apartment to look like the kind of place someone can read in airy silence on their days off. You want to create that space for your boyfriend, one where he doesn’t have to be ‘bossman’ or ‘SSA’ or even ‘dad’.  He can just be Aaron. 

Of course, you know each time you’ve been vacuuming or watering your plants, only to hear the agitated scraping of keys in your door, as the heavy footsteps of your nieces and nephews come clambering down the hall to your apartment. Your space quickly floods with the hustle and bustle of your loud, overbearing family. You know one of these days they’ll waltz in uninvited and find you and Aaron curled up in bed, probably giving the poor man a heart attack in the process. 

Which is why you’ve decided, after six months together, you know how lucky you’ve been to not be the unsuspecting victims of a thirty person ‘pop-in’. So you’re going to quit while you’re ahead. This illusion is getting exceedingly tiring to uphold and you really suspect your boyfriend, the expert profiler, must have lost his touch if he hasn’t realized there’s more to you than meets the eye. 

You’re just going to have to sit poor, sweet, unsuspecting Aaron down Saturday night and ask him about joining you to your family’s place for Sunday dinner. You feel bad for giving him such short notice, but really it is better this way. The less time you have to warn your mother that you’re bringing your boyfriend over, the better. Although, it might take longer than just Sunday to get said boyfriend up to speed. 

Saturday night arrives and you’ve been acting completely off. You’ve been so focused on trying to plan your warning speech for Aaron that you spaced out during dinner three times, only realizing when you would notice your boyfriend’s signature head tilt and drawn brows staring back at you across the table. You completely missed him reaching across to hold your hand, and you missed him asking you about coming to Jack’s soccer game Thursday night. The third time, when you’re staring right through Aaron’s shirt as he was filling you in on the interdepartmental FBI gossip, he knows something must be seriously wrong with you tonight to not want to hear about an SSA and a section chief getting caught in a supply closet at the gala for the Seattle field office. 

“Okay, that’s it.” Aaron huffs, moving your plate and his from the table to the kitchen counter before he comes to pull your chair back from the table, squatting opposite you now until he’s at your eye level, taking you gently by the shoulders. “What is the matter, angel? You’ve been staring straight through me.” You feel guilt wash over you as you see the concern in Aaron’s eyes, searching yours for any signs of distress.

“Oh- I’m sorry bear I’ve just. I just have something I have to ask you about. But, here, we should go sit down.” You grab Aaron by the hand, pulling him to his feet as you rise from your chair. You see a flash of terror across his face before he can reel in his expression, once again giving you his signature stare that means he’s listening. “No! Don’t stress, it’s nothing awful, just, complicated. Really.” You squeeze his hand reassuringly as you lead him to the couch. He breathes a sigh of relief at hearing you’re not about to break up with him or tell him you’ve fallen in love with his brother or anything drastic. 

You sit cross-legged on the couch as Aaron settles into the corner, turned towards you to give you his full attention, his hand still nestled in yours. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth before you spit it out. “I want you to meet my family.” 

Aaron’s dimples appear as his face begins pulling into the most unexpected smile and he laughs a puff of air through his nose at your admission. 

“That’s it? That’s the thing that had you giving me a thousand yard stare all night?” He asks, unable to conceal his incredulous look. 

“Yeah. That’s just the start of this whole speech. There’s a dinner tomorrow at my parent’s place. But it’s no small event, Aaron. My family is kind of a lot, in every way imaginable or otherwise.” Now it’s Aaron who tries reassuring you, shifting you to melt against his side on the couch as his arm wraps around your tense shoulders. 

“Angel, if they played any part in making you who you are, I would love to meet them.” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple now. 

“Okay. Well, for my own safety of mind I’m going to issue you some forewarnings so you’re at least prepared for some of the insanity. You ready?” You turn to look him in the eyes as you ask him. 

“I’m ready, love.” You admire his bravery, really. You know he’s a seasoned FBI agent having worked in Seattle, Quantico, coming face to face with serial killers and people who would have turned his face into some kind of mask or couch upholstery if they had the chance. Still, you can’t help but worry at how badly he seems to be underestimating this situation.

You pull out a framed family tree from the back of your home study, watching the blood slowly drain from Aaron’s face when he realizes there are close to 65 names being mentioned as people who will be at dinner tomorrow to meet him. You warn him in particular about your uncles Ronnie and Tommy. You know how they treat new partners in this family. Ronnie will challenge Aaron to a friendly little wrestling match, hoping to pin him in thirty seconds and make sure he knows he’s not the toughest guy around. Meanwhile, Tommy is trying to talk Aaron out of wrestling Ronnie, to see how easily coerced your poor boyfriend may be. These are crucial moments for Aaron to demonstrate that he’s not macho to a fault, nor is he easy to intimidate. 

Next, your Aunt Rita. She will eat him whole if she’s given the chance, you know how little self control she has around any man you bring home, let alone one that’s tall dark and handsome, and an FBI agent at that. You warn him not to hold Rita’s hand, no matter how many times she tries to offer it, because she has a grip like gorilla glue and won’t let him go again. If he ever starts to dance tomorrow night. He is to move away from her at. All. costs. She will shamelessly grind on his thigh after just a few drinks. 

You warn him about your grandmama, how she thinks she’s twenty years younger and can still go up and down the stairs on her own. If he sees her dawdling away, just take her elbow and guide her back. You have no doubts about Aaron here, though, knowing he’s ever the gentleman and would never let his guard down, allowing your 98 year old great grandmother to wander out of the house’s side gate or into the dog’s kennel alone. 

Lastly. Your second cousins. There’s the quadruplets, who you think should really be kept on leads, there’s Charlie, who’s genuinely known to bite strangers, Angie, who is smart as a whip and will do everything in her power to make your new boyfriend feel stupid. There’s Davie and Ruby, who like pulling off ‘pranks’, only they seem to be mistaken that the crucial element of a prank is that it’s deceptive AND funny. See, they think slipping a little roast beef into a stranger’s back pocket is the height of comedy. They’re especially into using tripwires or pretending to be floating around face-down in the pool for someone to dive in and rescue them. 

By the end of your long list of precautionary tales, Aaron feels like he’s studying for the bar exam, he’s memorized the names of almost all your immediate relatives, and the rest he’ll have to figure out as he goes.  He knows which aunts will be offended by him not taking a heaped portion of their provided dishes, and he knows which uncles will try to feed him enough beers to take down a moose. He’s as ready as he can be, and the more he focuses on what you’re telling him, the more you start to recognise the look in his eye, it’s the same look you always see whenever he’s about to enter a maximum security prison. Knowing that inmates will try to belittle him or lure him towards them, knowing he’s like a bucket of chum floating just out of reach of shark infested waters. But surely if he’s survived every one of those encounters before, your family won’t be the thing to break him… right? 

The two of you settle down that night to watch a movie, and you are especially doting to your beautiful kindhearted boyfriend, trying to make sure he’ll remember how lovely and caring you are to him, even if he’s soon to realize you were essentially raised by a pack of wolves. When you offer to make him a cup of tea for the fourth time, he sighs and drags your lying form over his on the couch, essentially caging you in his arms.

“Angel. You have to stop.” Aaron says, in a matter-of-fact way that makes you believe you have no choice in the matter. “Stop apologizing to me for something that hasn’t even happened yet. However crazy, however loud, however boisterous or blunt your family is, I will leave there loving you just as much. Probably even more, given the way things have been trending lately. Okay?” He moves a hand to your cheek now, caressing it as his soft eyes try to reason with your worried ones, he looks so perfect under the warm lamplight. He has been the perfect boyfriend so far. Maybe, just maybe, he can handle your family and everything that comes with it. 

“Okay, bear.” You close your eyes, burying your face in his chest and letting his steady heartbeat lure your own racing heart back into a healthy rhythm, as his hand finds its home against the crown of your head. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You spent the next day like you’ve spent most Sundays of your life, preparing enough food to sink the titanic. Okay, poor example. Enough food to feed your entire clan, perhaps. Aaron is nothing short of adorable as he swans around helping you, it is very nice not doing this alone, you have to admit. Having him chop and prepare the extra vegetables while you’re able to watch the sauce in the pot so for once you don’t end up with half of the flavor firmly stuck to the base, having to strain out the lumps right before you go to leave. Aaron even insists that he has all the bases covered, ushering you into your bedroom to please shower and get dressed so you’re not late. It occurs to you then that not only is he not scared of your family, he actually wants to make a good impression on them. 

The two of you make it into the car, only six foil trays of food and a tart for dessert in hand, with time to spare. Aaron parks the car just down the street and turns off the engine, turning to see you chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you insist you’re sweating due to the piping hot lasagne in your lap, nothing to do with nerves. A large  hand reaches over the console to gently take your own, bringing it towards his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“It’s all going to be okay, sweetheart. Really.” He says, bringing your hand back into the space between you both, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“I know. You can handle serial killers and talking down people with bombs strapped to their chests. I’m sure my cousin's threats of throwing whipped cream at you from off the top balcony will pale in comparison.” You breathe out. “Let’s go, love.”

The two of you have barely made it through the front gate before you’re met with two familiar faces, your second cousins ‘guarding’ the front door with waterguns aimed at Aaron and yourself. 

“Password!” Davie barks.

“Davie. Ruby. You guys keep getting taller, huh?” You try buttering them up while you think of what a five and seven year old would consider a worthy password for your family home. 

“Really? Ya think so? Ruby asks with a bright smile, more gaps than there are teeth showing. You know she’s not the mastermind of their evil plans, it’s Davie that has to coerce her into helping him.

“Oh boy, do I!” You add, laying it on thick while Davie approaches Aaron, his brows drawn tightly together. 

“You’re new. He’s new?” He turns to you, pointing at Aaron with a rather displeased look in his tiny face. 

“Davie, meet Aaron. Aaron is my boyfriend.” You say puling your intertwined hands into view of the little ones, where Ruby responds with a vehement “ewwwwww!”

“COOTIES!” Davie yells, the two of them running back around the side of the house, of course off to tell their parents the news off this imminent cooties outbreak.

“That was a fantastic start. So far I’ve gotten one very passionate ‘ewwwwww!’ “ Aaron chuckles, squeezing your hand before he picks up the trays of food once more, carrying on into the house. 

You can hear the rabble from the back rooms of the house bouncing around and echoing out of the open door, your mother’s uncontrollable laughter cutting through the cacophony as Aaron’s dimple appears on his cheek. She sounds just like you when you give off a real, genuine laugh. One that bubbles out of you, throwing your head back and grabbing at your stomach as tears spring from your eyes. Aaron loves that sound. You don’t see him beaming at you from the corner of your eye line. 

You made it not quite three feet into the hallway before Aunt Rita’s speed walking towards you both, margarita in hand already threatening to spill and dinner has not yet begun. 

“Here’s our happy couple!” she all but yells, turning her head to announce “I found em!” back down the hall as she moves to engulf you in a hug. “Y/N, it’s been so long!” Rita holds you, trapped there in the hug as she’s no doubt raking her eyes over Aaron’s form behind you. 

“Aunty, I only saw you two Sundays ago.” You remind her politely, knowing that in this household that qualifies as half a lifetime. 

“I know, baby, faaar too long.” She finally releases you from her grasp as you quickly step back, half-blocking Aaron from her reach. 

“This is my boyfriend, Aaron.” You wrap a hand around his arm, holding onto him like a lifeline as you pray Rita will find it in herself to leave him alone. 

“The FBI Agent!! Woooooow, sugar, we’ve been hearing so much about you lately. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mister F-B-I.” Rita moves her glass to her other hand, offering her wrist to Aaron as she bats her eyelashes. Shameless woman. Luckily, Aaron being a perfect gentleman, well versed in abating old ladies, he takes her hand rather briskly, placing a barely there kiss on her hand and relinquishing it back to her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, ma’am.” Aaron offers a tight lipped smile, careful to keep his dimple levels in check. You warned him that one of your exes was practically pulled by his cheek to meet the rest of the family when Rita spotted his dimple on show. 

“MA’AM?! Ugh, now you’re just making me feel ancient, Sugar. Please. Call me Rita.” She shoves Aaron’s chest, her hand lingering a moment longer than you’d really like it to, but your boyfriend has enough humility to ‘stumble’ back slightly at the push. 

“Of course, Rita. My mistake.” Poor Aaron’s hands must be burning holding the tin foil trays in his palm this long, luckily Rita moves out of the way, standing to the side and most definitely eyeing your boyfriend’s ass as he walks away, you walk behind him, shielding him from her wandering eyes. You feel terrible that he’s been here all of two minutes and he’s already been ewwwww’ed at and now treated like a piece of meat. Heaven help you. 

“Y/N! Come here, my baby!” Your mother swans out of the kitchen, your breath catches at the sight of her apron, a curvy bikini model body drawn over the fabric, with a KISS THE COOK! Tattoo and lipstick marks all over the model’s skin. Classy. Very classy. Your mother plants a sticky lipglossed kiss on each of your cheeks, hugging tightly around your neck before turning to Aaron. She takes the trays from his scalding hands and places them on the counter before opening her arms to him with a smile. “This must be Aaron! I’m Y/M/N.” She pulls him into a tight hug, his tall frame bending down to get his arms around her shoulders as his cheeks receive two somehow equally sticky kisses. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs Y/L/N. I’ve heard so much about y-” Aaron’s cut off by a football flying between his face and your mother’s and colliding with the refrigerator. You all turn just in time to see your uncles all whiz around, suddenly very focused on the patch of dead grass in the back corner of the yard. 

“Boys! Excuse me Aaron, we’ll pick this up again.” Your mother saunters out of the back door, waving a meat tenderiser in the air, you choose not to hear the string of expletives currently gracing the ears of everyone in a three mile radius. Instead, turning to greet your other, better behaved aunties and older cousins all gathered in the kitchen, a pasta-making train formed by seven pairs of hands. You’re informed that your folding skills are needed to finish off the agnolotti. 

You’re eternally grateful to your two eldest cousins, who offer to get Aaron a drink and secure him a seat in the corner of the dining room, far from Rita who keeps walking by sucking cherries from the punch between her teeth as she eyes your boyfriend. He seems to be blissfully pretending he can’t see her, instead engaging most of your cousins in conversations about what exactly profiling even is. You hear the usual wave of ‘wow’s and ‘ahh’s washing over the building crowd when Aaron is able to tell that your uncle Scooter is planning to move to the coast and retire this year. 

Once dinner is finally ready and being served on the porch, you and Aaron are able to grab some plates, only to find that the last seats left are right between your two most testy uncles. You sit Aaron next to Tommy, hoping he can withstand the mental games, instead of Vinnie’s prodding at his masculinity. From what you hear, it sounds like Aaron is able to effectively corner Tommy, using his own logic against him without sounding too callous about it. You smile to yourself while you dig into your potato salad, how you’ve managed to get this lucky with Aaron, you’ll never know. 

Before dinner is over, however, your dad comes walking, suitcase in hand around the side of the house, having returned from his work trip overseas, the crowd erupts with a cheer when he reveals he has brought home as much spiced rum from the duty free stores at the airport as he could legally purchase at once. Scooter races inside to bring out some tumblers of ice for all those old enough to drink. Aaron stays seated at your side while you hug your father hello, and start a fond conversation with him. Aaron’s always heard you talk fondly of your dad, a calm voice in a sea of abrupt, booming family members. 

He sees you gesturing towards him, smiling warmly while you talk with your father and Aaron’s never been much of a lip reader, but he does see your dad pull you into another big hug after he asks something with the word happy. A fluttery feeling spreads through Aaron’s chest as he watches you, thinking about how happy he is with you, as well. 

His bubble of warmth is quickly burst when Vinnie marches up to Aaron, a hand slapping down over his clothed shoulder as he asks why he’s not drinking any rum. 

“You some kind of mormon or something? Or an addict?” Vinnie asks, not very delicately. 

“No. Neither.” Aaron keeps his tone friendly and measured. Vinnie wants an argument, wants a fight. He’s not going to give it to him. 

“Come get a drink with me, then. Ay Ay Ron.” Vinnie pulls him by his sleeve as Aaron carefully discards his plate on his seat, checking the dogs are safely secured away from all the food.

You turn, seeing Aaron’s interrogation-proofed stare as Vinnie pours at least four standard drinks into the glass, offering it to him with a smirk. Aaron takes it with a thank you, ever so polite. He’s hoping to pour some of it out, you’re sure. But Vinnie is refusing to take his eyes off of the man as Tommy rounds Aaron’s other shoulder, an equally evil smirk on his face. Your cousins call everyone’s attention to the lawn by the side of the house, announcing they’ll be playing a football game in five minutes! 

“So down your desserts and get your game faces on!” one of the quadruplets booms, you never can tell which one is which. Not that it tends to matter since they mostly move in a huddle. Your younger cousins and second cousins all erupt into cheers and chants, running to grab one last slice of cake and ice cream before their game starts. Your dad goes off to greet the rest of your siblings and you cross the lawn, growling children whizzing past your legs as you try not to kick any of them over. You meet Aaron, putting yourself between him and Vinnie, seeing Aaron’s nervous sipping of his drink has left him with just one finger of rum left in the tall glass. Oh dear. You’re glad he can hold his liquor as his arm wraps around your waist, holding onto you like a lifeline as Tommy continues his rant about how government workers are overpaid for their work and the FBI has more coverups than it has investigations these days. 

Luckily, your father cuts his brothers incessant yammering off, holding out a hand to shake Aaron’s, asking if he can pick his profiling brain for a moment about something. You see Aaron release a tiny breath of relief, following your father into the house. You take the opportunity now to smack each of your uncles on the shoulders. 

“Please behave, you two. I like this one. Please, you’ll have a hundred more chances to interrogate him if you don’t scare him off tonight. Just, tone it down. I know asking you to stop is pointless. But please. As your favorite brother’s favorite child, I’m begging.” You plead with them both to stop just short of sending Aaron barreling into his shell he wears at work. You don’t want him being in his unsub-defense mode every time he walks into your home. You’re met with two grunts of acknowledgement, and you set off in search of some better company. 

The football game starts up fair enough, two teams of kids playing only semi-gently against their relatives. The score is 3-2 when Aaron and your father emerge from the den, your dad’s arm around the man's shoulder, dragging him with a smile on his face to get some more rum. Luckily, your dad has the civility to let him pour his own drink, however he pleases. They find a spot in the crowd, watching the game as Aaron settles into your side, eyes searching yours to find you doing the same. You both have a shy laugh and turn to watch the game, happy to see that the other is okay. 

You engage in some more quiet conversation in your corner of the field until Davie gets a little overexcited, kicking the ball far too hard after he scored his touchdown and you watch in slow motion as poor sweet Aaron is barely able to remove his hand from yours before the wad of leather and lace collides brutally with his crotch, and his knees buckle, hands coming to hold his crown jewels as he bites his lips hard to hold in a loud cry. It takes every ounce of self control in his body to keep himself even partially upright, wanting very badly to curl into the fetal position to nurse his burning balls. 

“Oh my god! Aaron, are you okay?!” He manages a weak nod, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he manually forces himself to continue breathing. “I’m gonna get you some ice! Wait there! Or, well. I’ll be back!” You turn towards the kitchen, where you spy Davie’s toothy grin, receiving a crisp $20 bill from Vinnie. You are so going to pour that man’s precious rum down his favorite shirt the moment Aaron is able to breathe naturally again. You rush to grab some ice, filling a zip-loc bag and sprinting back out to where Rita is sitting, holding Aaron’s hand tightly in hers, fanning him with her hand-fan as the redness in his neck only spreads upwards towards his ears. 

You stand before him, holding his face in your hand as you place the bag of ice in his hand. He can freeze his own nuts, you’re sure he doesn’t need you dropping the rock hard ice into his lap. He finally opens his eyes, looking up at you with a rather strained look on his face. You bend down to place a kiss on his forehead, silently thanking him for being the most patient man on the face of the earth. 

Rita luckily has the grace to leave you two alone now, freeing up the seat next to Aaron which you take, brushing his hair back from where it now sticks to his forehead. 

“Thank you for being the best boyfriend in the world. I am so, so, so sorry this is such a mess I… Aaron?” His brows draw closer and closer as you’re talking, his eyes focused on the darkness beside the house as you try to trace his line of sight. Without a word, he springs up, ice falling to the grass as he runs around the house, looking like he really ought to have his torch and gun out, this is his ‘calculated emergencies only’ run. You trot after him, rounding the corner of the house just in time to see him catch your grandmama by her shoulders before she steps into the busy street, cars whizzing past as she blinks at your boyfriend, and he turns her on her feet to come back around the house. 

You take her by the shoulders as Aaron locks the gate this time, and you feel your eyes welling with tears at how wonderful a man you’ve found. One that will chase your great grandmother without hesitation, not a thought spared for his already tenderized family jewels which are no doubt screaming at him to sit back down. You come face to face with most of your extended family, who all ran after you both to see what all the commotion was about, and your mother rushes over to take your grandmama into her arms, thanking Aaron profusely as she turns to take the matriarch of the family to bed. 

You take your moment, as the family all turn around, following the pair back into the house. You wrap your arms tightly around Aaron, breathing a shaky breath as his arms wrap around you just as tight. You move yourself up to give him a kiss, body pressed against his as he responds with a whimper in the back of his throat and you jump back, realizing you’d pinned his poor traumatized package between you. 

“Sorry! Sorry.” He cuts you off with a bruising kiss, bodies now a safe distance apart as he takes his chance to kiss you the way he’s wanted to for over an hour now. Ever since he spoke to your dad, and learned just how highly you’d been speaking of your beloved boyfriend all these months. 

“Don’t be sorry, angel. I love you, your big, crazy family and all. I love all of you. So, please, stop apologizing, because I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” He thumbs the tear from your eyes, whether they’re from the adrenaline of almost seeing your beloved grandmother struck by a car, or from the tenderness of this moment, he isn’t sure. But either way, he’s handled serial killers, rapists, arsonists, shooters, bombers, and now your cousin Davie’s sharp left kick. He will handle everything life throws at him from now on, with an extra spring in his step. Because he has you. Yes, that includes the people who created you.

“That being said, I really need to lie down. I had like, four standards in half an hour and although I know you’d love me ball-less, I would really like it if they don’t fall off just yet.” You sniffle a laugh, moving an arm around his waist as you promise to lead him to your childhood bedroom. He can look at every ugly yearbook photo he wants to. He’s even earned the right to read your atrocious love notes you wrote to a celebrity when you were seventeen and convinced he was in love with you. This only seems a fair trade for his black and blue balls he’ll have to waddle into the office with, tomorrow.

tags: @montyfandomlove , @pastanoodles11 , @ssamorganhotchner , @hotchnerbau , @hotchs-babygirl , @ssa-tahlia-obsessions , @p0ssywhippedcream , @14buddy22 , @elenamoncada-ibarra , @supercriminalbean , @ssaspenceswife , @levithestripper , @wearenumberonebutitsaurl, @geminitapestry, @bucxkysdoll, @hotchs-big-hands

#rome's writing #rome's reqs #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x gn!reader #hotch x gender neutral reader #hotch fanfic #hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil’s Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part four

Super short, because things are about to get insane, so...

Warnings: angst, tension, the works

Don’t forget to follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be notified when a new chapter goes up!

Four: You’re not who you are to anyone -- “Good Looking” by Suki Waterhouse

Strauss said she wanted to speak to Hotch as soon as the jet landed, and no later.

Hotch dismissed the team and took one of the cars with Rossi, back to the BAU. Hotch drove, his hands clenching the wheel so hard that Rossi was beginning to notice.

“Everything okay?” Dave asked.

Aaron relaxed his hands, but his shoulders remained tense, his eyebrows drawn together. “Erin wants to speak with me.”

“She usually does,” Dave says. “She’s probably worried about you, Aaron. We all are.”

“Dave, I’m fine.” Hotch wished everyone would stop fucking asking. He didn’t feel like repeating himself; he never liked doing that. “I’m where I need to be.”

“Are you?” Dave pressed. “Or should you be on vacation?”

Hotch scoffed. “To where?”

“Anywhere,” Dave laughed. “Anywhere but here.”

Hotch laughed with him. He had a point. Anywhere but there would’ve been nice. Anywhere but there, where Hotch wasn’t confined by the BAU’s rules and Strauss’s constant gaze, waiting for him to do something she could fire him for. If she could, she’d fire him for the way he handled this recent unsub, but Hotch didn’t think she had any grounds. He could argue his way out of it if he needed to, and she knew that.

He was a prosecutor before he came to the FBI, after all. He knew how this game worked, and how to play it.

Strauss knew all of this, which is why she brought the director in. She needed backup.

Hotch knew from the moment he entered her office that it was an intervention. He knew right away he had lost the game. At least, the game they were playing. He had a different one, and he had already won. 

He accepted their deal. Minimum four months extended bereavement time, with pay. He was not to step foot in the BAU for the entire time, or communicate with the team about any of the cases. He was required to pass another psychological evaluation before returning, but it would be random. 

His sentence was a suspension, without the official title. He was put in time-out, so to speak, and he hated it, but he accepted it. What he needed to do could no longer be done here. He needed time to himself to do what he wanted. And now he had it.

He headed downstairs to his office, first stopping in Rossi’s to tell him what Strauss ordered, and what he agreed to. Dave seemed pleased, albeit skeptical. He knew how Aaron got when he had to stay away, but he hoped this one would stick. And help.

In his office, Hotch loaded his briefcase with case files he had shoved aside in the past. Cases JJ brought him that were odd, but he felt weren’t good enough to warrant the team’s time. Cases he should’ve paid attention to. Cases that he knew he needed to close.

He had wrongs he needed to right, and now he had the time to do so. He won.

+++

You returned to the BAU with Morgan, who had plans to pick up Garcia. You told him you needed to grab a few things from your desk, but you could tell he didn’t really believe you.

Nonetheless, Derek drove and went straight to Garcia’s lair when you arrived. You headed into the bullpen.

Peering up at Hotch and Rossi’s offices, you saw Rossi at his desk, on the phone, and Hotch in his office, packing things away.

Shit. This wasn’t what you wanted, not really. You didn’t expect Strauss to do anything about it. Or maybe you did, but you didn’t want to admit it-- admit that Aaron was really starting to worry you.

You dropped your bag on your desk and sprinted up the stairs, bypassing the knock and barging into Hotch’s office.

“How’d it go with Strauss?” you blurted, out of breath, terrified and hoping he wasn’t angry. But his moods were so out of control lately, how were you supposed to know?

Hotch paused, leveling his gaze at you. His hand rested on his briefcase. “How did you know I was with Strauss?”

You laughed uncomfortably, your arms swinging by your sides. “Rossi said something on the jet.”

“No he didn’t.”

Another uncomfortable laugh. You gestured toward Hotch, saying, “Then you must have.”

“I did not.”

“Why does it matter?” you pressed, already feeling backed into a corner. Truthfully, you didn’t expect him not to figure it out. Either by your big mouth or his own profiling. It seemed like he already knew before you came into his office. “How did it go? Are you alright? These are more important, Aaron, how are you feeling?”

Hotch knew you had told Strauss something, he just didn’t know what exactly. Until that moment.

“I’m fine,” he replied neutrally. “I’m taking the remainder of my bereavement time.”

The surprise rocked you so hard that you took a step back. You expected him to fight Strauss and for Strauss to lose, for some big argument to ensue and cause a scene. But he said it so…calmly.

“Oh! Really? That’s… That’s good. That’s great, right? How do you feel about it?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” he shrugged. “I suppose it’s a good idea.”

“It is,” you murmured, hoping he’d at least see that you talked to Strauss for his own good. You cared deeply for him, which is why you couldn’t let this go. “I think it’ll be really good for you to take some more time to yourself.” 

What about us? You wanted to ask, but kept yourself restrained. What will we do about us?

“I think so too,” he answered. “Strauss told me not to communicate with anyone from the team while I’m gone.”

“Yeah, for work stuff,” you said, sounding a little hopeful. “But we can still…” your voice trailed away. What were the two of you doing?

He shook his head. The action was so small. You almost didn’t see it. You wondered if he really meant it.

“Aaron…” You shook your head now. Surely, he couldn’t be serious. The two of you had just gotten over yourselves, had just begun to relax into each other’s arms without worry. You had just gotten comfortable. You didn’t mind that he was hurting; you wanted to help him through it. Why wouldn’t he let you help him through it?

“I’m sorry,” he said. You saw that he didn’t mean it.

Tears formed in your eyes and you continued shaking your head. This wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted him to get help, not leave you behind. Not like this.

“Please,” you cried. “Aaron, please. Don’t do this.”

His expression didn’t change. You don’t remember if he even looked sad.

You don’t know who you said goodbye to that day, but it wasn’t Aaron. Not the Aaron you know, not the Aaron you love, not the Aaron who held you so close at night and kissed you to sleep.

This man before you was different. You couldn’t place how, but you knew. He was different.

“Stay,” you whispered, as you watched him latch his briefcase. “Stay, please.”

He didn’t.

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #unsub!hotch x fem!reader #unsub!hotch x reader #unsub!hotch x you #unsub!hotch #unsub!hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

[cavillsbitch]

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ welcome to my masterlist! ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

about me: hi, my name is gabby, and i write primarily for Aaron Hotchner from criminal minds and Henry Cavill and his characters. i know it’s an odd mix, but my horizons have nothing to do but expand!

most of what i write is 18+/NSFW, which is indicated. some posts or fics may be indicated otherwise.

—————————————————————————

Key:

🔥= smut

☁️ = fluff

🥀 = angst

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ Aaron Hotchner ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Series:

{coming soon}

Oneshots:

Are You Sure? 🔥🥀

Love Sense ☁️

Requests:

Hotch x Firefighter!Fem Reader ☁️🥀

Worth It ☁️🥀

Quando, Quando, Quando ☁️

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗ Henry Cavill ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Napoleon Solo:

Trust In Me 🔥🥀 (indefinite hiatus)

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch #aaron hotchner angst #hotch girls #ssa hotchner #hotch x you #hotch smut #hotchner #hotch fanfic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fic #agent hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner series #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #napoleon solo #walter marshall #geralt of rivia #geralt #the witcher #superman #cavill #cavillry

[hotchs-bitch]

4 AM

Credits: prompt idea from @foxy-eva Criminal Minds Writing Challenge! Hurt/Comfort prompt: Nowhere else to go: Person A didn't know where else to go in a time of need, so they ring B's doorbell. Betaing credits to @doctorstethoscope and @greg-montgomery- I would never post anything if you guys didn't tell me to <3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner (post-slash?), Aaron Hotchner & blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n) (platonic-ish)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Unrequited love, discussions of divorce and parenting, Hotch's take on Haley leaving him, big sexy man cries a little, mentions of cases, angsty

A/N: I'm back with a song fic about Hotch's marriage crumbling, because apparently that's the only thing that can drag me out of my burnout era. Inspo song is 4 AM by Cate, and I highly recommend giving it a listen!!

Yes, this is angstier than I meant for it to be. Yes, I'm already working on a part 2 :)

Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut. Happy reading <3

Next part | Series masterlist | My masterlist

Why don’t you come over?

It’s only friendship we’ll risk

You can cry on my shoulder

If it’s her that you miss

Are you thinking of me

In a new light?

‘Cause if not wе could pretend for the night, for thе night

“Why don’t you come over for a little bit tonight?”

“It… it doesn’t even matter–”

“How long is your drive?”

Aaron’s sigh into the phone receiver is audible. You can almost picture him right now, his face screwed up in frustration and two fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I’m… not far. I’m at a motel twenty minutes from Quantico. She offered to stay at Jessica’s house, but… I don’t want Jack to know what’s going on.”

This certainly wasn’t the conversation you were expecting to have when you phoned your boss in the evening, intending to apologize for the late hour and let him know that you would be sending a file to him that would need to be reviewed first thing in the morning. You were expecting a brief, rushed call. You weren’t expecting him to pocket-answer the phone so that you had an accidental front-row seat to the sound of your boss checking into a motel room for one guest.

When he finally heard your voice calling out, “Aaron!” from his pocket and realized what was going on, he had bashfully explained; another fight with Haley, a bad one. You know that they’re all bad these days, but his admittance meant that it was worse than usual. It had ended with both of them packing bags, insisting that the other stay at their house, and Hotch driving off before she could.

You can’t pretend that you aren’t a little surprised that he shared all of this without much prompting. But now, you just want to see him and know that he’s okay. You just want to make this better… but how can you do that?

Maybe it’s not your place to get involved at all. You would be the first to admit that, sure, you have a minor crush on your very married colleague, and maybe that means that you should be staying away from his marital problems with a twenty-foot pole. But if he needs help, you’re certainly going to offer it.

“I don’t want to say it, but… do you really think Jack doesn’t know? You two have been having a lot of problems, and he’s a smart kid.”

“I know. I know. But it’s not… we can work it out. We can figure something out. There’s no need to stress him out or make him think that we’re going to get a divorce. I don’t want him put through all of that, for something that won’t happen.” The pain in Aaron’s voice is as audible as his words, and the sheer emotion behind it… it just breaks your heart.

It’s your turn to sigh now, letting your head tip back and rest on the back of your couch. “Are you sure you don’t want to come over? It’s really no trouble, I promise. I’ve got a guest room; you can stay as long as you need.”

Now, there’s a familiar firmness in his tone. It’s that decisive I-know-best voice he uses when he really believes in what he’s saying. “I’m sure. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be home by tomorrow. We’ll work this out. I… appreciate you speaking to me about this. I’m sure it’s not why you called.”

If he could see you, you would wave a hand in the air as if to say, ‘Don’t worry about it’. “Anytime, Aaron. And that offer stands, you hear me?”

This standing offer of yours might be a bad idea. What if he takes you up on it? What if he comes over, seeking your company? Your conflicting feelings for him are easy enough to set aside at work, but if he’s coming over because of his rocky marriage that’s a whole other battlefield you don’t have a clue how to navigate.

Aaron loves his wife. You know that he does. He adores her and their son, right down to his nightly phone calls with them on cases and the picture of the two that he keeps in his go bag. But sometimes, on the occasional event that he relaxes around you, you can’t help wondering if he could ever think of you the same way he thinks of Haley. 

He could, you’re sure of that. He’s a red-blooded man, and even though that’s a little cliche of you, you can’t help but wish he would think of you as more than a colleague. You’re a woman who sees him more often than his own wife does, and that’s got to count for something. Does he really just view you as a colleague and friend, or… does he ever view you as something more?

Sometimes, you think maybe he does. During your last case – an abduction in South Dakota – the two of you had been canvassing together down a busy street when a biker rode past. Aaron had noticed in the nick of time, pulling you in towards him and out of the way of harm. He loves his wife more than anything, and you know that he was just keeping you from getting hurt. But for a moment, for just a split second, you had let yourself imagine that it was a gesture of more-than-friends, that he was pulling you in because he wanted to be closer to you.

So maybe this offer is a terrible, awful idea. You can admit that it probably is, but at least he doesn’t seem to be taking you up on it.

“I hear you.” There’s a bit of a smile in his voice now, as though he knows how serious you’re being and he finds it amusing. “Thank you, again. Have a nice night.”

Before you can respond, he hangs up. With a sigh, you set down the phone. It’s starting to get late now; you might as well go to sleep if he’s not coming over.

–

When you wake up, your bedroom is completely dark. Your alarm isn’t ringing on the nightstand, and when you roll over in bed you read the time on the digital clock. 3:46 AM.

So what the hell woke you up?

Your answer comes in the form of a knocking sound, loud enough to get your attention without being an obnoxious pounding sound. The noise is coming from… somewhere, so you get out of bed and slip on a robe over your pajamas to find the source of the noise.

The hunt leads you to your front door, where that steady knocking is coming from the other side. Someone is knocking on your door, at the late hour, and in a haze of grogginess and confusion, you wrench the door open.

“What is- Aaron?”

He’s standing on your step, his hand raised like he’s ready to knock again. His face… god. His face is full of pain, unimaginably pure pain, and he nods at you. “Hi. I’m sorry, I… you were sleeping. I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

His voice breaks a little, and that’s when you reach out. With one hand on his shoulder, you steer him into the house and close the door. “Are you okay? You didn’t… what?”

When you guide Aaron to the couch, he sits down without hesitation. His voice is drenched with despair when he says, “I didn’t… know where else to go. You said that the, er, offer was standing, right?”

“What? Yes, of course, it is. Aaron, what’s going on?” You sink down onto the couch next to him, watching him inhale deeply like he’s trying to ground himself. The tiny part of you that preens when he says that he didn’t know where else to go… well, you try to fight that part back. Right now, the priority is Aaron. The priority is not your ridiculous, unrealistic crush on him. “I thought you were staying at the motel tonight and going home tomorrow.” 

“I did, too. Haley texted me a little while ago. She… she told me that she wants to figure out a… custody agreement that recognizes her as Jack’s primary parent. She wants to… work that out before she gets her lawyer involved.” He gives you a sardonic little smile, one that fills you to the brim with empathy as he continues to speak. “Apparently, when she said she would stay at her sister’s house, she meant indefinitely. I can expect to be served the… papers in the next week.”

He says ‘papers’ in a bitter tone, like the very sound of the word puts a bad taste in his mouth. It’s not hard to piece two and two together, and you slowly reach for his hand. He lets you take it, and you give him a moment before you ask the question.

“You and Haley are divorcing?” Compartmentalizing this has to be one of the most strong-willed things you’ve ever done. This isn’t the time for your feelings and emotions to be anywhere near the surface; not when Aaron needs you like this.

At the d-word, he flinches a little like he’s been wounded. He obviously hasn’t come to terms with the idea of it yet, and you wonder how long it’s been since she texted him. “We aren’t divorcing. She’s divorcing me.” His correction is swift, and his voice is brittle; it feels like he’s close to shattering. Seeing him like this – so vulnerable, so broken – is completely alien to you.

“Aaron…” You don’t know what to say, so you squeeze his hand. In lieu of any other words, you ask the stupidest possible question. “How do you feel?”

He laughs a little, at that. It isn’t genuine, but it’s not a cruel laugh either. It’s a little bit cynical, a little disbelieving. “I just found out that my wife is leaving me. It’s 4 AM, and I’m tired, and I can’t go home. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, right now.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. It was dumb of me to ask.” You move a little closer to him, the couch cushions shifting under you until you’re almost pressed against him. “You can talk about it, if you want to. You can tell me everything that’s going through your head.”

Aaron takes another deep breath at that, and his hold on your hand tightens a little. “She isn’t happy. She hasn’t been happy, and we both knew it. I just… I didn’t think this would happen. I know she wants me around more- wanted me around, I suppose. Lately, most of our fights have been about work. Haley wanted me to leave the BAU, the Bureau if it came down to it, and I refused. And I can’t blame her for wanting a normal life, or wanting me to work at a 9 to 5, but… I can’t do that.”

His monologue has shaken every remaining ounce of grogginess out of your system. Aaron so rarely opens up, especially about personal matters. Listening to him talk like this, you could go all night long without a cup of coffee.

Come to think of it, coffee is a really good idea. Standing up, you give him a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m just going to make us some coffee. You look like you need it.”

The open-concept design means that you only move a few feet away to get to the coffeemaker in the kitchen, and you look over at Aaron as you scoop grounds into the basket. “Why can’t you leave the BAU?” Your question is soft, not accusatory.

He hears your tone, the general curiosity, and sighs. “When I was a lawyer, I prosecuted dozens of murder cases. By the time they reached my desk, it always felt like it was too late. And I wanted to, uh… stop them, before they got to my desk. We see a lot of things, you know? Jack… I don’t want him growing up in a world like this, with serial killers around every corner. I want to make the world a safer place for him. I suppose I thought that… I thought that because I’m doing it for my family, that would make it… easier for her to deal with.”

By the time Aaron finishes speaking, you’re handing him a cup of coffee. It’s sweetened with a bit of sugar and some cream; he usually drinks it black, but you know he considers any other kind of coffee to be a treat. If there’s ever been a time for him to deserve a treat, it’s now.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him as you sink back down onto the couch with a mug of your own. “I know that you and Haley might have different ideas about what parenting should look like, but… you’re doing this because you love him. You want to protect him, and keep him safe and innocent. That doesn’t make you a monster for missing bedtime.”

It’s silent for a long moment; the only sound is both of you sipping your coffees, and then Aaron hums quietly. “I just… I never want him to know what kind of people are out there. He’s a little kid. I’m supposed to be there to tell him that there isn’t a monster under his bed. Instead, I spent his birthday in Mississippi looking for a guy who hunts his victims by actually hiding under their beds. I can’t blame Haley for being upset with me.”

You’re still trying to think of a response to that when he speaks again. His voice softens now, and when you glance over he looks away quickly. It’s not quick enough, and you still make note of the tears in his eyes that he’s obviously trying to hide. “We’ve been together since high school, you know. Graduation, college, law school… all of it.”

“I had no idea,” you murmur. You knew that Aaron and his wife were together for a long time, obviously. But to be together since high school? That’s a hefty chunk of time; it’s more than half as long as he’s been alive. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I… I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“If it helps, neither can I. I don’t… I have no clue how I feel,” he admits, setting down the coffee cup. His gaze is still averted, but you can see the tears shining in his eyes. “Things haven’t been great for a while, and I know that. I’m not an idiot. But she’s always been there by my side, always. And now… she won’t be there, anymore.” His voice breaks a little on the last word, and it just… breaks your heart, all over again.

When you speak, it’s a little more tentative. Between his strict professionalism in the office and the reason for this impromptu 4 AM visit, you’re worried that you might be crossing some sort of line here. He’s got a wife at home; technically, he’s still married. That, and the reason for your offer is more selfish than you care to admit. But you don’t mind that as much as you probably should. After a pause, you say it.

“You can say no, but… do you want a hug?” Even as you ask the question, you start to get to your feet. Maybe to give him easy access, or maybe just so you can busy yourself with the coffee mugs if he says no.

A soft ‘oof’ escapes you when Aaron gets to his feet and hugs you tightly, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask. His arms wrap around your waist while your own come up to reach around him, rubbing his back gently in as reassuring of a manner as you can. Yes, your reason for this hug is selfish… It's selfish to take pride in the fact that you’re the one comforting him, reassuring him, and hopefully making him feel better.

You’re just about to let go – the guilt-ridden confliction of your emotions is almost too much to handle – when you feel and hear a sharp intake of breath against your shoulder, under your hand. It’s paired with the softest, most broken-sounding sob you can imagine. Aaron is trying to hold back that flood of emotion, that heartbreak that seems to surround him like it’s stuck alongside him inside an impenetrable bubble, and you tighten your grip on him a little.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, and you hope that you sound soothing. You hope that you can calm him, help him in some way. “You can let go, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Aaron doesn’t respond. He’s silent against you as his face presses into your shoulder, but his back moves under your hand when he takes in another deep, shuddering breath. It isn’t until he pulls away and lowers his head that you realize that the shoulder of your robe is soaked with tears that you couldn’t feel through the layers of fabric.

His head is still down, and he wipes at his face like he can’t stand to have tears running down it. “I’m sorry,” he says after a long moment, and he turns away altogether while he presumably collects himself. 

You allow him this privacy, this pseudo-solitude to wipe his face and straighten his posture and do whatever else he can to recover from his moment of sheer, sheer vulnerability. He’s starting to turn back by the time you say, “Don’t be. You’re hurting, Aaron. I want to be here for you, however I can be. If you want to talk about how much you miss her, and cry on my shoulder…” you shrug one of the aforementioned shoulders, a gesture meant to play off the tension of the moment, “Well, I’ve got two of them, so feel free. Whatever you need, okay? That’s a promise.”

With a little nod, Aaron wipes a hand under both eyes again. “I understand. I really appreciate it… I appreciate you. Just having you here, with me… it’s helped more than you know.”

A tight smile graces your face, and you pat his forearm as you step back. The coffee is starting to wear off, and you can feel the exhaustion down to your bones. It’s on his face too, in his eyes and the way they’re growing heavy with the need to sleep. “Of course. We can talk more in the morning, but I think for now you should try to get some sleep. Okay?”

Aaron straightens up, and you don’t miss the way his jaw flexes as he tries to suppress a yawn. “I think you’re right. Thank you, again.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” you promise, leading him down the hall towards the guest bedroom right next door to yours. “Just get some rest, and… tomorrow can wait. Everything else can wait, for now.”

“It can wait,” Aaron agrees with a solemn nod, his voice quiet. He thanks you once again before you step away from the door, listening to it shut before you turn off all the lights and return to your own bedroom.

By the time you slip under your blankets, you can hear soft snores floating through the shared wall. It’s still hard to tell if you’ve overstepped, or if you’ve crossed some sort of line tonight. But for now… Aaron might have Haley in his head, but he’s fast asleep in your guest bedroom. You’re going to support him through this next stage of his life. Whatever the next few weeks or months may bring, you’ll be there.

You aren’t going to change his mind on anything. If he wants to contest the divorce, you’ll be there for him. If he wants to do it amicably, you’ll ask how you can help. If he realizes somewhere along the way that you could be the one for him, you certainly won’t argue.

You’ve already waited without hope for years. If he winds up single then maybe, just maybe, he’ll think of you in a new light one day. And if not… maybe you can just pretend he will, for tonight.

Taglist: @crowfootwrites @abschaffer2 @jaspxr @angelfxllcm @spacecowboyhotch @ssamorganhotchner @sadgirlml @sunshinemunchkin @wheelsupkels @ashhotchner @laurensprentiss @hotchnerxo @strange-mischief @thebaileybugle @helmihotchner @dontcallmekittens @ssacharcoalgrey @allthefandomstogether @pandorasdreamings @hotched @scargarcia-magshotchner @multiverse-mxdness @nevillescomslut @queenofthepouges @ivanaplvc @itseightbeats @justreadingficsdontmindme @jareauswife @reidselle @mojo366 @anlin2058 @realdirectionx @feedthemadness-sweetie @greg-montgomery @hausofwhores @rousethemouse @cinamonspice @red-red-rogue @nd264 @silversprings-mp3 @criminallysuperhamilfan13 @ssajohotchner @ah-blossom

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#my writing #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x fem reader #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #cm fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #hotch fanfic #hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #Spotify

[beelmons]

about the love languages blurb thing...🥺 can i pls ask for physical touch with Hotch bebé pretty please? i just feel he's do touch-starve it is difficult for him but when it comes to you... he'd do anything🥺

thank u in advance hermana💖

Anything for you sis! 💖 @cassiemartzz

Physical touch + Quality time (Aaron's love language)

Hotch is one of the people in the team with the strongest attachment to his love language, which means that he struggles to use other love languages to express his feelings. However, something very important about Aaron is that he's always open to listening.

He will have a hard time initiating the touches, but if you're straight forward with him and explain how important it is that he holds your hand in public, runs his arm over your shoulders, kisses your chick every once in a while, he will do his best to please you.

You will have to me patient with him, though, when he's overly stressed or in a bad mood, he might forget about the agreements you have come to, but a gentle reminder, that's not pushy, will go a long way. Don't be scared to start the contact, more often than not he will reciprocate.

If he doesn't, though, don't take it the wrong way. His job requires all of his senses to be active, he can get overwhelmed pretty easily. If he rejected you in a particularly harsh way, let him know, he will never try to make you feel unloved.

Make sure to compensate his efforts with quality time on your side as well, otherwise we might feel like he's the one giving everything in the relationship. Dinner, movies, even bed action, your sole attention should be on him when you're lucky enough to have him around.

Scenario:

You made your way, secure enough, towards the offices of the BAU. Not the first time you had been in that office, even if your marriage to the unit chief was rather recent. Familiar faces, his coworkers and friends with whom you had formed bonds with, welcomed you with hugs and smiles.

Even Garcia was summoned from her lair to provide you with attention, everyone around you simply smiled at your presence. They were all witnesses to the happiness you had brought their boss, and they were forever thankful for that.

"I'm not kidding, I have filed official FBI complaints on Hotch for not bringing you more often." Penelope told you. You took a second glance at JJ just to confirm the statement, and she simply nodded with certain exhaustion. The fact made you break into a loud laugh, the kind of laugh that would resonate throughout the entire office.

The harmonious, and unmistakable, melody snapped Aaron's attention to the window of his office, which was your initial destination until you got held back by a barrier of FBI agents asking about your day. Once he had confirmed you were the source of it, he dropped every pen and paper he had at hand to reach the point where you wer standing.

"Honey," he made his way in between Morgan and Reid to reach you "what are you doing here?" after his words, he took a step forward to give you a gentle hug.

"Hey, babe, I'm just dropping this off." you raised a black gym-style bag "I was doing laundry and noticed you took the old go-back instead of the clean one."

Aaron grabbed the object with a frustrated and slightly embarrassed sigh "I must've forgotten to empty it when I got from my last trip, I'm sorry you had to come all the way here for it."

"Don't worry handsome, I love having an excuse to stop by and have a little chat with this lovely group of people." you said as you gestured to the agents and everyone seemed to blush at your statement.

"Which reminds me, Garcia, take down the current complaint before Strauss actually gets to it." the man glared in the blonde's direction. She muttered a quiet 'yes sir' and lowered her sight.

"Well, as much as I enjoy coming to the serial-killer bat-cave, I actually have to pick up Jack from your Jessica's, you guys have a safe trip." you directed your words at everyone "and, see you when you get back?" the last sentence you directed only to Aaron.

He nodded slightly and took another step forward. His right arm curled around your waist, and his left one dragging your face closer by the base of your neck. His lips smashed into yours in a passionate kiss that lasted around three seconds, which was two seconds too long for an appropriate workplace kiss, by the way. Once he pulled away, his eyes found yours "I love you."

"Love you, too." you barely muttered, still dizzy from the kiss. Without even noticing the rest of the people that stared at the two of you, you turned on your heels to walk back out of the office.

Reality hit Aaron like a truck when he met multiple eyes of flustered subordinates that had just admired the entire R-13 show the two of you had put on.

"Mazeltov." Rossi joked, earning quiet chuckles from the rest.

"Everybody back to work." his tone had gone back to commanding, not the high pitched caring one he wore when you were around. Without glancing at them any further, he moved back to his office to resume his activities.

"On my 30th birthday he gave me a handshake." Reid pointed out disappointedly.

"If you want a kiss, you have to look like that, kid." Morgan mocked, referring to you. The rest of the team laughed the situation off and everyone returned to their duties as ordered.

Aaron couldn't help to beat himself over it for a little bit, but after further inspection, he didn't care. Many things he promised the day you got married, and many he wasn't sure he would be able to hold, but if there was something he had vowed to do without fail, was that he would never leave your side without a kiss goodbye, a proper kiss goodbye.

#aaron x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotcher x reader #blurb: mine #criminal minds love languages #blurb: hotchner #blurb: criminal minds #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner/reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

[patrickispinky]

Emily: i can't find my pen. are you sitting on it again?

Y/n: no.

Emily: stand up.

Y/n: i don't want to.

Emily: why?

Y/n: *mumbling* because i'm probably sitting on your pen 😔

#criminal minds #inccorect quotes #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #cm incorrect quotes #fanfiction #idk #fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut #criminal minds x reader #cat adams #spencer reid scenario