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#i love hotch
carlgrimesloverr · 10 months
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sk8ergirl
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aaron hotchner x fem!super star!reader
summary : when aaron and haley were young, they were on and off. during one off the ‘offs’ aaron met her. 10 years later, she’s famous, and he’s stuck unhappy in a marriage that was more out of convenience then love.
takes place during : season 1
warnings :  some of the songs / bands i bring up don’t exactly… exist in 2005, but i love them, i love hotch, and i love angst so it’s ok. 
word count : 931
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“spence please come with me to this concert” jj pleaded with the brunette, who just shrugged.
“i’ve never heard of the artist- plus gideon and i are going to have a chess match soon. just invite elle, i’m sure she will go with you.” he responded, eyes not leaving the chess board in front of him.
“elle’s busy this weekend, so is morgan! i don’t want to have to ask hotch, not while haley is pregnant!” the blonde whined.
“ask hotch what?” aaron asked, appearing in the bullpen out from his office, staring down at jj with the same expression as always.
“oh! sir- hi, uh, i just have tickets to a concert this weekend but no one to go with..”
“what artist? it may be one haley likes if you’d like to go with her.”
“(y/n)! she’s actually from the same area you are maybe you kn-“
hotch froze. ignoring everything else jj said he quickly left to go to his office.
it didn’t take a fool to put the pieces together, and the question rang out in his head. were you a musician now? you followed your dreams after moving away.. you really did it.
he wanted to know more, he needed to know more. but he couldn’t call in penelope to learn more, if he asked penelope then he ran the risk of the team knowing.
despite jj’s mockery, hotch did know how to work a computer, and how to search up things online. as hotch researched you now, he realised you had an album named after him. well, maybe not him exactly, but ‘AHH.’ seemed a bit too close to the “aaron ‘hotch’ hotchner” you used to date.
scrolling through the list of 20 songs, he noticed it was a breakup album, full of hate and feelings of betrayal.
looking at the first song, hotch was shocked. “‘circles ft. pierce the veil’?” he asked out loud. pierce was a big band, he knew that much. he had heard jj talking of them to derek before. the lyrics felt more like a love song, yet hotch could read into the tone, how you always reffered to you and him as ‘running’, trying to escape something. escape haley.
the next track, ‘girlfriend ft. avril lavigne’. hotch didn’t even have to look at the lyrics to know what it was about- it was a diss to haley. once again, you were angry. you had every right to be angry, though hotch couldn’t even begin to understand why you blamed haley. hotch was the one who left you, haley never forced him. he was the bad guy, not haley.
as he kept reading the tracks, he realised more and more how he had hurt you. songs featuring eminem, paramore, my chemical romance, weezer, alanis morissette, the used, the offspring, and fall out boy. alanis morissette. you used to rave about her album ‘jagged little pill’ to him when you were laying in his bed, bodies as close as could be.
the main track, ‘sk8ergirl’, was what really did it for him. what story were you telling? you were happy with someone else? or was it from the point of view of 17 year old you? a boy and a girl, extremely obvious about how they were in love but never ended up together. the boy was a bitch, basically. and so the girl went on and fell in love with a rockstar. were you calling aaron a bitch, and boosting your own ego like that? or was it a swapped gender roles, to make it less obvious? aaron couldn’t tell.
no matter what the song was written about, aaron had hurt you. and you took it out in the only way you knew how; music. aaron joined theatre to gain haleys attention, you wrote songs about him to let off some steam; maybe even gain his attention. but no matter how much steam you let off, aaron was still with haley, and you were still alone, with that red and black fender squire stratocaster you had so proudly shown hotch when you were seniors, the one you put together yourself. the red grain pickguard was your favourite feature of the whole guitar, hotch remembering so clearly how you ranted on and on.
‘no no- most strats are one basic colour for this area here, the pickguard. this is a grain! it has a cool pattern!’ you had told him, smiling widely as you pointed out the features on your guitar. ‘i want to get a bass that’s the exact opposite! red grain body, black pickguard. wouldn’t that be so cool? you should learn bass, then we could play together! i’m writing up this song right now, think i’m gonna call it “i’m with you”, the bass part is pretty simple!’
‘i’m with you’. fourth track. a love song. you had kept it in the album? you had published a song so clearly written about aaron? he could still remember you softly humming the melody, still not fully having worked out the lyrics. it was about being alone - something like standing on a bridge, no one looking for you - when someone comes to your rescue and saves you from that darkness.
“you still released it, even though you’re alone.” hotch hummed to himself, continuing to search you up.
single.
never married.
no kids.
doesn’t party much.
still went out skating constantly.
said in an interview you were ‘still caught in the whirlwind romance of high school’.
caught in the ‘betrayal of it all’.
you really were the sk8ergirl, weren’t you?
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reidholic · 1 year
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oh they're preparing for gideon to leave aren't they. he's less and less involved it's hotch as boss now. you know what good riddance...
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taamistuffbox · 1 month
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they are all freaks
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slutforsilverfoxes · 9 months
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Imagine…
BAU!reader being married to Hotch but keeping her maiden name in the field to avoid assumptions and judgment. The team knows, obviously, but then a former colleague of Aaron’s from the Seattle office happens to be in town for a conference and wants to catch up over a drink. You can’t help but tease him, of course:
“Knock, knock,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to your husband’s office. With a glance at your watch, you ask, “Y’gonna be late for your date?”
Aaron looks up at you with a frown before returning his attention to his case file and mumbling, “Not a date.”
“Mm, my apologies,” you respond with a twitch of your lips as you approach his desk. You lean your elbows on the dark wood and rest your chin in your open hands. Batting your eyelashes, you amend, “It’s a meeting betwixt old coworkers.”
Aaron rises from his chair, pressing his fists against the desk opposite you and positively towering over your smaller stature. He meets your fiery gaze with equal defiance, then leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Are you our resident Reid while he’s with his mom? Who says ‘betwixt’?”
“Oh, shut up, nerd,” you taunt back between kisses of your own. “You collected coins; I played Scrabble. Now get going! Can’t leave a lady waiting for the Aaron Hotchner.”
—————
But WAIT! There’s more! Said agent gets a call while they’re out for a drink and asks Aaron and the BAU for help on a new case. Naturally, you all have to fly to Seattle together…
“Mama, you know this cabin is pressurized, right?” Derek teases with a nudge of your shoulder.
You mumble back around a sip of coffee, “Yeah, so?”
“So if you glare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole through the jet and we’re all gonna die up here.”
Emily snorts out a laugh and you steal a Cheeto from JJ’s snack (for which you’re met with a stern, “Hey!”) to throw at her. Emily collects the offensive projectile from her lap and pops it into her mouth with a ferocious chomp in your direction, receiving an, “Oh, bite me, Prentiss,” in response.
“Just find a way to slip in that you’re married,” JJ counsels, moving the bag out of your reach to avoid further retaliation.
“Or accidentally fall into his lap. Turbulence can be nasty, you know,” Emily offers as a follow up.
“Like that?” you deadpan, jutting your chin toward the scene at the back of the jet. Aaron and Agent Brandt are over by the coffee, and she’s just steadied herself using your husband’s broad shoulder.
“Or,” Derek counteroffers, tugging at the chain around your neck that holds your wedding and engagement rings while you’re out in the field, “put this rock on and go claim your man!”
“This is dumb. I’m being dumb,” you grumble, flipping open the case file and burying your head in it. “Can we get back to talking about this sociopath and not my high school-esque jealousy?”
“What’s happening? Did I miss anything?” Garcia’s blonde curls bounce up on the monitor before your group, ready for the next installment of this evidently riveting saga.
“Nothing is happening, Pen,” you respond with a sharp look her way, “and y’all need to get out more. Watch a romcom or something if you need some angst.”
“You all completely suck,” Penelope sighs dramatically. “My cup runneth empty in my lair!”
“Then go get yourself another cappuccino, baby girl,” Derek answers smoothly with that dazzling smile of his, perched on the armrest of your seat.
You feel his presence before you hear his voice, every atom in your body suddenly on high alert and keenly aware of everything that is Aaron. “Hey.”
You look up at him with an easy smile, determined to not let your unwarranted bitterness reflect on your work. “What’s up, Hotch?”
He squats down in the aisle beside you so he’s not looming over you and brushes his knuckles across your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender touch, given your current audience. “Do you have that travel bottle of Advil? Brandt may have been overzealous with the margaritas last night.”
“Yeah, it’s… in the side pocket of my bag,” you answer, brow furrowed because he tossed it in there this morning to ward off your inevitable headaches during the coming late nights.
“You’re the best, honey,” he murmurs, standing halfway to press a kiss to your forehead before returning to his full height and going off in search of the pain killer.
“‘Overzealous with the margaritas’, huh?” Emily teases, then starts singing the viral song about just how many margaritas are needed to perform certain acts that shan’t be discussed in polite company.
From across the plane, Dave glances at Aaron who’s rummaging through the overhead luggage bin, then turns his attention to you with a knowing gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks, and settle back in your seat before flipping through the case file in front of you. “So crime scene photos would suggest we’re dealing with a disorganized killer…”
—————
But WAIT! There’s even more!
AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner
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paperphobe · 6 months
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I like to pretend that all the behind the scenes pictures of Thomas Gibson and the rest of the CM cast in costume are just pictures of their characters. I can’t find any realistic context behind why the majority of them would be taken but that doesn’t matter!!!
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hotchbabygirl · 26 days
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✨ thinking about hotch hairy hands ✨
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greg-montgomery · 18 days
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okay but - reader being present when the team starts listing hotch’s bad qualities…you stay quiet because you can’t think of anything. then, maybe the next day, you find him alone and you want to reassure him.
“i don’t think you’re a bully” “it’s alright, y/n. i didn’t take any of that personally” </3 but you wanna let him know. “still. and i also think you’re pretty funny” 🥹 (he’s caught off guard bc he really thinks he has no sense of humor :(( ) “you do?” “yeah. you make me laugh a lot. even more than derek”
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spacehondacivic · 1 year
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since we’re doing this now
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 10 months
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Thomas Gibson + sports 🥵
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bonus: football flamingo
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hermionewrites · 7 months
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Invaluable
THIS IS UNIMPORTANT PART 2!!!!!!!
summary: your boss finally realises what you mean, and how he feels. warnings: smoking, drinking, sexual situations (not smut!) a/n: this is based on that time aaron SNATCHES that cigarette out of the unsubs mouth and it’s hot. If you want a smut part please comment or leave a thing in my inbox. love ya <3
wordcount: 4687
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The next few weeks nothing had changed between you and your boss since his confession of you being important to the team. But at the same time, everything had. He had become less dismissive once you handed him the usual bitter black coffee he gets. Instead of the usual “Thank You,” just thrown your way without a sparing glance.
Now, you were still thanked. However, he turned his head towards you, making eye contact for a slightly lingering moment before continuing on with the case and turning back to the drawing board. It was pity, you assumed. Pity for the fact that you had almost been shot and killed in a police precinct bathroom.
Another small change was the way he asked for things. He had went from harshly barking orders at you to have papers ready, collect that box of files, prep the interrogation room. To coming up to you directly, asking you quietly and politely.
On the other hand, something completely different, never happened before, your boss, Aaron Hotchner had brought you a coffee on the jet. Albeit, the rest of the team were passed out in a deep sleep. Em had her head rested on JJ’s shoulder as they slept together. Spencer had a book over his face and Morgan had his music playing in his ears.
“You’re not sleeping?” He asked as he bent down to place the coffee on the small table in-front of you. Lifting it up you take a scalding sip from the mug. Boiling hot, burning your tongue but exactly how you liked it.
“How do you know which way I like my coffee?” You ask, the shock evident in your tone and get given pointed look because the answer to that was obvious. “I can’t sleep when something is moving, car, train, private jet.” Your mouth quirks up at the last one. You see him nod in understanding and he makes his way back to his seat and to bury his nose back into the files. “Thank you.” You whisper out loud enough for him to hear but not enough to wake the team.
The rest of the flight back to Quantico was peaceful. Silence after a long and hard case was always welcome, the calm after the storm.
-
Silky sheets caress your legs as the loud blaring of your alarm rings in your ears. The orange beginnings of daylight peek through a small gap through the curtains. Rolling over, the blue light from your phone glares in your eyes. New email. Meeting at 8:30. Urgent.
One thing you hated about your boss was his inability to elaborate when things were important. Rushing to get ready and throwing your work clothes on as fast as possible, your mind races. Skimming over every mistake you had made in the past few months that could lead to you getting fired. Or anything the rest of the team could have done to prompt an urgent meeting.
Arriving at the office the rest of the team stand in the bullpen, equally confused.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Emily asks you as you join the huddle at her desk.
“No idea.” You reply with a shrug and the six of you turn to look up into Hotch’s office. He has the landline up to his ear and seems to be talking intensely to the person on the other end. “What do you think that’s about?”
“No idea.” Spencer echoes your words from earlier. “He doesn’t look happy though.”
Then without a word Hotch opens his office door and with no more than a nod, orders you to the conference room. It wasn’t unusual for him to look that way. Stoic, serious and unmoving.
“We’re all fired.” Pen squeaked out with a determined nod. She then marched up to the conference room, the rest of you following in her stead.
The conference room was not a stranger to long intense silence. It usually happened when one of the team had made a mistake that Strauss wouldn’t let go. Usually a mistake that your unit chief’s job was put on the line for. Hotch is sitting when you enter.
“Have we got a case?” Derek asks with a nod to the remote in Hotch’s hand. The screen behind him lit up and he stood up.
“Not exactly.” A look of disgust was commonly shared around the circular table at hearing about the heinous crimes that the team solved regularly. However, a look of panic, was rare and was prominent at what Hotch said next. “We have been invited to the FBI christmas gala.” Groans and eye rolls were shared around the table.
“We are on orders from Strauss to not take any new cases until after the event,” He continued, “As we are most likely going to revive an award.”
“When is it?” JJ asks, her chin in her hands and her hair falls over her face.
“Next Friday. We all get a plus one.” Hotch finishes and gets up, striding out of the conference room and back to his office to stare at more files until late in the evening.
“You know what this means ladies.” Penelope starts, her body pretty much vibrating with excitement. “Dress shopping!” The huge smile on her face made everything more bearable. At least one of you was excited.
-
A few days later the girls and you were standing in some high-end boutique, browsing the multiple colours of dresses. Racks upon racks of different cuts, shapes and lengths are everywhere. Penelope was rushing through them at a speed you'd never seen, picking out what she thought would look best on the three of you.
"Em, you just have to wear red!" She gushes and hands Emily a stack of different shades of red. "Go try them on." Pen gives her a shove toward the fitting rooms. "Same for you." She says to JJ, her pile filled with a variety of blues, pinks and purples.
They both come out one at a time, showing you and Pen all of the dresses she had specifically picked out. Naturally, Pen loved every single one they came out in, smiling every time. Until they both came out at the same time and she let out a dramatic gasp.
Emily was wearing a deep red velvet dress that came down to her ankles and was tight-fitted down her body. JJ's was light pink with light lace flowers all over in lace. It flared out from her hips and draped over her legs. "Those. Are. Perfect." She squealed at the pair as they both did a spin. They both blushed at your and Pen's extensive compliments about how well the dresses fit them.
"You guys look amazing!" You say from your seat and Emily's look turns from appreciative to mischievous.
"Now it's your turn," Emily smirks and she and JJ take their place on the plush bench that you and Pen were just perched on. JJ hands you the pile of perfectly curated dresses Penelope had picked out for you, in many different colours. You pick out all of the colourful ones and leave them on the bench. You catch the girls confused looks.
"While a gala is a break for you, I'm still on the clock." You explain and shake the black dresses in your hands. "I have a dress code, black only." You watch Penelope's face drop.
"But, that green one would look so good." She says, obviously disappointed you wouldn't get to wear the one she had envisioned you in. "Try it on for me?" She asks and gives you a look you couldn't resist.
"After, I find my one for the night." You put emphasis on after as your friend was not one for patience.
A few dresses later, varying reactions from the girls as you came out. Some 'oohs' and 'ehhs' gave you a clear opinion of what they thought. Penelope had found her dress almost instantly, it was a silky champagne with black lace over the bust. Finally, you had thought you had found the one. It was black, of course, and didn't come down too low at the bust, stopping just before inappropriate. The fabric stopped at the floor and didn't restrict your walking movement.
"Oh, that's lovely," JJ says as you pull the curtain back to reveal yourself to them.
"That is the one!" Penelope jumps up and gives you a hug.
"I think I'm all dressed out." Emily slumps against the wall as you make your way to get changed back into your normal clothes and bag up your dress of choice.
Making your way to the till, you all pay for your dresses and head your separate ways home.
-
The fateful day had finally come. Hours upon hours of explaining that you are not a profiler to a part of the BAU team but their PA. Then having to listen for hours upon hours on why the BAU was favoured by the director as they had a private jet and a PA. Looking good was crucial if you were a benefit, you had better be a good-looking one.
If the dress had to be black and plain with a simple shape and a boring unappealing neckline. You'd dress it up with dainty jewellery and amazingly high heels in a matching black. You had turned a simple dress that was gathering dust in the back of the racks into a sublime sleek look. The ding from your phone catch’s your attention as you grab your clutch.
It read ‘We’re outside’ and quickly you smooth down your hair one last time and make your way out of the apartment building, seeing the girls waiting in one of the SUV’s for you. Emily at the wheel with Jj in the passenger seat and Penelope in the back.
“You look stunning!” Penelope shouts from the window as you walk towards the car and you can’t help but produce a huge smile on your face.
“So do all of you.” You say as you shut the car door behind you. The drive to the venue wasn’t long, small talk being the main focus of the conversation.
“Are any of you looking for a man tonight?” Jj asks, a smirk on her face. She had brought Will as her plus one and he was currently residing in the men’s car who were trailing not too far behind them. “Or woman.” She adds, casting a small glance at Em.
“If something happens, it happens.” Emily says with a shrug, knowing that she would be approached many a time during the night.
“I’m fine with my chocolate thunder.” Pen says, her face lighting up. “But you never know.” A few hums of agreement echo around the car. “And what about you, beautiful creature of the night?” Penelope asks.
“I’m working.” It was a short answer but you didn’t miss the simultaneous eye rolls of the three others. “What was that?” You ask with a scoff, looking between the three of them.
“Oh yes. ‘Working’” Pen says, “Until you go out for a smoke.” She smirks as she says this.
“You’re just jealous it works.” You snark back, as you pull up the the grand hotel that the gala was being held in. “I am now officially on the clock.” You say, getting out of the car and opening the doors for all of the girls. At the same moment the men’s car pulls up behind you. You do the same for each of them. Each of them thank you as you open their car doors.
“I hate treating you like this, you’re our friend not our employee.” Spencer complains as you walk in on his arm. “It feels strange.”
“It’s one night. And technically I am, your employee.” You smile up at him. “Your assistant.” The room you were in was huge, the carpet was a deep red plush, the cushions on the chairs matching. The ceilings held up by marble stone pillars that towered over everyone.
You and the BAU find their way to their large circular table in the middle of the room. Not a single corner of solitude where they could not be observed by the rest of the FBI. They place their, clutches and Jackets on the table and you turn to them.
“Drinks?” You ask looking around the table.
“You don’t have to.” Derek starts but you cut him off with a hand wave.
“I am being paid.” You say sternly, “Drinks?” You ask with a stubborn tone. “The usual?” You continue and receive nods from around the table. Making your way to the bar you rattle off the teams orders. “A whisky on the rocks, a neat whisky, two glasses of house red, a glass of house white, two jack and cokes and a lemonade. Please.” You receive a nod and wait for the poor bartender the make all of those drinks. “Oh and a tray please!”
You weren’t a stranger to the looks of envy from other departments as you carried the tray of drinks to the table. Or from the patrons stood at the bar fetching their own drinks.
“I come bearing gifts.” You say and hand out their drinks accordingly around the table. Whiskey on the rocks for Rossi. Near whiskey for Hotch. House red for Jj and Emily. House white for Pen. Jack and coke for Derek and Will and a lemonade for Spencer. “Now go socialise, you important people.” You say and they disperse around the room in pairs to go and talk to the other agents. That was your queue was to go and stand in the corner of the room as all of the people who thought better of themselves, boasted about their achievements in the field and out of it.
It took thirty minutes until it was announced it was time for dinner and all of the patrons made their way to the assigned seats. Wait staff flew out of every door, brining everyone the meal they had chosen a week prior. And that was your cue to go for a smoke.
It was dark outside when you push the door open. The pebbled ground crunches under your heels as you make your way to the back of the building and there is your solace. A bench. It was wooden and was sat in the middle of a small green patch of grass.
These FBI things had been few and far between with your with the BAU. The team rather spending their time on cases and saving people’s lives rather than spending time being paraded around by the director. However, that had meant that in the couple times you had been at these things, you had a tradition.
Men loved being saviours. So when they see a poor woman, sat in the cold, waiting for her cigarette to be lit. But in reality, you had a lighter placed in your bra. Dinner had just started so you pull out said lighter and light your first cigarette and take a drag. The smoke flaying out in-front of you in the light as you sit on the table of the bench, your feet on the seat.
-
The team sat around their round table, slowly eating and sipping on their drinks, longing out the process to avoid the socialising that was to come again next.
“It’s just not fair how she doesn’t even get a seat at our table,” Spencer huffs as he puts another forkful into his mouth. “The team would barely work without her. She’s a part of the team.” Everyone around the table nods in agreement.
“If it was up to me, she would.” Hotch says, also continuing to eat his food and sip his drink.
“Well you could push harder for it.” Spencer says, his mood sour and he fiddles his fork around his plate as he mumbles.
“Don’t worry Spence.” Emily said from next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “She’s just fine.” She says smirking at Jj and Penelope from across the table.
“Pump your brakes, what does that mean?” Derek says with raised eyebrows looking between the three of them. “Is she with someone here?” His eyes flit between them and waits impatiently for one of them to answer.
“Not yet.” Jj barley whispers into her wine.
“And what does that mean?” Derek pushes again and looks towards Penelope. “Babygirl, what do you know?” He asks leaning towards her and she hides behind her hands. “Penelope.” Everyone around the table was interested in what the ladies of the BAU knew about your love life.
One thing about the team was they were nosy. Specially about the love lives of the other members of the team. Behavioural analysis made it easy for them to tell when a night was spent out of bed.
“I’m not supposed to tell.” Pen squeaks, her voice an octave higher than usual, feeling the pressure of all of the curious eyes on her. But her reddening face and the pitch in her voice getting higher and higher indicates that she was going to spill and soon. Even Hotch was engaged and listening. And spill she did. “Hot rich men carry lighters.”
“And what does that have to do with sleeping with other agents?” Rossi chimes in, his hand resting around his glass and his finger tapping against the side.
“When time comes to dinner and she doesn’t get a seat at the table, she makes her way outside with two cigarettes,” Emily starts to explain. “She lights and smokes the first one while dinner is happening.”
“Then after dinner, she waits for someone to come and offer to light her second cigarette.” Jj picks up from Emily. “It’s actually quite smart.” She smiles as she finishes.
“Then they get to talking then she’s got somewhere to sleep for the night.” Penelope finishes. “The FBI is so cheap, they don’t even book her a room.” She rolls her eyes and takes another sip, clearly getting tipsy. “She never tells us who she’s been with, i’m dying to know.”
“Who would have thought she had it in her huh?” Derek says with an impressed smile.
“Literally all of us.” Emily laughs at him and wait staff begin to collect in empty plates and people begin to stand and shuffle and talk about boring corporate nonsense.
They watch Hotch get up abruptly from his chair and stride toward the bar, he doesn’t order anything he just stands there and waits for the team to disperse around the room.
“He’s not as subtle as he thinks.” Will laughs out towards Rossi who gives a small shrug before turning around and shaking the hands of agents from all over the US.
-
The shine of your shoes caught your attention, the patent dark material reflecting in the light. Circular rings dance across them and reflect in your eyes. Your first cigarette had long been smoked and shoved into the stones beneath your feet. You’d began to wonder if you just hadn’t gotten lucky this time round. Maybe you hadn’t grabbed the attention enough for anyone to follow you outside. Your eyes hadn’t left the ground yet, and were now tracing the irregular pattern of the stones. Just about to give in to the temptation and time, reaching into your bra to pull out your lighter.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” Your head shoots up and your hand goes heck to its original position by your side. It was him, your boss. Aaron Hotchner,one of the richest and hottest men you knew. You hadn’t heard the stones rustle on the way over, he always walked quietly. His voice didn’t travel far in the large empty space.
“I thought you were meant to be a profiler, sir.” You say smiling up at him and scooting over, making room for him next to you. “Get tired of all the questions?” He sits down, mirroring the way you were perched.
“I’ve already told you.” He says, the lights that were wrapped around the leaf filled arch lit up his face in such a perfect way, you couldn’t describe it. “It’s Aaron.” He repeats from weeks ago and you see him turn towards you out of the corner of your eye. Now, it was time to test if your theory was correct.
“Ok. Aaron.” You put specific emphasis on his name with a laugh and you look over to him. “Do you have a lighter?” His eyes meet yours.
“You shouldn’t smoke, they’re bad for your health.” He says avoiding the question, maybe you were wrong. “But I do. There.” He pulls it out of the inside pocket. It was fancy, silver with an engraved pattern with his name next to it.
“This is a fancy lighter.” You comment as the orange flame shines on your face. Pulling the cigarette to your mouth you take a drag. “Lots of things are bad for your health.” Your hand passes the imaginary line between you and you hold the cigarette in front of him and you raise your eyebrow in question.
“Thanks.” He takes it from your hand and pulls it up to his face but pauses. He stares at the deep red circle around the paper. “It was a gift from Rossi, he just likes to spend his money.”
“That he does,” You smile at him and notice his hesitation. “It’s just lipstick.” Resting your elbows on your legs you tilt your head to the side, hair falling over your shoulders. “It’s safer than shaking hands or whatever Spencer says when he meets someone new.” You joke. He laughs deeply at that and finally takes a puff of the cigarette.
His face contorts in slight disgust. “Those don’t taste like I remember.” But he keeps it in his hand.
“That’s because they were incredibly cheap.” Giggling, you realise you are still holding his lighter in your hands and it shining in the light.
“So you won’t mind then?” He asks and you look towards him confused.
“Mind what?” You reply, the line between your eyebrows prominent.
“This.” He smirks and throws the cigarette on the ground and stamps it out. You make a noise of protest as you watch the small orange glow disappear.
“I’m in a right mind to keep this lighter now.” Looking down into your lap shyly where your hands lay. Fiddling and flipping open the lighter. He made you nervous, usually you were able to take charge of these men and lure them to bed without a word. However, this man, your boss, was terrifying to you as he sat there breathing steadily, while your heart raced erratically.
“You’re welcome to.” He says with a shrug and brings his hand up to adjust his tie.
“It’s beautiful out here, it looks like a wedding venue.” You were deflecting and refuse to even look in the man’s direction.
“It is.” His answers were getting shorter and shorter and your heart was getting faster and faster.
Adrenaline ran through your veins as the next words flew out of your mouth before you could spare a second to think about it. “Do you know the FBI don’t even pay for my room at these things?”
“Really? I’ll look into it.” He says and taps the side of his head and keeping it in there for later.
“Thank you.” The two of you sit in silence for a while, breathing in the fresh air and looking around the grand garden and taking note of the potted plants dotted around the place. The night was clear and the stars were out, looking close to the small fairy lights that surrounded the pair of you.
“You’re part of the team, just as much as me or anyone. They should get you a room.” He says, his pinky finger inching across to yours, laying millimetres away.
“You’re the Unit chief and they’re agents.” You laugh. “I’m just an assistant.” You continue. “I’m not-.” You realise you go to say important and your mind flies back to your conversation in the parking lot.
“Important?” He sighs and you turn towards him and he says your name in the same airy voice. His tone suddenly changes back to his normal firm one. “You know what?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him. “You’re not important.” He states.
Your face morphs into confusion. “What?” You scoff at him and you lean back, also pulling your hand away from the closeness of before. You stand up abruptly and start to quickly walk away from the bench, grabbing the bottom of your dress up and keeping it away from your heels.
He says your name again but this time it’s a shout. “Wait!” He shouts again and you spin around and shake your head at him.
“What! Sir!” You shout at him harshly and take a step towards him in anger.
“You’re not important because.” He starts and you roll your eyes and he takes a step towards you and the gap gets smaller and smaller. Your breath getting shorter and shorter.
“Because what?!” You shout again and wave your arms around in emphasis.
“Because.” He says your name softer this time. “You’re invaluable.” Your mouth hangs open and all of your air leaves your lungs and you stand there for a moment. Your boss had rendered you speechless once again. Staring at him with his perfectly tailored suit and that sexy fucking red tie and just his sexy fucking face. “You’re invaluable to me.”
Dropping your clutch on the floor you quickly walk at him, trying not to trip in your heels on the uneven ground. “You stupid, stupid man.” You say and the two of you hover close to one another. “Aaron Hotchner, you massive idiot!” You gasp at him and grab his tie and pull him down to you and kiss him.
It was quick and rough and you pull away after a few seconds. “Shit, you’re my boss! Fuck!” You exclaim and look up panicked, running your hands through your hair and take a large step back. Your chest heaves, as you look him in the eyes. “I’m invaluable to you.” You say dumbly and blink quickly in more confusion than before.
“Yes, you are.” He says and takes a large step forwards, putting you toe to toe. His hands run up the tops of your thighs and over your hips and land in the small of your waist. “Say my name again.” His nose runs up your neck towards your ear.
The realisation hits you then. “I’m invaluable to you, Aaron.” You say smugly and he leans into kiss you this time and he hums in agreement inside your mouth. You’re pressed up against him as his large hands on your waist have you pulled against him.
You’re own hands start to wander as his tongue enters your mouth, they slide their way up the back of this suit and into the nape of this neck and the top of his hair. “I’ve waited so long to do that.” He sighs as the two of you separated for breath.
“Me too.” You smile as the two of you hold each other. “Your room?” You ask and intertwine your hand with his.
“Definitely.” He says and you begin to walk to the back door of the hotel, you leading the way.
“I’m your invaluable assistant.” You smirk at him as you open the back fire exit door. You felt smug being invaluable to the man. The man you’d had a crush on since you’d joined the BAU.
“Yes, you are.” He repeats and reaches down to give your arse a squeeze, in your tight dress.
“Oi!” You reach down and smack his hand away with a laugh. “Just for that, you’re going up the stairs first.” You say and push him towards the staircase.
“I’ll have you know my eyes are always front.” He says and starts to walk up the steps to his room, key card already in hand.
“Mine aren’t.” Your eyes and centred directly on his arse as he walks up the stairs to his room.
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bau-babyg · 6 months
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Don’t get me wrong i love LOVE (unhealthily so) hotch as like dbf older man omfggg but just…
Just imagine dating young Aaron, studying for his law degree, going to all his Uni events/parties with him all dressed up, helping him study for his exams…sitting next to him surrounded by a pile of law textbooks just to spend time together :,)
(probably trying to distract him like running your hand down his thigh, kissing his neck until he caves in a takes a break to be w you AGH OMFG)
AGH AND HIM WEARING LIKE READING GLASSES AS HE STUDIES OMFG HE WOULD LOOK SO GORGEOUS I JUST WANNA BITE HIM FACE AHH
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carlgrimesloverr · 1 year
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mr scratch
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aaron hotchner x fem!BAU!wife reader
summary : sweet, strong, husband aaron hotchner during / after mr scratch
takes place during : s10 + s12 (an onwards)
warnings : talks of hallucinations, death, drugging
word count : 302
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aaron hotchner who after mr scratch couldn’t sleep right - you’d catch him walking in the halls, in a daze
aaron who doesnt trust himself alone with jack because what if something went wrong. what if
aaron who at first couldn’t even sleep next you you. your own husband, afraid of what he’d do to you
aaron who you found on the ground after being drugged, disoriented and rambling
at first he pulls his gun on you, and you freeze.
after much convincing the poor man collapsed, crying and apologizing to you about how he would never hurt you ever and he can’t ever forgive himself
aaron who quickly realized that mr scratch would never surrender, so why did he? but you wouldn’t listen and just forced him to get checked out
aaron who you held in the ambulance so tight he felt suffocated, but all you could think about was your sweet husband alone with that killer
aaron who took weeks to tell you what he hallucinated - you dead just like haley, and jack an orphan
aaron who eventually goes into witness protection but urges you not to (you go anyways, jack is your son too even if it’s not biological)
aaron who almost forces you to go back to the BAU, because somehow on the job you always were home and even off the job he never was
aaron who just watches you play with jack so sweetly he can’t help but be grateful he retired just because he gets to watch moments like these
aaron who eventually stops having nightmares about scratch, but he wont admit to that. wont even admit to ever having nightmares
aaron who grew closer to you after scratch, and after witness protection - after all of it. but closer is better for him.
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agentdilfhotchner · 6 months
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the cm writers knew they’d be too powerful together
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ssahotchnerr · 2 years
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Hii Katie!
Ok I have a request 🥺🙏🏼
You’re in a secret relationship with Hotch and you both work at the BAU. He notices the last case got you feeling down and these debating if he should show his soft side and comfort you or not until someone from the team goes “sir you’re not subtle. We all know go hug your girl”
AHH GRECY HI I LOVE THIS SO MUCHHHH
not so subtle
cw- your usual criminal minds case content, fem!reader, i guess some angst ??
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the team trailed onto the jet, having just completed a case. easy conversations lingered amongst everyone, this case being not so different from any other- at least, to them. meanwhile, you silently made your way to your designated seat, feeling absolutely drained. 
to say this case had been rough on you was an understatement. the victims had all been insanely similar to you; hair and eye color, age, even similar body type. it was like you were seeing your face up on the board, that the profile was being given in relation to you. it didn’t help that during the takedown as well, the unsub had immediately latched his attention onto you; giving you the most bone chilling grin as he checked you out from head to toe, as if you were next on his list. you already knew the second you closed your eyes tonight, that’s exactly what you would see in your nightmares.
it also didn’t help that the comfort you desperately craved for the past week, you hadn’t gotten. more than anything, you just wanted aaron. the team wasn’t aware of your relationship just yet, so interactions with him were few and far between. 
you had felt his eyes on you from time to time, checking in on you, but he couldn’t necessarily do anything else. in addition, due to lack of hotel room availability, you hadn’t been able to sneak off to his room during the night- with you being paired with jj, dave with aaron. sure, you had seen him, spent almost every second of the day with him, but you hadn’t seen him. somehow, that made the longing and need for him- as your boyfriend- even more painful. 
as you settled into your seat, aaron gingerly sat at his. he almost occupied the available spot next to you, but hadn’t, which he was already regretting. he knew you were hurting, he knew he should be comforting you. and yet here he was, doing nothing about it. without another thought, he started to get up to move towards you, but again, stopped himself as dave sat across from him. instead, he grabbed a file, to hopefully play off his sudden movement.
dave slightly narrowed his eyes at aaron in suspicion as he sat, but he knew. he had noticed aaron’s eyes on you through the case’s entirety, aaron lifting a hand to place on the small of your back, but stopping himself midway. he had noticed you migrating towards aaron whenever you had a chance, wanting to say something but the words never making it past your lips. if he, along with the rest of the team, hadn’t already put the pieces together that the two of you were together, there was absolutely no denying it now. the two of you weren’t fooling anyone. and now, he was getting tired of waiting around for one of you to do something.
“aaron.”
“hm?” he didn’t look up from his file, making a play at being convincing. 
“just go.”
“sorry?” aaron finally lifted his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“you’re not very subtle. neither of you are.” dave gave him a knowing look, before he glanced in your direction. “we know, so stop being an idiot and go over there. she needs you, but i don’t need to tell you that, do i?”
aaron opened his mouth to respond, but with dave’s expression, he knew he was caught. 
so without another word, and ignoring dave’s cheeky expression, he finally got up and made his way towards you. as he approached, your eyes met his. they were sad, and aaron regretted not already making his way over to you sooner even more if it were possible.
“sir?” you questioned, not exactly sure where he was about to go with this.
“no.” he shook his head as he took the seat next to you, your face falling into one of confusion. “we’re not doing that right now.”
“what?” you asked. your voice was laced with surprise, but also relief. you could already feel part of the tension leaving your body.
he shook his head, opening his arms to you and ignoring the fact that the team were all watching. “c’mere, it’s been long enough. and i can’t stand seeing you upset for another minute.”
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slutforsilverfoxes · 6 months
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Imagine…
Starting to make dinner in Aaron’s apartment on a Thursday night. He’s just gone for a shower, washing away his last case and the worst parts of the world that he falls privy to day in and day out as Unit Chief of the BAU.
You’re humming along to your oldies but goodies playlist while sipping a glass of white wine that’s too sweet for Aaron’s liking. As the current song fades out and the familiar notes of a Bee Gees tune start, you realize with a smile just how many of these songs you've compiled make you think of your love.
And, speak of the furthest thing from the devil, suddenly he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as his body perfectly molds to the dips and curves of your own. He guides you back and forth in a gentle sway, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he releases a deep sigh.
You allow your eyes to drift shut and your head to fall back against Aaron so you can bury your nose in the crook of his neck. "Sauce'll burn," you mumble, letting his familiar smell wash over you and sending warm tingles throughout your body.
"Let it," he responds just as softly. "We'll order something. Need to hold you."
You release a sound of contentment that's half-sigh, half-hum, nuzzling even deeper into him as if you can become one person if you try hard enough. In this moment, there's no yesterday or tomorrow. There's no anticipation of the next phone call that will take your love across the country again. There's no darkness, no fear, no evil lurking around the corner. There's just you and the man you love more than anything else in the world.
You dot gentle kisses along the expanse of his skin that you can reach without moving, and he squeezes you tighter in response. "Marry me," Aaron breathes out on a sigh. "I'll make it more romantic later, I promise. Just tell me you'll be mine forever."
"Oh, my baby," you murmur. "I already am."
—————
AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d
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erwinsvow · 6 months
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𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞
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summary: domestic bliss with agent hotchner is hard to come by. you take advantage of your time with him at home when you can.
word count: 1.4k
author's note: eeeeeee. cannot stop writing for this man. not bau!reader explicitly and also not smut explicitly, more in between. enjoy!!
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The house you and Aaron buy is small, and in one word; picturesque. The outside panels are a soft, faded yellow and the shutters are brown.
It’s not a fixer-upper by any means, though Aaron talks often about the wood floors that will need to be redone in a few years, and the kitchen tile and backsplash that aren't in the condition he would quite like.
There’s other things too, like the downstairs bathroom with the peeling, floral patterned wallpaper and the carpet in Jack’s room. He worries about redoing the wallpaper—visions of hours of peeling it off and getting new sheets up and if there’s mold behind the paper, but you like it. It makes it feel like you’ve lived in this house your whole life.
Your shared bedroom is upstairs, down the hall from Jack and the first room off the stairs. You like the simplicity of this house most of all, nothing too grand or vain. When the realtor had taken you for a showing, Aaron was off on a case in Florida and Jack was at school. You felt silly touring alone, because it would have been easier to imagine living here with Aaron and Jack by your side, but you do it anyway.
You love Aaron’s apartment and you have more memories than you can count there—visions of making oatmeal raisin cookies with Jack and your first date with Aaron (a dinner that he cooked followed by a record playing softly and dancing in the living room) pop into your mind—but it’s running out of space, and it’s not quite like home. 
This house is home in all the best ways. A big kitchen with an island, where you can picture a cookie jar and a tall counter stool where Jack sits and eats his oatmeal before school. 
The living room has big windows and there’s a smaller playroom off the foyer, and in an instant you can picture the rest of your life here. You tell Aaron that night on the phone, and the three of you pay a visit the following weekend. You’re signing papers and packing up boxes two weeks later.
It doesn’t feel like it’s been much time at all, but you realize you’re coming up on almost a year of this house. Your house, the both of yours, the family house. This will be Jack and his siblings’ childhood home.
If you can ever get your husband into bed, that is. 
It’s eight-thirty on Friday night. Jack has been at a birthday party-sleepover night since about five. Aaron returned from a case in Michigan less than twenty four hours ago. You had been asleep, late Thursday evening, when he came back home.
He’d gone to the office today and then picked up Jack from school to bring him over to the sleepover. You had triple checked that he’d packed everything he needed—pajamas, toothbrush, his emergency Epi-pen—but forgot the birthday boy’s present in the back seat of your car. 
You and Aaron drive back over to deliver the gift, make polite small talk with the parents, and then rush out of there.
Aaron had set up a whole plan. Dinner reservations, dessert at the ice cream place near the house, and then a quiet night in, which was long awaited and desperately needed.
However, nothing goes as planned. You miss the reservation window by ten minutes trying to get Jack’s friend the stupid gift—a Lego Star-Wars kit—before they open presents and cut cake. The ice cream shop is closed due to renovations. You return home to missed calls from your boss and a stack of Aaron’s paperwork on the counter. 
“Take out it is,” Aaron says, rifling through the drawer next to the oven. There’s more flyers in there than he thinks, and he still can’t find the one he’s looking for. “Honey? Where’s the menu for that one Indian place-”
“Side of the fridge,” you call back, typing away on your laptop. He doesn’t have to finish his sentences anymore. It makes him smile every time. He locates the menu and brings it to you on the couch. 
“What’d you think? The usual?”
“I have a couple ideas.” You are starving, and not for food. 
You’re in Aaron’s lap before you can even think about it. He has big hands, very big, very strong hands, that grip you by the waist and hoist you on top of him in a moment. It takes your breath away, momentarily, and then he really takes your breath away.
He kisses you like it’s his first and last time ever being able to do so. His hands roam all over your body and it makes every part of you tingle in anticipation. He grabs your ass with both hands and then slaps it hard—hard enough that it hurts, but he knows you well enough to welcome the moan you emit into his mouth.
Your hands run through his hair and then focus on loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. It’s hard to think, though, with him beneath you and his hardness pressing against you in all the best ways. You want to stay here on the couch and grind yourself against him until you’re both sweating and cumming—but he has other plans.
Always a gentleman, always patient, he pulls away from the kiss and lets you catch your breath. Your foreheads are pressed together, noses touching, and you briefly take in that after so many years of knowing him, Aaron will always take your breath away.
“Why’d you stop?” you question innocently, and he thinks he’ll lose his mind. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Why? I think this is perfect.” You lean back in to kiss him hard, losing yourself in the sweet taste of his mouth—always coffee—and his aroma, which draws you in no matter where you are. 
He laughs into your mouth, pulling away again. You make a soft noise of displeasure, but it all goes away when he lifts you up to carry you to your bedroom. 
He puts you down first, and gets rid of the tie you undid downstairs. You watch with big eyes while he hovers over you, until he finally leans down and your lips meet again. It’s all too natural to take off your dress and spread your legs and help him pull off his button-up, moaning into your kisses and enjoying the feeling of his hand in your hair, pulling softly. 
You like Aaron all of the time, but you’re incredibly biased when he’s like this. You’ve never had to ask for anything, and he somehow knows everything you like. He lines more kisses along your neck, down to your chest. Just as you hear him, low and heady, murmuring, “Tell me what you want,” and getting ready to answer, needy out of your mind and ready to tell him that you need to be fucked, hard, now, his phone goes off.
You exhale. Aaron drops his head in defeat against your chest.
“I’m sorry, honey, hold on a minute,” he starts, leaning over you to get his phone from the nightstand. 
“Who is it?” “JJ. It must be a case, I’ll just-”
“Wait, wait,” you whisper. “If it’s a case you can go in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” he questions, eyebrow raised. You look back at him sheepishly.
“Okay, fifteen minutes. I mean, nothing’s gonna change in a half an hour, right? Fifteen minutes here and then fifteen minutes to get there.”
“Honey, I really shouldn’t-”
“I mean, think about it. Everyone else probably isn’t even there yet. You’ll just be sitting around waiting for them before you start. So really, I’m saving you time.”
You both lock eyes and burst into laughter. 
“I’ll get your go-bag,” you say, as he answers JJ’s call. You’re about to get up, looking for your haphazardly discarded dress and Aaron’s shirt, when you feel Aaron grip your forearm.
“Hotchner. Okay, JJ, thanks. I’ll be there in forty.” He hangs up and looks back at you, frozen in place. “You have twenty-five minutes to tell me what you want.” You squeal when he pulls you back into bed, kissing you hard.
He gets to the office an hour later.
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