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perpetuallyconfused10 · 8 months

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Drive My Car (1/2)

GIF by rqgnarok Part 2

WARNINGS: None. Just two idiots in love. And maybe Hotch is a little too soft.

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“Fuck.”

The voice is low enough that you think you’ve imagined him at first, but there he is, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to his office with one hand pressed to his forehead and staring at the phone in his other like it’s burned him.

“Hotch? Are you alright?”

He turns to look at you, appearing about as startled as you imagine he ever can. “I’m fine,” he says. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

In his defense, you didn’t expect to be here this late either. The others had left the bullpen over an hour ago, having finished their paperwork much before you.

You hold up the culprit for your staying behind, a Use of Force report that had ended up taking a lot longer than planned. “Just finishing up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The hand on his forehead moves to his hip, and he studies you for a few seconds. Then he sighs. “My car’s in the shop. Jessica was going to bring me home, but Jack’s gotten sick and she doesn’t want to move him from his bed. I’m going to call a cab.”

That explains why he’s leaving so early. You’ve never heard of him leaving before eight or nine.

“Poor kid. That’s never fun,” you say with a wince. “But you’d be lucky, Hotch. It’s seven on a Friday night. Everyone and their mother is calling a cab.”

“It’s quicker than the subway.”

His voice is flat, worried. You make the decision in a second. “Not quick enough. Let me drive you.”

Hotch’s brow furrows as he considers your offer, mentally calculating the distance from your apartment to his. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me. I’m miles out of your way.”

He’s right. He is miles away, but that doesn’t deter you. As wonderful as Jessica is, from what you’ve heard, you know Jack idolizes Hotch. He’ll want to be with him now.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you say with a smile, knowing you’re about to play your ace. “I’m doing it for Jack, who is sick and should see his father.”

There’s no room to argue with you. Hotch picks up his briefcase and thanks you. With long strides, he leads the way out of the bullpen and towards the garage.

Ten minutes later, find yourself rushing to stack empty to-go-cups and loose papers, shoving them away as Hotch climbs into your car. “It’s no problem, really. Sorry about the mess.”

Hotch shakes his head. His lips are a little less downturned than usual, which in your mind almost constitutes a smile. “Consider it noted,” he says, “We’ll talk during your next performance review.”

Fighting a smile, you can’t help it. You hit his arm. “I take it back. I’m not sorry.”

“It really isn’t a mess,” he says. “And you really shouldn’t be sorry. You should see my car. You can’t move for Jack’s toys.”

You hum, hands gripping the wheel as your reverse out of the spot, “Be careful what you admit around me. You might be my boss, but I can always snitch on you to yours.”

An amused huff is the closest you get to making him laugh, but you take it. He shakes his head. “I’ve had too many uncomfortable conversations with Strauss to bother counting. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“Not if I have a hand in it.”

Neither of you says anything for a long while after that, and neither mind. What the protocol is for driving your boss home outside of work, you aren’t sure. If there is something in the FBI manual about it, you’re quite sure Hotch knows it – but asking him feels a little on-the-nose, and so you keep quiet and put the radio on.

You’re also sure that there isn’t anything in the FBI manual about what music is appropriate to listen to with your boss in your passenger seat. If there were, you’re certain the songs on at the moment – half of which you vaguely remember Morgan and Garcia dancing to on one of the team’s nights at the bar, and the other of which might be their next choices – don’t make the cut.

Feeling your face heat up, you clear your throat. “I think I have a couple Beatles albums in the glove box if you wanna look for one,” It isn’t so much a suggestion as it is a request — maybe even an order – and you know he senses that. With a nod, he reaches over to open it.

“You’ve got eclectic taste,” Hotch says after a moment, raising an eyebrow at you as he pulls out one of the CDs buried somewhere in the pile. “I didn’t take you for a Mozart fan.”

The corner of his mouth pulls itself into a smirk. It’s the kind reserved for non-working occasions, or, alternatively, occasions that don’t require the wearing of a suit jacket. Like now. Not that you’ve noticed the broad lines of his shoulders in his dress shirt, or the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks, more easily seen with the top two buttons undone. And if you have, that’s nobody’s business.

You shrug. “I’m not one, really. Reid likes it.”

For a long second, he looks at you. “You keep a CD in your car for Reid?”

“He doesn’t like the radio. It’s distracting. I don’t particularly like it, either.”

Hotch doesn’t let up, “That’s…very thoughtful of you.”

Keeping your eyes on the road is more of a task than you’d like.

“They’re only a couple dollars. I just buy them when I see them.”

He takes another look in the glove box, grabbing a beaten-down copy of The White Album and pushing it into the player. But before the opening to ‘Back in the USSR’ is even over, he’s pressed pause and shifted in his seat to look at you head-on. Silence stretches between the two of you again. The dull hum of the engine and the rain battering the windows sound, of a sudden, much louder.

“What? You’re making me nervous.”

He is. If becoming skilled in the art of dangerous driving weren’t a side-effect of working with the BAU, you might’ve crashed the car by now.

You chance a look over at him. His expression is set in a frown. Over your short tenure with the team, you’ve fallen witness to enough of what Morgan deems his ‘Hotchner frowns’ (trademark implied) to know that this one is different. There’s something softer about it, more considerate than displeased.

“Those other albums…Sinatra, Radiohead, Stevie Wonder…you’ve barely touched them. Not compared to the others.”

Damn profiler. The stubborn part of you — which was a larger part than you’d like to admit — wanted to ignore him. Even so, you know it’d never work. Hotch is just as stubborn as you are, and worse than that, he is far more patient.

“They’re not my favorites, no, but—” you relent.

Gently, Hotch cuts you off. “No, they’re not. They’re Rossi’s, Prentiss', and Morgan’s. I’m sure you’ve got records in there for JJ and Garcia. And–”

You look down again at your hands where they rest on the wheel. The skin of your knuckles pulls as you tighten your hands around it. In a sigh, you admit it. “—And for you too, yeah.”

He tilts his head. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Why?”

Retreating into silence again, you turn the corner onto his street. But even off the clock, Hotch’s presence is commanding, his stare on you unassuming and exposing all at once.

You laugh. “Remind me never to end up in an interrogation with you again. You’re terrifying.”

“You haven’t learned enough from them if you’re still deflecting,” he says, ignoring your jibe. Instead he folds his hands in his lap.

You could double down, tell him jokingly to fuck off and then claim that swearing at him is entirely acceptable in non-working circumstances. What it is stopping you from giving him the answer he wants, you’re not sure. This isn’t the office. It’s not neutral ground. This is your car, your territory. Forced out of the context of work, Hotch is no longer just an abstract concept, your hardass of a boss — he’s a real person. Your friend. And something about that pulls at you.

“I had a little trouble adjusting, at first,” you say, stretching the words out until they become unfamiliar things. “More than I’d expected. I knew when I took the job what it’d be like. On paper, at least. But the first few cases…it was another thing to be doing it, you know?”

It’s the truth. The early days, right after you joined the team, were rough. They’d been a constant guessing game of when to speak up and when to keep quiet, when to shove down all of the stress and the fear and the self-loathing and when, if ever, to let yourself feel it.

Hotch stays quiet this time, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Was it too honest to admit that? His presence has gone to your head, like wine on a summer evening.

“I never let it affect my work–” you say in a rush, self-preservation instincts in full swing. You stop halfway, let the words wither in your throat.

One of Hotch’s hands twitches as if to reach for you, but retreats at the last seconds, remaining limp in his lap. He hums, his voice a low murmur. “I know that.”

You’ve come this far. Might as well finish this. “We’d come home from a case, and sometimes I’d drive Reid back so he didn’t have to get the subway. We’d drive back to our apartments with the radio on. But the news…”

Hotch sighs, “...Another robbery, another murder. Another thing out of our reach.”

There’s no judgment in his eyes, none of the sharp analysis profiling demands. It hits you again that you aren’t talking with the man that conducts your performance reviews, but the man who rolls his eyes at Reid and Morgan’s bickering, the father who’d drop anything to make his son happy.

A smile feels a little out of your reach as you remember those early months, so you settle for a nod. “I picked up a CD or two after the first couple weeks. Then I found out Reid liked classical music, so I looked for some. And it made sense, if I was giving Morgan or Prentiss or Garcia a ride too. I guess it got a little out of control.”

Hotch shakes his head. “That’s not out of control. It’s kind,” he starts, then stops for a second, his features rearranging themselves into a frown once more. “You know you don't have to do nice things for people to get them to like you, don’t you?”

Eyes widening, you almost think you’ve heard him wrong. “What?”

He tilts his head, his gaze on you soft as you put the car into park in front of his apartment complex. “Maybe you don’t do it anymore, but towards the beginning…I got the feeling you thought you’d have to move mountains to get the team to like you. And you didn’t.”

He’s right. You really had felt alone, for the first few months. You’d done everything you could to make yourself tolerable: memorized Garcia’s miles-long Starbucks order, lied about where you lived to Reid so he didn’t feel guilty about taking a lift from you, nodded along when Morgan told you about his housing projects even though you hadn��t a clue about property development. You’d done it all. And it had worked.

Maybe you hadn’t needed to do it. But over time, obligation had morphed into affection, and you liked to. Hence the music.

“Hotch…”

You’re glad he speaks before you can get any further, because you really have no idea what to say. “I mean it,” he says quietly. “Anyone with sense would do that all on their own.”

“Thank you,” you say, swallowing. “I hope Jack feels better soon.”

“I’ll tell him you said hi. He’ll appreciate it.” he says, checking his watch. “I’d better go check on him. Thank you for driving me back. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Tomorrow.”

He climbs out of the car, head bowed against the rain, and you wait for him to get inside before you pull away. You’re not mad about the Beatles. The White Album wouldn’t be your pick of their records. But the drive is long, long enough to let yourself think, and you leave it playing until you’re home.

#hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #thomas gibson #aaron hotch fanfiction #how the fuck does tumblr work #soft hotch #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner

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dudeitiskarev · 10 months

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soft Hotch, my beloved💞

#Aaron Hotchner gif #Aaron Hotchner gifs #Aaron Hotchner #amor de mi vida #soft Hotch #season one #I can’t believe soft Hotch is the only Hotch there is #dudeitiskarev gifs

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emberfrostlovesloki · 8 days

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CM Artist Shout Out

Photos by @hannaloony

Y'all what can Hanna not do! Look at how ✨C✨U✨T✨E✨ these are. The pastel aesthetic is so lovely and so spring-coded. The kawaii Spencer and Garcia at the top with the coffee and bears! The look on Hotch's face in the top right! AGH I just love it so so so much! Thank you so much for sharing your art with us. These make me so, so happy. I've made the top left pic the background of my PC. Please check out @hannaloony's page for more great content like this!

If you are looking for other cool, nifty, keen Criminal Minds content creators of all kinds, feel free to check out my Aaron Hotchner and CM Content Creator Spotlight (linked).

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Just another little update from me: I'm sorry I've been so inactive on here. Once the semester is over I fully plan on coming back with a vengeance. I have so many ideas I want to write about and one restest to write (I am so excited about this one!) I hope you are all doing okay and have a good start to your week - Love Levi 💛

Tag list (🩷) (@tgskitten)

#criminal minds #artist spotlight #hannaloony #criminal minds art #cozy art #pastel aesthetic #soft reid #soft hotch #bau family #cm #aaron hotcher #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #love love love #art aesthetic #digital art #not my art

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hotchsreader · 22 days

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For the Rest of My Life

Words: 1.5k

Reader has an anxiety attack at work, and Hotch helps her through it. Very soft Hotch.

You knew today was going to be a hard day. You woke up, hair caked to your forehead and your legs felt like jelly, like you were not meant to be walking on them. As you sat up, your entire room spun around and it took more than a couple minutes to ground yourself. You knew what to do in times like this, you had your useful skills learned over the years tucked away in the folder in your brain, but today it felt like the cabinet holding them was locked.

You walked into the bullpen, eyes foggy and head down. Usually, you greeted everyone with a happy and hopeful smile, but today that felt too hard. The muscles in your face felt like they would snap if you tried even to talk. Derek looked up at you, and over at Emily trying to gauge the problem, but Emily just shook her head no and let you sit at your desk, forget about all that was going on in your brain, and throw yourself into the reports that were due. You sat there for a few hours, with no one bothering you and your focused workspace. It was very easy when everything felt like this to throw yourself into work or a project because it makes the mind stay busy. It’s when you have nothing to do that everything feels like it's going to come crashing down around you. It’s when you have nothing to do that it creeps up to the surface and begins to slip out, mostly without your control.

You were so focused you didn't hear the familiar sound of steps creep up behind you until an arm was placed gently on your shoulder.

“Hey, I know what you’re doing, and I would like to see you in my office ASAP,” Hotch said to you, he leaned down to say it in your ear so no one else could hear. He knew that allowing everyone to hear what he said would make this all worse on your end.

You didn’t think twice, you got up from your workspace, pushed the chair in behind you, and followed closely behind him. You realized as you walked behind him how tall he was, and how well fitted his suits always are. You start to wonder where he buys them before you realize how far your mind has wandered in the minute it takes to get to his office.

“Have a seat, and tell me what's on your mind.” He sits in his chair and motions for you to sit down in the chair across from him. You feel the tears slip out before you even hit the chair. You knew this would happen at some point today, but Hotch actually taking the time to pay attention to you, to realize something was wrong enough to come out of his office and grab you, made the tears sting just a little bit more.

“Oh no, sweetheart what is going on?” He immediately jumped up and rushed around his desk to you the minute he saw the tears falling from your eyes.

“It's just… it's just a hard day for me is all.” You sniffled and tried to wipe your tears but he brushed your hand aside and wiped them for you. He placed his hand on your knee as he bent down beside you, looking up into your eyes.

“Is it your anxiety?” He asked, you could tell his voice was laced with concern. He would do anything to protect you, but it is hard to protect a person from their own mind. No matter how much he had tried to.

Your palms had started to become clammy, and you were shaking. The entire time you were trying to throw yourself into your work you had ignored what was going on inside your brain. In hindsight, that was a bad idea because now every little thing that happened alongside your anxiety was fighting its way out. You started to cry a little harder, your shoulder bobbing up and down as the sobs tormented you.

“What can I do honey? I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” Hotch was speaking in a soft, gentle tone. This was not the first time he had helped you through an anxiety attack. The second night you spent with him you realized you had forgotten to submit a report on the case you all had handled that week and started to panic. He calmed you down then by reassuring you that he was in charge of when they were due, and he absolutely believed you that it had been done you had just forgotten to submit it. You have never been one to turn something in late, even at work. The only thing about now, this was the first time you had an anxiety attack at work, and you have no idea why it was happening.

“Just stay with me, hold me.” Hotch grabs you, lifts you up, and takes you over to the couch in his office. He sits you down and runs over to his desk where he grabs tissues. He sits down in front of you on his knees, takes the tissue, wipes your eyes, under your eyes, and gives you a new one to blow your nose with. After you do this, he takes them all to the trashcan, returns to you sits down, and guides you where your head is on his lap and he is stroking your hair. He knows that laying down and having your hair stroked is one way to easily ground you, so you can return back to your normal state and are able to function again.

You clear your throat and ask, “How did you know something was up?”

He lets out a small laugh, “When you walked in. You didn’t look at anyone, you didn’t wave, and you didn’t even lift your head up to check if I was in my office like you always do. I let you have a little while, hoping you’d be able to pull yourself out of the trance you were in, but once I realized you couldn’t, I intervened.”

You shift, rolling yourself over, so you can get a solid look at the man. His forehead is creased, meaning he’s worried about you, and his hand hasn’t moved from your hair. He uses his other hand to rub your cheeks with his thumb and he hums your favorite song.

“Do you know what caused this anxiety attack?” He looks down at you with a half smile as you smile back at him, letting him know everything is getting easier. The pounding in your chest has started to ease up, but you can still feel your heart rate is pretty fast. If you got up now, you’d probably either pass out or your eyes would go blurry for a minute, preventing you from moving.

“Honestly, no. I woke up and felt very groggy and focusing to even get myself out of bed was tough. I haven’t had one of these episodes in a while, so I thought if I just worked through it, I could ignore it enough that it’d go away.” You now, roll your eyes at the thought. You had been dealing with anxiety since you were eleven years old. You had dealt with these types of episodes before, you had to face it head-on or it would just get worse. You learned your lesson this time.

“You could’ve just come to my office. You know I am always here for you. Always. I would have helped you get through this. You didn’t have to let it build up this badly.” He jokingly waved a finger in your face to symbolize you had been bad. This brought a hearty chuckle out of you, which in turn made him smile. Seeing Hotch smile could cure most things for you. He was a great man, a great dad, and a great boyfriend. He would do anything if it meant that you would be okay. You had just thought this one wouldn’t be as bad.

“I know, it’s just embarrassing to have to deal with this. I wish, I just wish I could be normal.” You let out a heavy sigh, as he looks at you.

“Hey, if having anxiety makes you not normal, what does having nightmares related to the things I’ve been through make me? We all have our demons, and we all have things that make us different from the people around us. There is absolutely no such thing as normal. Who you are, and I mean this, and everything about you makes you perfect to me. Anxiety included.” He says, completely serious.

You look up at him, sit yourself up, and place a soft kiss on his lips. He returns it, grabbing the back of your head to emphasize how much he means it.

“I wouldn’t have made it through this without you, Aaron Hotchner.” You smile, your mouth inches from his. He kisses you again, and bites your lower lip. You laugh.

“I wouldn’t have made it through a lot without you, if this is the way I can repay all you’ve done for me, I’ll do it for the rest of my life.”

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boredelle · 5 months

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The Weight of Air

who: aaron hotchner, gn reader tw: smut, albeit soft - minors DNI about: the first time you're with aaron this has been swirling around in my head for a few days. not sure what it is, but I think I like it.

The first time you're intimate with him, he is insistent on taking things super slow and he wants you to stay as still as humanly possible. His touches are as light as a feather; making your body ache. He enjoys watching the goosebumps rise where he's brushed the pads of his fingertips. His eyes are full of lust when he sees you involuntarily shiver because the only thing on you is his hot breath against your cool skin. You think you may actually cry because it's unlike anything you have ever felt before, and you need a release of some kind.. any kind. You're touch starved, so it doesn't take long before you're there; mind-blowing bliss ignites every nerve in your body. And when he's holding you afterwards, you wonder how you ever made it this far in life without him.

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner x y/n #mine #soft hotch

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moonlitdesertdreams · 2 years

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Anything for you

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Tags: hotch x oc, criminal Minds Imagine, aaron Hotchner x reader, hotch x reader, inter-office relationships, criminal minds, aaron hotchner x oc, penelope garcia, emily prentiss, jj, jennifer jareau, aaron hotchner, derek morgan, david rossi, spencer reid

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, mentions of murder, torture, general criminal minds lingo

Summary: You're kidnapped during a case. Post-rescue fluffiness ensues.

word count: 2.8k+

The first time you're kidnapped on the job, you feel like no training has prepared you.

It was a normal work day- the BAU had been sent to Saginaw, Michigan, and you had been working with Morgan to clear a hideout associated with a possible suspect. The unsub was targeting blonde females of short stature, and the team was aware that you and JJ both fit the victimology. Regardless, it wasn’t the first time someone on the team looked similar to their victims.

Girls are being lured out of their cars by a wounded animal on the road, and snatched in late evening or early morning hours. The unsub had been profiled as someone withdrawn and non-confrontational, so every inch of that theory is invalidated when you’re taken in broad daylight.

After clearing the house, you had made your way through a side gate in the backyard with intentions of talking to the neighbor while Morgan searched through personal items inside.

And your last recollection before the pain started was hopping down the back porch steps.

And fuck, did your head hurt when you slipped into awareness.

Once you regain some semblance of consciousness, you conclude the unsub must have fled into the neighbor’s yard from his hideout and panicked when you unknowingly followed.

Hence, the current predicament. Spread out on what you’re trying not to imagine as medieval torture device, the unsub has your arms bound high above your head. Your feet barely brush the ground, and the muscles in your shoulders scream with every move. You try to negotiate with your captor, though the words only exchange for a few moments before he plunges a needle into the thick muscles of your thigh.

A cool rush floods through your veins shortly thereafter, and your limbs feel heavier by the second. Your eyesight blurs without contacts or glasses and dry mouth creeps up from whatever drug is flaring in your system.

Thoughts of the team invade logical thought, trying to drown out the haunting images your brain is interpreting from your squinting eyes.

A hooded figure with an oddly deep voice comes into the room and photographs you at regular intervals . He takes more items of clothing each time, sometimes ripping and other times taking a whole article. If you were in your right mind, you would have caught on to the child-like nature and tantrums when your subdued body can’t coordinate with his movements.

“What’s your name?”

You blink slowly, awakening to a dark room. Your arms are sore, and your shoulders still ache. The toes of your boots brush what looks to be an old wood floor, though you are unsure due to the lack of visual acuity. An attempt to lift your head fails, and it instead droops until your chin hits your chest.

A limb shoots towards you, and instinct forces you to jerk. Rough fingers brush your reddened cheeks as the gag is taken from your mouth. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“S-scare..?” You squint, but only the shadow cast by his hood is visible. “W-where am I?”

A childlike giggle.

“At my house. My Momma said we could have a sleepover.”

Even in a delusional and dazed, you’re able to feel the shiver down your spine.

“A sleepover?”

FLASH.

The sound of a camera shutter corrupted the functioning state you had started to develop, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but nothing in your brain could pull together enough info to react.

“You’re beautiful… just stay right there, I’m gonna take more.

- - -

“He’s not smart. In fact, disorganized to the point where he can’t even keep up.”

Aaron Hotchner sits across the table from Rossi, who is trying to explain their newest theory to the local police chief. With you taken, everyone’s nerves are on edge, and Hotch finds himself tasked with keeping his emotions under control.

It was exactly why workplace relationships- even those based in casual sex and physical comfort- were not allowed.

Additionally, it wasn’t as if members of the team hadn’t been kidnapped or put in danger before. Despite this, Hotch's mind is racing, trying to discern the best way to track an unsub who was so unorganized he didn’t even know what to do next. They got lucky discovering the first abandoned house Morgan and yourself had raided, but Hotch wasn’t sure they’d get that lucky again.

“We thought he was withdrawn, but maybe he’s escalating?” Reid suggested. It had been over twelve hours since the abduction of their teammate, and they were all pouring over case files in the station’s conference room.

Hotch stared down at crime scene photos, including the ones from where you were taken. Prentiss is doing the same, and lifts her head at Spencer’s remark.

“What if she scared him?” Emily offers, “There’s a chance he was just trying to flee and got cornered. It would maintain the withdrawn nature.”

“He took her in the middle of broad daylight.” Morgan contradicts, obviously feeling a bit guilty as he was your partner when the kidnapping occurred. “Into the woods, and away he went.”

Reid closes the folder in his hand. “Actually, it is a good theory. She has specialized training in hand-to-hand combat, it would be very hard to subdue her quietly. If the unsub is withdrawn and scared, he might have come from behind once he realized there was no way out.”

Chief Ballard of the local department speaks up. “She’s a fairly small woman, even with specialized combat it’s hard to fight back if you take a surprise blow to the head.”

Hotch looked up. He had sparred with you on many occasions in the gym, and knew firsthand the amount of tricks used to fend off larger attackers. However, an ambush and a good enough blow would render even himself unconscious.

“She could do it if given the opportunity. Between her hand-to-hand and her gun, there should have been some struggle. Though as Reid said, it doesn’t appear she had that chance.�� Hotch concludes.

“That could be indicative of someone lying in wait, or someone scared to show their face.” JJ says, “It really doesn’t allow us a good lead either way.”

“Damn.” Hotch grinds his teeth, nerves getting the best of him once again. “You did a cognitive interview?”

“At the scene. I had-”

A knock from the room’s entrance makes them all jump, and an officer steps in the doorway. His eyes turn to Hotch. “Sir, there’s a woman on the phone for your team.”

Reid stands, moving towards the speaker setup in the corner of the room. “I called Garcia a little while ago, that’s probably her.”

The phone line crackles to life when Spencer picks up. “Hey, Garcia.”

“...S-Spence?”

Hotch’s blood runs cold, and he shoots to his feet. The team allows him the next move, murmuring your name as he approaches the receiver.

“Aaron… hey.” Your speech is slow and slurred, but it’s a clear sign of life.

“Where are you? Are you with the unsub?” Hotch feels the team’s eyes on him, but all that matters in the moment is the sound of your voice.

“N-No. I-I’m with my friend Jake. He wants to have a sleepover, is that okay with you?”

Rossi makes brief eye contact with Hotch, who nodded his head in silent agreement of how to play out the call.

Hotch takes it upon himself to answer and softens his tone. “You know honey, I just need to know what house Jake is in. Do you remember?”

A breathy laugh came through the background of the call, and Hotch assumed it was ‘Jake’ listening in. Your heavy breathing is the dominant noise, and it takes a minute for an answer.

“Y-yeah. Next door to the Youngs in a r-really pretty old house.”

Rossi taps the mute button in a flash of tanned fingers. “Our unsub has reverted to a childlike state. If he’s letting her make phone calls-”

“She’s gained his trust.” Hotch finishes, finally feeling like they’re on the same page.

“Smart girl. I’m calling Garcia to find a list of people with the last name Young in the area.” Morgan already had his phone to his ear.

“Those who live next door to old houses.” Hotch added.

“Did you notice the way she said ‘really pretty’?” Rossi rubbed his chin. “With the emphasis on ‘pretty’? Is she trying to appease him?”

“Morgan, narrow that down to Youngs who live next door to abandoned or condemned establishments.”

Hotch opens the line, your name sliding from his lips in that honey-soaked tone he usually reserves for early mornings and late nights in.

“Aaron?” Your words are still slow, though relatively coherent.

“I think a sleepover is a great idea.” He swallows the lump in his throat, “We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“T-Thanks, it’s gonna be fun.”

The line goes dead after, and Hotch drags in a deep breath.

“There’s only one place in the area with those parameters.” Morgan shoves his phone into his pocket as the team stands.

“Let’s go.”

You’ve been lowered to sit, but your hands are still suspended, fingers tingling with numbness. The unsub, or rather, Jake, as he told you to call him, is sitting with legs crossed underneath him a few feet away. There is a lop-sided grin on his face, and his child-like excitement is palpable.

“Do you wanna play a game?” He asks eagerly.

You manage to lift your head, filled with some hope after Jake’s strange allowance of a phone call a few minutes prior. While he might have killed two girls already, they were held for over 48 hours before Jake snapped. You are lucky enough to understand his mindset and play into it, even through whatever drug has been pushed into your system every few hours. The best guess you can muster was that the other girls were unable to deal with the strange kidnapper, and something they said or did broke his facade and led to murder. It was vague and unclear, but all you had.

“What kind of game?” You ask through a shiver. The tremors never seem to end.

“Tag.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

Jake opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of stairs creaking. He freezes, turning towards the broken and sideways hanging bedroom door.

“Jake, hey.”

You pray the sounds are the rest of your team, but want to keep his attention away if it is.

“Yes?” His boyish gaze falls back to you.

“What about I Spy?”

Jake breaks out into a smile. “That’s a great idea! I just gotta do your medicine first.”

The man, who you now recognize as a white male in his late twenties with blonde hair and a pudgy face, drew another syringe out of his pocket and plunged it into your thigh. If your counting is still correct, it would be the sixth injection.

“Jake... “ You inhale as the freeze begins to spread, “I spy something… white.”

Eyes wide, they scour the room for your challenge. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you blink as the door moves ever so slightly. It’s slow, until a creak echoes through the empty room. Jake whirls around, coming face-to-face with Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss holding him at gunpoint.

“Who are you?” He demands, scrambling to his feet. “Why are you at my sleepover?”

You sag with relief, shoulders hanging heavily on their bounds. “J-jake, they’re my friends.”

“Friends don’t point guns!”

Jake rockets towards the left, where your pistol, badge, and shoes are discarded, Prentiss sees his motivation, and a gunshot echoes through the room. The man cries out, and your pounding head flinches away from the noise.

“Stay on the ground!” Emily keeps her gun on him, and you druggedly take note of the wound in his leg as opposed to center mass.

JJ moves to kneel in front of you. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

You fight the new sedation as best you can. “J-J?”

“I’ve got you.”

The other blonde turns, yelling towards the door that they were clear and needed help. Morgan appears in the doorway, rushing in to assist JJ. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants pocket, slicing the rope and cable ties binding your arms. Your exhausted body slumps into his chest, clinging to his shirt. You notice the purple tint to her hands, and hope it isn’t a bad sign.

“You with me?” Morgan’s deep voice made you lift your head, unfocused eyes searching his face.

“You found me…”

“Yeah we did. You’re a smart cookie, gorgeous.”

You huff a laugh against his neck and suddenly take note of bright lights against your eyelids. Upon further inspection, you deduce it to be the sun. Morgan must have carried you all the way out.

“T-That’s bright.” You murmur, trying to shelter your eyes as Morgan lowers you to the grass.

“Medical is on their way. Where’s Hotch?”

The voices blend together for a few minutes, and you focus on breathing in. Another presence approaches and kneels down, surrounding you with a musky cologne and blanket of safety. A familiar hand rests on your cheek, and you blink up at his face.

Aaron Hotchner stares back at you, and a wave of emotion breaks through the drugs. “Aaron…”

“I’m right here. You did good work today.”

You take a moment to gaze at his familiar features. Dark hair, dark eyes. He’s kneeling beside you, but the size of his frame is still imposing. Against your will, you feel your throat tighten and eyes swell to accommodate tears. One hand extends towards him.

“I need…” You pause, trying to collect yourself. “Hotch- please.”

Hotchner doesn’t answer her, only draws you against his chest. Your arms lift to wrap around his neck, face hiding against the sun-warmed skin of his neck. Despite the ache it causes to rake across his shoulders, Aaron remains wrapped in your embrace as your body begins to shake. You smell of sweat and captivity, remnants of the ordeal you’d just been through. The clothes you wore were the same Aaron had seen you in last, though there were small holes scattered about your black trousers.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He murmurs against greasy hair, gripping the back of your skull with his hand. “I should have-”

You lift her head at his tone and point a wavering finger. “No, d-don’t blame yourself.”

The cloudy haze of pharmaceuticals is creeping into your eyes as you chastise him. “I know how you are… Aaron, y-you’ll beat yourself up.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s just get you to the hospital, alright?”

Hotch picks you up with little effort, strolling towards the ambulance and stretcher where it was waiting. “...N-No. I’m alright.”

Once you’re placed on the stretcher, the arguing starts weakly and you’re swaying like a daisy in the wind. Hands still fisted in Hotch’s vest hold him in place beside you.

“We need to find out what you were given. Do the tests, and I’ll be satisfied.” Hotch orders, hand on your wrist rubbing gentle circles. “JJ can go with you.”

The blonde steps up beside their boss, soft smile on her face as she wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“No… I don’t-” You pause and swallow, panic rising as Hotchner attempts to step back

Your fingers tremble against Hotch’s torso where they’re wrapped in his shirt, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes. Of all the years Hotch had known you on the BAU, he has never seen you so upset. You’re all trained to deal with these types of things, but nothing prepares you for the actual thing. Especially when you’re being pumped full of illicit drugs to keep you sedate.

JJ rubbed your back, eyes lifting to Hotch. “You know boss, Morgan and I can handle the clean up and reports. You’re gonna have enough paperwork as it is.”

Thank God for Jennifer Jareau.

Hotchner stares at the two women before dipping his head in a nod. “Alright. We’ll meet you back at the station as soon as possible.”

“Sounds great.” JJ turns on her heel and bustles off towards a group of local detectives and beat cops.

The medics were prepping the gurney to go up, carefully arranging your loose limbs on the cushion. Hotch watches in amusement, as you’re looking more stoned by the second.

“Sir, are you coming?” One of the medics asks, motioning to the back of the rig.

“Yes, sorry.” Hotchner pulls himself into the back of the ambulance, accepting the hand you hold out to him.

“Thanks for comin’, boss.” You tug his hand close, lips brushing against his knuckles. His body was warm, and you stretched towards it.

Aaron leans in before the paramedics begin bustling to press a kiss against your forehead. “Anything for you.”

---

Criminal Minds Masterlist || Send me ideas

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violetflowerswrites · 2 years

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Can’t Sleep - Aaron Hotchner

Criminal Minds x Reader Drabbles

Aaron Hotchner

Prompt: How does Hotch comfort his partner when they can’t sleep?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN! Reader

Disclaimer: Allusions to non-specific mental health issues, including panic attacks and anxiety.

Word Count: 343

A/N: I’ve been imagining this scene for a while and it just felt perfect that soft Hotch would be the one to comfort the reader in this situation. He would just be so understanding and patient and caring. I drew a very rough sketch of what this looks like in my mind if you are curious!

The quiet click of the light switch sounds deafening in the silence of the room.

“Sweetheart?”

Hotch’s sleepy voice would normally make you giggle with how cute it sounds. But tonight, you’re not in that kind of headspace. His voice makes you bristle with shame, like you were a little kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Go back to bed, it’s late.” Your voice comes out low. But Hotch can hear how robotic it sounds. The normal teasing, playful tone is gone. Something’s clearly wrong.

Also, because it’s 3 AM and you’re sitting in the dark in a satin nightdress, a knee pulled tightly to your chest, and a hand leaning on your cheek. You’ve been staring out the window in the library, eyes looking outside at the night sky, but not really seeing. He had no idea how long you’ve been sitting there and neither did you.

Hotch joins you on the velvet window seat, big arms swallowing up your smaller body. It makes you want to shrink away and hide in the dark cave of Aaron Hotchner’s embrace. But, his voice breaks through the rocky walls of your emotional barrier, and you can’t help but tense up, not wanting to answer his very valid question.

“What’s wrong?”

You don’t reply. Instead, you lace your cold fingers in between his warm ones, gripping him tightly until your knuckles turn white and you’re sure you’re hurting him. But Hotch doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he simply holds you tighter as if he’s trying to anchor you back to reality. And he is. Your mind is swirling with anxiety and your thoughts are overwhelming, a spiraling whirlpool of regret and second-guessing and what-ifs. You’re sure Hotch’s brows are furrowed and he can feel how shallow you’re breathing, just barely staving off a panic-attack.

He knows that the body can heal, but the mind is not so easily mended. So your hand that clutches his tonight is all he can do. But for you, for right now, it’s enough.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch imagine #hotch drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #soft hotch

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ssahotstuff · 1 year

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just had another thought - no worries, i know you’re working on lots of projects !! feel free to ignore if you need <33 but i thought i’d submit it before i lost the idea

i’m desperate for literally anything dbf!hotch (yes i’m a sucker for the trope), maybe with a little okay a lot hurt/comfort. i’m thinking reader’s in protective custody or smth and he’s working her case - all the while the team’s noticing little things like his shorter-than-normal temper, how close to the case aaron seems to be, yada yada. maybe he goes against the rules and stays with her some nights, looks out for anyone/anything suspicious, she’s worried so he ends up staying in the room and sharing the bed. she ends up getting hurt (not on his watch), but he rushes to the scene and insists on going with her to the hospital ft. lots of handholding <33 soft aaron just- gets me. right in the feels :’) i feel like too, he’d be the type to camp out in the waiting room - his suit’s a little crumpled, his tie is loose around his neck like he’d been fidgeting with it, he’s forgotten to eat (he’s not even hungry, and the only thing currently in his system is a cup of too-watered down, practically undrinkable coffee from the vending machine) - but he’ll stand at attention the instant there’s any news, the best of which being the nurse informing him that you’re awake and he can see you now. but what an endearing sight 🥺

Some mentions of blood, violence, and a lot of comfort/fluff below the cut!

Word count is like 2.4k

Typically the people I met on cases didn't stick with me. There were just so many faces, too many names to remember, although I tried my hardest. It was a con of the job, not being able to single anyone out, most previous cases remembered in a blur of action and determination, not that we didn't try to build relationships with them, there just wasn't one that stuck out to me until now.

She'd been placed under the watchful guard of an agent in WitSec a week after her case came across my desk, and in three months time, we still hadn't narrowed down who it was that was after her. I was keeping a close eye on things, coming to see her every night on my way in from work; she'd listen for my knock and let me in quickly, and we'd talk until I'd start getting too tired to drive. She was good company, and after having to know everything about her in order to help her, I'd started to open up too. It wasn't necessary for the case, but I wanted to tell her more, and she was willing to listen.

I was exhausted, so I pulled into the drive thru of the coffee shop before making my way to the house she was placed in, two cups of coffee in tow. She always greeted me at the door with a smile, ushering me in happily as she led me to the couch, and tonight was no different. She was happy to see me, but she seemed more on edge than usual. She was jumpy and panicked, and I could see all of the signs even though she hid them well.

"What's going on? What can I do to help?"

She shrugged, tucking her legs beneath her and crossing her arms over her chest, indecisive--I could tell something was going on, but I wasn't sure if she was willing to tell me.

"I'm just scared. Some nights it gets worse than others. I just--I dunno, I get stuck in my head sometimes," she explained, and I nodded in understanding as I reached across the couch to offer her my hand. It took her less than a second to hold it back, looking up to me as if I held all the answers. I wish I did; more than anything I just wanted to make her life return to normal for her. She was alone and away from everything she knew, and other than the agent protecting her, I was the only face she got to see.

"What if I stay with you tonight?"

She perked up instantly, beaming back at me like I'd told her she won the lottery. I liked the way she wanted to be around me, even if it was just because of shitty circumstances. I could tell she enjoyed my company and I really enjoyed having her around. I was glad she lived close so I could still see her when all of this was finally over.

"You'd do that for me?"

I nodded, finishing the last of my coffee before I stood up, shrugging off my blazer.

"Let me go get my bag so I can change. I'll be right back, want to meet me in your room?"

I changed in the bathroom and found her already tucked into bed and waiting on me, and I couldn't help but smile at how adorable she looked in this massive bed that took up most of the room, making her look much smaller. She was the perfect size; I could easily tote her around if she'd let me.

"You look cozy," I slid into bed next to her, leaving just a bit of space between us in case she didn't want to be too close to me. She took me by surprise when she closed the distance between us and put her head on my shoulder, her free arm wrapping around my middle.

"Is this okay?" It came out soft and hushed, and in response I put my forehead to her lips and kissed her.

"Try to get some rest. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'm right here," I promised her, and she nodded before going still, her breathing slow and steady, chest rising and falling against me. She was warm, and I was already growing used to having her next to me; I'd never want to sleep alone again now that I'd shared a bed with her. I waited until I knew she was asleep before I shut my eyes, but I slept like a rock all night long beside her.

Waking up to her felt normal, like I'd done it a hundred times before. She was up before me, retreating to the kitchen, letting me lay in her bed a while longer. I was still so warm I didn't want to get up yet, and I was good on time, in fact, I had a little bit of time to spare with her before I left for the day. When she came back, she held two mugs of piping hot coffee, sitting one down on the bedside table for me.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she sat on the edge of the bed next to me, so I rolled over and wrapped my arms around her, still unsure of where we stood but I wanted her to know I wanted to be close to her; I wasn't sure how to show it other than physically--words didn't seem like enough.

"Will you come back tonight?"

I nodded, sitting up so I could bring her closer, reaching for her hand. She looked up at me, more vulnerable and open than I'd ever seen her, chewing anxiously on her bottom lip as she searched for what she really wanted to say--I knew she was holding back because I was doing the same. When she asked if I'd come back, what she really meant was, I really want to see you again.

"I'll stay with you every night I can if you want me to," I admitted, and she smiled softly, leaning back to rest her body against mine. For a moment we just sat there, our breathing in sync as I held her close, more content than I'd been in a while.

"And what about when things are back to normal for me? Will you still be around then?"

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my fingertips on her chin so I could tug her face to meet my eyes.

"I want to be around you all the time," I didn't anticipate her leaning forward and pressing her lips to mine, but it was a welcome feeling nonetheless. It had been so long since I'd kissed anyone that it temporarily took my breath and had me struggling to think properly, but I kissed her back with zero hesitation. Her lips felt smooth and soft against my own, and I quickly found myself opening my mouth for her tongue, teasing my bottom lip. It was all too easy to get engrossed in her, bringing her into my lap so I could keep kissing her, her hands on the back of my head keeping me in place.

"You're the only thing getting me through this," she said breathlessly, and my grip only tightened on her when I realized how much she truly needed me. She didn't realize I needed her just the same, like the air in my lungs. I'd come to find that I couldn't live without her--I didn't want to. If I was certain of anything, it was that she was my future, the brighter part of my days despite how out of sorts her life was at the moment. She always managed to put a smile on my face when she had very little to be happy about currently.

"I'll always be here for you. Always going to keep you safe," I'd do anything at all to keep her out of harms way, even if it meant putting my own life on the line to do so.

"I know."

✨✨✨

The constant blare of sirens was enough to have me panicking before I even knew if she was here or not. The sound was all around me, and although it was typical for a crime scene, and I'd seen it too many times to count, it was too overwhelming for me knowing we were there to look for her.

I thought surely after I left her for the morning, she'd be fine. Things in her safe house were normally quiet, but today in particular had been busy for our unsub. He'd been stalking her online, and he'd known where she was the entire time, lying in wait to make the perfect move, something no one had seen coming.

Garcia had told me at lunch that her location had been compromised and that she was gone, and we took immediate action. Garcia found her stalker within a couple of hours and we were on our way to an abandoned farm to search for her, hoping it wasn't too late.

"We'll find her, Hotch," Morgan told me as we made the drive, and I nodded, my grip so tight on the wheel that my knuckles were white, my eyes focused on the road in front of me.

"We've got to," I said under my breath, because I knew losing her would hurt too much to bare, and I wasn't prepared to find someone else I cared about stiff and lifeless. I tried to keep the worst case scenarios out of my head but it was nearly impossible until I knew she was alright.

Working her case had put a strain on everyone, and I was partly to blame. I was too involved, and they knew it, but they didn't dare say anything for fear of what would happen after. If anyone said her name with a tone that I didn't like, I was saying something; it wasn't normal for me, but I couldn't help it.

When we arrived, Morgan went in first. He didn't want me finding her if things weren't favorable, so I stood right outside of the door, hoping to hear any sign that she was alive so I could stop worrying. As soon as Morgan kicked down the door, I heard her scream, shrill and loud before I rushed in, running as fast as my feet would carry me until I was met with her, bound and bloody, but alive.

"Aaron," she cried, struggling against the ropes as Morgan worked to cut her bindings off, and once she was free she rushed to me, letting me wrap my arms around her.

"Shh, I've got you now," I couldn't tell where the blood was coming from and that worried me more than anything. It could've been her head, but I couldn't be sure. I needed to get her to an ambulance to get checked out, so I scooped her up and carried her, letting her arms wrap around my neck as I took her to the EMTs.

"Was so afraid you weren't going to find me," she cried as I sat her down, staying as close as I could while the EMT worked to find the source of the bleeding and stop it. She'd been hit over the head, and she more than likely had a concussion along with other mental turmoil that we had no clue of.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. Can I ride with her?" The EMT gave me the okay so I took Morgan my keys and asked him to drop off my car at the hospital so I could ride in the ambulance. They were working on sedating her so they could keep her calm, so I slid in on the bench seat and took her hand, making sure she knew I was there even if she fell asleep. She shot me a soft smile before her eyes closed and she went still, the first bit of peace she'd had in months.

When we got to the hospital, I was sent to the waiting room. I paced the floors, drank watered down coffee until I had the jitters, but there was still no news. I'd just sat down and started to doze off when her doctor came in and I stood to my feet, asking if there was any update.

"You can see her now. As soon as she finishes her IV fluids, she can go. She's going to be sore, but she's going to be alright."

I followed him down the hall and to her room, where he let me go in alone. The steady beeping of the monitors had me uneasy as I stepped in, looking at her lying on that bed made my stomach churn and my heart drop to my shoes. I crossed the room as quickly as I could and sat right next to her on the bed.

"Glad you're still here," she said, taking my hand in hers. I kissed her head quickly before I looked down at her, sweet and fragile as she stared up at me.

"I'd never leave you. If I would've known--" she cut me off with a kiss; she wouldn't dare listen to me blame myself for this, even if I felt responsible.

"You couldn't have known, Aaron. This isn't your fault. You saved my life," she whispered, voice cracking slightly as a tear slid down her cheek. I quickly wiped it away and she leaned into my palm, letting me cup her face with my hand.

"I'm so glad you're okay."

Even under the harsh glow of hospital lights, surrounded by antiseptic smells and nonstop beeping, she was the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I had no willpower when it came to loving her, I couldn't have stopped it. It was as easy as breathing, and it came just as naturally. Nothing could've prepared me for it. Granted, I'd only loved one other person before, but I knew the feeling well enough to know I was falling for her fast with no sign of slowing down any time soon.

"Can I go home tonight?"

I nodded, but I wasn't taking her to her apartment. I was bringing her home with me so I could keep an eye on her; I wouldn't dare leave her alone after what she'd been through.

"You can go home, or you can come with me so I can spoil you for the next couple of days," I offered, and when she pulled me in for a kiss, I knew I had my answer.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner playlist collection #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #soft Hotch

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Text

Home | Aaron Hotchner x You Criminal Minds - Aaron Hotchner x You Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x You Warnings: None Genre: Fluff Length: Drabble

A/N: This was born out of self indulgence, because just imagine having Hotch waiting for you after a late night at work 😩

Your phone buzzes, the sound amplified as the vibration of the device sends it scuttling across your table. It startles you slightly, drawing you back from the documents you had been working on. You reach for your phone before allowing yourself to sink back into your chair.

A.H: Still at work?

You smile at his text as you unlock your device, typing in a reply. It was 1am a Friday night, or rather, Saturday morning by now, but here you were, sitting in your office, trying to finish up your last bits of work before the weekend. Jess had taken Jack for the evening so that you could push out whatever you needed to so as to be able to spend the weekend with both of your Hotchner boys. Aaron had been on a case for the past week and was due back tomorrow and you missed him, as you always did when he was away.

Yes, but finishing up in twenty minutes.

A.H: Text me when you leave.

His reply comes in an instant and you can’t help the smile that flickers onto your lips.

Dropping your phone, you turn your attention back to your screens, fingers flying across the keyboard as you put in your finishing amendments to the documents.

***

Leaving now, can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

You shoot off the text right before you step into the elevators. It had taken you 10 minutes more than you had anticipated to tie up what you needed to. The elevator ride is short, and you glance at your phone as you step out, no reply from him - odd, because he would usually wait and follow up with a request that you text him when you get home, but perhaps he was busy.

Shoving your phone into the pocket of your coat, you exhale loudly as you made your way towards the glass front of the building. You were going to jump into one of the cabs that were always waiting around the block for people like yourself who were getting off work late, jump into the shower, and straight into bed.

You near the glass front of the building, and squint as the image of a man in a suit, sans tie comes into view. He has his arms crossed across his chest, as he leans casually against a black suburban. It takes you two steps forward, before realisation hits you and you gasp. He can’t hear your gasp, but he sees the shock on your face and your eyes widen slightly and he smiles.

You pick up your pace, almost running across the marble floor of the lobby as fast as your heels would take you, through the sliding glass doors and into a pair of waiting arms which uncross themselves to welcome you.

“Hi.” He greets you as you fling your arms around his neck.

“How are you back early?” You ask, feeling his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in towards him.

“We finished up slightly earlier than expected and managed to get the jet to fly us back in the evening.” He explains and you take in the shadows under his eyes, and the five o clock shadow that had started to appear across his jaw.

“How long have you been waiting, you should have gone straight home.” You reach up to kiss him, your lips meeting his. You lean back, intending to pull away, but he grips you tighter, his lips sliding over yours, deepening the kiss and you fall into it, allowing him to lead you.

You pull apart, him bringing his forehead down to rest against yours. Both of you remain eyes closed, breathing slightly ragged. You speak first, your eyes fluttering open, forehead still against his as you move a hand from the back of his neck, placing it on his chest.

“Missed me Hotchner?” Your tone is teasing, but you’ve missed him too and he knows. He hums agreement as he opens his eyes, arms relaxing their hold around you, but hands coming to rest on your hips, squeezing in slight protest at the use of the term “Hotchner” (because it makes him feel like he is at work).

“Missed you too.” You lean up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and pull away. He allows you out of his embrace, but doesn’t want to let you go. “Let’s go home.” You reach for the door handle of the passenger seat, pulling it open and climbing into the car while throwing your belongings on the floor of the passenger’s seat.

He reaches in to pull the seatbelt buckle across your lap, pushing it into the clasp with a click.

“I’m already home.” He states, his face beside yours after fastening you in and you feel your heart warm as he brushes his lips against yours.

Current @taglist: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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