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thewulf · 1 month

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Unseen Scars || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hiyaa, i was hoping you were willing to write another Hotch x bau!reader. Maybe one where reader is in an unhappy/ toxic relationship, maybe abvsive even. And Hotch helps reader learn that what her significant other is doing is wrong, and he even helps reader get out of the absive relationship. And somewhere along the way he says something along the lines of “i can love you so much better than them”.

A/N: Not sure if I love this one. Kinda tough to write. Let me know your thoughts below.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Abuse (physical and mental), bruises, scars, talks of hitting, general CM triggers

You've been working alongside Aaron Hotchner for nearly a decade. Each year adding layers to a complex yet unspoken bond. As senior agents in the BAU you've shared long nights on cases. Him as your superior but respecting you as his equal. Both supported each other through victories and losses. You had the kind of mutual respect that's created from high-stress environments. Through it all there's always been an underlying current of attraction between you two. Subtle yet undeniable no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

When Hotch was married to Haley he was completely off-limits. It was a boundary you’d never dram of crossing. One you respected without question even as your friendship deepened. Then tragedy struck with Haley's death and while you were there to support him your own life was tangled in a serious relationship. By the time your relationship crumbled Hotch had started seeing Beth. And like the cruel joke life was, timing kept you apart once again.

Eventually, that relationship too ended for Hotch. But by then you had drifted into the arms of someone new. Someone the whole team disliked from the start. You brought him to a team dinner once and it was enough to know that no one approved even though they wouldn’t outright say it. He was arrogant, dismissive, and rubbed everyone the wrong way. But you were in a vulnerable place feeling lonely and somewhat unlovable after your string of failed relationships. He was there though. He was persistent and in a weak moment that felt like enough.

Despite the obvious red flags, you clung to the relationship out of a misplaced sense of necessity. You’d convinced yourself that any attention was better than the loneliness that echoed too loudly in the corners of your life. Yet, as the months wore on the relationship took a darker turn. It left you isolated not just from your friends and colleagues but from your own sense of self. You were slowly losing yourself to a man who hardly meant a thing to you.

You texted Hotch early in the morning. Your fingers hesitating over the keyboard before you sent a simple message: Running late today, see you by midday. The message feels sterile, too impersonal for the turmoil churning inside you. But you can't afford to say more. Not when every moment feels like a step through a minefield.

It's nearly noon when you finally push through the front doors of the BAU office with your mind rehearsing the excuses you might need. The bruise hidden beneath your scarf isn't just a reminder of last night's horror. It's a stark, physical manifestation of a boundary cruelly crossed. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid hands on you, but it was the first time it left a mark visible enough to demand a story. A story you hadn't yet managed to straighten out in your head. And if anybody was going to catch you in a lie it was Aaron Hotchner.

As you enter the building the buzz of the office feels both alien and overly familiar, a stark contrast to the silence you’d left behind at your apartment. You try to blend into the activity, nodding along to conversations you barely hear, laughing at jokes that don’t reach your eyes. You keep your posture deliberately casual, avoiding any movement that might shift your scarf and expose the truth lying so treacherously close to the surface.

From his office Hotch had been subtly watching your delayed arrival and your interactions with the team. His concern deepens with each forced smile and carefully measured laugh you muster. He's always respected your privacy. But today the instincts honed by years of profiling scream that something is terribly wrong with you. When the office finally starts to empty for the day, leaving behind the quiet hum of machines and the soft rustling of papers, he sees his chance to talk to you.

"Could I speak with you for a moment before you head home?" Hotch’s invitation comes just as you’re preparing to escape into the welcome anonymity of the evening. His voice is gentle. But there’s an undercurrent of urgency that stops you in your tracks. Reluctantly, you nod you head and followed him into the sanctuary of his office. The door closed softly behind you leaving you trapped with the one person who could unravel you with a simple look.

Inside his office the usual barriers of rank and protocol seem to fall away as he leans against his desk. His eyes were not just those of a supervisor, but of a friend—a protector. "I’ve noticed you’ve been different lately," he begins. His tone soft but firm. "You said you were running late today… but I can't help feeling there’s something more to it." His eyes briefly scan the edge of your scarf before meeting yours with a piercing intensity. "If there's anything you need to talk about, I'm here."

In that moment with the weight of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice the carefully constructed excuses crumble. The reality of your situation, so starkly isolated by his understanding, begins to seep through the cracks of your facade and you feel the first real breath of relief mixed with fear as you consider confiding the truth.

Hotch's eyes were filled with a deep, unmistakable concern. They stay locked on yours as he waits for your response. You feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with unspoken questions and worry. For a brief moment you consider continuing the charade. Brush off his concerns with a practiced smile and a reassurance that you're just tired, overstressed from the workload.

"Really, Hotch, I’m fine," you say. Your voice was steady at first but even as the words leave your lips they sound hollow. Unconvincing even to your own ears. His expression doesn’t waver. Those knowing eyes don’t buy the half-hearted lie.

"Are you sure?" he presses. His tone soft yet insistent. "Because if something—or someone—is hurting you, I want to help." He gave you that look. The one that he knew would break you down. The one that he used only when necessary.

You shake your head though. A simple reflex to protect your precarious world. But your facade is cracking, fissures widening under his gentle scrutiny. "It’s nothing, really. Just been a bit clumsy lately," you attempt to deflect again. But your voice wavers, betraying the turmoil inside.

Hotch's brow furrows slightly. His concern only deepening as he notices the strain behind your words. When you turn away, unable to meet his probing gaze any longer, a tear escapes trailing down your cheek. Your shoulders tremble with barely suppressed sobs. It was that damn look that had you falling apart. Who knew he could do that to you?

He doesn’t say anything for a heartbeat, allowing the silence to settle around you, heavy and expectant. With careful, measured steps, he closes the distance between you. You sense him nearby. His presence a comforting shadow in your moment of vulnerability.

“Hey,” Hotch’s voice is a soft whisper now. When he gently places a hand on your shoulder, it’s an offer, not a demand. You don't pull away and that’s all the confirmation he needs. With tender caution he pulls you into a hug. His arms offering safety, a haven from the storm you’ve been weathering alone. The warmth and solidity of him is grounding and as you lean into his embrace, the dam breaks. Tears were streaming freely now.

He doesn’t rush you nor does he bombard you with questions. He simply holds you, steady and strong, as you let the first wave of relief and acknowledged pain wash over you.

As Hotch's arms encircle you in a gentle embrace a rush of emotions overwhelms you each one more turbulent than the last. Instead of relief a sharp panic claws its way up your chest. The intimacy of the moment, the closeness, it all becomes too much. Your breathing becomes shallow, rapid, as if you can't get enough ai. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, threatening to burst.

"Hotch, I—I can't," you stammer. Your voice choked with rising fear. The room feels as if it's closing in. Each wall inching closer, trapping you in this raw, exposed moment.

He senses the shift immediately with his hold loosening just enough to let you breathe, but he doesn’t let go knowing you need a tether to the present. "Hey, look at me," Hotch says, his voice a calm, steady anchor in the storm of your panic. You barely manage to lift your eyes to his as you were caught in the whirlwind of your emotions.

"Take a deep breath with me, okay?" he guides gently. "In... and out," he continues, his own breaths exaggerated to model a slow, calming rhythm. His eyes are soft, patient, holding yours with a steadiness that feels both terrifying and comforting.

You try to follow as your first attempt is shaky and uneven. But Hotch is there. His presence a constant reassurance. "That’s it, just breathe. In... and out," he repeats with his voice grounding you in the moment. Slowly, the frantic pace of your heart begins to slow. The crushing weight in your chest easing as you synchronize your breathing with his.

"You're safe here with me," Hotch whispers to you. Each word carefully chosen to fortify the fragile peace you're beginning to feel. "Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ve got you. I promise." And you knew that it was indeed a promise. He’d never let anything happen to you if he could stop it.

His reassurances wash over you. His voice was a soothing balm to the raw edges of your panic. Gradually your fear subsides and is replaced by a weary relief. As your breathing evens out Hotch’s arms remain a gentle, unyielding presence around you. In this quiet space with the security of his embrace shielding you from the world outside you finally allow yourself to feel the full weight of your vulnerability—and the strength of the trust you have in him.

The panic attack recedes like a tide going out. It left you drained but inexplicably more grounded than before. Hotch holds you a little while longer making sure you're completely calm before he speaks again. "You’re not alone in this," he assures you as his tone is imbued with an earnestness that makes you believe him. That there might be a way out of the darkness.

As the last of your tears dry Hotch steps back slightly giving you space but keeping his presence comforting and solid. He ushers you to sit without words before pulling up a chair close to yours. His demeanor still radiating calm and concern. You notice his jaw tighten for a moment, a silent tell to his anger at seeing you hurting so openly.

As you finally voice the painful truth, "He's been hurting me, Hotch," the words echo starkly in the quiet office. Saying it aloud makes it all too real. A wave of embarrassment washes over you. Your gaze drops to your hands, fidgeting with the ends of the scarf. You can't bear to meet his eyes as you were afraid of what you might see there—pity, shock, or worse, disbelief.

Your fingers tremble as you slowly unwrap the scarf from around your neck, exposing the harsh evidence of your partner's violence. The bruises are stark against your skin. A palette of black and blue that makes your stomach churn. When Hotch sucks in a breath, a sound of sharp distress, you flinch, the sound bringing home the reality of your exposure.

"I'm so sorry," Hotch breathes out. His voice thick with emotion. You still can't look at him being too overwhelmed by a mix of shame and the relief of finally sharing your burden. The room suddenly feels too small. The air too thick with the weight of your confessed reality.

"You don’t have to go through this alone anymore," Hotch continues. His voice a steady, grounding force in the chaos of your emotions. Despite his words a knot of anxiety tightens in your chest. The vulnerability of the moment making you acutely uncomfortable.

Hotch's chair scrapes softly against the floor as he moves slightly closer. "I'm here, and we'll do whatever it takes to ensure he can't hurt you again," he says with a resolve that is both reassuring and overwhelming. You finally risk a glance up at him, meeting his gaze. Instead of the judgment you feared, you find only deep concern and a protective firmness. You shouldn’t have expected any less than that from him.

Seeing your hesitation and discomfort, Hotch reaches out slowly, giving you time to withdraw if you choose. When his hand gently takes yours, it's a lifeline, solid and warm. "We'll figure this out together," he assures you. His voice low and calm. "Let’s focus on what you need right now."

Tears well up in your eyes as you meet his steady gaze. Your fear of your partner bubbling to the surface. "I'm scared, Hotch," you whisper, your voice breaking with the weight of your admission. "I'm afraid of what he might do if I leave. He could do something drastic..." The possibility hangs heavily between you. A dark cloud of fear.

Hotch squeezes your hand gently. His touch reassuring as it always is. "We'll take every precaution," he promises with his tone imbued with determination. "You're not alone in this. We have resources and procedures to protect you. Trust me Y/N. You're safe."

His words were spoken with such a conviction that slowly penetrate the fog of your fear. The immediate comfort of knowing you're not alone, bolstered by Hotch's unwavering support, helps to steady the tumult inside you. The future may remain uncertain but with Hotch by your side you feel a spark of hope. A hope that perhaps you can break free from the shadows and rebuild your life once again.

The conversation with Hotch stretches late into the evening as a mix of detailed planning and moments of quiet support. Once the office empties and the building quiets Hotch makes a decision. "Why don't you stay with me tonight?" he suggests gently. "It's late and I'd feel better knowing you're safe." You agree, feeling a mix of gratitude and anxiety about the imposition. Hotch reassures you it's no trouble. Together you leave the dimly lit office, stepping into the cool night air that seems to offer a breath of tentative freedom.

The drive to his home is quiet, filled with the soft hum of the car and the distant glow of streetlights. Upon arriving, Hotch introduces you to his home with a warmth that's both inviting and respectful of your space. He shows you to the guest room making sure you have everything you need before he leaves. "Make yourself at home," he says. "We'll figure out the next steps in the morning." You give a grateful nod before heading to bed yourself. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep after your head hit the pillow. You’d truly never felt safer than you had right then.

The next morning as you make your way to the kitchen, Jack spots you and his face instantly lights up. "You're here!" he exclaims before running towards you with arms wide open. You kneel down just in time to catch him as he launches into a big hug. His enthusiasm bringing a genuine smile to your face. "I missed you!" he chirps, and you can't help but laugh, the sound mingling with his giggles.

Hotch watched the interaction from the doorway and smiles warmly but also feels a pang of concern given your recent ordeal. As Jack wraps his arms around you, Hotch steps forward and gently places a hand on his son's shoulder. "Be careful, buddy," he says softly, his voice tinged with protective caution. "She's a little hurt."

Jack’s expression immediately shifts to one of concern as he pulls back slightly. His bright eyes scanning your face with a mix of confusion and worry. "Did I hurt you more?" he asks, his voice small, his usual cheer replaced by a serious, almost adult-like concern.

You shake your head quickly making sure to offer him a reassuring smile. "No, Jack, you didn’t hurt me at all," you explain while ruffling his hair gently. "I'm just a little sore, that’s all. Your hug is actually just what I needed."

Relieved but still slightly cautious, Jack nods and gives you a gentler, more measured hug this time. Hotch watches this exchange. His own heart swelling with mixed emotions—gratitude for the innocent care Jack shows and a renewed resolve to ensure that both you and his son are kept safe from any harm.

Later as Jack plays outside, Hotch joins you on the porch with a thoughtful expression on his face. He watches his son for a moment before turning to you. His gaze serious yet open. "This morning, seeing you with Jack… the way he lights up around you. It reminded me of something important I've been meaning to share," he chooses his words carefully as he speaks to you.

Your gaze lets him know he can continue. "I ended things with Beth a few months ago," he reveals letting the statement hang in the air for a moment to gauge your reaction. "It was the right decision. My heart wasn't fully in it, and I realized I needed to be honest with myself about my feelings."

You're taken aback. Your surprise evident. "Oh, I... I had no idea. She seemed so lovely," you reply trying to mask your confusion. Beth had always appeared perfect for him. She seemed kind, attentive, and good with Jack.

Hotch nods, acknowledging your point. "She was lovely," he admits, "but she wasn't what I was looking for. Not what Jack needed either." His gaze drifts towards his son, watching him play with a gentle smile.

He then turns back to you with a thoughtful expression. "We needed someone who could really be a part of our lives, understand us. Someone who already fits so seamlessly into our little world," he adds. His eyes held yours for a moment longer than necessary, hinting at deeper layers to his words.

The implication of his statement hangs between you, stirring a mix of emotions between the both of you. His revelation not only adds a new dimension to your understanding of his current situation but also subtly places you at the center of his thoughts. The gentle hint that you might be the answer they needed feels both overwhelming and heartening.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you, especially now," Hotch continues. His tone sincere. "It's been a tough time and you shouldn't have to go through it alone. Whatever support you need. I'm here."

As you absorb his words, a sense of safety envelops you coupled with a budding realization of the importance of your presence in his life. Not just as a colleague but potentially something more. The careful balance he maintains in offering support while subtly revealing his personal reflections provides a comforting stability as you navigate the complex emotions of your current situation.

Several days had passed since you sought refuge at Hotch's home after breaking things off with your ex. Each day Hotch gently suggests reasons for you to extend your stay. His concern palpable. "Just until we’re sure you’re safe," he reassures you, but his eyes betray a deeper plea for you to remain longer.

One evening after Jack is safely tucked into bed Hotch opens a bottle of wine and pours two glasses. He hands you one with a soft smile that doesn't quite mask his underlying nervousness. "Thought we could use this," he says as he joins you on the couch. The house is quiet, the subtle buzz of the evening creating a cocoon of calm around you.

As you sip the rich wine, the warmth it brings is matched only by the comfort of the familiar space. Hotch breaks the silence first, his voice low and laden with unspoken thoughts. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking," he starts. Hesitating as he chooses his words carefully. "About what’s important... about what I want for the people I care about."

He pauses before taking a deep breath before meeting your gaze with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "I want you to stay here a little longer. Not just for safety but because it feels right having you here. These days with you and Jack... they’ve felt more like home than anything I've known in a long time."

The atmosphere shifts charged with an emotion that’s both tender and terrifying. Hotch continues with his voice softening, "I think we could be good for each other… if you're willing to see where this might go."

Moved by his candidness and the earnestness in his eyes you find yourself nodding slightly. Your own emotions mirrored in his expression. "I've felt it too," you whisper. "It’s easy with you. With Jack.."

Hotch reaches out, his hand covering yours. His touch warm and sure. "I can love you so much better than he ever did," he says with a confidence you hadn’t heard from him. His voice deep and resolute. Then, taking another deep breath, he adds, "I love you. I love you with everything in me. More than I ever thought possible."

His confession, raw and powerful, cuts through the last of your reservations. Tears well up in your eyes as you take in the depth of his feelings laid bare in the quiet of the night. This isn't just a moment of comfort. It's a turning point, a beginning of something profound and life-altering.

As you sit there, the night deepening around you, you lean into him with your head resting against his shoulder. "I love you too, Aaron," you admit to him. Your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. In the soft glow of the living room, you start to imagine a future that holds not just safety, but a shared life filled with love and understanding.

Two years have woven themselves seamlessly into the fabric of your life with Hotch and Jack. What began as a sanctuary in times of turmoil has blossomed into a full, shared existence, each day deepening the bond between you all. The BAU team, integral to your journey, has watched this transformation and played a part in nurturing your collective happiness.

On a sun-drenched Saturday, Hotch has orchestrated a gathering under the guise of a simple spring barbecue at a picturesque local park. The team is there, along with Jack, who’s energetically darting around with Rossi and Prentiss in a spirited game of soccer. Garcia is setting the mood with a carefully curated playlist while you and JJ are laughing over a shared joke by the picnic tables.

As the afternoon wanes with everyone sated by laughter and good food, Hotch taps his glass gently with a fork drawing eyes with the subtle, familiar command of his presence. The conversations taper off, leaving a blanket of anticipatory silence.

“I’ve spent much of my life dedicated to understanding moments—capturing them before they slip away,” Hotch begins, his voice resonating with a rare tremor of vulnerability. He looks over at you, his eyes shimmering with unspoken words. “But the moments I’ve cherished the most have been with all of you—my team, my family. And especially with you,” he turns fully towards you, taking your hand in his.

Jack, picking up on the significance of the moment, quiets down and moves closer. His young face alight with curiosity and excitement. Hotch’s gaze softens as he kneels in front of you. A gesture that pulls at the heartstrings of everyone present.

“Since you entered our lives, you’ve brought light into shadows I didn’t even know existed. You’ve made a house feel like a home again, and you’ve taught me that love isn’t just a remnant of the past but a promise for the future,” he continues. His voice thick with emotion. From his pocket, he produces a small, velvet box, opening it to reveal a ring that captures the late afternoon sunlight.

“Will you marry me?” His words, simple yet profound, hang in the air.

Tears stream down your cheeks, joyous and unrestrained, as you nod emphatically. Words were lost in the swell of emotions. “Yes, Aaron, yes!”

Jack jumps up, cheering, "She said yes!" His delight infectious bringing the team to erupt into their own cheers. Garcia captures every second, her lens fogging slightly with her own tears.

Spencer, who has been quietly observant, steps forward with a bottle of champagne. “To new beginnings,” he says. His voice steady but emotional, reflecting his deep affection for both of you. He pops the cork, and as the champagne flows, so do the congratulations.

Morgan playfully nudges Hotch, while JJ, ever the emotional heart of the team, hugs you tightly, whispering, “He’s never looked happier.”

You grin to one of your very own best friends. “I’ve never been happier.”

As the evening unfolds with laughter and shared stories, the sense of family deepens. The park was bathed in the glow of sunset, feels like a snapshot of a new chapter. One filled with love and the quiet promise of forever. Your heart, full and overflowing, knows this is just the beginning.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

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spaceyrosie · 3 days

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I won't hurt you anymore

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: you got hurt that caused you to be hospitalised while your dad was out for a case and instead of comforting you, Hotch came home angry about your decision.

Warnings: heavy angst, sadness, reader got hurt, Haley’s death, (tw: abandonment issues), Hotch was in the wrong, only slight comfort in the end

Author’s note: I only write sad things :( but here's another angst father-daughter relationship (no, not that kind of relationship 😌)

Word count: 1.2k

Hotch was tired, no he was exhausted.

But he has never felt this scared. He fumbled with his keys, the metal cold against his clammy skin, his movements jerky with adrenaline.

Bursting through the apartment door, he was met with the flickering blue light of the television illuminating the living room with the sound muted. There, on the sofa, a small silhouette huddled beneath a blanket, their form dwarfed by the oversized furniture.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” The words erupted from him, booming into the silent living room. Hotch wasn’t thinking straight. All he could feel was fear choking him, making his voice course.

You flinched at the harshness in his tone. Your gaze remained fixed on the late-night talk show playing silently on the screen, your mind not registering anything.

"I had to pull myself out of an active case," he continued his voice a low growl. It was a telltale sign, a chink in his usually stoic armour that betrayed the fear gnawing at him. "Only for Garcia to call me telling me that the hospital called and you had discharged yourself," He trailed off, frustration lacing his voice. "Dammit, y/n, I told Anderson to stay with you! Gosh, what were you thinking?!"

Silence stretched, thick and heavy, suffocating the room with unspoken words. Hotch tapped his foot impatiently, a reflection to the frantic hammering of his heart. He needed a response, anything to break the suffocating quiet.

You shifted, the movement sending a fresh jolt of pain through your injured arm. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to focus, to clear the fog of confusion and pain clouding your mind.

But the only thing that came through was a suffocating tightness in your chest, a pressure that had nothing to do with the broken bone.

“Say something, y/n Hotchner!” His voice was clipped, laced with a tightly leashed anger.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "No, Dad, you didn’t leave the team," you whispered, your voice raw with barely contained tears. "You had to leave me." You spoke quietly, the words echoing in the silence of the apartment.

Hotch's breath hitched. He closed his eyes for a moment, the stark accusation in your voice a physical blow.

“You left me.,” you continued, your voice monotone but laced with a tremor that betrayed your calm facade. “I was hurt, scared and alone but you left me.”

“Did you know how scared I was when Garcia called saying you left against medical advice?” His voice rose trying to defend on his outburst.

The sound of your choked sob shattered the peace, “I was scared, dad!” You all but shouted, the raw pain in your voice made Hotch stunned as he looked at your teary face. “I was scared and alone and in so much pain.” Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision..

“Do you know how scary it was?” You choked out, each word causing your chest to heave. “I needed someone-”

“Honey, I-” He started, his voice thick with remorse.

“I needed my dad,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “But you weren’t there.” This time you dared into his eyes, hoping to find any closure from the overwhelming emotions brewing in your chest.

The accusation hung heavy in the air, hitting him like a physical blow.

He knelt before you, his gaze drawn to the telltale signs of your ordeal – the bandage on your arm, the stitches marring your face, a face so similar to your mother, the loss of his life. His heart ached, a dull throbbing that mirrored the dull ache of regret in his gut. He tried to hold your shoulders, but you flinched before shrugging it off.

“I want Mom,” you cried out, somehow pleading for an inconceivable wish. “Why can’t you be here for me?” It was as if a dam had broken within you, unleashing a torrent of pent-up emotions.

“I- honey, I-” He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he managed a choked, "I'm so sorry, honey."

Sorry doesn’t even begin to the sorrow he felt.

“Why didn’t you hold me? I needed you!”

You buried your face in your hands, the events of the day crashing down on you with renewed intensity.

“How could you send Anderson?" you continued, the anger a desperate attempt to hold back the tide of tears. "We're in the same city, Dad!”

“You can’t even make time for me, even when I’m hurt.” And the words did not stop pouring, all the pain you felt when he left you for work. Since your Mom died a year ago, you noticed he had taken more work, staying up late at the Bureau and bringing work home. It hurts you, of course it did.

"I hate you!" The words tore from your throat. You didn't mean it, not truly, but the pain and fear were a tangled mess in your chest, spilling out in the most primal way you knew how. Hotch took you into his arms as you struggle against his hold.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Your fists pounded a weak rhythm against his back, more out of frustration than anger.

"Shh…shh… I’m sorry," he soothed as he held onto his ground. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with remorse as he held you close.

A choked sob escaped your lips, the words "I hate you" dissolving into a whimper. Tears streamed down your face, hot and stinging, soaking the fabric of his suit. "I hate you," you whispered again, the accusation laced with a tremor of fear. "Why can't I hate you?"

Hotch rocks you gently, “I got you now, honey. I got you.”

He understood the illogical outburst, the desperate need to lash out at the one person who was supposed to be a constant. The sobs eventually subsided into hiccups, your body trembling with exhaustion. Hotch didn't let go, his embrace a silent promise of safety.

Pulling back slightly, his thumb brushed away a tear that fell from your eyes. His gaze, softened with a tenderness you hadn't seen in a while. "Look at me, y/n," he murmured.

"There's no excuse for leaving you when you were afraid and hurting," he said, each word heavy with sincerity. "And the regret of neglecting you will stay with me. I can't rewind time, but I promise, honey, I'll be there for you from now on."

A flicker of doubt, a remnant of your hurt, crossed your eyes. "Even when you're working a case?"

Hotch met your gaze, "It's past time I make you a priority," he said. "I'm so sorry I didn't make that decision sooner." A heavy silence settled between you, thick with the weight of his words and the unspoken promises they carried.

He held you close, a silent promise echoing in his embrace. Your eyelids grew heavy, the emotional rollercoaster taking its toll. He continued to rock you gently, a steady rhythm against the silence of the apartment.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

"I'm here now."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #dad!hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #spaceyrosie

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hothothotch · 11 months

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hi! can you write a hotch angsty / fluff piece based off the episode of s3 ep 20 where they go to NY and have to work with Kate Joyner and Hotch treats reader like how he did to Morgan and pushes reader aside bc even after reader being there for him after his divorce with Hayley and thinking there was something more but then ends in fluff? :)

hey hey! first i want to say that this ask has saved my life. second, i got carried away again. but i hope you like it, anon s2

(god knows how much i want a part two for this one)

requests are open!

tw: angst, fluff, 5.3k words.

You should have seen it coming.

You’ve been a part of BAU’s team since the departure of Ellie, a quick replacement approved by Agent Hotchner — or Hotch, as the team called him — that took place for the first time after The Fisher King’s case, when Ellie was shot; when she decided working at the BAU was too much to handle, Hotch approved your official transference only a few weeks before Strauss’ approved Prentiss’.

In all honesty, you’d been surprised Hotch didn’t kick you out after that, but grateful nonetheless — you absolutely loved that job.

You had been the first to notice when Hotch’s marriage started to crumble, your own habit of staying late nights at the office giving you a first-row view of the nights he’d stay late and go home only on the early hours of the morning, just to come back fresh and new as if nothing had happened. There wasn’t much you could do to help, even if you wanted to; the fact that Hotch trusted you on the job didn’t necessarily mean that he trusted you enough to let you in on his personal issues, and you didn’t feel like you really wanted to. But, as purple bags started to form under his eyes, a clear evidence that he hadn’t been sleeping, you couldn’t help but start showing small, almost meaningless acts of service that you hoped would make him feel better.

Everything was pretty secretive.

You started to get in the office earlier, so you could leave a cup of fresh coffee on his desk (black with no sugar, as you know he liked), and whenever you went out for dinner, you’d come back bearing something that was small enough so he wouldn’t want to pay for what you brought.

You started daring more only a few weeks into your small endeavor. Instead of only leaving your secret gifts, you started to write small notes in Garcia’s colorful sticky notes (because you had none on your desk, so he wouldn’t know it was you) with encouraging comments, mostly about his job — and, when you were feeling specially bold, about his appearance in general.

You thought nothing of it, and had no idea if he even read them, but the fact that you were doing something to at least try and make things better was enough to warm your heart. Much more when his stern façade would suddenly turn into a lighter one as the day went by, even when you were out on cases and he found a cup of steaming coffee waiting for him, a sticky note attached to it with a unique message handwritten by you.

It wasn’t until the divorce that you felt the urge to reveal your identity.

Hotch had been served the divorce papers in front of the whole team, only a few minutes before they went out for drinks — it goes unsaid that he immediately stepped out of the group, deciding to go home. The team still went out for drinks, but the talks weren’t as fun as they were supposed to be, and the topic in hand was only one: Hotch’s sudden divorce.

“Haley left home a few weeks ago” Derek confessed, playing with his full glass of beer. A few women had come to hit on him, but it seemed like that small and closed group had decided that if one of them was miserable, they all would be miserable that night — and Morgan had been the first to agree to that silent contract, refusing every opportunity he had to get laid that night, “She took Jack and her things and… left”.

“How could she do it?” Penelope had asked, her voice wrapped in a wrath no one had ever seen the blonde bubble of happiness be.

“Hotch is very dedicated to his job, Pen” Emily had replied, her voice as condescending as sad, a clear indicative that while she wished things had been different, that maybe there was a second chance, something they could do to help, she still could understand Haley’s side in this bargain, “We understand that because we do the same, but Haley… she wasn’t one of us”.

And it was true. While any of you were ready to make sacrifices, to jump off cliffs in order to do the best for your job, Haley was just a wife that had to stay closed off at home with her kid, praying that, at the end of the day (or the week) her husband would make it back home.

Now Hotch knew how it felt.

“There’s nothing we can do to help” David had said that night, taking his own glass of whiskey and taking a sip of the sour drink, “Just be there for him”.

David was right. And maybe his words that night had been what prompted you to climb the three-steps of the catwalk’s stair one week later, one hand playing nervously with your necklace as you used the other to knock on Aaron’s door right after Spencer had left to go home, only you and your boss still on the sixth floor.

“Come in”.

Aaron’s voice was imposing, as serious as it had always been; it was curious, you noticed very quickly, how you’ve never seen Hotch falter before — even when he was served the papers, or when he officially announced for the team that he was, indeed, divorced. He had been calm and collected, talking about the topics as if he was making a comment about a case, or about the weather, and the only indication of his unsaid pain was the way his fingers played nervously with the now empty space where you’d been used to see his wedding band.

Just as he was doing when you opened the door, your eyes falling immediately on that spot, as if searching for an indicative that they had decided to try again. The hope painful on your heart.

“I finished the reports from the last case” you said after a few minutes, moving slowly to leave the folders on top of his desk, “And I’ve also filled the late paperwork, I’m sorry it took me a while”.

Hotch looked up at you, his brown eyes scanning your face almost curiously, and you frowned nervously at the prospect of having something wrong with your face, “What is it?”.

“Nothing” Aaron replied quickly, dropping his eyes back to his hands, “I’m sorry”.

You smiled softly at Aaron, moving slowly to take the seat across from him, careful enough to assure him that if he didn’t want you to sit with him, then you’d quickly move out and pretend nothing had happened. When he didn’t, you allowed yourself to place both your hands on top of his desk, your palms up in an inviting manner — you knew Hotch wouldn’t hold your hand, even with the clear offer, but you’d keep offering until he felt like accepting.

“We’re a team, Hotch” you whispered, almost inaudibly, hoping, one more time, not to be overstepping or making him uncomfortable in any capacity, “I know we’re not best buddies…” you teased lightly, adding a ‘yet’ on your mind, “But you still can share things with me. I’m here to help, you know? If you want to talk, ever, I’ll be here, okay?”.

Much for your surprise and happiness, Aaron had wanted to talk, eventually.

The first time was after a child-related case, from where he left with the need to see Jack, but unable to do so because Haley had taken him to his grandparents’ house. At first, when he called you up to his office, you’d thought you’d be reprimanded for a mistake you couldn’t even remember you committed, but you had barely stepped inside the office when Aaron started to speak, his eyes focused on the mess of papers on his desk.

“I want to talk” he said, his voice more painful than you thought it would be, “If you’re still up to it”.

You were. Absolutely.

And just as talking to him, falling in love with Aaron Hotchner was the easiest thing you’ve ever done in your life.

You didn’t notice how it happened, or when you finally realized you were head over hills in love with him, but what you did know was the unspeakable feeling of your heart thundering on your chest whenever he shot a smile on your way, or when he accidentally brushed his hand on your arm when walking past you, or during your nightly conversations, when he’d repeat the words you first told him all those months ago, when you offered your help.

“We’re a team”.

But you should’ve seen it coming.

You should’ve seen it coming when Aaron announced whoever was responsible for that case had called him personally, and not respected the natural order of things in which JJ receives the case and reunites with Aaron to know if it deserves their immediate attention.

You should’ve seen it coming when Derek commented about Kate Joyner being as ass, and Aaron immediately got defensive — and to some extent you believed you had noticed, even if you decided to ignore it, since your body had responded to his defensiveness.

But you didn’t. Mostly because up to that moment, everything was okay.

“You’ll keep throwing theories at me until I tell you to stop?” Hotch asked, and even if his voice was serious and perfectly professional, you could see a hint of a smile on the way his brows weren’t as furrowed as usual, a shy dimple appearing on the corner of his lips.

This, you thought as you observed his clear features, moving from side to side on the chair you’ve been sitting on, your sole duty being waiting for Garcia’s call, or a lead of any form, this is what I love the most about him. His almost smile.

The thought alone both intimidated you and made butterflies dance on your stomach. You loved him.

“I will” you agreed with a resolute nod, your face as serious as possible considering how bad you wanted to laugh, “That’s what I do when we don’t have leads, I try every possible outcome and make you smile every once in a while. Because we’re a team”.

Aaron shook his head, his smile a bit more apparent than before, “A team, indeed”.

“I hope we make a good one”.

You cringed visibly at Kate Joyner’s British accent, not failing to notice how Aaron immediately moved to look at her, a smile creeping up on his lips immediately as he met her eyes — and you felt your heart break even more at the realization that it was the same smile he always gave you.

“They liaised at Scotland Yard”, Emily had teased when you arrived, JJ gasping at the mischievous tone on her friend’s voice. You wondered if any of them noticed how your face fell by the minute, your eyes unable to match any of theirs, heart thumping against your chest because you had noticed how Aaron had looked at Kate.

He wanted her.

In a way he clearly had never — and probably would never — want you.

“Hotchner” you looked up immediately at his serious tone, furrowing your brows as you paid close attention at his words. You saw, with the corner of your eyes, when Derek and Rossi moved closer to the three of you, their faces as serious as Hotch’s, “Does it look like he could be one of our guys?”.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, his eyes following Hotch’s every move.

“We’ve got eyes on one of them” Aaron replied quickly, and for a second you hoped they’d be somewhere you could get them, that maybe this hell would be over in the next hour, maybe you were remotely close… “He’s on the subway platform at 59th and Lex”.

Your heart stopped beating at that moment, your breath immediately caught on your throat as you turned to face Kate, “We could be there” you muttered, your voice nothing more than an accusing whisper, “If we’d followed Derek’s plan, we could be there”.

“No, we should be there!” Derek retorted, his voice pulling out the anger you’ve managed to keep away from your words, and if your message hadn’t been clearly delivered to Kate, Derek’s had been — it was her fault.

“He’s got a gun” Garcia announced on the other side of the line, her voice wavering slightly at the new information.

“What do we do?” you asked, eyes moving past Kate to meet Hotch’s, “What are we supposed to do?”.

Aaron didn’t have time to reply before Garcia’s voice came through once more, “He shot her”.

God.

“Where the hell are the police?”, Kate’s voice was nervous when she next spoke, walking past you as if you weren’t there, her eyes not daring to meet yours, even if you knew that she didn’t care about the rage you were displaying. She cared about nothing other than Aaron’s impression on her, “This is Kate Joyner with the FBI. We have a murder suspect, subway platform. 59th and Lex”.

“He’s getting away!” Garcia announced, her voice clearly anguished.

Your mind started to work, all the training you ever had in your life — both for the BAU and other Units — coming back to you on that second, drawing you to move closer to the phone, you’re voice commanding, “Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?”.

“He’s heading west on 59th Street”.

“If he makes it to the park, we’ve lost him” Kate pointed, clearly worried.

The point was, Kate’s worry meant nothing to you anymore. Not when she was responsible for that; not when her pride got over her job and caused you to lose the only lead you could’ve had.

“And whose fault is this, Joyner?” you asked, your voice as venomous as you could make it sound, both your hands holding tightly at the wooden surface of the desk you’ve been sitting at, “Because from where I see it, is yours”.

The silence between your small group was almost palpable, and you could hear how someone took a harsh breath, as if your words had been like a slap to their face. You didn’t turn to see who had had that reaction, though — you knew the team had a very tunneled vision of you, that the fact you rarely snapped at people made them think you weren’t as fierce as Prentiss, even though they knew you were way more able to stand your ground than Spencer, usually without being overly rude at the source of your dismay.

That wasn’t the case, not that day.

You heard Aaron calling your name, and if it were any other day, maybe you’d have drawn your eyes off Kate to look at him, but you knew if you did this now, you’d backtrack — and God knew you didn’t want to.

“We could’ve had this guy!” you spat, pointing at the phone, “We just had to follow along with Morgan’s plan, which was a good plan, but Ms. I’m-better-than-anyone couldn’t handle hearing that someone was better than her!”.

“That’s not what happened—”.

“Oh, isn’t it?” You cut her off immediately, licking your lips for a second as your eyes kept glued on hers. Not blinking, not faltering. For the first time since you joined the FBI, you allowed the anger to consume you, because it was personal for you.

The way she looked at Hotch was personal for you.

The way they kept their bodies close was personal for you.

The way he had immediately stopped reciprocating you and your feelings whenever she was close, was personal for you.

The way she had the man you loved under her spell was personal for you.

“Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated” Kate retorted, her voice way calmer than yours.

“Maybe, but it was worthy a fucking shot!” you screamed, slapping your hands against the table, the sound calling the attention of the other Agents around, “Morgan said to put us at express stops. You wouldn’t need any new cop or to take the cops that are working from the streets, you just needed to assign us for this, and you decided not to, just because Morgan said so!”.

“It’s not your place to have this discussion”.

You were ready to spat back, maybe even to move closer to Kate and tell her that if she failed to do her job, then it was time someone else do it. But the voice that called you out wasn’t Kate’s.

You faltered, your voice suddenly getting caught on your throat as you turned to face Aaron, his eyes void of emotion as he looked at with you a grave expression, only one message written on his face: shut up, or you’ll see the consequences.

“My…” you stuttered, “My place?”.

“You need to back off” Aaron moved on, “We’re here to give the profile, that’s what we’ll do”.

“We have seven bodies, Aaron!” you said, but your voice had lost the strength it had when you were discussing with Kate, your anger turning into something way more painful. Painful for you, “Seven bodies. A woman was just killed on a subway platform because of her incompetence and you’re telling me to back off?”.

You hated how your voice broke on the last phrase, clear evidence that you were on the verge of tears. And you hated that he was a good enough profiler to see it, but he chose to ignore, because he was favoring her over you.

“You said it right, we have seven bodies” Aaron agreed, “Which is exactly why we need to stay focused”.

Derek snorted, drawing your attention back to him, “Pretty rich coming from the man who can’t stay focused on anything but her”.

As if it couldn’t hurt you more.

Aaron didn’t flinch, his eyes meeting Derek’s as he finished the almost inexistant space that separated the two of them, his voice low and passive — the tone he always used when talking with a suspect, “Take a walk. Now. You both”.

All you needed was for his eyes to meet yours for you to know you were done. With this case; with Kate Joyner; with Aaron.

“I’m out” you announced, messily grabbing your things and throwing them on your pockets, trying your best not to unravel then and there, where Kate could see how much she had affected you — how much their actions had affected you, “Out of this precinct. Out of this case”.

You walked past Aaron without sparing a glance at him, making a beeline towards the elevator. And for a second you thought about ignoring the way he called you, aware that you wouldn’t be able to look at him without the tears falling down your face, without you pouring your heart out to the man you ultimately loved, but that couldn’t reciprocate your feelings.

But you stopped, anyway. You stopped because a part of you hoped you’d see the man you’ve grown fond of in the past months; because you expected him to apologize, to say that you were right, or just say something… because if he didn’t, you might as well give up on him.

Ask me to stay, you pleaded, just ask me to stay.

“You can’t walk away from this case”.

You snorted at his cold words, and even with your back turned to him, you knew his face was still cold as stone, the Unit Chief, not your friend, “I can. And I will” you finally found it in yourself to turn and face him, the first tears falling down your face, “I’ll tell Strauss I couldn’t handle it, that it hit too close to home. Don’t worry, I’ll take the plane back to D.C tonight, I don’t want the jet and won’t make the Bureau pay for a bedroom for me. It won’t ruin your budget”.

“Why are you acting like that?” he asked, and you allowed yourself to bask on the way his own voice faltered, the way his closed demeanor changed at the sight of your tears, but it only lasted one second before you looked over his shoulders, finding Kate looking straight at you, clearly curious.

Suddenly there was no way you’d walk out without saying everything you needed to say.

“You really don’t know?” you questioned, “Okay, so I’ll tell you, Aaron” you made a pause, fidgeting with your necklace once again, trying to find the courage you needed to let it all out — everything and nothing at the same time, “I’m so in love with you, Aaron. I’ve been from the moment you started opening up to me. And to see you dismissing my opinion, acting like I’m nothing more than just an AIT who has no idea what she’s doing here, it hurts…” your voice was nothing but a mumbled hiss, the tears now staining your shirt, and you were unable to stop them, even when you violently wiped them away with the palm of your hand, “It hurts because I thought maybe… maybe you were feeling the same. Maybe you were opening up to me because you wanted me to be a part of your life, more than a friend, but a real partner… I thought we were a team, but I see I was wrong”.

You allowed yourself to look desperate, broken, out of place for one more second as you watched the way his demeanor changed as he processed every word you’ve said. You noticed with a heavy heart when it stopped, when he finally took in the meaning behind your words, and then…

Then you saw nothing.

And that only made your heart break even more.

“As I said, I was wrong” you repeated, pressing the elevator button violently, “I’m sorry, Agent Hotchner. I hope the case ends well. I’ll hand you my resignation once you’re back home”.

And without a word more, you left.

…

Prentiss called to let you know the case had ended only two days after you left — not that you wanted to know, but you had told Hotch you’d hand your resignation once he was back, so you were grateful she called. She didn’t ask if you were okay, because you clearly weren’t, and you were grateful for that, too (even if Derek and Penelope did call to know if you were feeling okay).

Aaron didn’t call.

He didn’t reach out.

Didn’t send a message or an email.

He was dead silent.

You had learnt from Derek that Kate Joyner had been killed on an explosion meant to hit her and Hotch, and that Morgan had driven him back to Quantico once Aaron was cleared from the hospital. He didn’t need to tell you, but you knew he had talked to Aaron (or either talked while Aaron listened) about what you said before leaving, about your feelings and how you were ready to resign because of the way he treated you; you also knew from his voice that he wanted you to ask what had been Hotch’s answer to their talk, but you didn’t want to know. Your heart was already too damaged to accept another blow.

It had been around the third day since the end of the case when someone knocked on your door. You had asked the team not to come over, not wanting them to see you on the state you were — hair disheveled, eyes puffy and red from crying —, and much less have to answer to questions you weren’t ready to answer; but you had been receiving a visit from your neighbor, Mr. Clark, who had caught you crying alone once and since then had been visiting you on the same hour everyday to make sure you were doing okay.

He was also helping you look for new jobs, even if he was trying to convince you to do something less dangerous than working for the FBI. It wasn’t working.

“Hello, Mr.—” you cut yourself off immediately when your eyes met the newcomer, your lips slightly parted as you took in his image, “Agent Hotchner?”.

You noticed how he flinched at your words, moving slightly back as if you had shot him straight on the heart, and not just called him by his title. Still, Aaron tried to keep himself perfectly composed (as always), one hand hiding something on his back as he fidgets with his fingers with the other.

If you hadn’t spent the past weeks crying over him, you’d have found it adorable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked sharply, your eyes scanning him one more time before you stopped to find his eyes, almost losing yourself on their brown — almost green, depending on the light — immensity.

“I wanted to talk to you” Aaron replied, rolling his eyes at the notice of how obvious his words were, “I wanted to apologize”.

You tilted your head to the side, your body clearly blocking his way inside your apartment — something you’ve never done before, “Okay. Done. You can go now”.

Your words were harsher than they’ve always been, void and certain, mostly because you knew you still loved him, and that if he asked to go inside, you’d allow. You’d buy anything he said in order to feed the fantasy of you two being more than friends, of the possibility of you being what you wanted you to be.

“Can we talk?” Aaron pleaded, taking a step towards you, “Please”.

“Why? So you can ignore everything I said at the precinct and cry over Kate’s death?” you spat out, and maybe you shouldn’t have talked about someone’s death with the coldness you’ve done, but you were honestly tired of Aaron and his bullshit, “I offered myself to help you, Aaron, because I knew you were suffering over your divorce. And if for some miracle Haley and you decided to go back together and try again, I’d swallow my feelings and let my heart break as I watch you and her trying to rebuild what you had, because I know how much you suffered over losing her. How much you miss being Jack’s father everyday…” you raised one finger, pointing directly at Aaron’s heart — the heart you still loved more than everything, “But I’m not stupid. I won’t let you step on my feeling to cry over another woman after I’ve told you how I feel, after I’ve pathetically confessed my love to you. I’m worthy more than that, Aaron! I deserve more than someone who only needs me when they’re emotionally vulnerable. I deserve to be loved, Aaron!”.

Aaron was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he observed the first tears rolling down. You thought he wouldn’t say anything, that maybe he’d only move away as you told him to, but he didn’t.

He took a step towards you, using his free hand to clear your tears, “I know” Aaron whispered, licking his lips, “And I should’ve thought about it, about your feelings, before putting mine on top of them. And I apologize, even if I know it’s not enough”.

No, it wasn’t. Because merely apologizing wouldn’t erase the memory of him observing as you poured your heart out and dismissing it on behalf of another woman. It wouldn’t erase the comments, and how he belittled you. It wouldn’t erase the pain you’ve felt on the plane back, or how pathetic Erin Strauss made you feel for abandoning the field over personal problems.

“I didn’t notice you were in love with me because I was trying to brush past the fact that I had fallen in love with you, of how inappropriate it would look like for Strauss, of how it could jeopardize your career…” Aaron cleared his throat, looking at the ground, “And how bad I felt over the fact that you were trying to help me with my marital problems, and I was too busy noticing how beautiful your smile is. I didn’t believe it was right for me to fall in love with you, because I didn’t deserve someone as pure as you”.

You remained silent; your arms crossed in front of your body. You knew there was something else he wanted to say, so you allowed him to.

“I imagine you heard someone talking about how… how much Kate looked like Haley”.

You snorted bitterly, and that seemed to attract his attention back to you, “Everyone. Even I thought that when I saw her”.

Aaron nodded slowly, this time his eyes didn’t move from yours, “When I saw her, all I could see was Haley. And I tried to convince myself that the fact I was shaken by that meant that I was still in love with Haley, and that I didn’t have to worry about my feelings for you, that I wouldn’t mess up our friendship because there weren’t feelings between us… but whenever I looked your way, or talked to you, I’d feel my heartbeat faster. And when I looked at Kate, I felt… empty. As if I was staring at an old ghost” he confessed, and you could see on his demeanor how confessing that pained him — either because he was confessing in a way that he wasn’t in love with Haley anymore, or because he felt bad speaking ill of the dead, you weren’t sure, “So I tried to force myself into find that old spark, the way I felt for Haley, something that would prove to me that I wasn’t in love with you, but I failed. And I failed you in the meantime”.

You took a sharp breath, hating yourself for the way you started to play with your necklace, “Where does it put us, Aaron?” you asked painfully, “Because I won’t go through that again”.

Aaron took his hand off his back, showing you the small Tifanny box he had been hiding, your breath getting immediately caught on your throat as you reached for the object hesitantly, “I’m not proposing to you” he clarified at the look on your face, “I couldn’t, not after just getting divorced… and I also can’t be in a relationship with you, now. I want to, but I need to settle things with Jack before I bring someone knew into my life, and I need to prove to you that I mean it when I say I love you”.

“Aaron…” you whispered, opening up the lid to reveal a golden lock pendant, one that you knew all too well — one you had nonchalantly commented with Aaron you wanted, but thought nothing of it, believing he hadn’t paid any mind at your words. He had, “I can’t… I can’t accept it, I—”.

“I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness, I’m not stupid to think you’d accept a gift in exchange of it” he cut you off, “But I want you to keep it as a promise that I’ll try to make it up to you every day, until you can forgive me. And that I’ll wait for you ‘til my last breath, if needed”.

You looked up at Aaron, nodding slowly.

You knew by the look on his face that you’d be the one leading them from that moment on, that if you wanted to just get the necklace and tell him to go, he’d go without missing a heartbeat. But you didn’t want it. Aaron was willing to try, to win your forgiveness and to respect your feelings in a way he hadn’t before.

“We’re a team” you muttered under your breath, opening up a smile.

So maybe you owed it to yourself to try, too.

Aaron gave you a similar smile, nodding, “We’re a team. The best team”.

And as you took a step to the side, inviting Aaron to enter your apartment, you knew you had already forgiven him.

Thank you for the request ✨

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner oneshot #anon <3

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pink3princess · 11 months

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aaron hotchner x reader hc

tw/cw: sfw AND nsfw, aaron x fem!reader, aaron x afab!reader, reader in their 20's, age gap

an: HES MORE THAN DADDY TO ME…HES LIKE…HES LIKE GRANDPA‼️‼️‼️☝🏼😨😨😭

masterlist

sfw

a hopeless romantic at heart

he knows it's unrealistic to fall for someone so fast, i mean he's a grown man and he has a kid!

but when he meets you, it's just so different

it's like he has a high school crush all over again

i feel like he would generally try to fight his feelings for you, like he's gone through so much, he doesn't know how to start again, especially with someone younger than him

sugar daddy vibes

he loves to spoil you- hands down has the biggest heart and the biggest wallet

ugh he takes you out to fancy dinners and LOVES taking you on vacation all over the place, he spares no expense with you :(((

maybe he regrets not spending enough time with haley and so now he spends as much time with you as he can

pays for your nails; while you are getting them done, he takes himself and Jack out to eat and gets you something to eat for after your appointment :,(

i think he's insecure about your age difference

he worries about how you should be with someone your own age and he’s just keeping you back (jokes on him I luv him and i love old man di-)

he likes to call you in the middle of the night

it's quiet, no one is out, no case to follow up on, no responsibility on his shoulders; it really seems like it's you and him without a care in the world

when you two are laying in bed together, he will be finishing up a report for work while you read

sometimes he asks you to read to him and within like 5 minutes of you reading he's out like a light :(((( he feels so comfortable around you IM-

also vice versa; when he reads to you his voice just soothes you to sleep and he finds it so cute >:(

nsfw

DADDY KINK HELLLOOO‼️‼️‼️ it's literally written on his forehead

size kink

power play/dynamics (idk he likes to be in charge)

dom/sub (we been knew)

#been in the drafts had to dust it off #criminal minds #cm #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #hotch x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n

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boldlyvoid · 11 months

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I Know Places: Mayhem

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader | Masterlist | AO3 link

Summary: After Aaron is hurt during a terrorism case in New York City, reader is faced with the undeniable truth that she is falling in love with her boss. While ensuring that he doesn't lose his hearing, she nurses him back to health despite her coworkers' knowing looks and comments. Navigating through her crush, knowing he's still in love with his ex-wife is going to be rough.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (mentions of rape and murder), hurt/comfort, Drug use tw as well as drug addiction mentions, unrequited love (so she thinks), There's only one bed

Word count: 15,088

From the moment Aaron was served divorce papers in the office, something about him changed. He was angry, which was to be expected. He was unpredictable as if he was ever predictable before… He was hot-headed, willing to jump down someone's throat at the drop of a hat, but he was also quiet. Withdrawn. He looked lonely.

She watched on from the sidelines, she brought him coffee on days where it seemed worse and sometimes even a baked good just to get him to smile. She offered to partner with him at the precincts, share hotel rooms, and drive with him just for the chance to get him to talk.

Keeping it inside wasn’t helping.

And at first, he didn’t say anything. Little by little, as he realized she wasn’t going to share his feelings with everyone on the team, he began to tell her things.

She stayed back to help him with paperwork, he picked her up in the mornings so they could get coffee and treats together, and he even called her on days off just because he wanted to. They’d stay up for hours, in their own beds, sharing little stories about growing up and failed relationships and sometimes they would say absolutely nothing… it was nice just to know the other was there. Her favourite moments, however, were when he’d put on the same show she had on in the background just so they could talk about it.

She went from wishing he had someone to talk to, to being his friend and keeping all his secrets. It was nice…

And then they went to New York.

Kate Joyner, the lead agent on this case, was a spitting image of his ex-wife, Haley. It was almost scary how much they looked alike, and of course, Aaron has known her for years. He met her at Scotland Yard and they “Liaised” whatever the fuck that meant. Everyone was skeptical of her at first, even the beat cops on the task force… for them, it was the way she acted more important than she was, her posh accent and the overall misogyny of hating successful women.

For Y/N, it was the way Aaron looked at her. The way he doted on her and agreed with her every move. The way he’s sticking to her side like a lost puppy and how he doesn’t see anything wrong with his new behaviour.

It was at this moment that she realized her boss wasn’t just her friend. Not even her best friend. She had a crush on him and the mere idea of him liking someone else was sending her into a tizzy.

She found herself agreeing with Derek Morgan more than ever before on this case, not because she knew he was right (he was) but because it meant she could go against Agent Joyner. She was argumentative for a very petty reason, but at the end of the day, Derek was right. Kate was on her high horse, she wanted to stay in the good graces of the FBI and keep her job. And that cost her another life.

This case is unlike anything she’s seen yet. Unlike the others, she hasn’t been on the team long enough to have seen one of everything. Morgan, however, has been. From being a Chicago cop, on the bomb squad and 3rd in command at the BAU, he’s seen almost everything.

When they touched down in NYC, there had been 5 victims already, the local FBI was on the scene as it was protocol, but the BAU was a last-ditch effort to crack this case. Each victim had been shot, point blank in the head and the unsub was able to flee each time without being seen. Those who did get a glimpse only saw a black hoodie. Nothing more. There was nothing to tie the victims together, each killed in a different neighbourhood, no common victimology, no sexual component, no robbery and no geographical connection. It was as if they were random. Like the unsub didn’t care who he killed, he just wanted the thrill of killing.

He’s killing roughly every two days which doesn’t give the investigation team much time to come up with theories or ways to catch him in the act, between kills. The press is having a field day, the civilians of New York are terrified and the police are stumped. It hasn’t been this bad since the Son of Sam in ’76.

When they arrived, Agent Reid was quick to get a geographical profile up and running to asses the unsub's comfort zone. Hells Kitchen, Murray Hill, Lower East Side, Chinatown and East Harlem were all marked on the board. Using anti-geographical profiling, they note that the unsub is organized, he strikes at the same time of day he knows where the cameras are placed and that all means he’s doing his own surveillance. These spots aren’t random. They mean something to him. And because of how calculated he is, they know he’s a need-based killer. He’s killing outside of his comfort zone… meaning every other neighbourhood in the city has a reason to be terrified.

The 6th victim is killed while holding a pretzel, hailing a cab. By the time the public registers that there has been a gunshot and taken cover for themselves, the unsub has faded into the crowd once again. Not before leaving a tarot card, this time.

Death.

It’s the same card the D.C sniper left at the scene of one of his scenes. Either this unsub has no idea its spiritual meaning of rebirth and transformation… or he has a deep understanding of Behavioural Profiling and he’s toying with them. They’re going with the latter theory.

They also brought along their technical analyst this time. Penelope Garcia. She’s been looking over all of the surveillance footage from each crime scene, including the most recent. With her physically there with them, she’s able to run her own software and programming through the old-ass NYPD tech and she’s figured out something huge. There isn’t just 1 unsub. There are two.

They’re not killing together, which is weird. From previous killing teams, they know it’s highly unusual for them to do things apart from one another, which leads them to suspect they might be dealing with a gang. There could be more than 2 unsubs and until they know more, Derek wants them out on the streets so they can be even more hyper-vigilant.

Kate, however, didn’t like that suggestion.

“These guys hit at midday,” he reminded her and ranted until Hotch cut him off. “We could target ingress and egress to particular neighbourhoods, position us near express stops. 14th, 42nd, 59th—

“Morgan, Morgan stop. It’s not your call.”

Instead of taking Morgan's great advice. They went back to their hotels for the night.

Aaron had noticed that Y/N was being strange. He could sense her distaste for Kate and thus, he distanced himself from her for the case. He had his own hotel room, so did their other leader, David Rossi, and almost everyone else shared. Reid went with Morgan and she was supposed to room with JJ, only JJ’s boyfriend showed up… she’s pregnant and he couldn’t stand the thought of not being with her during a case like this.

It just drove home to her even more just how alone she was.

In the morning, Aaron stayed with Kate at the precinct and Y/N huffed about it. Instead, she stuck herself to Spencer’s side as they gave their profile that morning, to the news, the police and the rest of the FBI agents at 26 Federal Plaza.

Just as they finish their talks, the unsub hits their 7th target. At 59th and Lex. Right where Morgan predicted they’d hit next. Thus causing the two men to shout at each other in front of everyone in the building.

“I said to put us at express stops, 14th, 42nd, 59th,” his voice gets louder with each number. “And that’s exactly where they hit!”

“It’s not your place to have this discussion!” Hotch shouts back.

“My place?”

“You need to back off,” Hotch warns.

“We’ve got seven bodies, man!”

“Which is exactly why we need to stay focused.”

“Focused?” Derek all but laughs in his face. He drops his voice, steps in closer to Aaron and looks past him to Kate before continuing. “‘Cause from where I’m standing, all you seem to be focused on is her.”

“Take a walk. Now,” Aaron matches his tone and then turns away from him.

The whole office is quiet. Not a single sound is heard. It was true. Aaron’s been uncharacteristically following this woman’s lead since the moment they got there… even before when he talked her up on the jet over.

Y/N catches his eye, silently relaying that she agrees with Derek… he’s not wrong. Even Hotch knows it.

This 7th kill brings forth the knowledge that there is a 3rd shooter. You see, one of the programs Penelope has takes the height of the unsubs on the camera, across the 7 videos there are 3 different heights. They’re definitely working with a team but not a gang. They haven’t reached out to the police, the media or given any clue as to what their mission is yet, either.

—

The next morning, Y/N is sent out onto the streets, partnered up with one of NYPD’s finest. Detective Cooper. He’s respectful, loyal and kind. They get along like a house on fire. He’s one hell of a flirt, but he doesn’t mean anything he says because he’s happily married. He’s funny, too, making her laugh as they walk through the streets, patrolling 14th Street, downtown and Brooklyn, baby.

There’s a gunshot which makes their heads turn in the direction from which they heard it. It takes seconds for them to start moving towards it, and even quicker for Y/N to press the button inside her jacket sleeve to talk with Penelope in the surveillance booth. “Garcia?”

“I’m on it, I’m on it,” she rushes through the speaker in Y/N’s ear. Searching hundreds of cameras for the unsub. “16th and Broadway! He’s running east on 16th!”

“He’s headed our way,” she says, tapping Cooper's arm and taking off with him down the block.

The unsub sees them and starts running the other way, they both draw their weapons and sprint even faster after him. Cooper is quick on his feet, he must’ve been a runner in his high school days as he’s leaps and bounds in front of her.

The unsub darts down an ally, runs halfway and waits for Cooper to turn the corner and bang. He shoots Cooper in the chest. Having seen it happen, Y/N rounds the corner with her finger on the trigger and pulls it, twice, as soon as her sights are on the unsub. He goes down before he can even get a second shot out.

She takes his weapon from him, makes sure he’s going to stay down and rushes back to Cooper. “Cooper!! Garcia, we’ve got an officer down on 16th west of union square!” She shouts into her mic.

“let me see,” she instructs Cooper to lay back and let her look at the wound. It’s on his left shoulder, bleeding like a son of a bitch. “Okay. You’re okay it’s going to be okay.”

“Garcia, can you see us?” She shouts into the mic again. “We have an officer down!”

She presses down on his wound, “Cooper stays with me, It’s going to be okay.” She assures him. Keeping her eyes on his until they hear sirens approaching. “See, it’s all good, you’re going to be fine.”

The ambulance arrives first, one paramedic attends Cooper, and the other attends the unsub. Not long after, Morgan, Rossi, Reid and JJ are arriving on the scene together. Cooper lost a lot of blood but they think he’ll make it. He’s loaded up and taken to the hospital as a second ambulance arrives purely for the unsub. He’s not going to make it. All the answers to the questions they had, died with him.

“I should’ve had to shoot him,” she says to herself mostly. Trying to rationalize what just happened.

“he shot a cop, Y/N you did what you had to do,” Derek reminds her.

“I know… I just mean, he was ahead of us. He could’ve gotten away but he stopped. He waited for Cooper to round that corner. He shot him on purpose.”

“Tell me about his behaviour, was he panicked? Was he winded?”

“His hands were steady,” she recounts. “His eyes were dead calm. I mean, these guys have been hyper-vigilant. Organized! They do pre-surveillance. I mean, what are the odds they would shoot someone only two blocks from where me and Cooper are standing?”

“You mean he deliberately caught someone where he could be caught?” JJ asks.

“What if he did? What if he chose this spot because we were here?”

“What are you thinking?” Derek asks, wanting to know where she could possibly take this.

“He had no ID on him. He waited until we caught up to him, he was strangely calm, I-I-I, it, it was like suicide by cop!” She sums it all up with a stutter.

“Why? Why would he do that?” Derek asks.

“I don’t know? Maybe to make us think everything was finished?” She hypothesizes. “What if they don’t know we know there are 3 of them and this was their way of getting us to think we did it. We got the bad guy. We can go home now. What if they want us to back down so they can do something worse?”

“We need to go back through the profile and figure out what we missed,” Derek announces, agreeing with her that something is off.

Hotch and Kate show up mere seconds later, dipping under the crime scene tape and rushing over to their little group. Rossi and Reid, who were standing over the body of the unsub, make their way over too. It's a team huddle.

“We think we might have a serious problem,” Rossi announces.

“What is it?” Hotch asks.

“We have multiple unsubs, they’re disciplined, they’re using counter-surveillance. They know the FBI movements, there’s a hierarchy. What does that usually equal?” He poses it back to Hotch.

“Terrorism,” he answers.

They get off the streets then, regrouping back at Federal Plaza to go over the newest findings and re-profile the unsubs. Reid explains that these murders simulate a bombing. They station someone to watch the scene and gauge police response time, at which point they know when to bring in a second bomb. Their ideal situation is to take out a first round of civilians and a second round of first responders. they’ve seen this before, just never like this.

Something bigger is coming. How soon? They don’t know.

“I think they’re targeting points of entry,” reid points out, referring to his map. “Each murder has taken place at a bridge or tunnel.”

Y/N steps up closer to the board. “Holland tunnel, midtown tunnel, Manhattan bridge.”

“If a bomb went off, the emergency response would shut down any ability in or out of the city,” JJ reminds them. “It’s like people would be trapped on the island.”

“Keep in mind it’s still a theory, like any profile,” Aaron says, calming their nerves before they all panic.

Just then, Garcia calls Morgan's phone. “We’ve got a problem. I went ahead and checked all 4,468 cameras and they’ve hacked into the surveillance system. They’ve got footage of every crime scene. They’ve been watching since the beginning.”

“How could we not have caught this?” Hotch asks.

“They were smart. They hacked in one camera at a time, it wasn’t system-wide, I had to check each camera one at a time.”

“And this is from every crime scene?” Y/N asks, making sure she has it right in her mind.

“I’m afraid so… they hacked into 1 camera at every scene. The one with the best angle, we only caught it because Lisa here, my number 2, was checking the days after each murder and noticed the shots were different. The angles changed so minutely that you wouldn’t notice a difference unless you were zoned in on that camera 24/7.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Derek says. “Call us if you find anything else.”

“So much for theory,” Dave retorts.

“We need to hit the ground running,” Kate stands, visibly anxious about what this means to her job.

She’s so close to being fired and replaced, she’s been warned they want to replace her with Derek Morgan. It’s why the two of them have been butting heads. She wants to get ahead of his before all of New York City is up in flames and her head is on the chopping block.

“Reid,” Hotch calls his attention as they enter the room. “Take Y/N go brief Port Authority police.”

“Yes sir,” they both agree at the same time.

“JJ I want you on the phone running point with the Governor, Dave will you go talk to the commissioner? And Morgan, I want you to brief Homeland Security. Kate and I will meet with the Mayor.”

Everyone starts to get up and get going, “We’ll meet back here as soon as possible. Stay alert, stay vigilant. With them knowing were here, we could become a target.”

She lets Reid drive, throwing him the keys as they walk to the elevators. They’re the first to leave. They make it 6 blocks from the plaza when they hear the news over the radio. 10-80. That’s cop talk for an explosion. They slow down, reid pulls them to the side of the road and they listen closely. “Please note that 10-80 was a car bomb.”

Reid flips on the sirens, all the traffic on the road comes to a halt and he u-turns out of there faster than she’s ever seen him move a vehicle. With their lights and sirens going, they run every red light, they make it back to Federal Plaza and rush up to see the rest of the team. The whole time, she’s on the phone, trying to get at least 1 member of the team but there’s no service. “New York of all places should have service!” She shouts, slamming her flip phone shut again.

“we’re here,” Reid announces, throwing the car in park.

They rush back upstairs, it’s just Rossi that’s left in the building. “A car bomb?” Y/N says as she makes it to Rossi’s side. “Did they say where?”

He shakes his head. “No, and the cell towers are down. This is what we’ve been waiting for. We’re looking at 8 suicide bombers that are about to hit each and every location of the murders. Reid, I need you to make a list and get it to homeland security and quick. Tell them to pour troops into all those sites. This isn’t a false alarm. This is terrorism.”

“Actually, if we’re correct, it’ll be 16 suicide bombers,” he reminds Rossi. “One for the civilians. One for the first responders.”

“Fuck,” Rossi mumbles under his breath. Referring to the TV for a moment as the first news reporters have arrived on the scene.

The woman on screen holds her hand to her ear, listening to what information she has. “I’m hearing that the explosion was a car bomb. The car in question was a black SUV just outside 26 Federal Plaza.”

They all know what that means. Hotch was right.

Rossi presses the quick dial button for the CCTV command post, getting in touch with Penelope as she returns to the computers. “Can you see anything?”

“I literally just sat down sir, give me one moment,” she says as they hear furious typing. “Where am I looking?”

“they said the explosion was a Black SUV just outside Federal Plaza—

“Oh no, you don’t think—

“I need you to look, Penelope,” he pushes her back to the main focus. “Can you see anything yet?”

“Hold on I have 300 camera angles and— have you heard from anyone?”

“I’m here with Reid and Y/L/N, but we haven’t heard from anyone else.”

“Oh no, oh no no no,” she chants to herself as she keeps looking. “Sir, I’ll call you when I know more I cannot multi task like this.”

“Thank you, Garcia.”

Until then they just have to sit and wait… just not in this building.

A Critical incident command centre is set up at 700 Hudson, they’re rushed out of 26 fed, down the back stairwell and out the door. A shuttle bus comes to pick them all up in waves, and a bomb sniffer dog is there too, checking the shuttle busses before they leave, they even check Reid and Y/N’s SUV before they head out themselves. They stare out the windows, trying to get any look they can at the scene but they don’t pass it. They’re completely in the dark as to what is going on.

When they make it to the command centre, JJ is pulling up right behind them.

“oh my god, JJ,” Y/N wraps her up in a hug. “Have you heard from the others?”

“My phone isn’t working,” she complains. “Come on, let's head inside. I’m sure there’s a news helicopter out by now and live footage from the scene.”

Upstairs, the phone is ringing like crazy, Dave rushes to it and hits the speaker. “Hello?”

“Rossi, open the computer I have live footage from the blast!”

At the same moment, Y/N turns on the TV then to see helicopter live footage of the scene. It shows Aaron and Kates SUV in flames, Kate on the ground and Aaron covered in blood hovering over him.

She almost loses her mind thinking he’s hurt. She starts to leave, grabbing her things and searching for the keys in Reid's bag but it’s not there. “What are you doing?” He stops her.

“Aar—Hotch, he—he needs us? Shouldn’t we go to him?”

“We profiled that the first attack was to garner a response from the police, if the police and ambulance show up there will be a second bomb taking out all the first responders, we can’t go,” he reminds her.

“But he’s hurt and bleeding? Shouldn’t someone go to him? Let me go to him!”

“Y/N… we can’t,” Spencer looks her dead in the eyes, all the compassion in his soul seeping out through his own, he knows why she wants to run to him. But he can’t let her.

“Hey, hey look,” JJ calls their attention back to the TV to show Derek running up to him. “Look, Dereks there, he’s going to help him until we know it’s safe to bring in the emergency services.”

She quickly makes her way back to the TV, watching with a hand over her mouth, she’s beyond worried. Anxious doesn’t even begin to cover the sinking feeling in her chest. Kate’s dying. He has to watch a second woman who looks like his wife leave him in just a few short months. This is going to kill him if another bomb doesn’t.

Penelope has eyes on the crime scene, she calls both JJ and Derek, allowing the team to have some form of communication altogether. She goes back on the security footage, and she notices the bomber place the bomb and sit around and watch it go off… and then he returns to the scene.

He was the same kid currently “helping” Hotch.

He even called 911 for him… the next thing they see on the TV is Derek take off after the unsub and a single ambulance pulls onto the scene.

“Can I go now?” Y/N asks the rest of them.

“Yeah, you can” Rossi agrees. “Penelope you find out what hospital they’re going to through the dispatch system and Y/L/N’ll meet them there.”

“Got it, sir… but I’m not seeing anyone dispatched to Hotch’s location?” She explains. “There’s a strict order not to go… they must’ve gone of their own volition.”

“Okay… can you follow the ambulance on the cameras?” JJ suggests, “Find out what way they’re going and cross that with the nearest hospital.”

“I can do that,” she says, furiously typing away. “Yeah, I can do that…. Okay, they’re headed uptown…”

She wants to run. She feels like she could chase down the ambulance and meet Aaron there in a matter of seconds, that’s how much adrenaline is rushing through her veins.

“Saint Barclays!” Penelope shouts once she has it. “Go, go now!”

“Spence, keys!” Y/N shouts to him and he throws the keys her way. She catches them and then she’s off. She doesn’t even take the elevator, she runs down 6 flights of stairs, pushes open the fire exit doors and books it for their SUV.

Once inside she has the car on, her seatbelt fastened and her lights and sirens on. She speeds down the street, whipping the SUV around corners, she haphazardly comes to a halt in the emergency parking lot and throws the car in park. She leaves her door open and runs inside the emergency room.

She stops the first nurse she sees, “Hi, hi, I’m looking for agent Hotchner? He just came in he— oh my god,” she notices him. “Is he okay?”

“So far we’ve diagnosed him with acute acoustic trauma in his right ear and the doctor is working on pulling shrapnel from his left leg. But he’s going to be okay. He passed out shortly after arriving, my guess is that the adrenaline didn’t allow him to realize how hurt he was and so the blood loss and the equilibrium challenges from his ear injury all caught up to him all at once.”

“Okay,” she calms down a bit. “And the agent he brought in?”

“She’s in surgery,” the nurse explains. A solum look on her face. This won’t end well.

“Can I sit in there with him?” She asks, pointing to Aaron’s little corner of the ER.

She shakes her head, “Not until the doctor is done. When he wakes up he might be a little scared and confused, I wouldn’t want you getting hurt as well.”

“Okay…” she understands, so she waits there, resting against the nurses station and watching over him from afar.

Morgan comes rushing in not long after. She’s too busy listening to him talk to the nurses to notice that Aaron is up, he’s confused and yelling from his ear injury. He rips off his vital cords, and there’s an elongated beep ringing through the ER as the nurses try to get him to sit down.

“Agent Hotchner—

“Aaron,” she cuts the doctor off and rushes in front of him. Places her hands on his chest and looks up into his eyes, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Calm down… you’re at the hospital. Kate is in surgery, Derek is here too.”

“I need my clothes,” he says in a softer tone. “Where are my clothes?”

“We’ll get you your go bag, just calm down a second,” she ushers him back to his bed and makes him sit down.

“Has anything happened since the bomb went off?” He asks, looking past her to Derek.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“And Sam?” He asks.

“He’s dead.”

That must be the kid who detonated the bomb and stayed back to pretend to help… he just wanted to see the results of his destruction.

“The team needs to be here, we need to discuss this together… I don’t understand why they’d just set off one bomb and in a place none of the other attacks happened?” He says, trying his best to rationalize it but he can’t figure it out.

“I’ll call the others… Y/N?”

“I’ve got him,” she smiles over to Derek. “Go.”

She turns back to Aaron with a small smile, she looks to his ear which is packed with cotton and the dried blood that dripped down his neck. “Excuse me?” She grabs the attention of one of the nurses. “Can I have some antibacterial wipes, I just want to clean the blood off him?”

“Sure,” the nurse says before disappearing for a moment. “Here,” she hands her a few things to get him all cleaned up.

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Thanks,” Aaron adds. Feeling sorry for reacting the way he did moments ago. “You don’t have—

“Well, I’m going to,” she cuts him off. She peels open one of the little packets and unfolds the wet wipe inside of it. “I’m sorry if this stings at all.”

She wipes the blood off his ear and neck, she tilts his head back a bit and she starts on the marks on his forehead and cheeks, her heart aches for him. He reaches out and holds her around her hips, letting his shoulders drop as he relaxes a bit… and then he rests his head against her chest and hugs her.

She rubs his back, “You’re okay…” She rests her cheek on the top of his head for a moment. Resisting the urge to kiss his head, instead, she waits for him to pull back and then she smiles at him. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know who I’d talk to anymore if I lose you.”

“You’d need something a lot stronger than a bomb to get rid of me,” he teases, finding his humour again.

She manages to laugh. “Okay, big guy, I’m glad to see your humour is still intact… how’s your leg?”

He looks down at it, his hospital gown rests at his thigh, and he can see the bandages on his calf. “Okay, I didn’t realize I hurt it?”

“Shrapnel,” she explains. “They got it all.”

“That’s good.”

Derek comes back around the corner then. “The teams on the… way? You two wanna tell me something?” He teases.

“Oh hush,” Y/N waves him off. “I’d worry if it was you or Reid or JJ too.”

“Not Rossi?”

“He barely ever steps into the way of danger,” she reminds them. “He’s too old for this shit.”

She takes a step back from Aaron, his hands fall back to rest on his own legs, and he sighs. “Any news?”

Derek shakes his head. “None. Homeland security is about to call everyone off, they think this was all a false alarm.”

“They’d be stupid to do that,” Aaron remarks.

“I know… it doesn’t make any sense?”

“Who did that Sam kid keep calling? Garcia said that there weren’t any ambulances dispatched to his area, how’d they know to get there?” Y/N asks.

“I don’t know… let me call Garcia,” Derek suggested, stepping out of the room again.

“The hospital's on a bypass,” Aaron looks up at her with horrified eyes. “The secret service is here, they didn’t want to let us in but… oh, god, I drove the bomb right in here.”

“We don’t know that,” she tries to push his worries away.

“We do. We do know that. They knew we’d catch on to them, they knew we’d stop all first responders from actually responding or run the risk of having the first wave taken out as well. This was their way to get to a presidential target.”

The team comes rushing in then, JJ has his go bag in her hands, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’ll change, Y/N tell them what I told you,” he orders, ushering her out of the room and closing the curtain on himself so he can change.

She repeats Aaron's thoughts, and Derek supports his theory by explaining that Sam never called 911. He called the same number 9 times, a disposable phone, that was destroyed around the same time Sam died. They planned this. This is their end game. They had to get moving.

Derek, JJ and Rossi head down to the garage while Y/N Hotch and Reid head up to the operating floor to warn the secret service. The hospital begins evacuations, Derek finds a bomb in the ambulance and Penelope puts a jammer on the cell phone signal so it can’t go off while they think of the next steps… then Derek gets the brave idea to drive the ambulance out of there, towards a clearing, all by himself.

It’s stupid, it’s reckless… but it works.

They find the unsub, the paramedic that Hotch drove in with, sitting down in the ambulance bay, knife to his throat and phone detonator in his hand. He’s waiting for a reconnection. One that will come in 10 seconds. But they’re already onto him… he has no choice but to end his life or go to prison. So he picks up a blade and slits his own throat.

The case ends with 8 dead civilians, an injured cop, 3 dead suspects and the death of Kate Joyner.

Aaron leaves with a broken heart and ringing in his ear that doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

The majority of the team heads home. JJ leaves as soon as she can, newly pregnant and with the love of her life. Derek, Reid and Rossi all head back in the bureaus jet… Y/N offers to drive Aaron home. The pressure in the air would hurt him in her flight and taking the train home alone would be sad, so she drives him.

They drive in silence most of the way. He has a few naps, waking up only to drink some water and take more medicine. She expected to be bored, but keeping him safe, making sure he gets home okay, that’s more than worth it.

—

Back at Quantico, Aaron’s placed on a medical leave of absence while he recovers from his ear injury. He’s not happy about it. Not at all. He isn’t allowed to join them on cases, and he’s not even supposed to come into the office until he has a doctor sign off that he’s good to go back into the field… but that doesn’t stop him.

He needs something to do. He’s so bored in his bland little apartment that he comes into the office just to hang out with Anderson and help with paperwork.

He has a couple MRI’s lined up in a week to check the damage to his ear, it still hasn’t stopped ringing which he doesn’t quite mind… it’s the pain that bothers him. He’s been given a prescription for T3s, which worry Y/N just a little. They worry Reid a lot.

Everyone in the office stays up to date with Hotch’s condition, they all talk about it like he’s their father in a nursing home, prescribed something new. It’s sweet how much they care, but Aaron hates being doted on. He hates that people see him as weak even if it’s just for a little while. It sucks not being the leader they’ve come to know and love. But the thing about love is that it doesn’t stop once you get hurt, it just gets bigger.

They’re talking on the phone again too, he holds the receiver to his good ear and he turns on subtitles for their shows so he can still follow along. Every now and then he has her repeat something, and he scolds himself, saying he feels like he’s 85 and senile but she loves it.

“Hey, it just means you actually care about what I have to say.”

“I do care,” he reminds her. “And I appreciate how much you care about me too… I almost forgot what it’s like to have someone care about me so much.”

“Has she reached out at all since the accident?” She pries.

“She brought Jack over the other day for a few hours, he just wanted to cuddle and show me his toys which was nice… Haley sat in the corner and read a magazine the whole time. She didn’t even ask about it.”

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” her heart breaks for him. She knew that the divorce wasn’t his idea, not even the slightest… he still loved her. He probably always would.

He brushes it off, asking her about their latest case instead. She told him everything, from the time they gathered in the briefing room until the flight back home, she recounted it all. He just hummed along, letting her know he was following, he didn’t ask many questions, seemingly because he knew if he just listened longer they’d be answered.

It becomes a habit after that. He calls at the end of a case just to ask her how it went. He knew he could read about it in the paperwork later, but it was more rewarding this way.

He has 1 week left until his ear is healed completely, he’s convinced the doctor to let him go back to work if he takes it easy, which means once they get back from their current case, he’ll be back out there.

He calls her at 11pm Virginia time, knowing she’s just an hour behind him in Illinois. They’re done with the case but staying 1 more night just to sleep it off. He expects her to be in her own hotel room, away from the others, able to take his call… she isn’t. She’s sharing with JJ.

She sees his name on her caller ID and takes her phone with her to the door, “I’m just going to take this I’ll be right back,” she assures JJ.

“Do you have your room key cause I don’t want to get up and let you back in, I’m exhausted,” JJ asks.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” she rushes out as she leaves the room. “Hello?”

“Hey, sorry were you asleep?”

“No, I’m sharing with JJ tonight, we were talking,” she shares.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, how are you? How’s the ear?”

“Good… I can go back to work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She repeats, concerned as all hell. “Aaron, you still have a tear in your ear, if you’re not careful you’ll lose hearing forever. It’s not a joke. Don’t you want to be able to hear? We can catch a few more bad guys without you. It’s okay?”

“I need to come back to work before I lose my mind,” he responds with a bit of an attitude. “If I have to sit in my tiny ass apartment and stare at these white walls any longer, I will go crazy.”

“I rather you mad than deaf,” she explains, trying to keep herself together. “If you come back to work you’re taking it easy. I’m going to stick to your side like glue, you hear me? I’m not letting this get worse.”

“Fine, mom,” he teases her. “Whatever you wish.”

“I thought you liked that I cared?” She teases back. “You’re my best friend, who else am I going to talk to if you can’t hear me?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” he assures her. “It’ll be fine.”

—

The Angel Maker case is one she studied at the academy. Victims were beaten with the assailants' bare hands until they were dead. Post-mortem stab wounds were found in each victim's torso, made by a screwdriver, each victim's wounds in a different pattern. Some with more holes than the others, as if he was experiencing different amounts of rage with each woman. There were also signs of sexual assault. He completely abused these poor women after death. It was a good thing they caught him.

He died a year ago yesterday, by lethal injection at the prison in Lower Cannon, Ohio. They thought they were done with him as soon as he was lowered into the ground…

Their newest victim, Delilah Grennan, was bludgeoned to death with what is assumed to be a hammer. She too, was stabbed in the chest with a screwdriver. She was also raped. Only the weird part was the semen left at the crime belonged to Cortland Bryce Ryan. The Angel Maker himself.

“So this unsub is a weaker guy?” Derek proposes. “Or at least someone who perceives themself as weak?”

“He brought along the hammer to make sure the job was done,” Y/N adds, staring across the table at Aaron, watching him blink slowly. He’s in pain as if someone smacked him upside the head with a hammer and he’s keeping it to himself.

She almost misses Rossi’s hilarious joke about the elephant in the room… the dead man's seamen at the crime scene, that elephant, all because she’s staring at Hotch. “It’s obvious someone planted the DNA at the scene,” Aaron adds, his voice small yet powerful at the same time.

“In the victim…” Derek reminds him.

“That’s one theory,” Spencer mumbles.

“There's another theory?” JJ asks, leaning over the back of his seat, wondering what’s going on inside that genius head of his.

“Think about who shares the exact DNA profile as another person,” he hypothesizes.

“Reid, you’re not seriously floating around the idea of an evil twin?” Morgan groans, knowing Reid all too well.

“No, I’m not. I’m floating around the idea of an Eviler Twin,” he raises his brows, proud of himself for that one. No one else finds it funny. “Traditionally the concept is a good twin and an evil twin. But in this case, it’s evil twin, Eviler twin.” He says it with more suspense this time.

No one says anything. Y/N just shakes her head, trying not to smile cause it was funny… and then Aaron grips his forehead and hunches forward, something is making his head hurt.

“JJ get him some water,” Y/N suggests right away, keeping her voice down. “Hey, where are your pills?”

He points to his bag over on the other side of the aisle and she’s quick to pull his bag over and start looking for them. She takes two from the little orange medication bottle and slides them across the table just as JJ brings him a glass of water.

“Were you actually cleared to fly?” Morgan asks in a similarly low tone.

Aaron swallows down his medicine and nods, he doesn’t say anything, he just rests his head back against the headrest and keeps his eyes closed. Everyone turns to Y/N instead, asking questions with their eyes. She shrugs, she doesn’t know what to say. Other than she knew this would happen.

—

It happens again when they’re digging up the original unsubs grave. The sound of the metal grinding as the front-end loader hauls the coffin out of the dirt, it’s way too loud for Aaron. He covers both of his ears and starts walking away, cowering from it all. She pats Reid's shoulder so he stays there and watches everything go down with the Sheriff and then she follows Hotch through the cemetery towards a tree that he’s leaned himself against.

She carefully runs her hand over his side, inside his suit jacket, “hey,” she whispers, getting him to look at her. He’s almost crying with how bad it hurts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers back.

“How am I supposed to look at you?” She argues, raising her voice a little. “You said you were cleared for duty. This isn’t what being cleared looks like. You’re going to go deaf if you don’t take it easy.”

“I’m going to go deaf if you keep yelling at me like I’m 4,” he spits back. Reaching into his pocket for more pills, she takes the bottle from him.

“Uh-uh, no. You had two 3 hours ago. It’s not time for more. Stop putting yourself in harm's way and relying on these,” she scolds him. She steps in even closer to him so it’s just them to hear. “I care about you. I’m not letting you ruin your life because you can’t find the patience to actually heal properly.”

She has her finger pressed into his chest as she stares him down, asserting her own dominance over him. “I’ll be administering these to you from here on out, got it?”

He nods. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good, now the noise has stopped over there, go look in the casket and then I’m driving us back to the precinct,” she says as she steps away from him and marches away.

Reid and the sheriff were the first to see that the casket was empty. Someone stole his body and god knows how long ago. Aaron takes once glance at the empty box and heads back towards the SUV, getting in the passenger side with a huff.

“What’s going on with him?”

“He’s not better. He wasn’t cleared because he’s healed. He was cleared because he’s a sweet talker and the doctor believed his bullshit,” she rants. “He’s taking his meds like candy, he’s not taking care of himself… so I let him have it. I’m going to drive us back, I’m administering his meds from now on. He’s going to actually heal whether he likes it or not.”

Reid follows her to the car, and as soon as they’re out of earshot of the local cops, he asks it. The question she’s been dreading hearing.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“What?” She turns to him with a faux look of confusion. “I mean, yeah? We all do. He’s our boss?”

“No. If this was just you protecting a co-worker, you would’ve done the same thing for me after Tobias Hankel…”

“Spencer,” her heart breaks for him. “I wanted to help you, we all did, but we didn’t know how.”

“You just did to him what you should’ve done for me,” he almost cries. “You should’ve reached into my bag and taken the drugs away from me… but you didn’t. Because I’m just a co-worker to you. Admit it. You love him.”

“I can’t,” she gives in. “He still loves Haley. I’ll never be her.”

“No, you can’t… but maybe he doesn’t want you to be,” Reid simplifies it. “maybe he needs you to be everything she wasn’t.”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “but we’ve gotta go… I’m sorry, by the way.”

“It’s okay,” he places his hand on her arm and they keep walking. “I’m not jealous or anything, I just sometimes get mad that it happened to me at all.”

“You can talk to me about it whenever,” she makes sure he knows that. “I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks,” he smiles at her, knowing she means it.

—

Turns out, they had difficulties putting Ryan to death. The whole town had a conspiracy that he never actually died… so finding his empty casket rocked the whole police station. Even in his last words, he said he’d come back to life to finish what he started. Putting the town at ease was their number one priority, aside from catching the new killer. Because a town in panic causes more crime, and more death than a single killer could even imagine.

Hotch proposes that the person who took Ryan's body is the same person doing these copycat killings. They had to’ve had help from inside the prison… probably the same person who was getting all his memorabilia and… fluids, out of the prison.

Yesterday, before they found the empty grave, Derek interviewed a guard at the prison, Guard Rutledge. Weird guy. Sketchy, Derek called him.

So, what are the odds that when Garcia— the ever-incredible computer genius who leaves no stone unturned— searches the web for Angel Maker memorabilia, the most common seller is a man by the name of Sid Rutledge? Slim pickings, but of course, our girl Garcia figured him out.

Morgan is tasked with repaying Rutledge another visit, this time, at his house. He takes Y/N along with him for backup and the two of them make it to his house just after nightfall.

They knock on his door, making their presence known, “Sid!! FBI Open up… come on, man, I just want to talk.”

She peers through his windows, there’s no movement in the main room and all his lights are still on. “I’m not seeing anything?”

Derek twists the doorknob, testing if he can get in before he breaks a door down (he’s good at that) and the door pushes wide open.

“That’s weird,” Y/N remarks. “Guys got two deadbolts and doesn’t bother to lock either?”

“Sid?” Derek calls out once more, unholstering his weapon and raising it. “Sid, we’re coming in.”

Y/N follows his lead, holding her weapon, her finger on the safety, she doubts she’ll have to use it but just in case… they search around his main living room, clear the kitchen and then head off towards the bedroom, down the hall. From the doorway Derek can see the man’s feet, he’s laying in bed.

“Wakey-wakey, my man,” he shouts as he pops into the room and finds something they didn’t expect.

Rutledge, laying in his bed with his pants off, in just his shirt and boxers, dead. Shot in the head and in the groin.

“That’s personal,” Derek says under his breath.

They put their guns away, Y/N pulls rubber gloves out of her back pocket and starts to put them on. In her other back pocket, a wad of evidence bags.

“Well yeah, he was selling the unsub memorabilia… Rutledge knew his face.”

“Now the unsub’s covering his tracks,” Derek says with a sigh. Putting his own gloves on before taking out his cell phone. “Hey, Hotch… we’re gonna need crime scene and the coroner at Rutledge's place… yeah. Shot twice, I’d say he’s been dead for at least an hour, maybe two. Yeah. See you back at the precinct soon. Bye.”

“You think he contacted the unsub after you visited him at the prison? Maybe he wanted them to get their stories straight?”

“That or he threatened him… he might’ve wanted the glory of catching a killer?” Derek proposes.

She looks around his room for a moment, nothing sticks out, so she heads to the bathroom. “God, it stinks in here… muggy and thick, too much old spice.”

“Really? He strikes me as an aqua velva kinda guy,” Derek teases.

In the bathroom, what does she find on the first shelf? That exact cologne. “you're good!”

“I’ve been at this longer than you, kid,” he teases. “Anything good in there?”

On the counter, there’s a bottle of pills. She suspects antidepressants or even allergy meds, nope. She reads the bottle and laughs, “No shit… Viagra.”

She makes her way back out into the room and holds the bottle up, “I think we’ve got this unsub all wrong.”

“Why?”

“He was taking Viagra. You only leave the door open and take this when you’re expecting someone. There doesn’t look to be a struggle in here either, his pants came off willingly… either Sid’s gay or our unsub is a woman.”

They bring their findings back to the police station, most of the crew has gone home for the night and the minimal, small-town, night shift has clocked on. Y/N and Derek walk in on JJ and Reid sitting together at the table, Hotch pouring himself more coffee and Dave on the phone in the back room.

“we’ve got news,” Derek announces.

“He was taking Viagra,” Y/N places the evidence bag on the table. “I sent the crime scene photos we took to the computer, you’ll see on there that there wasn’t a struggle. He was shot in the head and in the junk… he was expecting the unsub for sex.”

“I knew it!” Reid lets out a cheer, almost too loud for their little bubble. “When you were gone I was suggesting that. There’s an abnormally high amount of female fans of serial killers, the way they love these killers is fascinating, there are endless lengths that these women will go to, to feel closer to the killers. Buying his sperm, continuing his killings… to a psychopath, in her mind, doing those things would bring her closer to him. A woman in love, no matter how her brain works, would do anything for the man she loves.”

Y/N just looks at reid with wide eyes, feeling called out in a sense. Of course, he’d come to that conclusion after their talk and what he’s seen. She just hopes Aaron doesn’t realize it too. She’s not ready to lose a friend because of her stupid crush on him.

—

On their 3rd day in Ohio, they finally give the profile. They fill the cops in on their theory and in doing so, they calm the nerves of the town thinking a ghost is on the loose, killing these women. It takes up an hour of their morning, they answer every question available and then start narrowing down suspects.

JJ gets a list of women who visited Ryan in prison before he was put to death and Reid goes back through his fan mail to ascertain a pattern that would lead them to the unsub. Alongside that list of women who visited Ryan, they also found out that Sid Rutledge worked at a woman’s prison. He had a history of smuggling things in and out for sexual favours. Ie. they found the reason why he was shot in the dick.

They have two main suspect pools, insane fans and wronged women. Finding the cross over… that would be where the unsub is.

Y/N and Rossi are sent out on the road, their job is to interview the woman who visited Rutledge and wrote him. Most of them were crazy, basically harmless and not worth the time. Their last interview of the day, however, she— she was different.

Shara Carlino, she visited the angel maker 70 times and even bought herself a home overlooking the prison. She’s quite beautiful, you’d never know she’s fucked in the head… within those 70 visits, she was subject to their rigorous strip searches and 3-hour wait times just to see him for 10 minutes.

“That’s Two hundred and 10 hours of waiting and just 11 hours of face-to-face time with the love of her life?” Y/N does the quick math in her head and then shakes it.

“Would you endure that for a man?” Rossi teases.

“No… I’m more into catching the killers than fucking them.”

“Amen, sister,” Rossi jokes, knocking on Shara’s door.

“Hello?” She answers, just as pretty as her photo. Red hair, pleasant smile. She’s dressed up like she’s ready to go out… “can I help you?”

They hold their badges up, “Hi, yes, we’re with the FBI we’re looking into the recent copycat murders and we’d like to speak to you about Cortland Ryan.”

She invites them in, and offers them tea or coffee but neither of them takes a cup. They sit down at her kitchen table and Y/N opens a file. “According to the logs, you were the angel maker's number one fan?”

“His name was Cortland and I wasn’t a fan,” she spits back. Sensitive as ever.

“How would you categorize your relationship?” Y/N asks.

“We were lovers.”

“Last time I checked, they didn’t allow conjugal visits on death row?” Rossi makes a joke out of her comment.

“It wasn’t about physical interaction. When you take away the flesh, all that’s left is the soul,” she says with a mystical expression. Truly believing the words that leave her mouth. “Everything was understood between us. We had no secrets. Cortland made me feel alive in a way no free man ever could.”

Gross, she thinks… but pushes it away to ask her most pressing question: “Where were you on the 16th of this month?”

“Why?”

“We have reason to believe that this copycat killing was done by one of his female fans,” Rossi explains. “Someone who knew Cortland very well.”

“I was out of town with the company I work for, ask anyone there,” she states her alibi and stands by it, visibly hurt by the fact anyone else could be close to Ryan.

“Do you know another woman—

“there were no others,” she cuts Rossi off. Sure of herself.

“I can show you logs and fan mail,” Y/N starts sifting through her evidence folder. “I have photocopies of the letters, women who sent Cortland their photos and even their panties…”

“They didn’t mean anything to him.”

“But… whatever connection you had with Cortland died with him,” Y/N looks at her through her lashes, faking sympathy and driving the wedge in deeper. “Not the copycats. She believes that every time she kills for him, every time she repeats his ritual, their connection gets stronger and will keep getting stronger until she completes his mission.”

“That is of course, unless you help us stop her,” Rossi adds.

That breaks her. she’s visibly distraught by the thought that someone is closer to him than she was. They see it in her eyes that the psychopathic logic makes sense to her… “there was something… he sent me a letter a few months before his— his passing. I knew it wasn’t meant for me. It was addressed to “my dove.” He never called me that.”

“Do you have the letter?” Y/N asks, so close to the finish line she could taste it.

“No. I burned it.”

“Did the text reveal anything about the woman?” Rossi asks.

“The text was a joke,” she spits back. “Usually his prose was beautiful, seamless.. as if he didn’t even have to try. But this— this letter was pedestrian. Crude.”

“You never asked him who this Dove was?” Y/N pries further.

She shakes her head, staying quiet in her hurt.

“I thought there were no secrets between you?”

She laughs, looking Y/N up and down, “You’ve never been in love, have you.”

Y/N smirks, wanting to laugh at the assumption because oh, if she only knew…

Back in the car, she scribbles down some thoughts as Rossi drives. It’s quiet, the radio is on volume 4 and they barely hear it over the sound of their tires bumping down the old, crumbling paved road of this small town. She shakes her head, thinking to herself, how was it that Reid, someone who’s never had a deeply romantic love in his life could guess her feelings so fast and this woman, this deeply troubled yet deeply in love woman couldn’t see it.

She would go to the ends of the earth for Aaron. She’d kill for him if she had to. She wanted to cradle his head and kiss his hair, she wanted to make him lunches for work and dinner when they got home. She would have his babies for crying out—

“oh my god,” she speaks into the silence of their car. “Why else would she buy the sperm if not to just plant it at the scenes?”

“Cause she’s insane?” Rossi laughs.

“She wants his babies!” She makes herself more clear. “She wanted to make a mini Cortland… holy shit.”

She picks up her phone and calls Garcia, “Hey, weird question but are you able to access all obstetrics and gynecology records in this country, by any chance?”

“I can, why?” She asks.

“I think the unsub might’ve tried to get pregnant with the unsubs sperm… she might’ve had checkups, gone to the hospital because of a loss or even had the baby and it died, can you run all the records and cross it with women who visited Cortland and or went to the prison that Rutledge worked at?”

“I sure can try,” Penelope assures. “I’ll call you when I know more.”

—

On the morning of their 4th day, they have another victim. Same bludgeoned skull, same rape, same torso wounds. The house is just like the others too. No sign of forced entry and every single window in the joint was opened too.

Y/N, Hotch and Derek head to the crime scene, Reid, Rossi and JJ stay behind to look through the fan mail a 3rd time with their eyes open for “dove.”

Once the coroner is done with the body, they head back to see her for themselves. With her gloves on, Y/N moves the woman's shirt up to see her torso marks. She was the only one to see the first victim when they arrived, she knew of the findings and how there was paper in the wounds… she takes out her notepad and starts to draw out the marks, ripping off the page to then hold it over her.

“Aaron,” she calls him back over. “Look, Ryan knew what he was doing, he had it all memorized when he made his marks, this unsub needs a stencil, that’s why they found paper in the wounds of the first vic… and I think I know what they’re trying to make out.”

She takes out her phone again, calls Reid and puts him on speaker, “hey, whatcha got?” He answers.

“I think the unsubs were marking out constellations on the victim's stomach… but I don’t think it’s the zodiac?”

“I just found a secret code inside all the letters to Dove that I’m trying to crack… you know, there is a dove constellation, it’s part of the heavenly waters?”

“Reid,” Hotch makes his presence known. “Can you have JJ pull the images of every single victim, this case and the original, and match them to the constellations in that family?”

“I sure can… you know, it also makes sense why all the windows are open at the crime scenes now, he wanted their souls to escape back to heaven, he was quite literally making angels,” Reid explains.

“Sick… well, we’ll be back at the precinct in 30, nice work,” Y/N smiles as she hangs up.

—

When they arrive, JJ has all the torso pictures on the board with printed-off photos of the constellations. “There are 9 main constellations,” she explains once they’re close enough. “Ryan did 6 and our unsub has done two more, the only one she hasn’t done is the dove… either we’ll have a new body tonight or she’s going to do it to herself.”

“So she knew about the real meaning of the stomach marks but we didn’t?” Derek can’t believe it.

“They were a lot closer than we realized,” Rossi adds.

“More than that,” Reid pipes up, scribbling on his own whiteboard. “They were in love.”

“You cracked it already?” Y/N can’t believe it. It’s been not even an hour since their phone call.

He nods, “I profiled the author, Cortland Ryan. He was on death row with several high-ranking members of the Aryan brotherhood… either they taught it to him or he read a lot of 16th-century literature. The Aryans like to use a cypher based on a 400-year-old code written by Sir Francis Bacon…”

“So it’s a binary code,” Derek says with a sigh, always amazed at how Spencer’s mind works.

“Bacon used a 21-letter alphabet, this one is 24. Each letter is assigned a string of 5 binary digits. This combination yields 32 possible encodings. Normally, you’d use a computer to run all these combinations but it was quicker just to do it long-hand until I found the right one.”

Y/N wraps her arms around him and holds him close, “Oh, I love your brain, you beautiful genius, you!”

He blushes, and wiggles out of her grip, making his way to the table with all the letters. “Thanks… now, we don’t have a complete record of their correspondence, but I was able to make a chronology. The woman he calls “Dove” established contact right after the trial.

They all read through the letters, disgusted by what these two people called love. “Ew, okay here she said ‘Take heart, my love. I will bring a part of you back into this world… you will watch over us from the stars.’ Us. she was definitely pregnant when she wrote that.”

“Agent Hotchner!” The sheriff comes running to the room. “We just got reports of a woman attacked in her home by a female assailant.”

“Y/N, we’ll head to the scene, you 4, call Penelope, and tell her to make it her priority to cross-reference birth records with the women on our lists!” He calls as they all head towards the door. “I don’t care if you have to physically head to the local hospital and read through records and interview staff, I want a name!”

She follows Aaron out of the station and he searches his pockets for his keys, “you can drive, right?” She asks.

He nods, “I haven’t had any medicine at all today. I’m feeling better…”

“Okay, good,” she gets into the passenger seat beside him.

They buckle up their seatbelts and Aaron places his hand on her headrest, looking behind them, “Hold on.” He backs up and spins the SUV around, following the sheriff to the scene in his police cruiser.

Reckless driving shouldn’t be so hot… but she swoons anyway.

When they get to the scene of the crime, it’s so totally different from what they’ve seen 2 times before. The assailant pretended to break down and walked up to the victim in her driveway, asked to call a towing service and they tried to attack the victim. She screamed for help so loud the rest of the neighbourhood heard it, left their homes and beat the assailant into submission, subduing her until police could come make an arrest.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N can’t believe who she sees in the back seat of the police cruiser… “That’s Shara. Shara Carlino. Rossi and I interviewed her the other day. Her alibi is solid.” She walks over to the cruiser and opens the door, Hotch in tow behind her. “What the hell, Shara?”

“It worked for her, why couldn’t it work for me!” She cries, bloody and bruised.

Y/N just shakes her head, “Because he’s dead. He’s a psychopath who never fucking loved you, he never could. You ruined your life for him, and for what? You don’t even look that good in orange.” She slams the door closed and scoffs. “And she accused me of never having been in love before.”

“Have you?” Aaron asks.

She wasn’t expecting that, she stands a little taller and shrugs, “I mean… yeah? Once or twice.”

“Third times the charm,” he teases, patting her shoulder and then walking back towards the SUV. They weren’t needed here.

—

They’re all sitting at the table when Penelope calls again.

“So there were 463 children born in Lower Cannon between 2006 and 2008,” Garcia recounts over the phone. “If you want me to find baby angel maker, I’m gonna have to narrow this down.”

“I have a letter here, there’s a quote from Cortland that says, ‘I knew even before you told me that the future had taken root,’” Y/N reads. “That must mean she did get pregnant… that letter was written January 7th, 2007.”

“Cool so fast forward 9 months—

“Ten, actually,” JJ corrects her. “There are 40 weeks of pregnancy, so it’s actually closer to 10 months.”

“Seriously?” Penelope had no idea.

“it was news to me too,” JJ rolls her eyes. “I’m going to be pregnant almost all year.”

“Damn, well, with that new math… I’m looking at August to September 2007… single mothers only, cause you know, you don’t want to brag— oh your baby daddies a 3rd-grade teacher? Mine likes to poke people in the tummy with tools… I have 9 names.”

They all laugh at Penelope's strange sense of humour. “Cross-reference them with women from the female Prison Rutledge was at,” Derek suggests.

“Chloe Kelcher,” Penelope announces.

“Wait,” Reid stands up and starts looking through his papers. He pulls a file from a box and places a piece of paper on the table. “She was on the jury…”

“She was exposed to the case evidence,” Derek adds. “That’s how she knew about the stomach wounds.”

“She fell in love with him sitting across from him in the courtroom,” Hotch says with a shake of his head. “She heard everything, she saw what he was capable of, and she wanted him anyway.”

“What happened to the baby, Garcia?” Y/N asks.

“He died at the hospital—

“Microvesicular Steatosis,” Reid finishes. “Microvesicular steatosis is characterized by small intracytoplasmic fat vacuoles— liposomes— which accumulate within hepatocytes. Most common causes are tetracyclines- or acute fatty liver of pregnancy, Reye's syndrome, and hepatitis C.”

“Okay… so the only way to stay close to him after the death of both him and her baby, was to keep killing. Two questions, how did she pick her victims and how do we figure out the last one before it’s too late?” Hotch asks.

“Look at the type of women she was killing, as opposed to Ryan going after women who sexually excited him, she needed a way to get close to them. Delilah made jewelry and sold it from her home, Maxine ran a daycare out of her house. This would give Chloe an opportunity to make an appointment with them and gain access to their homes… and then she could go to the bathroom, crack a window and hope it was still open when she returned in the middle of the night,” Y/N proposes.

“Okay, let’s get suited up, Garcia, send us her address and search her internet history, see if she’s booked a time to meet with anyone today,” Hotch orders and then hangs up the phone.

At her house, she’s nowhere to be found. What they do find, however, is a kid's bedroom covered in glow-in-the-dark stars and the decomposing body of Cortland Ryan in a treasure box near what would’ve been her baby crib. It’s disgusting… they call the coroner to pick him up and keep searching the house.

The Sheriff finds her Filofax filled with dates off appointments and people she knows… she had visits with both Delilah and Maxine the day before their murders, but no tools. No Rape kit, either.

“She had an appointment this morning,” Dave announces, reading the book back. “Faye Landreaux, 126 North Red—

“Red River Drive,” The Sheriff finishes the address off. “She’s a CPA, she does my taxes.”

“Does she work out of her house?” Aaron asks.

“Yep.”

“Let’s go.”

—

At the scene, they find Chloe’s car parked on the road. The windows are closed, that’s a good sign that nothing has happened yet… but they need a plan. They need a way to make sure this ends without another death.

It was Y/N’s job to draw the suspect's attention away from her next victim, speaking to her through a bullhorn while Derek snuck into the house and got the victim to safety. She makes Aaron stand away from the bullhorn, his good ear closest to her so that she doesn’t ruin his hearing further as she talks the suspect away from the bedroom.

She taunts her, reading letters Cortland wrote to other women, making her question the love they had for one another. “He wasn’t capable of loving you. He was a narcissist, Chloe. He was lying to you. He wrote countless women the same words.”

Reid quickly recalls the letters from memory, rushing the words down on paper and holding them up to her.

“Possessions matter not to a condemned man but I cannot leave this world without seeing your face one last time,” Y/N reads over the bullhorn. “It isn’t your fault that he made you feel these things, trust me. It isn’t your fault your baby died.

Just then, Derek returns with the victim. While what Y/N was saying made her upset, losing a victim just made her furious.

It was her last chance to complete the love of her life mission and be joined together forever in the afterlife… another crazy conclusion made in the mind of a psychopath.

“It’s over Chloe, we have Faye,” she says through the bullhorn. They hear her destroying things inside, so she adds. “You have nowhere to go.”

“I think we have some teargas ready to go,” the sheriff adds.

“We’re not going to need it, she doesn’t have any place to go,” Aaron assures him.

“Maybe she’ll do us all a favour and put herself down?” He suggests.

“No, she won’t do that either. She’s not done,” Aaron knows her too well.

After a few moments of silence, Chloe starts to come out of the house. Everyone draws their weapons and points them at her as she wields a small revolver. Rossi asks her to put it down but she doesn’t back away.

“Go stand back there,” Y/N suggests to Aaron, motioning behind the car with her head while she keeps her gun locked on Chloe. “If we shoot you’re going to be in pain again, go. Now, Aaron.”

Surprisingly, he listens. He makes his way away from them just in time for Chloe to raise her weapon and the sheriff pulls the trigger, knocking her to the ground. He and Y/N rush to Chloe, taking her weapon from her before they check on her… she’s gone. This is what she wanted. It’s then that Y/N notices what she’s done. Made herself the last victim, completing what the angel maker set out to do a decade ago.

She really was his dove.

When she looks back, Aaron is holding his head and leaning forward, even at a distance it still made his ear ring. She walks over to him and holsters her gun, “you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good… thank you for making me move,” he says in a hushed tone.

“You’re welcome,” she says but she doesn’t feel good about it. He’s still hurting. He was going to keep hurting until he was fully healed.

—

They spend the night in a hotel, partnered off to save money when they know the price of keeping the jet in a hangar for another night is already ridiculous.

Rossi pays for his own room on nights like this, leaving 1 person lucky enough to also have their own room… so they give it to JJ. Now that she’s pregnant she deserves something nice.

Derek is with Reid, leaving Y/N with Hotch. The way she wanted it.

They change separately in the bathroom, he goes first and then they switch. By the time she’s done and coming back out, Aaron is sitting in his bed, reading through a case file.

She puts her bag down by her bed and takes a chance. She sits on the edge of Aaron's bed and he looks at her softly, smiles even, “Thank you for being hard on me this week.”

“I was just about to apologize,” she admits. “I don’t like raising my voice at you, but someone has to take care of you.”

“You were right, though… I wasn’t fully cleared, I lied and said I’d stick to light duty but I threw myself into this case thinking it would be fine.”

“I know,” she sympathizes with him. “You’re going through a lot. Your job is really all you have left and when you can’t go to work, what else are you going to do?”

“Go crazy,” he laughs. “I’m not going to fly home tomorrow. I’m going to drive back.”

“That’s a long drive, like 7 hours back to Quantico?” She worries. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no… not unless you want to?” He looks at her with puppy dog eyes. He’d never ask, but he’d let her if it was her idea.

“We can make it a whole thing, I mean tomorrow is Friday, we have the weekend off, we don’t need to be back in Virginia till Monday,” she suggests. “We could have some fun?”

“That sounds nice,” he agrees. “Would it… would it be weird to hug you?”

“Not at all,” she doesn’t mind in the slightest, she simply moves in closer and opens her arms.

She holds him there, resting her chin on his shoulder, she closes her eyes and makes it last. He’s so warm, his strong arms feel so comforting and he smells good, too. It’s perfect. She didn’t realize how badly she craved his touch until he was pulling away and it felt like it was over too soon.

“Any time you need a hug, let me know,” she offers. Leaving it at that.

—

They take the long way home.

It only takes an hour for them to get out of Ohio, they make it to West Virginia around lunchtime and pick a random small town to go get some food. The diner they pick is so cute, old-time-y and pink, the waitresses are on rollerblades, it feels like they’ve been sent back in time.

They go further back in time, however, when they decide to stop at the little antique shop just down the road.

Most of the stuff is junk… that’s to be expected. But there’s a box near the counter, “photos ¢25 each” and they’re almost all in black and white, some sepia and faded, but all old. That’s for sure.

She digs through the pile while Aaron looks around at a few things and she finds a few that just break her heart. A 30’s bride, smiling wide with the biggest bouquet of flowers she’s ever seen, just excited to marry the love of her life… and a couple sitting on the porch of their first house, he has his arm around her and she’s got her hands on her pregnant belly. they’re starting a life together. There are school photos and family pictures, all worn with time and left to collect dust in someone else’s shop.

The saying is “A picture is worth a thousand words” but each photo here is worth a thousand years. Most of the people in these photos are dead now, their love only exists here, in this shop, in her hands. These people who fell in love and lived to the best of their abilities and died surrounded by family, they had no idea where these photos would end up… so she buys a bunch of them, to keep their memories alive longer.

One of them she buys not just for that reason… but because the couple in the photo looks a little bit like her and Aaron. Part of her thinks that she was always meant to find these, Aaron was meant to get hurt, they were meant to go on this drive and her photos were supposed to come back to her. Her whole heart is so sure that she’s loved Aaron before, that she’ll love him again too, she’ll love him in every lifetime until the world dies too.

She keeps the photos that she wants to buy in her hands as she makes her way around the store. Aaron’s in the back, looking through stacks of old newspapers and letters. He looks up at her and smiles, “look at this,” he hands her a handful of letters. “These are from 1944, a couple sent them back and forth to each other during the war… look how in love they were.”

She reads through the letter with tears in her eyes. Stories of this couple's missed anniversary, their oldest child was starting to learn how to play baseball, their youngest had just started to walk… she ends every letter the same. “I pray to god every night you make it home to me, I know he’s working on it for us.”

She holds her hand over her heart and tries so hard not to let out the sob, “Oh my god?”

“I know,” he smiles, glossy-eyed and blushing. “What did you find?”

“Photos,” she hands them to him. “Doesn’t this guy look like you?”

“Oh, wow…” he honestly can’t believe it. He runs his pointer finger over the woman who looks like her and his shoulders drop. “I guess we’ve been here before.”

“I think we have,” she agrees. “How weird is it that out of all the places we could’ve gone, out of everything that could’ve ever happened, you got hurt just in time for us to have to drive through West Virginia?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know… you know my mother's family used to live here in 1745, they were coal miners.”

“So you might actually be related to this guy?” She holds the picture up again.

He nods, “that or I’m a vampire,” he jokes. “I’ve been living here for hundreds of years.”

She shoves him, “You’re so funny.”

They wander around some more, Aaron finds a painting he likes and she picks up a cute set of dishware and when they go up to pay, the owner smiles at them. “Together or separate?”

“Together,” Aaron answers over Y/N saying “separate.”

“You don’t have to,” she worries but he takes the plates and her photos from her hands and puts them on the counter.

“I want to,” he assures her with a smug smile.

“First date?” The lady asks, so sure she’s got it right.

They shake their heads, “Co-workers, we had some business to attend in Ohio and thought we’d take the long way home…”

“Oh,” she smiles to herself, knowing there’s something else there… she can feel it. “Well, I’m glad you stopped here, these things were in need of a nice home to go back to.”

“Aaron here has a new apartment that is very boring,” Y/N teases. “This painting will be perfect for the wall in his kitchen.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Aaron muses.

She gives them a total, Aaron pays in cash and she wishes them well on their journey home. “I hope to see you back here one day.”

“Us too,” Y/N answers, giving her a smile and a wave.

—

They keep driving east, thinking they could probably make it back to D.C. around 3 in the morning if they didn’t stop. Instead, they pick out a cute little bed & breakfast with the hopes of staying there for the night.

The little bell on the door rings as Aaron holds it open for her, there’s a little old lady sitting behind the counter crocheting, she looks up when she hears the noise. “Oh, hold on, my daughter just ran to the back to get more receipt paper, she’ll check you in in a moment.” She has a posh English accent and a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” Aaron gives her a smile back.

They don’t have to wait long, a middle-aged woman comes out from the back room and stops dead in her tracks when she sees there are people. “Oh, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, did you have a reservation?”

“No, we’re just driving though and wondered if you have a couple rooms we could book?” Aaron asks.

She clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth, “Uh… oh, no, we only have 1 room left—

“Does it happen to have two beds?” Y/N cuts her off, scared to have to share.

“No, I’m sorry, we have just the one queen left,” she explains. “I can call the inn 30 miles down the way and see if they have two rooms left?”

“No, no it’s okay,” Y/N brushes it off, “I don’t mind sharing…”

“As long as you’re okay with it,” Aaron agrees.

“We’ll take it,” Y/N decides, giving the lady a soft smile.

As the woman starts to write up their receipt and mark her books that the room is taken, Y/N asks about breakfast. “What time is breakfast tomorrow?”

“We can bring it to your room between 7 and 11,” the elderly lady explains, going into detail about the meal options they have.

“You’re in room 6,” she explains, “it’s going to be $173 for the one night and the breakfast in the morning…”

Y/N beats him to the punch this time, taking her credit card out and setting it on the table, “you bought everything earlier, it’s my turn.”

“Fine,” Aaron lets her do it. “But I’m getting lunch or dinner tomorrow.”

“You can try,” she teases, punching in her information and running her card through the machine.

“And I just need you to both sign the guest book,” the keeper explains, pushing the book toward them. “You know, in case you go missing and the police need to recount your steps,” she says with a laugh. Thinking it could never happen.

“We are the police,” Y/N teases.

“FBI actually,” Aaron adds. “It’s a good thing you keep these, I can’t tell you how many times we’ve reached a dead end because people don’t update their books.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” the woman stands a bit taller, feeling proud of her little business.

They get their key after that, they head back to the car to get their bags and head to their room… they’re quiet at first. She heads into the bathroom to change and hype herself up for what’s about to happen. She has to share a bed with the love of her life knowing he doesn’t feel the same about her. She doesn’t know if he’s going to make a pillow wall between them or sleep with his own blanket so they don’t have to touch. She’s so nervous she doesn’t know what to do.

She slips into her work pyjamas, just a simple pair of shorts and an old college t-shirt, she brushes her teeth and adds a bit more deodorant because the last thing she wants is for him to not like her AND think she smells.

She’s honestly just a ball of anxiety.

When she comes out, he’s already changed. In his boxers and a white shirt, sitting on top of the covers with his phone pressed to his good ear. It’s barely 8pm, she can tell by the smile on his face that he called Jack.

“I love you too, buddy, have a good sleep,” he says with a whispered tone. “Bye.”

She puts her bag down by the night table on what will be her side of the bed tonight. “How is he?”

“He’s good… He’s starting school next week. I can’t believe how big he’s getting,” he explains, shaking his head. He hates that he’s missing it too.

She takes a seat on the bed, facing him, her one leg curled under the other, “are you going to drop him off?”

He nods, “I’m going to try my best to be there that first morning, I want to get some pictures of him walking in and wearing his big backpack.”

“That’s going to be so cute,” she swoons. “Oh, I wish I could see it.”

“Come with me?” He asks, “I can pick you up on the way to work, you’re close to his new school anyway.”

“That wouldn’t be weird?”

He shakes his head, “No… I mean, Haley might even have her new boyfriend there.”

“You’re kidding?”

He shrugs, “At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Her heart breaks for him. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, I mean, it happens. Not many kids who meet in high school stay married for life,” he rationalizes it. “And the ones who do aren’t happy about it.”

“Still, I hate knowing she hurt you,” Y/N sympathizes. “You’re a good man. You shouldn’t have to choose between your job and your family. She knew this was your job when she got pregnant. I don’t know what she was expecting.”

“Me either,” he sighs, he puts his phone on the night table and leans back against the pillows. “Can I have some more medicine now?”

She laughs, he sounds like a kid when he asks. “Yeah, let me get it.”

She grabs a complimentary bottle of water off the dresser and gets his pills from her purse, she hands him two and watches him take them. “You know why I stepped in, right?”

He nods, taking both his pills before he speaks again. “I appreciate it, too. I wasn’t using them as instructed, it could’ve gotten bad.”

“We almost lost Spencer and no one stepped in,” she whispers, ashamed that they all knew and did nothing. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

He puts the bottle of water back down on his night table he takes her hand and pulls her closer and wraps her up in a hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I appreciate you more than you know.”

She hugs him back, her second hug in 2 days. She closes her eyes and bathes in his strength, “you’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine,” he assures her. “Come get in bed?” He asks as she pulls back.

“Okay,” she nods, walking around to her side, he scoots under the covers and she pulls the covers down to get in herself. The lights are still on, but they lay on their sides and face each other, “this isn’t weird?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think so… do you?”

“If I cuddle you in the middle of the night I’m sorry,” she says, feeling a bashful wave fills her cheeks with heat.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to cuddle into… If anything, I just do it due to muscle memory,” he admits. “I’ll move away if—

“No, no you don’t have to,” she cuts him off. “Honestly, I might be nice?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling softly.

He’s smiled so much today that it makes her heart so happy.

She nervously moves in closer to him, he lays back against the pillow and she cuddles into his side. He rests his arm on her back, she keeps her hand on his stomach and he holds it with his free hand. “I’ve had a lot of fun today.”

“Me too,” she swoons. She settles against him, she expected him to be hard… he looks so big and strong she didn’t expect him to be so soft and cuddly.

She could get used to this. However, this is not her life. Playing pretend is fun for a while but sooner or later she’s going to have to wake up and face the consequences. He doesn’t love her back, he simply misses having a wife.

She can play that role. She’s just not ready for the director to yell cut.

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans

IKP taglist

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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bvckleyydiaz · 4 months

Text

I know. Guys, believe me, I know. Alright, now that we are ignoring my unintentional months-long hiatus, I come bringing a gift.

(I thought about also writing this scenario for another fandom that I’ve recently fixated on again. Say, the one with the two brothers and the gay angel. Let me know if you would want to see that.)

May also end up rewriting this one. Not sure if I like how it turned out.

So, here’s the scenario:

tw: creepy men in convenience stores

You and Aaron met years ago when you’d been finishing up law school and he’d still been a federal prosecutor. Somehow, the two of you strike up a conversation, and you offhandedly mention to him that you’re looking for work now that you’ve gotten your degree. He pauses for a moment, purses his lips, then says that he has a friend—a fellow prosecutor, you later find out—in search of a legal aide. He tells you that if you wanted him to, he could talk to his friend about setting up an interview. This takes you by surprise. A man that doesn’t even know you, a man that’s only talked to you for about five minutes, is offering to help you get a job. Aaron laughs when you tell him as much, and he tells you that over the years, he’s learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts are telling him that you’re worth the risk. He then hands you a card with his phone number on it and says to call him to set up the interview.

(No one but you has to know about the tiny zaps of electricity that shoot up your arm when you take the card from him. Nor do they have to know about the disappointment that simmers in your gut when you notice the gold band resting at the base of his left ring finger.)

For the first year or so, your friendship with Aaron was... difficult to navigate. Not because of anything he said or did but because of what he was. Aaron being a married man really limited what you felt comfortable doing within the boundaries of your budding friendship. You couldn’t text him as often as you’d like to because of the fight it could cause between Aaron and Haley. It’s for that same reason that you don’t feel comfortable inviting him to meet you for coffee or to grab a bite to eat after work. You know that you aren’t doing anything wrong, that your intentions with Aaron are pure, but you also respect his relationship enough to make certain that you don’t give Haley a reason to suspect otherwise. So, that means settling for sending him a text every now and then to check up on his family—not just him—and see how they were doing.

Less than two years into your friendship with Aaron, he tells you that he and Haley are getting a divorce.

(The giddy, child-like grin that spreads across your face when you hear the news makes you feel like shitty person. But you can’t help it.)

Aaron’s divorce serves as a blessing in disguise. Not just for you but for him, too. It gives the two of you a fresh start, a chance to properly develop your friendship without the fear of stirring up trouble for Aaron at home. You two texting maybe a couple of times a month quickly turns into you two texting nearly every day, even if you don’t really have anything to tell him about. Throughout the day, the two of you would send each other things that remind you of the other, random musings you’d have, just anything that would keep the conversation going. The most liberating thing about Aaron becoming a single man again was that you had the freedom to ask him if he wanted to grab coffee on the way into the office, even if he and the team wanted to grab drinks after a case, or if he and Jack wanted to come to the park near your apartment for a picnic.

Fast forward to the present, almost four years later.

It’s just after midnight on a random Saturday night, and Aaron’s just about to head to bed when he feels his phone buzz in the pocket of his sweats.

He mutters something along the lines of if this is another fucking case before he picks up his cell, puts it to his ear, and answers with a soft, sleepy, “Hotchner.”

“Hey, love. I know it’s late, but I was hoping we could meet up.” There’s something in your voice that feels off to Aaron, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

His mind screeches to a halt when he processes what you say to him. Hey, love, you’d greeted him, the words coming out of your mouth like it was every-day thing. Like it was something you called him all the time.

That’s the first red flag.

“Y/N?” He asks. “Is everything alright? Are you alright?”

“No,” you laugh, a cute, breathy sound that wouldn’t be out of place to anyone else, to anyone that doesn’t know you the way Aaron does. That laugh sets off the alarm bells in the older man’s head. “No, I promise it’s nothing major. I just thought we could grab a snack.” You pause then say, “Oh, there’s a sale on those gummy bears you like at the convenience store on Fifth and Kennedy. Want me to get you some?”

Aaron doesn’t like gummy bears. You know that he doesn’t like gummy bears. Why would you—?

Aaron's body starts buzzing with adrenaline, like he got a shot of espresso straight to the head. The convenience store on Fifth and Kennedy. Aaron knows where that is; it’s only a couple of blocks from your apartment.

“Are you in danger?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I’ll just put it with my stuff. Don’t worry about it, love.”

“Do you need me to come to you?”

“Yes, baby, I’m sure. It’s not a problem at all. Oh, your sister mentioned something to me about coming to see her this weekend. She lives in New York now, right? How long do you think the drive will be?”

Aaron glances down at his watch. “I’m ten minutes from you. Stay out of sight until then, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “It shouldn’t be too bad then, especially if we leave early enough. Hopefully, we won’t get caught up in the usual weekend traffic.” You huff out something between a laugh and a tired sigh. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.” Then, the call ends. Biting out a curse, Aaron slips on his running shoes, grabs his zip-up and his keys, and rushes out the door.

Under normal circumstances, it takes Aaron roughly ten minutes to get to your apartment. That night, it takes him a little under five. He zips through the late-night Virginia traffic at speeds he’s surprised he didn’t get pulled over for. He haphazardly parks the SUV before making his way to the store.

He doesn’t even have to go into the store to find you. You’re standing just outside the double doors when he gets there, your figure illuminated by the harsh LED lights overhead.

“Y/N,” he calls to you, his steps hurrying into a jog. “Y/N, are you alright?”

You lift your head up to meet his gaze, and he watches you blink at him, as if you’re surprised that he came. “You came,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You needed me,” he says. And that’s all that matters. “You’re okay now?”

You nod. “The guy ran as soon as the kid behind the counter threatened to call the cops. He didn’t do anything, but I just... something about him weirded me out.”

“Trust your instincts,” he tells you, like the night you’d first met. “They’re usually right.”

“The night we met, you said that your instincts were telling you that I was worth the risk. Were they right?”

With as much confidence as he has in you, which is a lot, he says, “They were. You’re worth the risk.”

tagging: @greg-montgomery @ssamorganhotchner @ssahotchnerr @ssaaaronmontgomery @canuck-eh @wifeyreid @criminalskies @luvehotch @strawbeerossi @hotchs-big-hands @hotchs-babygirl @hotchnerobsessed @honeypiehotchner @hotchnerbau @hotchsdoormat @hotchsdharma @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs

#e posts #e writes #e tags #e’s moots #e’s scenarios #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader

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cavillsbitch · 1 year

Note

Hi my fellow Hotch fangirl :D

May I please request a Hotch x Fem!Reader scenario where the reader is a firefighter and ends up hospitalized due to a severe emergency which causes him to admit his love for her?

ooooo this is a good one…

aaron hotchner x firefighter!reader

cw/tw: descriptions of injury/trauma, hospitals

It wasn’t really supposed to happen like this.

Of course, as timing would have it, you were getting ready for a date with your extremely attractive and smooth talking FBI agent… “boyfriend” named Aaron Hotchner when you get an emergency call for a car accident. Normally you would hope that they would get enough help and you wouldn’t have to go since tonight was your night off, but it seemed to be intense enough to warrant most if not all hands.

Since you pretty much lived at the fire house, which is partially why you were unlucky enough to be expected to go on the call, you were already there getting ready when the call came in. You shot a quick text to Aaron that you’d have to reschedule and started gearing up to leave the fire house on the truck with everyone else.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of your relationship with Aaron. He had never asked to make your relationship official, but the two of you acted like a couple. You’d been seeing him for about three months when you can, given that the two of you had very demanding jobs. You definitely loved him, but you wouldn’t dare be the first to admit that between the two of you given Aaron’s past. The last thing you’d want is to overwhelm him or scare him away. However, you feared that your feelings were stronger and that you’d end up hurting yourself in the end. You hoped that Aaron would reschedule the date and maybe… just maybe you’d grow a pair and open up a conversation about your relationship. Maybe.

“Y/N, quit daydreaming and let’s go!”

The loud booming voice of your captain shook you from your thoughts as you strapped on the last bit of your gear and ran to the trucks.

Aaron never saw himself getting back out there after Haley died. He’d given Rossi the benefit of the doubt (he just needed him to shut up) and gone on a few dates, but nothing had ever come of any of it. However, a case of two ago had brought him a beautiful young (too young, he’d though and worried about) woman that just so happened to be a firefighter on the scene. He knew it would be completely inappropriate to ask for her number on the case, so he implored Garcia to track her down and call her, giving her his personal number. As luck would have it, she called him and he asked her out.

She really was lovely, he thought. He admired the way she loved her job, her passion, her work ethic, and the way that she listened to him and was interest in what he had to say. He never thought he would find someone after Haley died, but he was falling fast and afraid he would bring it up too soon.

Tonight was supposed to be perfect, which he’d let Dave help plan. He was going to take her to a very very nice dinner downtown, take her for a walk on the river afterward, and maybe… he would take her back to his place, if she wanted. He still couldn’t believe that she was interested in him being older and widowed and being a single father, but he hoped that she was in it for the long haul like he could already tell he was. He was ready for her to meet Jack, he was ready for all of it. He loved her.

Then, he felt extremely disappointed when her text came through that she would have to reschedule.

Obviously he understood more than most people that work was unpredictable, and he responded that way. However… he couldn’t help the intense feeling that he felt thinking that maybe she was having second thoughts. He tried to shake that, already looking ahead at when he could reschedule, and decided to call the restaurant to cancel the reservation.

Shortly after he received the text, Rossi knocked on his office door, “Shouldn’t you already be home getting ready to go pick up your hot date?”

Aaron chuckled pathetically to himself, “If there were a hot date, I’m sure I would. She got called in for a pretty bad accident, so she can’t make it.”

Rossi nodded, “More time for you to think about how you’re gonna ask her to be in your life more permanently?”

Aaron kept his eyes down at his desk, mindlessly making a note on a file. “It’s complicated, Dave. I have a lot of baggage. She’s young, she’s got her whole life. I don’t want to make her feel like she needs to be ready for that kind of commitment.”

Rossi shook his head, “If she wasn’t ready to be with you, she would tell you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Aaron mumbled, closing a case file and looking at his friend.

Dave shared a sympathetic look with him, “Look, Aaron, if that’s the case then so be it and move on. She’s a great woman, but there are other great women out there.”

Aaron knew that he wasn’t ready to put the time in to find other women as great as you were. He figured that if this didn’t work out, he might give up all together on finding love again.

Rossi’s eye wandered to the bullpen, where Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan were crowded around Reid’s desktop. His eyebrows furrowed, “What are they doing?”

Hotch stood, walking past Rossi to stand outside of his office, “What are you all doing?”

Morgan popped his head above the crouched group, “Bridge collapsed, fire and EMS crew were already responding to an accident on the bridge when a semi hit the support beam underneath, lot of casualties.”

The color drained from Aaron’s face as Morgan gave details. He could hear the reporters continuing to talk on the screen. Rossi looked at him and realized, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Aaron…”

Quickly without realizing, he bumped Rossi out of the way to grab his keys and briefcase before practically running down the stairs and out of the BAU.

Pain.

All you could feel in pain in your body.

But, you were alive… and in a hospital?

The beeping of whatever machine you were on was making your head surge with pain as you came to slowly. You had on a neck brace, your right leg was in a full cast, and you were in pain. Lots of pain.

As you woke up, a nurse entered to check on you. She asked you what today’s date was, who the president is, and other questions. She pushed more pain meds for you when you complained before asking, “What happened?”

She checked and noted your vitals from the machine, “The north bridge collapsed, you were responding to an accident on the bridge when it happened. You’re lucky to be alive.”

You nodded, remembering some things then. You’d fallen, but you weren’t sure how far or where you landed. The memory scared you, and you shook it away. “My leg is broken?”

She nodded, “The doctors had to repair it in surgery, but with lots of physical therapy you should be just fine. You had trauma to your neck, which we may have to keep an eye on. You were very close to being paralyzed. Again, you’re very lucky.”

She said she would grab you some food and water before exiting your room, leaving you alone.

You suddenly felt very emotional, trying not to cry. You knew many of your friends probably died, you weren’t sure exactly what happened, and you were alone in a hospital, broken and sad.

Turning to find a tissue, the nurse came back in with a tray of food with water, and a visitor.

Aaron Hotchner was in your hospital room.

“We told him he had to wait until you were awake to come in, he gave us quite the hard time about that…” she set your tray down and helped you wipe your eyes and nose with a tissue.

“I’m not sure what husband wouldn’t want to see his wife immediately.”

Maybe you’d forgotten more than you realized. Did he just say…

“Sorry, sir. Policy. Call me if you need anything,” she said to you before leaving again.

You suddenly became very aware of how awful you probably looked at the moment in front of this man who absolutely was not your husband… and absolutely had no obligation to you.

“Husband, huh?” you reached for your water and tried to sip it, not seeing the straw on the tray. Aaron stood up and grabbed the straw, helping you take a drink.

“It was the only way they’d let me come in here at all.”

You nodded as you finished the cup of water completely, allowing Aaron to take it from you and set it on the tray. He sat in the chair right next to you and you sighed.

“I’m… sorry about this. Did they call you? They might have went through my phone contacts and tried to find someone to call.”

Aaron furrowed his brow as he usually did, shaking his head, “What? No, Y/N… I saw the collapse on the news at Quantico and came right here. I was here before you were, I think.”

You turned as much as you could to look at him, “Really?”

He chuckled in disbelief, “Yes, really. I thought I’d lost you. I can’t believe you’re alive, from what they told me.”

You looked at him, noting the sincerity in his eyes. You knew that he lost his ex wife, and you couldn’t imagine what he felt now having… whatever you were to him in life threatening danger.

“I’m really sorry, Aaron. I’m happy to be alive. I still… don’t really know what happened but I am glad I’m alive.”

He nodded, lightly grabbing your hand, “I am, too.”

You looked at the time, it was almost 4 in the afternoon, the day after the accident. “How long have you been here?”

He looked at the clock then, too, “Since about 8 last night.”

“What? Aaron, you’ve seen me now, I’m alive. Go home. I’ll call when I’m sent home.” You almost laughed in disbelief thinking about how long he’d been waiting for you to wake up.

He shook his head immediately, “I’ll stay, besides, we didn’t get to have our date, and I’ve missed you.”

You sighed, again, “You don’t have any obligation to be here…”

He sat up straight, “Of course I do… I… I love you.”

Your eyes widened as his confession sunk in, a mix of excited and happy and scared and anxiety swirling through you, “Really?”

He smiled as he reflected, “Yeah, I do. I love you.”

You smiled back, squeezing the hand that was still in yours, “Well I’ll be damned, I love you too, Aaron Hotchner.”

He smiled bigger and laughed as tears welled in his eyes, “I’m so relieved to hear you say that.”

You smiled as he leaned in to kiss you gently, a kiss more meaningful than any of the ones you’d shared before.

“So,” you started, “About that date… might have to be rescheduled even later than anticipated.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner reader insert #firefighter!reader

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codename-mom · 6 months

Text

Happy Hotch Day

Summary: Penelope wants to cheer her boss up as he still suffers from what Foyet did to him. She reaches for her co-workers for them to help her preparing a little surprise for him.

Characters: BAU team

Contents: TW brief mention of Haley's and Morgan's father death, a tiny bit of anxiety (because Hotch is an idiot sometimes), outside of this, it's all fluff. :)

This is a text written for the CM Office Party challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

All was quiet that day at Quantico when Penelope stormed into the open-plan office, nearly spilling the coffee in Anderson's hand as she stepped through the glass doors.

“Guys! Guys! Guys!” She repeated, her cheeks red.

“Okay, calm down, tempered Derek as he left the corner of the desk on which he had been sitting temporarily. Slow down and put the handbrake on.”

“No time for a slot, pilot of my heart, I've just had the idea of the century!”

All eyes were on her, just as she wanted them to be. As luck would have it, Dave was also among those present, having left his den for a moment to ask Spencer a question. The only member of the team missing was their superior – who had been called upstairs – which suited the – now – bespectacled redhead just fine.

“What is it?” asked Jennifer, curious.

“Well, as Hoch is not feeling well at this time…”

“Which is understandable," interrupted Emily, widening her eyes.

Recent events had propelled the BAU director to the status of bereaved single father in the blink of an eye, and the brutal reorganization of his daily life was still suffering from a few bumps. He and Jack were getting used to each other's presence, but the agency head was struggling to come to terms with his ex-wife's death. He didn't mention it to his men and put on a brave face, but the profilers had their eye on him and sensed that the wound was still raw. To which Garcia added:

“I’d like us to prepare a little surprise to cheer him up.”

“You're going to need more than a little surprise for that," pointed out Morgan, partially serious.

“It’ll be a start.”

“What did you think about?” wished to know Agent Jareau.

“I wanted us to give him a present for Father’s Day.”

Silence fell over the group. Everyone stared at her with a mixture of surprise and incomprehension. They didn't ignore the fact that this celebration was going to take place, but:

“Hotch is not our father,” noticed Reid, eyebrows furrowed.

“I know! Snapped the analyst, expecting this reply. Biologically speaking, Hotch isn't our father; but if we take that aspect out of the equation, he fulfills all the criteria. He’s… he’s our office dad.”

“You mean mom,” joked the ex-policeman, a sneer playing at the corner of his lips.

He was the first to nickname the costumed giant in this way, and the company had naturally followed. Giving each other nicknames was part of their modus operandi – Penelope and Derek being the two who collected the most – and Aaron's had been adopted unanimously. Or almost.

“Yes, about that, hesitated the luscious ginger, he... he has a bit of trouble with that nickname...”

“He has a bit of trouble with many things,” declared Prentiss.

“Sure,” topped up Derek.

It would be a lie to say that Agent Hotchner had as much flexibility of mind as the staff working under him, and certain aspects of his flock's behavior met with some resistance when it came to involving the tall, dark-haired man. Blockages that the analyst couldn't completely ignore, even though she knew that the latter was far less uptight than his austere appearance suggested.

“Look, I only wish that, next Monday, we call him “Dad” in place of “Mom”. He’ll be pleased.”

“I won’t call Hotch, “Dad”. No way,” Morgan said immediately.

“Why?”

“He’s not my father and he’ll never be,” he affirmed without smiling.

The former police officer had lost his sire when he was still a child, and this tragic event had left an indelible mark on his mind. A trace that allowed no one else to occupy this unique place in his heart. For him, it was impossible to consider this man with whom he regularly clung as any kind of parental figure. Even as a joke.

“But you’ve got no issue calling him “Mom””, stressed Penelope squinting her eyes.

“And the way it's pissing him off, I'm not going to stop now.”

Behind his back, Emily and JJ chuckled, amused. Garcia felt the rage run in her veins.

“Penelope, Dave continued, why do you want us to wish him a happy Father's Day? That’s Jack’s job, not ours.”

“Besides, he hates surprises, Derek reminded her; he hates presents, he doesn't even rejoice his birthday.”

It was the truth. Every time they'd caught Aaron off guard – to good effect – they'd immediately seen him tense up and display a frozen grin. He had never clearly expressed his delight at suddenly being the center of attention. In the same way, he avoided every opportunity to celebrate himself: he took part in everyone's birthdays, but systematically omitted to feast his own. And when his team took the liberty of offering him gifts, he only seemed to accept them out of pure politeness. All the more reason for their reluctance to try again that day.

“I… I'd just like us to show him how important he is to us, she explained. He… he's in low spirits and I'd like him to smile again. Even for a minute.”

“If he’s still able to smile.”

Morgan and JJ giggled at the brunette’s jibe.

“Are you serious?”

“Baby girl…”

“No! interrupted the computer specialist, pushing away the hand he was holding out towards her. There is no “baby girl”! This man you're laughing at cuts himself to ribbons for you, and you despise him! Your ingratitude is disgusting!”

Furious, she turned her back on them and left the bullpen without succeeding in slamming the heavy glass door. A stunned silence fell over the group, who were now casting awkward glances at each other.

“I think she's angry," Spencer said, looking worried.

“It was a joke, Prentiss thought it necessary to point out. You… you've all figured it out, haven't you?”

“Yes,” abounded Morgan.

“Of course,” followed JJ.

“Anyway, we agree that it's not up to us to wish him a happy Father's Day?”

“Totally," agreed Emily, who had never known hers and didn't see the agency manager as a potential surrogate.

The pair's gaze turned to Agent Jareau, who was far less at ease than a few minutes earlier.

“What?” interrogated her coworker and friend.

“Well, that is to say, she's not entirely wrong. It's true that he's always there for us, at any time of the day or night.”

“That’s because he doesn’t sleep.”

“Derek.”

She had glared at him. If for some people, declaring their availability at all hours was a ready-made formula, this was not the case for Hotch. Until then, he'd always applied this credo to the letter, answering their nightly calls and cutting short his – rare – vacations to come to their aid. Morgan nevertheless sighed.

“No one ever asked him to do that. He's got it into his head that he has to take full responsibility for our every move.”

Having temporarily occupied his position while Foyet was still at large, he had had time to read up on the rights and duties of unit leaders. And nowhere was it written that he had to give in to the whims of his agents or put aside his own needs to satisfy the desires of his employees.

“In fact, shouldn't we be all the more indebted to him?”

Everyone turned their attention back to Dr. Reid, who had said this sentence in his most innocent tone. But the thought was not as innocuous as it seemed, and it shook the certainties of both refractors. The BAU co-founder, noting the embarrassed and pained expressions of the mocking trio, suggested:

“I think we should all take a few moments to reflect on a moment, a gesture, a thoughtfulness on his part that he didn't have to do, but did anyway, simply to make us feel better.”

Eyes focused on him, then turned away as the memories of all began their search.

“Then we can reconsider Penelope’s idea.”

The day flew smoothly, and the weekend passed quietly, giving everyone the rest they needed to recuperate. Then Monday arrived and, taking advantage of the calm, Garcia, holed up in her den of flashing tinsel, multicolored figurines and a few computer screens, put the finishing touches to her gift. It didn't matter to her that she was the only one making the effort; she had every intention of doing whatever it took to cheer her superior up.

A knock sounded at the door, and it opened to reveal half of Emily's face.

“Penelope…”

“Oh! she hiccupped, hastily placing her work in the first drawer within reach. We… we’ve got a case?”

“No. Well, not that I know of," she admitted, allowing herself to take a step into the closed office.

“Okay. So what did you come for?”

Tinkling her damaged fingernails, the ambassador's daughter closed the door behind her and approached a little closer. She didn't dare look the hostess in the eye.

“Uh… first, I wanted to apologize for... what I said last Friday. I... I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I know someone who would have been more hurt than me if he'd heard you, she spat, unable to conceal her morgue. Good thing he wasn’t there to witness it.”

“Speaking of which, we... we had a little chat about it after you left and... er... it's probably not worth what you had in mind, but we came up with an idea for... him.”

“Really? Exclaimed Garcia, suddenly interested. What… what is it?”

Reassured by her colleague's reaction, Emily relaxed and explained what the team had been working on for the past two days.

“It's not much, but if you want to take part, there's still a bit of room.”

“It's a great idea! Rejoiced the redhead, delighted. I… Of course, I’m in! Where… How do we proceed?”

“Follow me. We put everything in the meeting room for now.”

Penelope leapt to her feet and was about to walk in her guest's footsteps.

“Where he is?” she asked with a blank voice.

“Up there.”

Prentiss pointed to the upper floors, where Strauss' office was located. The giant had been summoned to report to the section chief, without delay, some thirty minutes earlier and had still not come down. There was a good chance that the face-to-face meeting would drag on forever.

“Let’s take this chance.”

The two women left the former hacker's lair behind them and made their way to their destination. On the spot, the rest of the gang were busy getting the room ready, making do with what they had on hand, which wasn't necessarily suitable for redecorating. The rejuvenated analyst immediately came to their help, putting her experience in the field to good use.

Two hours later, Hotch reappeared on the sixth floor, his features drawn and his eyebrows more furrowed than ever. Annoyed and exhausted by the interminable negotiation he'd just been through, he climbed the slope to his office without paying attention to the scenery around him, pushed open the door and walked with a heavy step to his chair. But he didn't even have time to brush against the furniture before:

“Aaron.”

The latter sighed, letting his shoulders fall back, and turned around to see Rossi on the threshold.

“Do I have the time for a coffee?”

“The younglings are waiting for you in the meeting room,” answered his most ancient coworker.

The titan in the suit wrinkled his nose, the adrenalin pulsing through his veins chasing away fatigue.

“Do we have a case?”

“Maybe.”

“What that’s supposed to mean?”

“You know where to go to have your answer.”

The ex-retiree smiled mysteriously and moved off towards the indicated location. Aaron, confused, remained statuesque for a moment, then left his office in turn. And, bypassing the coffee machine, went into the room where they usually gathered to discuss current issues. His heart pounding against his ribs, he wondered what else his men had planned behind his back. Not that he disapproved of their attentions to him – far from it – but surprises always made him uncomfortable. He felt systematically foolish, not knowing what to say or do at such moments. He knew that it was socially accepted to be ecstatic about a job well done, to rejoice at suddenly being in the spotlight, and to thank others for gifts received. On the other hand, sincere emotion and candor were expected of him, and not knowing what to expect stressed him out, and lying to his loved ones embarrassed him terribly.

He arrived at the door of the meeting room, his heart rate racing.

“Happy Father’s Day!" shouted several intermingled voices.

The entire team was gathered under a silver banner bearing the words: "Happy Office Father’s Day!”. The "office" had been added on an A3 sheet stapled under the banner. Balloons of all colors floated limply around the room, and each agent wore a conical multicolored hat.

“… Wh… What?” was the only exclamation that managed to escape his lips.

“Kids have written little notes for you on this particularly discreet card, which I strongly encourage you to read," said the novelist, pointing to a folded cardboard sheet on the table.

It was a card probably bought in a bookshop on which JJ – he recognized her handwriting – had scrawled in red marker. His attention had been so focused on what was hanging over their heads that he hadn't seen the object, which must have been a good three feet high. However, he didn't have time to dwell on it any further, as Garcia emerged from the mass and rushed towards him with small, quick steps. She stopped an arm's length away and took a deep breath before launching into her own words.

“And I made you this plush. Initially, I wanted to make a hen, but I discovered that these birds are actually very bad parents. So I looked up where there were super dads in the animal kingdom, and it turns out that wolves are the best in the world. Whenever a cub goes missing, they worry about them and look for them. They feed them, wash them, play with them and protect them from everything and... in short, I've made you a wolf cuddly toy! With your name on the pads.”

She then handed him the animal in question without moving from her spot, her cheeks flushed red. Hotch, perturbed by the whole situation, was slow to react, but nevertheless retrieved his gift, which he observed attentively. The wolf's brown eyes were not set at the same height, and one ear was bigger than the other, but the fur was soft and the letters under his paws had been meticulously stitched.

“You… aren't you going to say anything?" worried Penelope, her eyebrows furrowed in a circumflex accent.

“Uh… yes, Aaron gasped, coming back to the present moment. Thank you. I… Excuse me, I… I didn’t expect that.”

“It's the principle of surprise," Emily remarked with a smile.

“I too would have been very disturbed by all this, Spencer admitted, waving his hands in the air. Fortunately, I'm too young to be elected office dad."

“It’s… that is, I... I didn't think I'd have the honor either," he stammered, not noticing that he was pressing the stuffed toy to his chest.

“Hence the card. So you can…”

Dave twirled his index finger in front of his temple, looking mischievous. The director realized that his men must have compiled anecdotes about him on the flaps of this giant card.

“Uh… okay. Do… do I have to read it in front of you?”

“No!” they exploded in unison, Rossi excepted.

“Read it at home. Quietly,” Jennifer advised him.

“Yeah. That's better," bounced Derek, suddenly embarrassed.

“Definitely," agreed Prentiss, not much more comfortable.

Clearly, none of them wanted their feelings for him to be revealed out loud in front of everyone else. A sudden shyness that discreetly stretched their leader's lips.

“… Fine. I imagine the glasses are there for a toast," he said, spotting the bottle and glasses waiting in the middle of the table.

“I thought you'd never say it," retorted his former mentor, breaking away from the group to take hold of the neck and start peeling off the aluminum foil enclosing the cork.

The supervisor smiled candidly, touched. Not because of the BAU co-founder's reaction – which he had expected – but because of the whole situation. He who was put off by surprises felt surprisingly well. All the tension he'd felt walking from his office to the hall had vanished and his heart had regained an acceptable rhythm.

“Let's toast then. And… thanks. Thanks for everything.”

They raised their glasses in his direction and he did the same for them, then they took a sip. The mood had relaxed and frank smiles had returned to light up the faces. If he had been afraid of what they had concocted for him, they had feared his answer, dreading to see the disappointment or disgust on his pale face. But none of this had happened, and everyone was catching their breath, scooping a few appetizer cakes from the mismatched plates Emily had brought along.

“By the way, what did Jack offer you yesterday?" asked Reid, curious.

“A sheet of paper with his hand and footprints, and a message: "For Aaron, my daddy whom I love most in the world."

“It's so cute!" said Penelope, cheerfully.

“He spelled my first name with three A's, but... yes.”

The team burst out laughing and he imitated them.

___

Okay, this one probably doesn't fit the timeline too but I wanted JJ to be there actually. ^^;

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velvtrix · 2 years

Text

Bittersweet notes

Aaron Hotchner x child!reader

TW: angst, mentions of violence, guns, knifes, glass, Foyet, trauma??? neglect(I think), death, mentions of panic attacks(past), little bit of yelling, ooc most likely.

wc- maybe over 500 i forgot

a/n: trying out a new writing style, really slow in updating. Lmk if I missed any warnings I should add. Reader should be around 11-12. Gn!reader

"Music expresses that which cannot be said on which it is impossible to be silent on." -Victor Hugo

You stood by the musical hall, on your phone trying to text your father before you had to put it away. It was finally the day of your performance and no sign of him showing up. Restlessly you pulled your phone again while clicking on the contact;

Dad :)

Out came out messages only sent from you.

Leaving home soon!

Are you gonna pick me up?

Nvm babysitter offered to drop me off

Dad? You there????

Hello?

Saving you a seat, the usual

Are you gonna come?

I have to enter the building soon, won't be able to text

Dad?

Going inside, remember it's stage 4, seat 20, love you

Your finger hit the erase

You're still coming right?

"Hey y/n ! Hurry inside you have to change, you're the closing musician."

You looked up at the sound of your name, "mhm I will, I just need to make a quick call, I'll be there in a bit." The person simply shrugged and left as you clicked dial.

A few seconds passed by and as you were about to hang up the call connected.

Hotchner.

Dad?

Y/n? Why are you calling did something happen.

A sudden pang ran through your heart, you ignored the feeling before answering

Uh no I just thought you were- anyways are you doing a case right now?

No I'm, I'm with Beth, are you sure you're alright? Is Jack alright?

Jack's fine! He's with the babysitter and I'm- I'm at-

"Aaron is everything alright? They've already called our table."

You could hear Beth's voice linger with a bit of worriness, whether it was something bad happening or their date being ruined.

Listen y/n I have to hang up now, I'll check your messages afterwards if that's okay?

You choked back a sniffle,

Y-yeah no that's fine by me, have fun.

Love you y/n

Mhm

When the call ended you only shoved your phone in your bag and walked into the hall. It was filled with people, you pushed your way through and made it backstage with moments to spare; walking into a dressing room.

Sighing you decided it was time to change. You pulled out a dress shirt, vest and pants, before adjusting the red tie, the one your father gave you. You sat in the room for a bit before you pulled out the piece you were supposed to play. It seemed like almost yesterday....

You were just a small child who picked up the violin as a hobby. Your mother, Haley, had been playing the piano as a young girl but never really pursued it. Rather than wanting to follow her steps you wanted to be closer to her, and you learned that violinists have an accompanist. Your first lessons consisted of learning the basics, and the years after that was learning how to be in sync with your mother, which was easily accomplished.

You wouldn't say you were a prodigy but according to the public you were, and a good one at that. Haley would take you to small competitions and when you won them, she'd take it a bit further, but she would never make you do anything you didn't want to.

However during the events of Foyet you were in witness protection and dropped the competitions completely, only playing small duets with your mother. It was after Foyet had targeted your family, where you lost Haley, your one supporter, your accompanist, your friend, and most importantly, your mother.

bang bang bang

When those shots were fired you wished. Wished that your father had gotten here early. Or maybe your mother took the gun and shot him instead. Or perhaps that you had been shot instead. Instead of being dragged by Foyet. Instead of his knife greeting you. Instead of the stairs you were thrown against, the glass shards that had entered your palms. Right when he had finally finished tossing you around, he was about to step on your hands, the one thing a musician would care about most, your father broke the door and the fight commenced.

You grimaced at the memory, while you pulled out your brown case. Opening it you were greeted with the slight smell of pine.

"Hey kiddo how's practice going?" Your mom stood by your room frame.

"I'm almost done with the piece! I've been thinking if we could do this one together." You pulled out a sheet, ' Liebesleid (Love's sorrow)- Fritz Kreisler' "Love's sorrow? Why do you wanna play that piece?"

"Cause you used to play it a lot when I was tiny, and this time we can play it together!" You giggled while Haley sighed happily.

"Alright, I'll get ready, don't fall behind now." She walked to the common room, where the piano sat. You ran after her, violin in hand, along with a wide grin.

As she sat down, you stood by the open window, a small breeze flowing through. "Remember, when you play, don't feel forced to follow the tempo. Music is to express yourself, I only hope you don't force yourself to play, my love." She gave a smile before starting to play, you playing right after. In the original piece, both instruments begin at the same time, however there was this small pause when your mother started where you managed to catch her soft smile. It was the only time you got to see her properly before you focused on your playing.

'I just hope that with this, you'll get used to sorrow.' Haley thought sadly.

You sighed as you picked up the instrument and bow, slowly placing it on the desk before closing the case. This competition wasn't supposed to be as big as those you've attended before, but at the sight of your name a few people were interested in seeing your reappearance, and your music.

You walked out, heading for the recording room, where you watched the current person on stage play. They seemed nervous and they were off tempo, it seemed that the accompanist was trying to let the violin shine.

"(Y/n) Hotchner? Right after this person you're up." A worker announced, as everyone's head perked at the last name. "Hotchner? They came back!"

You nodded at the worker before turning back to the multiple screens. Even though there were multiple people attending, you weren't able to spot your father, maybe the camera couldn't reach his seating.

The person on screen ended their playing, a few scattered applauses could be heard. They sheepishly bowed before quickly running backstage where their accompanist followed.

"It's your turn Hotchner, be there in 3." You heard the worker as you turned to walk on stage. Once you felt like you were ready you walked through the curtain and onto the stage, your accompanist following behind you.

You finally stopped walking, faced the audience and held your violin in its rightful position.

"Oh wow it's really them! I thought they dropped music completely!"

"I bet they're going to take this competition just like others, did you hear there's judges here!? This is a lifetime opportunity."

"Let's just enjoy the show, I've missed their music so much!"

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Elohim, Essaim... Elohim, Essaim I implore you."

You struck 2 chords before starting the actual piece, Introduction et Tarantelle Op. 43

A minute into your playing you could hear the people murmuring.

"This is their playing? It's so plain, its like it's lost its spark."

"I expected the song to stand out, if they continue like this it's going to be just like everyone else's, painfully average."

'Their words don't matter. I don't care what anyone else says,' You brought your gaze on the audience, slowly looking for a certain spot. Seat 20! And just as you found said location, [video stamp 2:04] you slowed down your tempo, as if you were going to stop playing mid song.

Of course, it was empty

You felt your vision cloud and you repeatedly blinked, desperately trying to stop them from falling.

"(Y/n), kiddo, you know you don't have to do this." Your mother had a sympathetic look as she crouched to your height. "You're free to tell me you're not ready you know, it's brave to go on stage, but it's also brave to say you're scared."

You shook your head, "Nuh-uh! I've been practicing all this time. This is my first as an orchestral solist!! We've practiced and I'm ready, I promise mama!"

At age 9 you were already behind stage, waiting to play the assigned piece, Winter (L'lnverno) Op. 8 No. 4 F minor: Allegro Non Molto

You could say people envied you, being a young kid, and already being able to lead an orchestra. It was all fair, you managed to get into various competitions in such a short time because you practically devoted your whole freetime to practicing the violin.

Of course you enjoyed school, but not as much as the violin. You strive to get better, not only because of your enjoyment, but because you felt like you could connect better with your mother.

"Alright, remember, you're going to kill it kiddo. Enjoy yourself and play the way you want to be known as, not like a machine." She left a small kiss on your forehead as you turned around and went on stage happily.

Your felt the grip on your bow loosen and you immediately regained your composure. Whether it was the people's ill words or your bottled up emotions you took a deep breath and immediately sped up the tempo, catching the pianist off guard. [Time stamp 2:22]

"There it is!"

"Their playing is back!"

"They are gonna do it again, she's going to make this composition belong to them and them only."

"This is what I've been waiting for, the clash of an accompanist and a violinist."

You heard the audience cheer but you only shut them off. You glanced back at the accompanist, who only held a confused gaze, but at the sight of your smirk, they immediately regained their posture and chased after you.

So what.

So what if he's not here, you don't care.

You felt the tears fall and closed your eyes, your tempo neither increasing nor decreasing.

You never needed him, only her!

As your turn came to the end you finished the last note and strummed the violin, dramatically holding your bow in the air, panting out of breath. There was only a slight pause before the audience erupted into applause.

"WOOOOOOOO"

"THEY'RE BACK! THE (Y/N) HOTCHNER IS BACK"

"WE MISSED YOU!"

"YOU'RE AMAZING!!"

You were still out of breath when you put your bow down to your side before walking forward, bowing your head and walked to the exit.

"I've found the one."

Once you were out of the audience view you managed to place your violin on the bench but dropped your bow and fell to your knees, workers and competitors approaching you.

They all swarmed you but you only let out a happy sigh and laughed. The thrill came back and they all applauded you. You stood up, ignored your knees shaking and walked back towards the dressing room, placing your violin away and walking out of the backstage.

You sat down on a bench, watching everyone else. The other competitors were waiting for their results, just like you. Except they were waiting with their family, or friends.

You moved your gaze towards the floor, you didn't change out of the outfit you were because you had hope, hope that he would atleast be waiting.

You saw a figure loom over you and when you looked up you were shocked to see who.

"Spence?"

"Hey (y/n)! Glad I managed to find you, there's so many competitors I thought it would take me forever-"

"What are you doing here?" You cut off his rant, you weren't annoyed, rather you were happy to see him.

"Well I came here to cheer on my favorite musician, why else would I be here?" He waved a little flag that had, "go (y/n)" written on it.

"I'm honored! They're about to come out with the results, will you stay?" You stood up and hugged him, which he returned.

"Of course! I'm here to support you. A-and I also took a few notes of the piece you were playing. Did you know that-"

A swarm of people crowded the wall where a worker was setting up a paper, you beckoned Spencer to follow you. You walked up and pushed your way through, you could hear some sighs, some cries and even some celebration.

"(Y/n)......."

The letters to the right immediately lit your face.

"Mom-"

You turned back to meet Spencer, his eyes widening and your smile slowly faded.

"Spencer, I did it, I won first!" You declared with less excitement.

"That's insane! You definitely worked for it kiddo, get over here!" You walked towards him as he held you into a hug, surprisingly.

You smiled as you started to walk back to the bench you were originally sitting on. You grabbed your violin case and bag, debating whether or not to tell your dad the news.

Just as the both of you walked out the building you heard a small cough from behind you.

"Uncle Rossi!" You smiled brightly.

"How was my little niece! I saw you kick butt up on that stage!" He held you in a fatherly hug, one you needed. If you were to choose who to run to, Rossi would be the number one person. At the loss of your mother he was the one you'd turn to, as you didn't want to bother your dad, who was now a single father of two.

"U-um excuse me!" You felt a small finger tap on your back and you turned around, looking down at the small kid, who turned back to their, mother, who smiled at them.

"I-i just wanted to hand you these f-flowers! Y-your music was really a-amazing!" You took the bouquet of gladiolus from the kid's hands. You kneeled down and smiled softly, "thank you, they're very pretty." The kid quickly said welcome and ran back to their mother, who picked them up and told them they did great.

If that kid got a parent's recognition that easily, how come your father hasn't seen you yet.

"Looks like that kid beat me to it," Rossi handed you a (quite) larger bouquet of flowers, dahlias and camellias. You smiled, slightly struggling to carry all the items you held, but you were nevertheless happy.

"Did you know that kid (y/n)?" Spencer came up to you, grabbing onto your bag, you thanked him and shook your head. "I don't think so. I wonder why they gave it to me."

"Truth be told, I saw them in the beginning and they didn't have those flowers." You gave him a confused look, "What does that mean?"

He smiled and ruffled your hair slightly, "They probably ran to the closest place they could buy flowers after the show ended, all just for you."

You blinked, still confused but grateful, that atleast some people could enjoy your music.

"So how about dinner at mines?" Rossi offered.

"Are you sure? I think I'd have to ask my dad first-"

"Nonsense! You're basically my relative, if anything I'll just stick up for you."

"Oh then, I'd be honored." You lit up. It hadn't been long since you had dinner at Rossi's place, not that you minded, the food was always amazing.

"Great, it'd be a shame to waste all the food that was prepared already." He let out a small sigh, as he opened the door to the car. You walked in and he closed it, Spencer running to the other side to sit next to you.

________________

Once you arrived at the Rossi household mansion, you walked in and was greeted with a few confetti poppers. You jumped slightly, relaxing when you saw the rest of the bau team there, smiling.

"W-what are you guys doing here?" You smiled, for the nth time this day.

"We're here to celebrate, obviously, come on kiddo use that smart head of yours!" You heard a chuckle as a muscular arm draped over you.

"A little bird told us today was your competition and we watched it, you killed it by the way, and then ran over here to surprise you!" JJ sent a small smile at your way. You saw her as a mother figure, she definitely played a big role in getting over your slump.

Immediately a pink blur ran at you and you were held into a tight hug, which you recognized was Garcia.

"Oh my sweet bundle of joy you were amazing out there!" She pecked small kisses over your face, "I held back too much already you were just- words can't describe what I felt during your performance!" She hugged you tighter, if that was even possible.

"Alright baby girl, you're gonna kill her if you continue hugging her." You felt the hug fade away, while you enjoyed her hugs, they could be intense at times.

"I'm thankful for the support, and the surprise!" You thanked everyone, Rossi finally entering his place, with bouquets in one arm and your violin case in the other.

"Now for the best part, Rossi's cooking" Another voice rung through your head.

"Prenti- Emily." You entered into another hug, and you returned it. She backed away and took your hand leading you into the backyard, where a wonderful aroma hit your nose.

Multiple dishes, mainly Italian, sat nicely on the table, a few decorations adored the room, they were probably up by Garcia.

You sat in the middle of a side on the table, patiently waiting for everyone to sit down so you all could eat at the same time. When everyone was eating you sat still, your gaze looking over everyone who was either engaging into small talk or simply eating silently.

You felt the same emotion from the morning rise up, again you held it down, and started eating. Was it the nice atmosphere? Or maybe it was the small talk. No it was probably your imagination, right?

Why did this feel like a normal family dinner.

You finished eating what you could, got seconds if you wanted, and you thanked Rossi for the food, immediately running to the bathroom to wash your hands and ran back to the living room. Everyone looked confused when you came back in, a familiar case in hand.

You were still in your suit so better now than later right?

You stood by the glass doors that connected the backyard to the kitchen, a few small bulbs lighting up your small stage. You unzipped your case, pulling out your familiar instrument.

Rossi, who also had finished his food, stood by the piano, that seemed to almost be outside in a coincidence.

"During dinner, if it's okay, I would like to play a piece." You whispered the rest of your plan in Rossi's ear, who nodded along. He knew how to play the piano, not full protégé but he could follow the music sheet.

You looked at him, who nodded, as you held your instrument in a ready position.

"Elohim, Essaim... Elohim, Essaim I implore you."

You started to play, Rossi following after you.

Nocturne Op.9 No.2

You saw their faces light up at the source of the playing. The atmosphere seemed more cozy and they talked softer, as to enjoy the piece fully.

Your Uncle Rossi was able to keep up, and you didn't do anything out of the norm to keep the nice tone, maybe it was out of your style, but you also enjoyed playing what the composition was intended to sound like.

As the piece ended, you slowly bowed, and the table cheered, especially Garcia, who grabbed Spencer's hand that held the small flag and waved it around vigorously causing him to let out small protests.

You put your violin back in its case and you felt strong arms lift you up in the air, the moonlight shining brightly on the backyard, illuminating the flowers and the gazebo.

"I'm so proud of you kiddo!" Morgan smiled, and swung you around in the air, the cool breeze hitting you.

It was definitely the atmosphere, right?

You can't keep it down anymore.

A small tear rolled down, then another, and before you knew it you were clinging onto Morgan like no tomorrow, sobs echoing through the yard. The team immediately ran by your side, checking if you were injured, but you kept your grasp tight on Morgan, afraid of letting you.

"You're afraid aren't you?"

You looked at Prentiss with a confused gaze, it wasn't too much after your mother's death when she asked you this.

"Afriad of what?"

"Afraid of deep relationships. I know you don't like being profiled but you've tried to stop calling us by our first name. You've closed yourself off and I understand that but-"

"I'm not scared!" You immediately defended yourself, maybe hanging around profilers did have cons, you couldn't hide anything from them.

"I just ask that you try to keep with the first name basis, at least with me. Spencer already knows, I think it'd be easier to try with him too." She held your hand softly but you immediately recoiled from the touch.

"I'm not scared..."

"I know our jobs aren't the safest but, promise me you'll try?" She stood up, awkwardly cleared her throat and walked away, leaving you in shock.

"I'm scared." You sobbed out. You matured way too early, and your own father didn't notice much of it, in fact maybe he was relieved that you did. You didn't require much attention like Jack. Even then you were scared, of losing your father, or even the bau team.

After a few minutes of letting your bottled emotions out, you fell asleep, Morgan carrying you into a spare room in Rossi's house. Emily had briefed the team what you were dealing with an everyone felt sympathy, it was only a bit after 11 p.m when Hotch entered the yard, slightly out of breath, his hair messy, tie all crooked and a shocked expression, rarely ever seen.

"I got a call that, (y/n) is here." He fixed his tie and looked around the yard, just like he would search an unsub's area. His chest rose and fell quickly, lightly panting as he regained control of his breathing. He continued to walk, making sure to scan the area, trying to find something, anything that would alert him that his child was here.

"Yeah, the kids here." Rossi assured the disheveled man in front of him before crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow. "The real question is where were you?" He speaks in a stern tone, it's almost funny how he's the one acting like a father.

Hotch stares at the older man in disbelief. Why is he being questioned? He's the father looking for his child, can't they just tell him where they are? Hotch breaks from the eye contact, sighing as he runs his hand through his messy hair, removing the strands that fell in front of his face. He sighs once more, knowing he wouldn't win this without answering.

"I was with Beth, we had a date planned. Now where is my child." His voice was cold, but a small amount of panic laced his words. The team around him could only sigh, some seemed almost disappointed. Emily and Spencer sent each other confused looks, both communicating with their eyes.

"What, is it wrong to want to spend time with my partner when there isn't any work?" Hotch asked, almost offended. He too had a life outside of the BAU. Normally he was asked to take a break and now they want him to stay focused?

Rossi could only chuckle while the rest of the team looked at him. Spencer seemed to speak up, "Listen Hotch, we don't mind you spending time with Beth, we're all happy you finally are leaving the shell of yours." His tone seemed to become angrier.

"But when your child, (y/n), is having a competition, and goes out their way to also leave their shell, I expect you to be the first person there, not Morgan, Emily, everyone on this team." His words were laced like poison, and Hotch could feel it crawl through his veins and into his heart. His heart that suddenly felt a sharp jab at it.

"Do you know how much (y/n) stayed quiet about?!" Spencer continued. It was quite rare to see him so agitated. "Hey pretty boy maybe you should-"

"No. He needs to know Morgan!" He cuts off Spencer. "He needs to know how much (y/n) cried, how much they hid that their father never looked their way anymore!" He seemed quite affected by this, his own relationship with his father was also like this at one point. Then he just left.

"(Y/n) has been trying, struggling! They've tried to move on to no avail. Yes they've made a big step in attending a competition, something they quit. It would have meant a lot more to them to see their father there with them! They CRIED while YOU were having an AMAZING time with Beth."

It was quiet. Too quiet. The team stayed silent, the youngest in the team had just yelled at their boss but deep down they all were supportive of his words.

"Do you know their favorite food? Their favorite songs? How about their favorite color, their favorite book? What about their grades? Did you know they had over 6 panic attacks and was sent to the nurse at some point. Did you know that they always woke up after them, asking for their father?!"

Hotch stood there, like a deer in headlights, staring at Spencer as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. How could he have forgotten? The few times you did speak was about the competition. Hell you even asked if you could take Jack that day but he refused, thinking you were just going to keep him home and Jack needed exposure to other people, even if it just was a babysitter.

"Sometimes, you act like (y/n) doesn't exist, and it shows."

Spencer sighed once more before walking , "I hope this is your wake up call, Hotchner." He bumped into Hotch on the way to the house, most likely on purpose as he went upstairs, most likely to go to your room to check up on you.

Hotch stares in front of him, dazed, in disbelief. Had he really not realized how much time had passed? He assumed you distanced yourself because you were growing up. He was quite happy, seeing that you didn't need as much attention as Jack but was he actually hurting you by allowing you freedom? He feels his throat swell as he clears it, slowly looking up at Rossi.

"Have I really been such a bad father? I-I thought I was helping them by giving them space. Have I actually been harming them?" How he hoped that the older man would dispute, telling him no, that he tried his best, but Rossi simply nodded

Had he really been that absent from your life?

"Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable." -William Shakespeare

a/n: First time actually finishing a post wooo. Any feedback would be appreciated. I do take requests, just not very speedy at doing them. I'll work on a abt me post and stuff. Hope you enjoyed, feel free to support me if you do it would mean a lot<3

#Criminal minds #Criminal minds fanfic #Jennifer Jareau #JJ #Emily Prentiss #Spencer Reid #Derek Morgan #Penelope Garcia #Aaron Hotchner #Hotch x child!reader #xchild!reader #Daddy Issues lol #Platonic #No fluff only angst #Live laugh love angst #angst??#live laugh love angst #Idk how tags work

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