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h-c-u · 1 year

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Painfully healing

Summary: After you got assaulted, your dad's best friend takes care of you when your parents have to leave for a weekend.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

W/C: 5.1k

Rating: +18 (there is no sex in this one, but I still feel like it needs to be categorized as such), age gap

TWs: Depression, Very Detailed Self-Harm, Blood, Cutting, Scars, Unnamed ED. Talks about: rape.

A/N: Guys. This one is dark. Seriously. If you don't feel comfortable with any of the topics mentioned in TWs, please skip it. You are responsible for the media you consume.

Masterlist | List of tags

- Oh, wow! You look awesome, Y/n! – those were the first words you heard from Aaron’s mouth when you opened the door for him. You wanted to run to him, to hide under his jacket, to break down with his strong arms around you, but none of it was showing on your face.

- Thanks! I was kind of on the fence with this one... But a lot of my friends shaved their heads recently, so I guess I'm just basic for following a trend. - you played it down, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn't decipher. You smiled gently, making sure that your cheeks rose up and made the smile lines in the corners of your eyes, so it would look more genuine.

- The dinner is ready! Come on in, before it gets cold! - your mother's head peeked out from the kitchen. - Hi Aaron, good to see you again. - she gave the man a warm smile, before going back to the kitchen.

When you were walking down the hallway, you felt a soft touch on your lower back. You were far past caring about how you looked or what you were wearing, but you couldn't help but notice the contrast in between you and Aaron. He was still in his suit, and even after a whole day of work, there wasn't even one wrinkle on his jacket and shirt, while you were in your galaxy-patterned sweatpants that hung loosely around your hips, held only by a piece of string, and a ratty old t-shirt with a logo of a band that was once your favorite. It was a step up from all the blacks and greys you were wearing for the past month. At least that's what you wanted your parents to think, because the thought of you getting better was making them happy, and you didn't want them to worry even more than they already did.

You thought you saw your father freeze for a second when he realized how close you allowed his best friend to get to you, while for the last month, you had trouble getting a carton of milk from his hand, but he didn't say anything, hoping it was a sign of progress.

- The dinner looks lovely, Peggy... - Aaron complimented your mother’s cooking skills when all of you were seated at the table. Nobody commented on the fact that you were sitting with your feet on your chair and with your chin resting on your knee, even though you knew your mother definitely would bite your head off if you did that just a few months ago. But everything was different now.

- Thank you, but don't just look at it! Let's eat! - you faked a light chuckle at your mother's words and reached for the mashed potatoes because they were the closest to you. The portion you put on your plate was small, but you spread it out to make it look bigger. You didn't plan on eating because you weren't sure if you could even keep anything down. You knew you could get away with it if you made it look like you ate something. And if by the end of the meal, the food was covering less of a plate than at the beginning - your parents would leave you be.

Everyone kept the conversation light for your sake, but if you had to be honest - you were so detached from everything, that you could have talked about anything on autopilot and not even realize what exactly you were saying.

Aaron kept his hand on the back of your chair, letting his thumb brush over your shoulder blades from time to time, and it was the only thing you were able to focus on.

After dinner, you helped your dad with the dirty dishes, while your mum and Aaron were talking in the dining room. You were lost in your own thoughts, and that meant you weren't paying enough attention to what was happening around you. So when your dad accidentally got too close and your shoulders touched, you immediately jumped away and dropped the pot you were holding in your hands.

For a moment there was nothing, but pure panic and fear painted on your face, and you did your best to contain it as quickly as possible, but your dad noticed, even though you didn't want him to, because he did nothing wrong.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... - you said in a calm voice, bending down to get the pot, but before you did, your dad intercepted.

- It's ok, it's all right I can finish up here. - you rarely saw your father this broken, and it hurt to know that you were a cause of his pain.

- I will get better... - you added, trying to give him some hope before you left the kitchen.

- I know, honey... I know. - out of instinct he wanted to hug you, but he stopped himself mid-gesture and let his arms fall down, giving you an apologetic look. In response, you gave him a weak smile and left the room. You knew it would be proper to go back to the dining table, but you just couldn't...

So, you went upstairs and curled into a ball right outside of anyone's view. You couldn't bring yourself to go to your room yet, so you stayed where you were. You knew that your parents’ suitcases were already in the car so they wouldn't have to get them from their bedroom, and you would be left alone, at least for a while.

- Thank you for doing this again, Aaron... - you heard your father's muffled voice.

- It's honestly no problem. I didn't have any plans and she's not ready to be alone yet, so I'm more than happy to help.

- She is getting better though... - you smiled at your mother's words, glad that your deception was working. There was a short moment of silence, and she eventually continued. - You know where everything is, I've prepared fresh towels for you in the guest bathroom. We will be back tomorrow around noon unless the funeral will run longer or we'll be needed around the house, but in that case - I'll let you know.

- I can stay till Monday morning, so it's honestly fine. Take as long as you need, Peggy... She was your sister, and you need to process that properly. - there was another moment of silence. - And don't worry, I'll take good care of Y/n, I promise. - you could hear them getting up from the table and moving to the hallway, closer to you, but still out of sight.

- I know... If anything happens, no matter how small... - you heard the shuffling of the clothes, and a pair of heels moving against the floor.

- I'll call. - Aaron assured. - Have a safe drive.

- Thank you again. - the door opened, closed, and then there was silence, but for the first time in a while it wasn't aggressively clawing at your ears. - I know you're here. Come to the kitchen. - he said in a soft, yet commanding tone, and you didn't have a choice but follow. You didn't put any weight on your heels, so your steps were not audible, and yet he still was able to tell even with his back turned to you, that you were there.

You heard your parent's car leaving the garage, just as Aaron wrapped his big hands around your hips and plopped you on the kitchen counter. He was the only person you still felt safe around, and it made you feel guilty because your parents did nothing wrong and you didn't blame them for anything. And yet you still couldn't be with them in the same room for longer periods of time.

- You're not eating again. - it wasn't a question, and you knew there was no sense in lying to him. Even when you were a teenager, he was able to notice things that eluded your parents. - You were supposed to call me if that happened. - his tone of voice was stern, while he took strawberries out of the fridge and started de-stemming them.

- It's been only two... three days... - you mumbled under your nose, trying to minimalize the issue. - And I'm drinking this time... - he didn't make any comments, just reached for a peach from a fruit bowl and started peeling it. Technically he didn't have to, but he knew you didn't like the fuzzy skin. He eventually cut everything into bite-size pieces.

- And the hair...? - he asked. You only sighed and looked down, while he was putting the board and knife in the sink. He came closer to you, so now he was standing in between your thighs, and gently ran his fingers down your arms until he stopped at your wrists, which he turned up, fully expecting to see fresh marks on at least one of your chopping board tattoos, but there were no new additions. You had them done after your scars from high school finally healed. It took some time, but now he understood why you chose to emphasize the signs of the trauma on your body instead of putting it behind you, and now he was even able to find the joke amusing. He brought both of your wrists to his mouth and placed a small kiss on each of them. - The hair. - he repeated himself and you finally looked up.

- I couldn't stand them touching my neck, my cheeks, getting in my eyes... Every time they did, I could feel one of them tightening their grip on them and yanking my head. So I shaved it. - you eventually explained, trying to avert your gaze, but his hand was right under your chin, stopping you from turning away.

- Did it help? - he simply asked. He wasn't judging, didn't make any comments, just looked at you, studying your face intensely and putting his years as a profiler to good use. You nodded, and he gently run his thumb over your lips. - Open up. - you instantly followed his instructions, fully expecting him to put his finger there for you to suck on, but instead, with his other hand he put a strawberry on your extended tongue. - You need sustenance. - he simply said, and you couldn't even be mad that he tricked you like that, so you slowly started chewing on a piece of strawberry and the taste of it viciously attacked your taste buds. After a few days of nothing but water, even the sweet and mild taste of one of your favorite fruits was intense. Under his stern gaze, you finally swallowed, and he hummed, glad to see that you weren't fighting him on this one. - Again... - you obediently opened your mouth again and he placed another piece of fruit there, this time peach, but before he had the chance to take his hand away, you moved your head forward, closing your lips around two of his fingers licking and sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. He gently smiled and pulled his hand out of your mouth with a loud pop, allowing you to chew again. And as soon as you swallowed, he was there with another piece, feeding you by hand until the small bowl was empty. It wasn't much, but it was just enough not to upset your stomach, and your brain didn't even register it as eating, because of the way the food ended up in your mouth.

You gently grabbed the front of his white shirt and pulled him closer, so you could smush your face against his chest and wrap your arms around his body, snaking your hands under his jacket.

Before the rape, you were a very physical person. Always sitting on someone's lap, hugging people left and right, holding hands with your friends, and laying your head on their thighs... And that need to touch, to be held was still there. But it was overwhelmed by fear, even when it came to family and friends; that broken trust, unfortunately, traveled to them by proximity, but Aaron was an exception...

He was the one whom you called right after, who stayed on the line even when you couldn't say a single word, who asked his co-worker to trace your phone, who got to you in record time, and who kicked the door to the room you were locked in, fully prepared to kill anyone who dared to stand in between the two of you.

He saved you...

He put his jacket over your shoulders and pulled you so close, that you couldn't focus on anything else but him. He was the one who reported the incident, he was the one who held your hand while you were answering questions to the police and who punched the campus cop who dared to suggest that you wanted it. He was the one who rode in the ambulance with you, and he almost bit the nurse’s head off when she suggested that you might want to be alone for the rape kit. You didn't... And your fingernails digging into his writs were saying such. You needed someone familiar in the room because, without him, your mind would break beyond repair. So, when the young policewoman took pictures of your naked, abused body, and the flash blinded you for a split second so you couldn't see Aaron’s warm, chocolate eyes, you instantly went to the floor, but somehow, he managed to catch you before you fell over completely.

And when he tried to pass you to your mother when she finally arrived at the hospital, you clung to him for dear life, and you didn't let go until you passed out from exhaustion hours later. Your parents didn't ask any questions, explaining your behavior to themselves with the fact that it was because Aaron was almost always in your life, and he could actually do something to protect you because of his job... That's why you felt safe with him, and not with them. It hurt them, but in the end, they were glad you had at least someone around whom you could lower your guard, and that it was someone as trustworthy as your father's best friend.

Even now, almost three months after the rape, he was still the only person who could freely touch you, hug you, run his hands over your back, and you welcomed it with such desperation, that it almost scared you. You needed touch, his touch, to ground you in reality, and you hated being so dependent on him, even though your body and mind were already his.

- It's ok... - he whispered against your temple and placed a soft kiss there. - Do you want to go to bed? - he asked and when you nodded, he lifted you from the counter and carried you upstairs to your room. He gently put you on the permanently unmade bed, but you didn't let go of him. - I want to change into something more comfortable, Darling... I'm gonna go get my bag and I will be right back. - he said, but you still didn’t move.

- Please don't go... I have your t-shirt under the pillow, that should be enough... - you said quietly in an almost broken voice, and he just sighed.

- Sure, why the hell not... - he caved in and quickly undressed, folded his clothes, placed them on your dresser, and put on the shirt you must have stolen from him some time ago because he didn’t remember giving you this specific one.

He got in the bed behind you and pulled you even closer, so you were able to soak in the touch you so desperately needed. He buried his face in your neck, smushing his nose against your skin. One of his arms snaked in between your forearm and your torso, and his big hand rested on your abdomen, covering it almost completely; his other arm found its way under your head, and when you rested it on his bicep, he bent it in the elbow, so he could run his fingers over you fresh buzzcut. He intertwined his bare legs with yours, and when you pulled them closer to your chest - he followed, not breaking contact even for a second.

It was so easy to fall asleep with him completely wrapped around your body, but you still resisted it a little, wanting to soak in his closeness.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, something felt... wrong. You knew what all too well, but with Aaron so close, doing anything about it would be too risky. You could omit some facts, and not tell him everything, but if he asked specifically - you would be a goner. What you could do, was go take a shower and try to scrub that sensation off your skin, even though experience told you that it would be pointless. But damn if you weren't willing to try...

So you slithered out of Aaron’s embrace, trying your best not to wake him up, but he still did...

- Y/n...? Everything ok...? - he asked, his mind still fogged by Morpheus's sand.

- Everything's fine... I'm just gonna take a shower... - you whispered and forced the corners of your lips to move up, but that only made him realize that not everything was fine, and that alone immediately jolted him awake.

- I'm going with you... - he simply stated, and the look on your face must have been more revealing than you thought it was because he didn't see fear... You weren't afraid that he would do something, you were embarrassed. And when you realized that he knew more, the muscles in your thighs tensed involuntarily. Anyone else would have missed it, but not him. Not when his subconsciousness was trained to analyze and profile anything and anyone around him.

He shifted his head to the side as if he wanted to say, "Oh no, you did not...", and you instantly crossed your arms on your chest, bit your lip, and looked up, trying to stop the tears that were dangerously close from entering your eyes. Your body was telling the story you wanted to keep hidden, but when Aaron got closer to you and kneeled in front of you, you couldn't keep even the crumbs of composure that you had left. You didn't protest when he pulled on the string of your sweatpants, but when he hooked his thumbs around the waistband, you were no longer able to hold back tears.

He pulled the pants down, and when he saw the state of your thighs, his jaw clenched. He didn't make any comments, but for once his face was saying more than any words ever could. He was angry, but not at you... At himself. Because he didn't see it earlier. He was so absorbed by your wrists because that's what you were familiar with, that he didn't even think about other ways. He rested his forehead on your abdomen, put his hands on your waist, and pulled you closer. You could tell that he was trying to compose himself, trying to hold back the tears, to fight this wretched feeling of helplessness...

He eventually sat on his heels and started tracing every line you've made over the last two months with gentle kisses... Some of them were already long healed, but few were fresh, still scabbed even, but none of the cuts was deep enough to cause any serious damage; you had enough experience to avoid that. And for you, it was never about hating or killing yourself... It was about regaining control over your body and how it reacted, just to feel like yourself again, but you weren't sure which was worse.

- You were supposed to call me... - he whispered against your skin, still hiding his face from you. - Day or night, doesn't matter... I would have answered, I would have... - he choked on his words and wrapped his arms around your thighs. He couldn't say that he would have come, that he could have helped you, calm you down, because logically he knew he could have been on a case on the other side of the country...

- There is nothing you could have done... - you whispered, gently running your fingers through his hair. - Because it's not about you... It's about me. - he looked up at you and you could see wetness around his eyes glistening in the faint light of the moon. - The pain... It's freeing. It puts me back in my body because I'm the one doing things to it. I'm the cause of it, I'm the one making myself bleed, I'm the one in control... - you explained and ran your fingers through his hair again. You could see him processing the new information, but it didn't help with the helplessness of not being able to help you.

- Show me. - it wasn't a request. You needed a moment to register what he just said, but after a moment of silence and a few too-quick blink, you eventually moved to your desk where you kept your special box. You wanted to say no, to plead with him, but... That feeling that initially woke you up was still there, bubbling under your skin, and it was stronger than shame.

You sat on your bed and opened the box. Because it was never about serious harm, you were always prepared and as safe as possible. You pulled out a thin disposable surgical towel and put it on your sheet. Then you disinfected your hands, and the steel hand of a scalpel and put in on the towel, while Aaron watched diligently what you were doing. He half expected you to pull out a razor from your wallet, so to say he was surprised would have been an understatement, but he didn't make any comments. You also got a fresh gauze and drenched it in disinfectant, only to run it over the skin on your right thigh. Next, you took out a fresh blade and attached it to the metal handle, and you could finally get started.

You gently pressed the sharp blade to the previously unmarked patch of skin and without hesitation, you cut yourself. You knew at what angle this specific blade had to be, how much pressure to put, and how quickly to move the scalpel for the cut to be just the right depth to heal by itself and not need stitches. And as soon as the blade pierced your skin, you exhaled loudly and a massive amount of pressure left your body like a weight lifted from your shoulders, and the relief of it made you close your eyes and tilt your head back; the feeling was almost biblical...

When you opened your eyes again, you saw Aaron's eyes drilling into you, but by now, you were used to him reading you, so you just looked down again and chose another patch of skin, far away from the first cut, because you knew that they would heal quicker if they were further apart. You made another cut and once again, the almost orgasmic relief took over your body, forcing a very quiet whine from between your lips...

You wanted to make another cut, but Aaron wrapped his fingers around your wrist and straightened his leg, so it was parallel to yours.

- Do me. - another non-request

- Aaron, no... You don't need it. And it will actually hurt you... - this time you had to plead because it would be pointless for either of you.

- Nothing could hurt me more than seeing you hurt yourself... Now, I can either do it myself and fuck it up, because I don't know what I'm doing, or you can do it for me. It's your choice. - you froze. You honestly didn't know what was worse - actually inflicting pain on the most important person in your life, or watching him potentially injuring himself...

- I'll do it. - you eventually whispered. You still needed a moment to allow your brain to catch up to your words, but you ended up moving the surgical towel so it was closer to his thigh so you could see better what you would be doing.

- The exact same places as you did on your leg. - your eyes shot back to his, but he was serious, and you started to worry. There were more safe areas, especially the one closer to the inside of the thigh, but it wasn't a request. He wanted to show you something and make sure you understood it.

- Flex your muscles... - you requested and as soon as he did, you gently run your fingers over the areas you just cut on your own leg. You determined the exact placement of his veins and an artery. You of course didn't plan on going anywhere below fascia, but you still wanted to be as cautious as possible. - Relax... - he did as you told, and you gently pinched his skin, roughly determining how thick it was in those places, and how deeply you could go without any risks. By now you knew his body well, but not on that level; this was completely new for both of you.

You detached the blade you used to cut yourself from the handle and dropped it into a small metal tin with all the other ones. And then you repeated the preparation process, disinfecting everything that needed to be disinfected and attaching a fresh blade to the scalpel. For a short moment, you were toying with the idea of asking him to shave his thigh, because the healing process could be worse for him if he didn’t, but you got the feeling that it wasn't something he would say yes to right now.

Before you put the blade to his skin, you looked him in the eyes again, hoping that he would stop you, but there was nothing but determination there. So, you looked back down, with your finger traced the path you were about to follow with the scalpel, and made a quick cut. It was long, but a bit shallower than yours, because you weren't used to cutting thicker skin.

He stayed still, not even flinching at the pain he must have felt but seeing the droplets of fresh blood gathering on the edges of the cut ripped something from your chest and crushed it right in front of you. You wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but his stern look told you it wouldn't be wise.

- Again. - he said quietly, his voice much softer than you expected it to be in a moment like this. And you did... You moved your hand closer to his inner thigh and made another swift cut, this time curving it a little, following the shape of the muscle.

You didn't even realize that you started crying; only when you saw your tear falling down dangerously close to the fresh cut, you moved your head away. You quickly wiped the rest of the tears with the back of your left hand, taking a fresh gauze in your right and drying the drop before it had the chance to contaminate the cut.

- Do you understand now...? - he asked quietly, and you nodded, trying to hold back tears. - Good. Because every time I will find a fresh one on your body, you will be recreating it on mine. And from now on I will be checking regularly. Are we clear...? - you nodded again, trying your best to calm yourself down. He hated making you cry, but he also knew you well enough to realize that it was the fastest and most efficient way to stop you from harming yourself. You needed to realize what it was like to be on the other end of it, no matter how good and cathartic it felt in the moment. He also knew that now, every time you would even think about self-harming, the image of two fresh cuts on his thigh would immediately pop up in your head.

Still with tears in your eyes and without saying a word you cleaned all four cuts you made, and you even gently wrapped them with a fresh bandage, which wasn't something you usually did, but you didn't want any risks tonight... When you were done with the wounds, you put everything away in the box, and the box back in the desk And even though the possibility of you taking it out again was next to none, the knowledge that it was there, just in case, was still comforting.

And then you were back in bed, under the covers, basking in Aaron's body heat.

- I'm sorry I forced you to do this... - he whispered, when you grabbed the material of his shirt with both hands, and he wrapped himself around you, allowing you to hide in the cocoon made from him. - I don't regret it, and I would have done it again, but I am truly sorry that I forced you to experience that feeling. - he could never lie to you... Not even about something like this.

You were quietly sobbing into his chest. Was it healthy? No. Would a therapist hearing about this situation told you to run far away from him? Definitely. But did it work...? In its own twisted way, it did.

- I love you, Aaron... - you said quietly, clenching your fists even more. He run one of his hands over your buzzcut and you leaned into the touch almost like a cat.

- I love you too... - he pulled you closer and let you cry into the material of his shirt until you fell asleep in his arms... But he didn't join you, he couldn't. The guilt and anger he felt were so overwhelming that he didn't know what to do with them. And even though you were safe in his arms right now, the knowledge that the monsters who did this to you were still alive was eating him from the inside. Sure, they were in prison, he made sure of that, but he was seriously considering abusing his power and influence to make them meet their maker. The worst thing was it wasn't the first time he thought about it... He had come up with four possible ways to kill them, and all of them left his hands squeaky clean, that's why it was so tempting.

But if he ever did the things, he thought about doing, he would no longer be a good man.

And you deserved a good man.

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

#my writing #TW: Depression #TW: Self-Harm #TW: Blood #TW: Cutting #TW: Scars #TW: ED #TW: Rape #Criminal Minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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