ssamorganhotchner

[ssamorganhotchner]

I am dead 🤣

more bau x reader (aaron hotchner x reader) tweets <3

suggestive

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[ssamorganhotchner]

Office Sleepover - A.H

a/n: this is honestly kind of shit but whatever

might make this a mini series?

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: reader kind of flashes hotch, really inconsistent with how the gov works i'm sure, there's also definitely not an oven in the break room but in my world there is <3

wc: 3.8k

Hotch's voice reached you, but the words tangled into an indecipherable code as they hit the air. You nodded, a reflex, but it was as if your brain had short-circuited. You could make out fragments--a hit on you, stay at office, 24/7 protection, you can take the back office. But no matter how many times he said it, it seemed to ricochet through your head, making less sense each time. You were on a hit list? A hit list?

It all felt very made up, like a script ripped straight out of a tv show. Risk was a part of the BAU job description, but a hit list? For a fleeting moment, a chuckle hovered at the brink of your lips, but it was swiftly swallowed by a wave of dread that rose in its place. You blinked a couple times, probably too many in a vain attempt to clear the fog and bring Hotch's face into focus.

"But what about all my stuff? And you want me to camp out here in the office? For how long, Hotch? I mean, I'm all for overtime, but this is... this is a lot, and I--," you babble, your speech racing ahead of your thoughts. "And my baking? That's my biggest stress reliever. Not to mention my DIY projects--I can't just abandon my half-finished throw pillowcases. Plus, how many pairs of shoes is too many for an office closet?"

Your pout formed a delicate bow, and though he said nothing, his eyes softened. Hotch could feel the frown marring his features. He might never say it, but seeing you like this struck a chord, making it a little hard to breathe. 

Circling the desk, he planted himself in front of you, his hand settling on your shoulder. "Hey, take a deep breath," he urges softly. "Let's take it one step at a time. List out what you need, someone will bring it here. Your baking supplies, DIY projects, even your shoes."

True to Hotch's word, as usual, you found every piece of your life carefully compartmentalized into cardboard boxes, lined up carefully in the office that now doubled as your temporary room. There was an odd sense of dislocation in finishing your workday and needing only to count about thirty steps before arriving at your room.

You swung the door closed, the sound sealing the room as a deep sigh wrapped around you and you started sifting through the boxes. The pullout couch serving as your bed was less than appealing, its worn fabric making you grimace internally. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention, busying yourself with the organizing of your extensive collection of things. Spencer would definitely shake his head at the sight of the vast amount of clothes you had brought.

The irony wasn't lost on you; surrounded by the office's ceaseless motion, yet you felt more alone than in the stillness of your own apartment. God, this was pathetic, and you needed a drink, but you had a nagging suspicion the office handbook would have a thing or two to say about that. You spent a solid two hours attempting to infuse the sterile space with a touch of home, it wasn't perfect (at all), but it would have to do.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, poking his head in with a grin. "I didn't realize we were redecorating the bureau in shades of bubblegum," he teases. "How you doing, kid?"

"Actually, it's blush," you correct with a mock-serious tone, meeting his smile with one of your own. "I'm fine," you insist, but Rossi's knowing look prompts a quick add-on. "I am, really, I mean I've always said I wanted my own office."

"An office with a view of the bullpen, no less. You're living the dream," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "Need any help with anything? Or anything else from your place? Maybe your favorite mug to make feel more like home?"

"Don't worry, I'm already one step ahead of you," you assure him, revealing a drawer brimming with mugs.

Rossi lets out a low appreciative whistle. "Why am I not surprised?" he chuckles with a broad grin. "Well, I'm heading out for the night. Remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. And Hotch is still here, buried in paperwork as usual."

He left, and you were alone--a cue to try and cling to some normalcy of your routine; you drew the blinds and slipped into the comfort of your pajamas. You hauled yourself off to the office bathroom, reluctantly at that, and proceeded to attend to your skincare, brush your hair, and polish your smile with a thorough teeth brushing.

Eyeing the hallway warily, you made a silent exit from the bathroom, the carpet softening your footfalls. But in your rush to avoid prying eyes, you crashed into a solid wall of a figure, the force sending you tumbling backward. You hit the floor with a muted thud, your ass hitting the ground, legs splayed inelegantly in front of you. Your eyes rose to meet the firm, penetrating look of Hotch. Of fucking course.

There was a pause as Hotch's eyes drank in the sight of your flushed complexion and the wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to capture the light just so. He felt like his heart could stop then and there. And he knew it was wrong, but he certainly liked the sight of you sprawled below him. He blinked, breaking the trance, and offered a concerned, "Are you okay?" His hands were outstretched, ready to pull you back to your feet. 

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade as you held onto Hotch's hand, the feeling unexpectedly comforting, rough in yours but nice. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm all good, sorry about that," you managed to say, the words squeaking out a tad too eagerly. 

You stood up, and his closeness was all-consuming. You were suddenly intensely aware of every breath, every throb of your heart, and your mind went blank; the usual stream of thoughts replaced by a buzzing silence.

His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped back, creating a respectful distance. The hallway's warmth seemed to dissipate with the space, leaving you with an unexpected stab of disappointment. 

"Rossi said you'd be here. Anything I can do to help?" 

You rationalized the offer as a gesture of your goodwill, but a small part, well a big part, of you knew just wanted to be close to him, to be alone with him maybe--in the office, after hours, in his office. This was weird, I mean, you'd always admired your Unit Chief, but this was different. You chalked it up to the day's unfortunate series of events--you were tired, and lonely, and you needed desperately to snap out of it before you made a fool out of yourself.

"No, you need to rest. It's been a long day, and you've been through enough." He paused, his gaze assessing you. "How are you holding up?"

"At this rate, I'll need a sign that says 'I'm fine,' to stop the check-ins." Although you silently doubted that would deter him. You gesture to the surroundings. "And this? It's like a sleepover at work. Just hoping this so-called hit man doesn't show up."

Hotch internally recoiled at your words, leaving him with the sensation of a cold grasp tightening around his heart. He cleared his throat, the joke falling flat in the gravity of his concern. "I'll be here for a while longer. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me," he managed a nod before retreating to his office.

A while longer? You knew Hotch was a workaholic, but it now occurred to you that he must never sleep. Quickly, you gathered your scattered belongings, and made your way to your office.

The pull-out couch seemed even less inviting than you remembered, if that was possible. You perched on the edge, the metallic frame cold through the thin mattress. As you lay down, the couch seemed to swallow you in its awkward angles. Perfect. Tossing and turning, you struggled to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, exhaustion won over discomfort, the rhythm of your own breathing lulling you into a fitful sleep.

Your eyes flickered open at some point during the night and the blinds drifted apart, as if by an unseen hand, and through the gap, your eyes fell on a hooded figure, the face not visible in the dim light. Your muscles locked in terror, an icy fear clawing its way up your spine as you tried to move--to reach for your gun, to call out for Hotch, to do anything. But as if imprisoned by an invisible force, you could only watch, confined to the bed, as the figure crept towards the door. 

A scream tore from your throat, a raw and piercing sound that ricocheted off the walls and echoed through your eyes. This was it, you thought. 

Then, in an instant, you were awake and disoriented, your breaths coming in short bursts, and your body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Your fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric twisting in your grasp as you fought to decipher what was reality. Your eyes snapped to the blinds, half-expecting to see the figure from your dream materialize, but the emptiness beyond them slowly calmed your racing heart.

With a throat dry as parchment and your pulse still echoing in your ears, you drifted from your room towards the break room. As you ambled past Hotch's office, you paused. The door, slightly ajar, felt like an invitation. Despite knowing better, a foggy curiosity nudged your feet forward. With a shaky breath, you eased the door open wider and slipped inside. 

His office felt different at night--it was quieter, more personal, and you felt like an intruder on Hotch's private world. You took a moment, absorbing the sight of his meticulously organized desk, the case files that were always present.

It was tempting to try to piece together the man from his workspace, but you held back. As you turned to leave, a familiar scent stopped you--the subtle hint of his cologne hanging in the air. It wrapped around you, easing the tension that had sunk into your limbs. Almost without thinking, you found yourself sinking into the couch.

The room, infused with his distinct scent, seemed to have your blinking growing heavier, more intentional. You nestled deeper into the cushions; the fabric familiar beneath your fingers, lulling you into a sense of security. Just five minutes, you thought.

Hotch's steps were slow, his eyelids having a hard time staying open as he made his way through the bullpen. He carried his briefcase, the leather handle worn and conformed to his hand. He contemplated a detour to your office, a silent check-in to ease his mind, but he dismissed the idea--you were probably still asleep, and he'd definitely look like a creep. Reaching his own office, he noticed the door ajar, a sliver of morning light spilling through the gap.

He stepped into the room, and time seemed to stand still as his gaze landed on the couch. There you were, fast asleep on his couch. Your hand lay gently under your cheek, a makeshift pillow softening the hard angles beneath, while your nose gave the faintest twitches. Your lips were parted as if mid-whisper and strands of your hair were splayed in a disarrayed crown around your head. He knew that in no way could that have been comfortable. It hurt his back just looking at you, but still you looked so peaceful.

He moved with quiet steps, heat creeping up his neck as he placed his things on the desk. Turning back to you, he couldn't help but notice the gentle dishevelment of your pajamas, buttons undone in innocent disarray, the fabric parting to reveal the gentle slope of your breasts. He felt an odd mix of emotions--a gentle chiding for finding you in such state, and the guilt of finding the sight so undeniably sweet. 

A quiet cough escaped him, more out of habit than necessity, as he approached a cabinet where blankets were neatly stacked--a nod to many nights spent just as you were. He draped one over you, his movements slow and unhurried, shielding you from potential curious eyes before finding his normal place behind the wooden desk.

He tried to focus--really, he did. I mean, he had a towering pile of paperwork and responsibilities that demanded his attention. But despite his best efforts, his gaze involuntarily drifted to you time and time again. It was as if he needed visual confirmation of your steady breathing to assure himself that you were okay. He thought about you here all night, alone, and he found his knuckles whiten against the grip of his pen. He knew you had security on you at all times, but somehow, he found no comfort in that.

Hotch's eyes flicked to the clock--7:30 am. You still had at least another half an hour before you technically needed to start work, although truth be told he would let you sleep as long as your body allowed. There was no way in hell he was going to disturb you when you looked so content. 

As Hotch worked, the morning light grew stronger, casting a warm glow over his desk. It was nearly 9 am when the sound of shifting fabric eventually roused you. You were waking up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, confusion etched on your face. As your eyes caught sight of the clock and Hotch, mortification set it. 

"Oh my gosh, Hotch. I am so sorry," you blurted out, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "You could've woken me up--I... I should've set an alarm. And I shouldn't even be here, but I can explain, sort of..."

In a flurry of motion, you leapt from the couch, only to feel a sudden tug at your chest as a button from your top snagged on a stray thread. The fabric pulled open, revealing way more than what was appropriate for your boss to see. Your face turned a shade redder as you scrambled to cover up. Hotch, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of the cleavage of your tits once again, quickly refocused and interrupted your flustered explanations.

"It's fine," he assured. "Given everything that's happened, you needed the rest." He nodded towards the couch. "You're always welcome to sleep here if you need to--though I can't promise it'll be any more comfortable next time."

"Oh no, it was super comfortable, really," you insist, despite the awkwardness clinging to your words. Hotch gives you a look that says he's not entirely convinced. "Okay, well, I'm going to uh... go," you mumble, stopping short at the door with a sudden concern.

Hotch understands immediately and offers, "They're all in the briefing room--won't be out for a while."

With a relieved nod, and minimal eye contact, you dash out, hoping to reach your office unnoticed. But because the world just hated you these past days, just as you're rushing by, Morgan's hands come to your shoulders to stop you.

"Easy there, mama," he teases, a smile on his face. But as he gets a good look at your attire, his grin grows wider. "What in the world...?" he starts, laughter in his voice. He glances from you to Hotch's office door, then back again. "Hold up, hold up--you didn't... with Hotch? Are you?"

"What? No, Morgan, absolutely not! Why would you even--oh my god," you gasp, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. God, I mean, the day hasn't even started, and you needed it to end. Realizing your voice has risen in your flustered state, you quickly lower it to a harsh whisper, your eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard. "Why would you even suggest that?"

"Um, maybe because you're making a grand exit from the boss man's office in your PJs? Just a wild guess."

"No, Morgan, it's not what you think," you insist, but your attention snaps to the sound of the team's voices nearing the door. "I don't have time for this," you mutter, darting back to your office. 

In a whirlwind, you shed the pajamas, slip into your work attire, and hastily run a brush through your hair. Good enough. 

You threw yourself into work, the stack of papers becoming a welcome distraction, a rare sense of relief rather than the familiar dread. It was a considerable effort to divert your mind from the distractions--Hotch, the hit man, and Morgan's incessant teasing. Not that anyone would believe that you and Hotch were together; he was the very definition of sophisticated, handsome, and successful, and you were just, well, you.

Not that there was anything wrong with you. You liked yourself just fine; you laughed too loudly at jokes, talked to your houseplants as if they were your old friends, and you had an odd fascination with weather patterns. These things made you wholly you. You just knew you couldn't be more different from Hotch.

With a bit of luck and purposeful avoiding, your day passed smoothly, sparing you any unnecessary run-ins with Hotch. Everyone had gone home for the day which is why you stood in the break room attempting some baking recipe from Pinterest. 

The slippers on your feet padded against the carpet as you hummed around the room. With swift motions, you ushered the coffee cake batter into the oven, then turned to tackle the mess you had created on the countertops. Cleaning as you go wasn't your usual style, but office break room didn't seem like the place for your usual creative sprawl. 

Your phone had buzzed incessantly with Penelope's calls--her offers the keep you company is why you loved her, but you weren't going to subject her to that, no matter how many times she said she didn't mind.

Hotch's office was quiet, save for the soft scratching of his pen against paper as he finally closed his files. He moved into bullpen and as he passed the breakroom, the soft hum of the light and faint sound of movement drew him in. There you were, engrossed in tidying up, with your hair casually gathered above your shoulders and wearing your sweats, Hotch found him instinctively pausing to watch. 

He knew he shouldn't bother you, knew he was likely the last person you'd want to see, yet he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on you, the warmth in his chest intensifying with each fleeting second.

The moment you turned and saw a figure, a sharp gasp cut through the silence, and the icing in your grasp became a sweet projectile that flew across the room. Relief washed over you as you realized who it was.

"Jeez, Hotch, give me a heart attack why don't you," you said, half-laughing as your heart rate settled. "Especially when there's a hitman who might beat you to the punch."

Hotch parted his lips to speak, but you were quicker, a stream of thoughts tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought everyone was gone. You weren't at your desk earlier--oh wait, you had that meeting with the DOJ, right? Did they have anything about the people who marked me?" 

In your haste, you closed the gap between you, and only then did you spot the icing on his cheek. "Oh, sorry about that, Hotch," you said with an apologetic grin, reaching out as if to wipe it away. 

As your palm made contact with his skin, a shared realization of the intimacy of the gesture washed over you. Time seemed to slow as your thumb traced a lingering path through the icing, your whisper barely audible, "There."

The word seemed to hang in the air as you froze, the proximity suddenly overwhelming, your breath caught in your throat. Hotch's backward step was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. You cleared your throat awkwardly, cheeks warming with a flush. "Um, did you need something?"

Hotch shook his head slightly, "No, just wanted to check on your before I head out."

You gave a thumbs up, mustering a smile. "Well, consider me checked."

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight," he said, to which you echoed in response as you watched him leave.

Alone now, you slumped against the counter, your hand pressed to your face. Consider me checked? God, someone needed to tape your mouth shut.

[ssamorganhotchner]

my boy only breaks his favourite toys- a.hotchner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: yes, i am a swifty- sorry lmao. I was thinking of doing a story for every track but we'll see how that ends up lol.

intended for fem!reader

summary: based off of my boy only breaks his favourite toys by taylor swift

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: sad ending, talk of fighting, divorce, kissing

the tortured poets department masterlist

Oh here we go again

The voices in his head

Called the rain to end our days of wild

The sickest army doll

Purchased at the mall

Rivulets descend my plastic smile

Aaron ran the same path as usual, the voices in his brain calling your name out louder than usual. He shook his head and sat on the brown bench beside him. Where he met you, well, where he ran into you, literally. He bulldozed straight into you when he was running on his phone, a mistake he was sure would get him shouted at, but you just laughed as he helped you up, your perfect smile and song-like laughter. He’d smiled for the first time in months. Then you kept meeting.

But you should've seen him when he first got me

“Black haired guy!” You smiled as you sat on the bench, that same bench he was on now. He turned to you and smiled. “Working hard or hardly working?” You joked. You knew it was a bad joke. So did he. Yet, he laughed harder than he had all week. “What’s your name?”

“Aaron,” No ‘Hotchner’, or ‘Hotch’. Aaron. 

“Well Aaron, would you care to join me in the last lap of my run?” You offered. “It’s always easier with someone else.”

He smiled. “I’d like that.” 

“Good because… try and catch up,” You laughed as you shot off in the opposite direction, Aaron laughed as he easily caught up to you in a few minutes. You were sunshine personified. You were his sunshine personified. 

You ran the lap together, then you turned to him. “Here’s my number,” you grabbed a piece of paper from a notebook in your small running bag and scrawled your number over it. “As a running buddy,” you added, not wanting to send the wrong idea.  

“It’s always easier with another person,” he quoted and you chuckled. God, he loved that sound. He loved that he’d made you make that sound. 

“Exactly,” you giggled, then said your goodbyes. 

My boy only breaks his favourite toys, toys, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

I'm queen of sand castles he destroys, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

'Cause it fit too right, puzzle pieces in the dead of night

I should've known it was a matter of time, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

My boy only breaks his favourite toys, oh, oh-oh-oh

Aaron ran on, alone. His usual path seemingly his personal torment. You didn’t run there anymore. You wouldn’t. Your laughter was far away from him, and it was, in low simplicity, entirely his fault. 

There was a litany of reasons why

We could've playеd for keeps this time

I know I'm just repeating mysеlf

Put me back on my shelf

But first, pull the string

And I'll tell you that he runs

Because he loves me (He loves me)

When he first asked you out, it was months into being ‘running buddies’. You went out to dinner and he was the perfect gentleman. He took your jacket off for you, pulled your chair out for you, and made you laugh all night long. That first date ended with you kissing him silly in an alley. His hands were finally touching your soft skin, your hands were in his hair. It was perfect. 

Seven months in, you met Jack. He loved you, You loved him. He was perfectly your speed, a polite and kind little boy who genuinely treated you like his own mother, and let you treat him as such. You moved in after a year and adopted Jack to be his guardian the day after Aaron proposed to you. The proposal was beautiful, on the running path, as you two were running. You made jokes about being angry when he got down on one knee when you had just gone running, ‘I probably look a mess!’ you practically screeched. He just laughed and kissed you again, a boyish grin on his face. 

‘You’re the most beautiful thing in any room.’ he promised and your faux-annoyance melted away.

It was replaced by a smile that should’ve stayed for years.  

'Cause you should've seen him when he first saw me

Months and months of bliss, then the cracks began forming. Aaron was gone all the time, when he was home, he wasn’t home. He wasn’t himself. It all came to a head when you asked him if he wanted to step back and heal for a while. 

He blew up at you. 

“Why would you say that? I’m fine! This is my job, Y/n! You promised me you wouldn’t be like this about it!” He boomed. 

“Aaron,” You spoke calmly. “Jack is asleep upstairs, please lower your voice.”

“You sound exactly like Haley.”

“Maybe she was right,” you shot back, tears forming in your eyes. He’d promised in his vows to never make you cry. He broke his vows. 

“Baby-” he tried to take you into his arms and he was shocked when you let him, sobbing into his chest. 

“I’m just worried about you,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His heart broke. “I know baby,” he sighed, holding you tighter against him. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he stressed. “Nothing.”

“Ok,” you whimpered back, sobs still racking your body. 

He brought you to your shared bed and laid you down, holding you in his arms as you fell asleep, your arms around his neck. 

What was he going to do?

My boy only breaks his favourite toys, toys, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

I'm queen of sand castles he destroys, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

'Cause I knew too much, there was danger in the heat of my touch

He saw forever so he smashed it up, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

My boy (My boy), only breaks his favourite toys, oh, oh-oh-oh

Fights became more frequent, then they turned into you sitting there as Aaron ranted at you. You became hollow. Your sunshine left your eyes, it was only returned when Jack was there, and even then, Aaron could tell when it was superficial. He was ruining you. 

So he made a choice. 

(Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Once I fix me (Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

He's gonna miss me (Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Once I fix me (Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

He's gonna miss me

For months, you’d believed there was something wrong with you. You believed you were the problem. 

Then he served you the papers and explained. And he apologised for dimming your light. 

What?

Just say when, I'd play again

He was my best friend

Down at the sandlot

I felt more when we played pretend

Than with all the Kens

'Cause he took me out of my box (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Stole my tortured heart (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Left all these broken parts (Oh-oh)

Told me I'm better off (Oh-oh)

But I'm not (Oh-oh)

I'm not

He took your good parts, and discarded you after. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He continued running, head spinning, when he saw you. He looked at you, running with a pram, a child that looked suspiciously like him in the seat. His heart dropped when you smiled at him and waved. 

“This is Riley,” You smiled. “She’s your daughter. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you but you blocked me on everything so… I’m happy to co-parent if that's what you want.”

His jaw dropped. “I don’t want to co-parent,” he admitted. “I want you again.”

Your smile faltered, then slowly dropped. “I don't know if it’s a good idea Aaron-”

“I left the BAU. Jack and I are in witness protection,” he whispered. “Please can we try again?”

“Aaron, I don’t think so,” you sighed. “But I’m happy for you to be present in Riley’s and my life. As a father for her.” 

He nodded, agreeing as his throat burned with tears he wouldn’t let himself shed. You were meant to be his everything. 

You were meant to be his sunshine. 

I'm not

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

the tortured poets department masterlist

[ssamorganhotchner]

His walk has me FERAL

very important type of shot

[ssamorganhotchner]

His hair is so important to me, and it’s growing on me. I LOVE the long hair. ❤️

the only man i've ever needed.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS HAIR.

#thomas gibson #not cm

[ssamorganhotchner]

Here’s the directory to help you find your way around #CriminalMinds #SeasonXI #setlife 

#cm writer info

[ssamorganhotchner]

👄 + 🛌

Ribs (Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader)

(Note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, TSYM FOR YOUR REQUEST MUAAAAH)

👄 + 🛌= first kiss + only one bed

inspo: ribs by lorde

cw: alcohol/drunk shenanigans, gn!reader

word count: 773

divider by: @cafekitsune x

“D’you think we’ll always be like this..?”

There’s a giggle in your throat as you lay on the floor, arms out like a starfish. You were both drunk off the bottles of wine you’d ordered from room service- A hotel night of celebration, though from how broke you both were you’d had to opt for a shared room with a shared bed. Not that either of you cared, you’d been roommates for four years now and had seen parts of each other you wouldn’t dream of bringing out till at least a fifth date. 

So here you both are, you on the floor and Aaron staring down at you from the end of the bed.

“Like what..?” He asks, tilting his head slightly, he always did that with you and it drove you crazy how cute it was- like a puppy hearing its name. There was an excitement when he heard your voice that he masked so badly it was almost laughable, everyone saw it, but they didn’t get it. ‘Soulmates’, you’d called it once, making him snort and blast his coffee over his face. ‘Hippie shit’ he’d replied, and you couldn’t hide the cheek aching grin on your face, knowing deep down he definitely believed in all that shit too.

“Us…close…” You muse, reaching up to tap his nose and earning another smile from his gorgeous face. 

“I hope so,” He replies softly, a thoughtful look washing over him. There’s silence between you for a moment, then he turns it back to you. “What about you?”

“Yeah…yeah, I hope so too…I’d miss you too much otherwise.” 

He huffs in amusement, rolling his eyes playfully. “You’re soft.” and you sit up, shaking your head at the entirely true accusation. “You’re softer, you paid for wine when there’s a perfectly good liquor store down the street with the same shit for seven dollars.” 

A small pout forms on his lips, and for a moment you think about how soft they are…memories of them pressed to your cheek on drunken nights out flood your mind, making you giggle before you can hold it back. 

“Don’t look like that, Aaron, you’ll make me feel bad.” You tease, still grinning as you pick up and drink the last of the wine in your glass. 

“You’re laughing!” He points out with a chuckle, but there’s a soft look in his eyes as you sip that you just can’t miss. “You want some more?” 

It was a quick distraction, and soon he had moved to the small table in the corner and poured himself more wine, walking over to fill your glass too. “Don’t spill it, I’m not payin’ the cleaning fee-” You’re breathless with laughter as he wobbles, leaning on the bed when he can’t help cracking up too. Before you can move, he’s kneeling with your leg between his, leaned forward to try and pour it properly. The bottle empties, and he sets it behind himself, picking up his own glass from next to him to clink glasses. 

“To graduating…and passing the bar,” You mumble, smiling softer now he's so close. He smelled amazing, but that was an afterthought to how warm he was, cheeks flushed by the alcohol. 

“To us.” He replies, and you both take a drink, sighing after. 

“You’re beautiful…” You whisper before you realise it, gazing up at him with your head against the side of the mattress. Aaron smiles softly, leaning on his elbow to look down at you…it was always gentle, the way he loved you. Always felt more than what you were told it was. ‘Best friends’, ‘Buddies’, ‘Twin flames’...you hated all of it. The two of you weren’t the same, and that was the beauty of it, the closeness you held felt so natural- felt like there was something of each other inside the both of you…he held your heart in his chest and you held his just as tight. You were both individual, but without each other it would be wrong. 

It’s Aaron who finally makes a move, leaning down and cupping your cheek as he kisses you. The alcohol practically dissolves from your system when you kiss him back, your arms moving to his shoulders whilst your wine spills onto the carpet behind him- the stem of the glass still loosely between your fingers. His shoulders shake, the huffs of air on your cheeks cluing you in that he’s laughing. 

“We’ll have to pay for that…” He murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours, your eyes both shut. 

“Mm…” You consider, tilting your head to brush noses with him. “You’re a lawyer now…you can afford it.”

[ssamorganhotchner]

If there’s one thing I love more than Aaron being in his suit jacket, it’s when he’s out of it 😍

Criminal Minds screencaps S09E05 Route 66

@spookydrreid, @redwithjoon, @reidsbookclub, @hotchsdharma, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @will-grahams-eyes, @rousethemouse, @hotchs-big-hands, @padawancat97, @itty-bitty-baby-face, @samsgoddess, @reidsaurora @dontemilyyyyme

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

»— Screencaps Masterlist link in my bio —«

[ssamorganhotchner]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

lari hii!! this is very sweet, thank you for thinking of me <33

okay so!!

ivy is my baby (you're dating sean hotchner and then you meet aaron hotchner)

mr. scratch bc i had the best time writing it! (hotch hallucinates about you in that episode)

being hotch's soft spot bc it makes me kick my feet <3

okay and for the last two i'll do greg x reader bc he's very underrated and i wanna convince more people to watch dharma and greg lmfao

4. movie night it's my first greg fic <3

5. enemies to lovers bc it makes me giggle 🤭

[ssamorganhotchner]

Roadtrip - hotch x reader part 2

part one

summary: when hotch finally sheds his stubbornness, he decides to drive back to Quantico from New York, in an attempt to rest his punctured eardrum. You couldn’t leave him without company, so you join him.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (hotch in his late 40s reader in her late 20s), unprotected sex (p in v) oral (fem receiving), no mentions of haley

a/u: thank you guys so much for the support on the first part of this, you’re all so so sweet💞 i truly hope you enjoy this part too💞 xoxo

You’ve kissed people before, but never like Aaron. It was almost like you had been starved of his taste, and him of yours. The kiss was so rough and angry, angry at the fact you didn’t do this earlier. If you knew it would be this good, you would’ve jumped his bones the minute you saw him.

There was no doubt he was more experienced than you, he was a lot older too, but right now, you were both just as starved and as messy and impatient as the other.

The kiss was so impactful, you could feel your arousal start to pool in your panties. Looking for any sort of relief, you start grinding on his crotch, giving you easy access to it since you were straddling him while he was laying down. You could feel him get harder by the second and that only made you moan in his mouth.

He gently bit your lower lip as he moved down to kiss your jawline and lower to your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you arch your back and drop your jaw in a silent moan.

His lips explored your body as they reached your covered breasts. Big hands cupped both your tits as both index and thumb fingers pinched and rolled your nipples.

“fuck a-aaron”

“i know baby i know”

“please please” you were a moaning mess above him. He flipped you on your back so now he was on top of you, a coy smirk plastered on his face.

“what is it baby hm? cmon use your words sweetie”

the pet names made you wetter (if that was even possible) you needed him now.

“please f-fuck me aaron”

he chuckled deeply, laughing at how desperate you were. His hands moved down from your breasts to your lower stomach. He lowered himself on the bed on his stomach as he began to kiss your inner thighs.

“awh poor baby” he rubbed a finger on your clothed cunt, arousal seeping through it. “so wet” he looks mesmerised by your glossy panties. “all this for me huh baby?” you shook your head frantically and moaned, giving him the answer he wanted.

“don’t worry sweetie i’ll make it better” his big fingers hooked around the hem of your panties as he ripped them off in a sudden movement, the cool air hitting your weeping cunt, making you clench around nothing.

He pecked your swollen clit, and looked up in your eyes to see your reaction. Your head was thrown back, your hair messy. A bead of sweat rolled down your forehead, your body already so hot even thought nothing had happened yet.

He ran his tongue up and down your slit, gaining a hiss from your throat. He groaned. “fuck honey, you taste amazing” He started flicking his tongue up and down, he was a starved man and this was his last mean. Suddenly he put his finger up to your lips “suck” you gladly took it in and swirled your tongue around the tip of his finger, he let out a shaky breath as your spit coated his finger. He took it out your mouth with a ‘pop’ and teased your entrance.

Just as you were about to complain he he inserted his finger in your cunt, knuckles deep. His fingers were far bigger from yours giving you a pleasure you were never able to give yourself.

“you think you can take another one baby?” you nodded frantically and a low chuckle escaped him. He stretched you open when he added another finger, pleasure building deep inside your stomach.

His head lowered to suck on your clit, his touch was addictive. “fuck- ‘m close!” he started to pump his fingers faster as he looked up at you making eye contact. He looked too pretty between your legs, hair messed up and nose up aganist your pelvic bone. You could come just at the sight. Your hand flew to his hair as you started grinding on his face. Suddenly you felt it. You let go all over his face.

When he came up, his face looked delicious soaked in your arousal. He licked his lips and fingers clean as he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself, “please aaron need you inside” you managed to croak out between kisses.

Your hands flew to his belt undoing it quickly. “someone’s eager” he laughed and you could only moan.

You could see his bulge through his boxers, he looked so big.

Your mouth watered at the sight as you pulled down his boxers, his cock springing out proudly, leaking with pre cum.

“lay down baby” his gentle voice awakened something inside you, and you couldn’t help but do as he said.

His lips found your neck again as he aligned his tip with your entrance making you tense up. “relax honey” his hand started circling your nipple.

He finally thrusted into you, letting you accommodate to his size. He was massive, bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with.

He started to move, picking out his pace, slow but steady. “aaron- faster please” you pleaded.

“oh you like it rough huh?” he cocked his eyebrow up. He flips you on your stomach pressing his large hand on your lower back to make your back arch.

You were a moaning mess. He rammed his cock in your pussy at an ungodly pace, hitting that spongy spot inside that made you mewl.

Aaron wasn’t the one to come quickly, but your sweet noises accompanied by the noises your sweet pussy was making around his cock was like a symphony, music to his ears.

His hands dug into your hips so hard he was sure it would leave marks. He wanted that. He wanted to mask you as his.

His strong hand moved to your front where he started circling your clit making you moan even louder.

“fu- aaron yes god! i’m gonna c-“ you interrupted yourself with pornographic moans.

“cmon baby let it go, make a mess on my cock.”

that was all you needed. You were sure you’d never had a better orgasm before, your pussy clenched around his cock making him cross the finish line too, you could feel thick spurts of come pairing your walls.

Aaron pulled out mesmerised by the mixture of your cums together. Two of his fingers collected the dripping come and pushing it back inside, groaning loudly. The overstimulation make you whinge.

After Aaron had cleaned you up and made you go to the bathroom (reid had told him about the dangers of utis after sex), you found yourselves cuddled in eachothers arms.

Your soft breathing acting like a sleeping pill for Aaron, and he was sure this was the best nights sleep he’s had in a while.

It became a problem that he tasted you because now he would never let you go.

OH MY GOD GUYS!! this was so hard to write😭 i love reading smut but writing it, not so much!! i gross myself out💔 HOPE YOU LOVED THIS PART please lmk down in the comments I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCHHH💞💞 xoxo

@mrs-ssa-hotch

#tbr

[ssamorganhotchner]

I’ve only watched 12x2 once… but GOD he looks so good 😭

12x02 - Sick Day

[ssamorganhotchner]

He really does have this habit of looking at people like their stupid 🤣

Remember "bombastic side eye, criminal OFFENSIVE side eye"?

Yeah. That's Hotch.

[ssamorganhotchner]

Almost Lover | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x ghost!female reader

Summary: You died right in front of him, yet you're still around.

Tags/warnings: death; grief; angst with a bit of humor.

Word count: 4.5k

Author's note: this is a repost from my AO3. Since I deactivated a while ago, I've been slowly, very slowly. reposting my fics on here 🥰 this piece is one of my favorites I've written so for those who haven't read it, I hope you like it! Flashbacks are in italics.

MASTERLIST

The night froze for a moment. 

       Like never before, you weren’t able to talk down the unsub, and your confident “we can talk about this” as you lowered your gun, became your last words – your last breath. They pulled the trigger — literally — and from that moment, everything happened in slow motion. 

       Yet the single gunshot that blared around was so damn fast. It broke the air on its way to you and went straight through your skull, killing you within half a second. 

       Nice and quick, you would’ve said.

       “No.” Aaron’s ears started ringing; his eyes widened in disbelief and his gun slipped off his hand like sand at the same time your body dropped dead to the ground. 

       “Shots fired! Agent down!” JJ’s voice turned into a desperate scream. 

       No. 

       This must be one of Aaron’s nightmares; the ones that felt too real and woke him up covered in sweat; the ones that always made him call you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice and make sure you were alright, and the ones that sometimes ended up with you laying next to him because you wanted to be there when he fell asleep again.

       The digital clock on his nightstand marked 4:47 AM. He’d been dozing on and off for the past hour since the nightmare but a gentle knock on his door awakened all of his senses. 

       “Aaron, it’s me.” Your voice came soft but loud enough from behind the door.

       An instant sigh of relief dragged him out of bed to the front door. It wasn’t the first time you’d  shown up unannounced at his place, but he still wondered, what the hell were you doing here at this time of the night? You hated driving at night. 

       He unlocked every lock and opened up for you. “Wha–?”

       “You had a nightmare–” You interrupted him, walking in as if it was your own place “–Where I died so I came here to show you I’m very much alive.”

       You toed off your shoes while tossing your coat on his couch right next to his. 

       “What?” You frowned, but he didn’t say a thing. He just stood there, staring at your very-much-alive self. You walked up to him and brushed the front pieces of his fluffy hair back. “Would a hug make you feel better?” 

       Everything you did and said was like a morning sunbeam sneaking through the blinds, bathing him with warmth. He smiled with his eyes and leaned down to you with lazy open arms, going for a tight hug where every piece of you locked and clicked together. 

        No.

       Each step closer to you weakened, and the moment he reached your side, his knees gave up. His entire world froze right then, too. The pool of blood spreading around you was very much real, but that didn’t stop him from lifting half of your body off the floor to hold you in his arms. 

       There was no click. 

       This wasn’t happening. Not again. 

       “Somebody!” His heart-shattering voice echoed around, “Wake up, please.” He lightly tapped your still warm cheek as if you’d simply fainted; as if there wasn’t peace, crimson, and his own tears staining your face. “Oh, honey, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

       There were no signs of you. You were just a body, and the only thing your team could do was end with the monster who had broken everyone’s heart. 

       No one – not even Reid – thought twice before shooting fire at the unsub, all at the same time. There was rage in every single bullet, and though it was morally wrong, in their eyes, making sure the guy was dead was the only right thing to do. 

       Derek’s gun was the first to run out of ammo and his muffled crying was the first one of all, too. “That son of a bitch!” His voice cracked between a sob, throwing his arms over his head in defeat. He was your running buddy, your go-to random hug, and personal hype man. The first one to notice when you got a haircut and the only one you’d had the chance to tell about your feelings for your Unit Chief. 

       Reid suspected those feelings, but he was waiting for an appropriate moment to ask you. 

       “I think I’m gonna throw up.” Spencer rushed to the closest bush, spraying his dinner out of his mouth. Witnessing your life being taken away seemed to be the start of yet another rough patch that was gonna be hard to get out of. The connection you two had was cosmic – like no other; you were the sibling he didn’t know he needed beside him. 

       Too bad you walked into his life too late and only got to be his sister for three short years. 

       “Oh, god!” JJ’s voice had never sounded so terrified.“Oh my god!” She brought her shaky hands up to her mouth with wide eyes and just stood there, staring at the hole in your forehead. She was trying not to panic, but she’d started to hyperventilate already. 

       The air struggled to find its way to her lungs, and if it weren’t for Rossi’s ability to calm her down and Garcia’s loud voice through her earbud, she would’ve passed out right there next to you. 

       “JJ?!” Garcia yelled. Poor thing, she had no idea. “Oh god! Did wha-what happened? Hello?! Someone please talk to me!” 

       All she heard was the first gunshot that triggered the shootout. Now everyone’s crying had her at the edge of her seat. 

       Everyone’s but yours. 

       “Oh, no,” she mumbled to herself at the realization. “My girl. Is she gone? Is she…”

       “Garcia, baby, I’m so sorry,” Derek tried to stop the tremble in his voice. “I’m so sorry. She’s–”

       Penelope threw her headphones away before Morgan could finish his sentence and took off her glasses, covering her face with both hands as the tears streamed down her cheeks. You weren’t supposed to leave her. Ever. You’d planned your vacation already to London to visit Emily in just a few weeks. 

       God, Emily. How was Garcia supposed to tell her? 

       Your sudden death was evidence of god’s sick sense of humor. Putting Aaron in the exact same position again — holding the corpse of the love of his life as the vision of a less lonely future blended with gunpowder in the air – was the most fucked up joke. 

       You’d turned into a memory at the snap of a finger and from right then, everything was all a blur. 

       They ripped you off Aaron’s arms and put you inside a black bag to carry you to an ambulance – as if there was any point in doing so. He somehow made it to his apartment, got a glimpse of his clothes stained with blood – your blood – then found himself sitting on his couch as two familiar tiny hands shook him by the shoulders. 

       “Dad! are you okay?” Jack asked with worried, wide eyes. He was too mature for a ten-year-old and it was too soon for him to see his father broken again. 

       “I’m okay.” Aaron stood up, quickly drying his tears with the heel of his hand. 

       “Are you hungry? Aunt Jessica made us some food. I can put some in the microwave.”

       “I’m okay, Buddy. It’s time for bed.” 

       Next thing he knew he was in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could press the rewind button and time travel to any moment when he was around you. 

       “Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice got his attention. You were standing at his office door with two matching kitten mugs full of steaming coffee. “Do you have time to share some caffeine with me?”

       He gave you a warm smile and put the papers aside. “Always.”

       You’d made it a habit to bring him coffee in the middle of the day to remind him he needed to take a break. And since it became a regular thing, you had to give him a mug just because. He looked forward to your date-like breaks, and it boosted him with energy to finish everything on time, even when sometimes you two spent hours just talking. 

       You preferred to actually take him out of his office and go to the coffee shop two blocks away, but the one time you did it, he didn’t feel like going back to lock himself at the BAU, so the couch in his office had to do it. 

       You sat on it and tapped next to you, gesturing for him to join you. 

       “No cookies?” He asked with a smile as he plopped next to you. 

       “I thought I had some left.” You swung your legs over his thighs. “I’m pretty sure Reid stole the last package I had in my drawer.”

       “Girl Scout cookies?”

       “Caramel deLites.” You nodded. 

       “He just can’t resist them.” Hotch sipped on his coffee before getting up and reaching inside his drawer. 

       “You keep cookies too?” You laughed when he pulled out a pack.

       “They’re not caramel deLites–” He sat next to you again and brought your legs back where they were over his “–But…”

       “Thin Oreos are perfect.”

       There was some sort of interrogation from Strauss at the BAU the next morning. She needed to know exactly what happened while the memories were still fresh. 

       Aaron was last, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation; him relating the story of how his loved one ended up murdered yet again. 

       “I don’t see how any of this is funny, Aaron.” Erin slid down her glasses to the tip of her nose.

       “Oh, I don’t think it’s funny either,” he said, and tried his best to suppress his laughter by hiding his mouth behind his hand, but his shoulder still shook. 

       Strauss paused the recorder and dismissed everyone that was there with a simple glance as she spoke to Hotch, “We’re gonna take a break.” 

       His laugh didn’t fade until he was all alone in the room and sooner than later it turned into silent angry tears. Grieving Aaron Hotchner was a whole different person. A version of himself he hoped he’d never have to be again but there he was, being suffocated by rage and guilt, even when he knew there was nothing he could’ve done to avoid what’d happened. He just wished there was a way to turn back time and trade places. 

       Everyone had a week off to mourn your loss after the interrogation. Not enough – no time would ever be enough – but work was work. Monsters were still killing people and the Bureau had already hung a picture of you on the wall of honor.

       “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Penelope was the first one to say something.  

       The team was gathered in front of your image; your smile was contagious even through a photo. 

       “I know.” Morgan touched her shoulder with his and kissed her temple. “It’s gonna be hard living in a world without her.” 

       “I’m not ready.” Garcia wiped her tears and turned to face everyone. “I’m not ready to take down monsters without her.” 

         JJ smiled in an attempt to say something, but her voice wouldn’t come out. It could’ve been her picture on that wall, but you’d offered to talk to the unsub that night as if it was the most mundane thing. She wouldn’t even dare to look at Aaron afraid she’d crumble and say I’m sorry a thousand times. 

       Hotch blinked away his tears and clenched his jaw, staring at your picture. He wasn’t ready to keep living without you, yet he said, “We have to. She would want us to,” trying to convince himself in a way. He walked away to lock himself up in his office and stopped by your desk on his way there. 

       It was intact and your presence lingered as if you’d just gotten up to refill your mug with coffee. Your chair still had the wrinkled pillow you’d brought on your second day because you couldn’t handle sitting there with a numb butt, and the small heater you used to keep your feet warm was still plugged under the desk. 

       You always said it was important to decorate your workspace like it was a piece of your bedroom. It helped you perform better, you’d say, and had convinced everyone to follow that advice – even Hotch. 

       “Excuse me.” A janitor approached Hotch and placed an empty box on your desk. 

       “What are you doing?” Aaron used his arm as a barrier to stop the man from picking up your stuff. 

       “Clearing up this desk.” 

       “Hey!” The click-clack of Penelope’s high heels came running from behind. “Don’t touch her stuff!”

       “We need the space,” the janitor said. 

       “No, we don’t.” Hotch returned the box to him. “As far as I know we haven’t hired any new agent.” 

       “Look, I’m just doing what I was told.”

       “Leave it as it is.” Hotch glared at him. “I’m gonna talk to whoever told you we needed the space.” 

       “It must have been Strauss.” Derek’s jaw clenched. 

       “How can she be so cold,” Penelope stared at Hotch walking across to room. 

       It was known that Strauss didn’t like you, so Hotch hurried into his office to just toss his briefcase and go confront Erin, but the moment he stepped in, his body stiffened. 

       The room was cold, and the silhouette he caught from the corner of his eye, sitting on his couch, made his heart drop to his stomach. 

       “Hey, boss.”

       That was your voice, and your scent was in the air all of a sudden. 

       He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t happening. The lack of sleep was too much. It was definitely that. 

       But when he turned the lights on and you were still there, it didn’t seem like craziness. 

       “What? Did you see a ghost or something?”

       That was definitely you. 

       “Shut the door,” you continued, “it’s getting cold in here.”

       Still in disbelief, he obeyed but couldn’t dare to look straight at you. Your presence was strong and he was sure it was his brain playing tricks on him because it’d happened before. A long time ago when his father died. He’d see the man at school, though he was never brave enough to reach out and actually exchange words with him like you were doing right now. He wished it would’ve happened with Haley so he could have heard her voice and held her hand one last time, but she never showed up. 

       Part of him had hoped it’d happen with you too at some point. And there you were. 

       He made his way to his chair and just stood there for a second before sitting. Then he finally dared to look at you.

       God, that was actually you. 

       You were wearing the exact same clothes you had on the day you died — a purple T-shirt and the cargo pants you borrowed from Emily once but never returned — just not stained with blood and not a single wrinkle in sight. You hated ironing your clothes. 

       “Have you missed me?” You folded your arms over your chest and walked across the room, sitting on the chair in front of him. 

       “Yes.” 

       “I know, that’s why I’m here. I know you’re not ready for me to leave you.”  

       The softness of your voice reached his soul, and a knot started to appear in his throat. “I didn’t get to tell you that I loved you.” His voice shook.

       “Well, you weren’t very subtle about it.” You rose from the chair and walked to the other side of the desk, leaning on it right next to him, and reached for his hand.

         You were warm. He looked up at you and caught the comfort of your eyes. If you weren’t real, why did looking into your eyes still give him butterflies?

        “This isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. “I’m going crazy.”

       “Now that would be romantic.” There was a twitch of a smile on his lips at your playful tone. You always managed to make him smile in one way or another. “Would a kiss make you feel better?” 

       He’d kissed you only once – the night before you died – so he knew how soft and sweet your lips were. He looked up at you and right when he was going to say yes, you leaned down and kissed his lips. 

       This kiss was different, though. It was painful because he was sure you were part of his imagination. He tried to put those feelings aside – take his insanity as a blessing in disguise – and lifted his hand to cup your face, but a single knock on his door seemed to scare you, and before it swung open, you vanished into thin air. 

       “Aaron.” Strauss stormed in. “Is there a reason why you’re refusing to clear her desk?”

       He rubbed his hand over his mouth and tried to compose himself. “I need to talk to her family first. See who will take care of her things. Out of respect.” He stressed the last word to show how out of line her behaviour was. 

       Erin widened her eye, as a threat, almost. “You have one day.” Erin glared at him and left the room. 

       Hotch sighed deeply.

       It was the faintest kiss, but it was you.

       Most nights at the BAU were lonely; since you were gone, that solitude pierced bones. It’d been four months already and it was still unreal to the team. 

       Especially to Spencer. 

       He used to pull all-nighters with you by his side, and while he played chess on his own, you finished the paperwork you left until the last minute. He still stayed until late these days, just not as often nor until the sun rose. 

       You missed him too, and now, all you could do was mess with him hoping he’d at least feel the ghost of you. 

       “Uh.” Spencer quickly snapped his hand off the chess board when a piece slowly moved on its own. 

       He rubbed his eyes and stared at the board again. And you moved a piece, again. 

       “What the– not again?”

       “You okay?” Hotch’s voice came loud and out of nowhere, making Spencer jump on his seat. His heart almost leaped out of his chest; he had to make sure it was still there, placing his hand over it. 

       “Did– did you see that?” Reid’s voice got a bit higher than it normally was.

       “See what?” Aaron walked up to him with a subtle smirk.  

       “Nothing.” Spencer frowned. “What are you doing here anyway? It’s almost four AM.” He glanced at his watch. 

       “I could ask you the same thing.” 

       Spencer frowned his lips. 

       “We may have a case,” Hotch continued. “So don’t leave.” 

       “Wasn’t planning to,” Spencer lowered his voice, looking around.

       Hotch gave you a quick glance ordering you to follow him on his way to his office. 

       “Haunting Reid isn’t very nice,” he told you as soon as he shut the door behind you.

       “I was bored.” You put on an innocent face and gave him a guilty smile. “Waiting for you. And he needs to stop staying here until so late, so I was doing him a favor.” You sat on his desk and swung your feet back and forth as he settled on his chair. “You’re here earlier than our usual time.”

       “We may have a case.” He looked up at you.

       “It’s Jack’s birthday next week.” You mentioned. “Are we gonna do something special for him?”

       “Jessica and I are taking him to this star wars convention.”

       “That sounds fun. Can I go?”

       You went wherever he went, even flew with him for cases, but you still asked for his permission. You were a distraction, so you tried to stay on the margins when you knew he needed all of his focus. 

       That’s why you enjoyed plane rides the most. 

       Everyone still sat on their usual seat on the jet, and your spot next to Hotch remained empty so you still sat there, quiet. 

       “You’ve been seeing her,” Rossi said as he sat on the seat across from Aaron. 

       “Sorry?” Hotch lifted his eyes from his folder.

       “It happened to me when Carolyn died. I’d see her around, even talk to her at times. I was worried it might have been an illness or something.” He waved his hand in the hair. “It wasn’t. I can give you the name of my doctor.”

       He didn’t admit it but didn’t deny it either. 

       The jet took off and Rossi didn’t mention it again until they landed. 

       “Are you thinking about going to the doctor?” You asked him when no one was around. 

       “I love having you around.” He stared into the void. ”But this isn’t normal.”

       That hurt a bit, but you still stayed by his side during the entire case and were there for his doctor’s appointment as soon as you made it back in Quantico, too. 

       “You’re grieving, agent,” the doctor started. “It is a rare way of grieving but it happens. I can medicate you to help get rid of it, but you also need to work on it.”

       Whatever that meant, Aaron wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to get rid of you, but something scared you that day and you stopped being around as often. You weren’t at the BAU and the usual time to spend some time alone with him, and you weren’t there for Jack’s birthday as you’d said you wanted to.

        Not as your usual self, anyway. 

       They’d just gotten back from the Star Wars convention and something was slightly off about his apartment. 

       “No way!” Jack screeched with excitement. There was a dog on the couch. “ You got me a puppy?!” He ran to the little dog who waved its tail with the same enthusiasm. 

       “You got him a puppy?” Jess subtly asked Hotch

       “No? Did you?” 

       Neither said a thing and stared at the wholesome sight of happy Jack. 

       Hotch wasn’t sure to what extent the “anything is possible” was possible for those who belonged to the hereafter, but something told him the puppy was your magic work. 

       “My cheeks hurt from smiling so much!” Jack laughed as the puppy licked his face. “Can I name her?”  

       How could Aaron say no to that? He didn’t want to crush his son’s dream and tell him the dog wasn’t supposed to be there, so they did a quick run to the store to buy some dog food and helped Jack build a tiny bed for her in his bedroom instead. 

       “Can she stay forever?” Jack asked. He’d already mastered the puppy-dog eyes. 

       “We’ll see.” Hotch tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, buddy.” 

       He gave the puppy one last scratch on its chin and went to bed too, though it already seemed like it was going to be one of those nights where the sleep never came. 

       The bed sank next to him at two AM, making him lose track of how many sheep he was counting. There you were with a sad look. 

       “Where have you been?” He asked you in a murmur.

       “I don’t want you to think I’m here because there’s something wrong with you.” You whispered.

       “I don’t.” 

       “Then why did you go to the doctor?”

       “To rule it out.” He caressed your cheek.  “But you’re clearly not part of my imagination. You’re here.” 

       “Something’s holding me back.” You gulped. “I need you to help me get to the other side. I need to know you’re going to be okay without me.”

       Only then he noticed you didn’t want to be there, to begin with. 

       “I’m sorry we won’t be growing old together,” you continued. “That we won’t give Jack any siblings and Jess more nephews, but I will always be by your side, taking care of you three. Always. And I’ll be waiting for you, Aaron. You were my greatest love, even when I won’t be yours, and I’m sorry. ”

       “I’ll be okay.” He tried to swallow the lump on his throat and brought you close into a tight hug. “You go. I’m gonna be alright.” 

       “Promise me.”

       “I promise.”

       “I love you,” you sobbed into his chest.

       “God, I love you, too. I always will.” 

       It was like the old times when a nightmare woke him up, but this time he was so damn scared  to fall asleep because he knew you weren’t going to be there when he woke up. So he cherished the moment and held you until you leaped into his dreams forever. 

       You stopped showing up, but you weren’t gone. He’d get a whiff of you while he made himself some coffee, and would stop for a moment to close his eyes and take you in. He’d still feel your presence around, at the BAU, at your favorite donut shop, and in his car when a song you liked came on the radio. 

       You were everywhere. He still didn’t know how to move on, but knew he had to let it happen naturally. 

       Time went by; he started to forget the sound of your voice, the trees lost their leaves and grew new ones through the seasons. His heart healed eventually, too, and the love he once had for life sparked again. 

       “I’m not sure if we can keep here any longer,” Hotch said, staring at Chewie who had grown into her ears and started to make the apartment look small. 

       “What do you mean?” Jack asked, putting the harness on her and pulling her close to him.

       “We may need a new house.” Aaron opened the front door for them, ready to take her on a walk. “But the park will have to do it for now. Let’s go.” 

       Those walks in the park became the best part of Aaron’s day. They kept his mind busy and they might have boosted a new chapter in his life…

       “Ah! Look at them!” Haley clapped with excitement. Turns out you weren’t the only one looking after them. “Aren’t they cute.”

       You stood next to her with your arms folded over your chest and admired how Chewie played cupid by stomping on this woman’s picnic. 

       “So sorry,” Aaron approached her while Jack tried to catch the leash.  

       “You are a beautiful girl,” the woman said, letting Chewie lick her face all over.

       That was her, Aaron’s greatest love. 

       “Did you know I was gonna die?” you asked Haley. 

       “I did.” She turned to you. “But there was nothing I could’ve done. Life… it’s an odd thing. We don’t get to choose anything.” Haley stared at her husband and son again. “Everything is written already.”

       “She won’t die tragically like we did, will she?” Haley twitched her mouth. “She will?!”

       “I’m just kidding.” She dismissively waved a hand with a laugh and began to walk away. “You can stop worrying too much about him now! She’s got him!” 

       “Where are you going?!” You hurried behind her, throwing one last look over your shoulder. “Wait up!”

#tbr

[ssamorganhotchner]

🪦🤍🪶✨🕰️ 📜

#morgan listens to ttpd #ts11 #the tortured poets department #taylor swift #taylornation #not cm

[ssamorganhotchner]

I deserve better (A.H)

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warning: angst, breakups, mentions of haley's death, reader is compared to haley, breakdowns, aaron has healing to do</3

summary: aaron comes home from a hard case with his decision already made, he's in for a very rude awakening when reader sees right through his bs.

word count: 1.5k

There was a loneliness in the air that felt almost palpable after your breakup with Aaron. It felt like an amalgamation of every broken promise and empty silences you both sat in, trying to grasp onto invisible strings surrounding your love. If you thought hard enough, you could almost clearly imagine what used to be his breathing when he used to lie on the now cold side of the bed. His presence haunted every empty corner of your now prodigious apartment.

You closed your eyes in the dark as your mind unwillingly drifted to the conversation with your now ex-boyfriend.      The sound of the door opening to Aaron’s home made you look away from the television as you waited with bated breath and a smile to see your boyfriend, only the expression he held on his face when your gazes met was one you knew you would commit to memory. Guilt, anguish. Probably worse if you had bothered to push deeper but you knew that you couldn’t do that yourself.

“Aaron?” your voice echoes in the living room and all he can do is hesitate, you watch as his hands shake as he places his badge, gun and bag down before making his way to you, his steps purposeful yet cautious and deep down you knew that whatever he was going to say was going to change the trajectory of your relationship.

“Hey” he whispers as he sits on the opposite end of the couch which only cements your worries, maybe he’s finally decided that him and Jack didn’t need another addition to their family, maybe he’s decided he’s had enough of you. “We need to talk” he starts, and your only response is a small nod as your underlying anxiety bubbles under your skin like a festering wound.

 “This- This case, it really made me realise something.” He starts and you can already feel your expression shifting from worry to confusion, he must recognise your own emotions as you do his as he continues swiftly. “The unsub mentioned you when we caught him, he knew your name” he says harshly and you look at him shocked, why hadn’t he told you any of this when you’d called him after he had wrapped up the case? “I promised myself when Haley passed away that I would never put someone I cared about in the position to be used against me” he says and your heart drops.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask out of genuine curiosity. He closes his eyes and clenches his hands into fists, “I think you know.” He croaks out and you scoff which only causes him to look at you  in confusion, “You’re being selfish” you bite out and he looks alarmed at the harsh words. “You’re not even letting me choose what I want to do about my OWN safety?” you ask harshly but soft enough as to not wake Jack up.

 He’s shaking his head before you can even finish your sentence, “you don’t get it!” he insists as he implores you understand what he’s saying. “you-you’ve never had to hold your d-dead wife’s body in your hands, wishing for her to come back, wishing you could tell her how much she means to you” he insists as his eyes well with tears and your heart drops at his confession.

“And I hope I never have to feel that, but Aaron you can’t keep taking your grief out on our relationship, I  know it hurts, but how  am I supposed to think you’re ending this for me when you’re putting Haley first even in death?” you whisper and against your own better judgement, you feel a few tears fall from your eyes.

“That-That is NOT what is happening.” He says again and you can see the frustration boiling over for him, “That’s not fair to me Aaron, you know that” you say, and you watch as confusion shifts on his features, “Wait no hold on, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“You didn’t have to. I always thought you’d meant in a constructive way for me, consistently telling me when I make Jack’s meals that it’s not the way Haley would’ve made it, when you tell me not to buy certain perfumes and body washes because it reminded you too much of Haley. But now I realise that you’ve been carrying this dead weight after her death, and it’s not fair for me to be carrying it with you. I will never replace Haley, but I do know that I deserve a lot more than being compared to her everyday just because you haven’t dealt with your grief.”

“Honey, hold on, just wait please-”

“I was going to fight for you Aaron , truly.  I came into this conversation thinking of ways to help you not give up on us, but I can’t do that when the one thing pushing you is a woman I can never compete with.”

Aaron looks distraught and your heart feels simultaneously lighter and broken at the same time, His healing needed to take priority and you knew that his journey didn’t necessarily have space for you. And that was okay, at the end of the day the one thing you had always wished was to see Aaron Hotchner happy, and if that meant he had to do it without you, you would deal.

“I love you” he says, his eyes begging you to believe him, and your lips lift at his statement, as they’ve done a million times before, a force of habit. You shift closer to him and grasp his hand in yours as you place your other one on his face. His eyes close at the contact and he starts shaking his head, “Don’t- don’t do this right now. Please don’t do this Y/N.” his voice cracks.

Your lips quivers and you attempt to move your hand to smother the sob building in your chest but as your hand lifts off of his cheek his eyes are open wide, alarmed to feel you slipping away and he grasps you closer to him, looking into your eyes wildly as you look into his eyes, hoping all of your love is shining through them. “You know I have to.” You whisper and his expression is pained as he feels your hands run through his hair.

“I  can’t do this without you” he confesses as he chokes on his tears, his hands grasping to your hips and arms as though you’d disappear if he looked away. “You’re going to be just fine, I promise” you say, and he shakes his head before the sobs escape him and he leans his head into your body as sobs wrack through his body. Warbled cries of “I’m sorry” flood from him and all you can do is hold him through it, hoping it  brings him some form of comfort.

You console him until he tires himself out, he looks so much more peaceful when he’s asleep, his furrowed brow is smoothed out and if not for the tear tracks running down his cheeks you would never be able to know how much pain he was just in. You manoeuvre him to lay on the couch, a suitable enough pillow under his head and a soft blanket covering him. Your hand still lays outstretched in his grip, and you bite your lip as you try to let him let go.

As  soon as your hand leaves his grip, he’s  whimpering and grasping for some form of contact from you, you quickly snatch one of Jack’s teddy bears from the floor and you place it within his grasp, he grasps it almost immediately and holds it close to his chest. Your eyes mist over and you take a few minutes to breathe deeply and once calm, you quickly plan.

You take an old overnight bag you used to use before you started staying for weekends, such as this one. You pack the clothes you use the most and some work essentials before packing up your toiletries and everything else that can fit in your car. Everything looks so immensely empty when all your stuff is gone, with a quick little kiss to Jack’s cheek, you switch on your car, and you drive the route to your apartment.

In the silence and solace of your car, you allow yourself to break, sobs wrack through your body and your scream and cry as you make the drive to your place. You break again when you see the emptiness and coldness of your apartment, there’s none of Jack’s drawings on the fridge, none of Aarons past case files on the dining table, none of their shoes at the entrance and none of everything of what you loved and missed dearly.

Which brings you to now, in your bed, unable to look at the other side usually occupied by an Aaron sized lump. You don’t sleep, when the sun starts rising and coming through your room, you don’t move. When your alarm goes off at 7AM, you don’t move. When Aaron’s name flashes on your screen with multiple unanswered calls, you don’t move. You eventually get  up to go to work and exist throughout the day.

Nobody asks you what’s wrong and you don’t divulge, you know it will take you a long time to feel okay enough to even see Aaron again but for now, you can mourn and think of what could have been as you learn how to live without half of yourself.

#tbr

[ssamorganhotchner]

Speak Now (Hotch's Version)

Chapter Three: Haunted

"Don't go, don't go, don't leave me like this..."

Word Count: 1,400 (another short one, sorry!)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: Criminal Minds level of violence, gunshots mentioned, reader gets injured

Previous chapter / Next chapter

Eight months had passed since you’ve started dating Aaron, and you couldn’t be happier. You had met Jess a few weeks into dating, and a few weeks later, you met Jack. You adored the kid and he always seemed happy when you were around, which made Aaron happy, which made you even happier. You had now been a part of the BAU for almost nine months now, and you were happy. Things were never better. 

You had spent the night at Aaron’s the night before, due to the water in your apartment building being shut off. You had gotten back from a long case, Jack at Jess’s, and you barely even remember walking through the door a little after midnight- just to be woken at four o’clock with another case. 

“Do we have to?” You whined as you rolled over, and you draped yourself across Aaron as you felt him start to sit up. Aaron carded his fingers through your hair, a tired chuckle leaving his lips, and he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

“I know,” Aaron’s voice was soothing, deep and raspy from just waking up. “Hopefully you can sleep on the jet.” You mumbled some incoherent response and dragged yourself out of bed. God you hated these early morning calls. You stumbled through your getting ready routine, and you sipped at the coffee clutched in your hands like it was a lifeline. 

Not even an hour later, you were on the plane for a flight to Los Angeles. You laid on the couch, your legs draped over Emily’s lap. Aaron was half asleep, head leaned against his window, and the usual antics you and your teammates got into were abandoned for rest. You had a feeling this case, a serial killer who abducts his victims then holds them for a few days of torture before brutally killing them on the fourth day. You had a feeling this would be another long, hard case. 

And you were so, so right. Word had gotten out that the BAU was working the case, and your unsub went silent for nearly two weeks. On day eleven, he acted again and he had devolved exponentially. Two bodies were found in the alley near the precinct, and none of the nearby cameras got a clear enough image to identify the unsub. You hadn’t seen anything like it in your time at the FBI, let alone the short time you’ve been in the BAU, and you felt discouraged. This was a mutual feeling across the board with the team, and you could feel the tension as you walked into a room. It was hard enough to mask your feelings when talking to families and local detectives, and you could barely hide your frustrations with the case when you walked into your hotel. 

“Do you want to shower first?” Aaron asked and you shrugged as you fell face first into your bed. 

“Wanna shower but also just want to melt into this mattress and not get back up,” you said, your voice muffled by the comforter. “You can shower first, I just. I need quiet and the shower feels too loud right now.” Aaron’s footsteps sounded through the room, followed by the click of a light switch. The room was enveloped into darkness, and a second later, the bathroom light was turned on, giving a light glow to the room. “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else?” Aaron asked and you thought for a moment.

“‘M okay. Thank you,” you turned your head to offer a small smile to Aaron and winced as your head throbbed. 

“Migraine?” Aaron asked as he walked over to his suitcase and you groaned in response. “Need water?”

“Nuh uh,” you said and Aaron took your hand before he tucked two pills into your hand. 

“I’ll be quick, then you can shower. Hopefully get some sleep,” Aaron pressed a kiss to your hair and you leaned into the touch. Aaron gently rubbed your shoulder once before he walked to the shower, the door shutting behind him, and you welcomed the darkness. You sat up to swallow the pills and hoped you’d at least get a little sleep tonight.

As if your body had read your mind, you barely got any sleep last night. The migraine had dissipated to an easily ignored ache, but your brain refused to shut off. There was so much noise outside your hotel, Aaron’s usually happily welcomed cuddling tendencies had become too much sensory wise, and you were stressed. You clutched your thermos as if your life depended on it, and you felt seconds from snapping at the next person that breathed in your direction. You, Aaron, and Emily were in the SUV to follow a new lead and Emily’s humming in the backseat was slowly grating at your nerves. 

“Can you just? Shut up for one minute?” You snapped and Aaron glanced over at you with a concerned frown and Emily hesitated, taken aback by your tone. Aaron said your name and you barely fought the urge to huff like a scolded child. “I’m sorry, I just don’t get what there is to be humming about right now. This is a shit case and I don’t mean to be an ass, but-” You were cut off by Aaron saying your name again, this time in his ‘boss’ voice. 

“That’s enough. If you can’t control yourself better than this, I’ll send a cab to take you back to the hotel. We don’t need you out in the field today if you can’t control your temper.” 

“I can handle it, sir.” You didn’t mean to be sarcastic, but the words slipped before you even processed what you were saying. Aaron put the SUV into park as you reached the house you would be checking out, and Aaron’s jaw was clenched. “I’m sorry,” you said, but you knew it was too late. 

“We’ll discuss this later. Stay in the car, we shouldn’t be long.” Aaron said and he started to get out of the car. Emily followed and you leaned back in your seat, drinking some more of your coffee that now tasted sour. Grounded to the car, like a child. You took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down and sat in silence for a few minutes. 

-

“Is everything okay?” Emily asked and Aaron let out a slow breath. The house looked empty and the two spoke in faint whispers as they did another light sweep. 

“They’re just… overwhelmed. Doesn’t excuse it, but tensions are high. It’s nothing personal.” Aaron said. Another clear pass through the second floor and the two agents made their way downstairs. When another sweep of the downstairs revealed nothing, Aaron and Emily started to make their way outside until BANG BANG BANG. The sound of gunshots had Emily and Aaron ducking, and Aaron covering Emily. 

“It came from outside,” Emily whispered in horror and Aaron’s heart stopped. Aaron ran outside and his years of training were almost forgotten at that moment. The SUV door was opened, and the unsub stood over a body a few yards away, gun in hand. Aaron barely recognized the body as your own before he raised his own gun, a shot to the chest sending the unsub to the ground. A weak cough sounded and Aaron ran to you, immediately dropping to his knees.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Aaron mumbled and your eyes were hazy as they met his. “Hey, hey. Stay focused on me, okay?” Aaron’s voice wavered and your breath hitched as your eyes watered. Aaron pressed his hands to your wounds, hoping to slow the bleeding until medical could get there. He just had to keep you alive until then, just had to keep you talking.

“I, I saw him- Tried to, to get away. Couldn’t… couldn’t let him. M sorry for leavin’ the car.” Your eyes blinked a few times, like you were trying to focus. “Cold.”

“I know, I know. You’ll be taken care of soon, and they’ll fix it. You’ll be okay, you just have to stay awake. Just a little longer,” Aaron pleaded and your hand reached out for his. You rested your hand on top of his own, your speech slurring. 

“Love.. you… Aaron.”

“I love you, too,” A choked cry left Aaron’s lips and the sound of sirens sounded faint as they started to approach. “Hey, hey, keep your eyes open.” A panicked cry of your name was the last thing you heard as you slipped into darkness.

#tbr

[ssamorganhotchner]

killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises. 

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly. 

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint. 

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?” 

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.” 

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up. 

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?” 

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new. 

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick. 

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

– 

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you. 

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up. 

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision. 

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

– 

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him. 

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day. 

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up. 

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it. 

“I can watch him.” 

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you. 

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day. 

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.” 

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless. 

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from. 

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back. 

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.” 

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless. 

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between  friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.” 

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

– 

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it. 

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks. 

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in. 

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine. 

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal. 

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you. 

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.” 

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure. 

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?” 

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.” 

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself.  You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road. 

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much. 

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm. 

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

#tbr