#lets just say it has more aaron tracks than jack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeypiehotchner · 1 year

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gold star (Hotch x Teacher!Reader) -- one shot

Been working on this one for a hot minute oops. Just wanted to say thank y’all for being patient with me always (and we literally hit 5.7k followers even while I’ve been so inactive???? what????). Here’s a longgg dose of fluffy angst <33

Edit: I’m a dumbass and queued this for the wrong day

Summary: You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not. (Kinda enemies to lovers?)

Warnings: angst! talks of parent death, therapy, bad parenting/emotional neglect, y’know the works. Lots of fluff tho to make up for it. And a happy ending!

WC: ...5.7k-ish

I love my job. I love my job. If you say it enough, you’ll believe it. I love my job. You glance at the clock and see your next parent is late. I love my job.

You do love your job, you really do. What you hate are parent-teacher conferences that you’re required to do. Especially when the parent is late. After having to reschedule at the last minute. Twice.

If you didn’t have a genuine concern to discuss with Jack’s father, then you wouldn’t be here still. But alas, you care for Jack more than your annoyance at his father.

Jack Hotchner is a sweet kid. Genuinely wonderful. After his mom’s sudden death a few years ago, everyone worried about him. You’re friends with Julia, who was his kindergarten teacher just a few months after it occurred. Despite being a teacher for almost a decade that year, Julia had never encountered this situation, so she looked to you for help. You lost your mom when you were in first grade, so you were able to give her more helpful tips that actually work.

Now, you have the pleasure of having Jack in your second grade classroom and he truly is an amazing student. You only wish you could share this information with his father who seems to be on another plane of existence every goddamn--

A knock on your classroom door frame makes you jump.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron Hotchner rushes out, quickly dropping his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, standing up from your desk chair, putting on a smile. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, and please, it’s Aaron,” he smiles sheepishly, walking over. He towers over the tiny desks as he maneuvers past them to yours. He sticks out his hand for you to shake. He has a firm grip, but his hands are soft. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I got caught up at work--”

“I figured,” you reply, sitting back down. You pull up your laptop and begin typing in your password. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make this quick. I should’ve left an hour ago.”

“Oh, sorry, am I that late?” he flicks his arm to look at his watch. He sighs. “I apologize.”

You hum. “Our conference was scheduled for 4:15.” You glance down at the clock on your screen. “It’s almost six.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “Would it be better to reschedule?”

“Nope,” you shake your head. “You’re already here.” And if you reschedule, then this might happen again, so you’d rather do this now while you’ve got him here. “Fortunately, Jack is doing really well. He’s struggling a little with math, but he’s not the only one, and we’re working on it. He’s made a few friends, I know we discussed that last time. He’s breaking out of his shell, I think.”

“That’s good,” Aaron says, smiling a little. “That’s really good to hear.”

“Is he doing any extracurriculars?” you ask. Last time, when you voiced your concerns to Aaron about his son being a little too quiet and shy, you suggested asking if he’d like to do a sport, or play an instrument.

“He’s doing soccer,” Aaron says.

Your eyes widen. “Oh!”

“You look surprised,” he presses.

“I guess I didn’t expect Jack to…want to do a sport,” you shrug, checking your notes for the conference to stall.

What you really wanted to say is that you didn’t expect Aaron to listen to you. Given his track record, it seemed highly unlikely that he’d follow through and actually ask his son about trying a sport, let alone go through with signing him up for one.

“Do you have any questions for me?” you ask, closing your laptop lid. Aaron has been studying your face in this lull of silence, and it’s unnerving.

“I don’t think so,” he finally says.

“Okay,” you nod, not surprised. “I did have one more thing. I know I said Jack is breaking out of his shell, and he is, but he seems…down. Is something going on at home?”

Aaron sighs. “It’s getting closer to the anniversary of his mom’s death.”

That tugs on your heart. “Oh, I see. Alright.” You pause. “Uh-- If you don’t mind me asking, is he seeing a counselor or a therapist or anything?”

“He’s not, not currently,” Aaron says.

You blink. You shouldn’t really be surprised, but you are. “Has he at all since his mom’s death?”

“Briefly, right after she died.”

“Okay.” You clear your throat. You cannot yell at a parent. That’s unprofessional. “I know it’s not my place, but I’d highly suggest finding him someone. Especially right now as the anniversary is getting closer, and as Jack gets older. I would suggest our school counselor, but I think Jack would do better with someone better equipped for his situation.”

Aaron stares at you, nodding slowly. “Alright.”

You lean over and open a drawer, grabbing the handout specifically for times like these. Given the area the school is in, parents are typically able to pay for services like these, and are more willing. You know it’s because they don’t have the time to deal with their children’s emotions, so they pawn them off on someone else, and claim it as a good deed.

In a way, you’re grateful the children are able to receive help that you didn’t because your dad couldn’t afford it. You just wish the kids also received support from their family, not just from doctors.

“Here’s a list of great pediatric psychiatrists and therapists in the area.” You hand Aaron the packet and he takes it gently, his expression unreadable. Parents are always so weirdly defensive about this. “Many of our students see someone from that list, so I trust that one will be a good fit for Jack. If you want some help narrowing it down, I can help.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll look into this.”

I hope so, you want to say, but he doesn’t sound too sincere. “Okay,” you smile softly instead. “That’s all I have, unless you have any other questions?”

He shakes his head. “No, I think-- I think this is good.”

“Alright, well,” you pause, opening Jack’s folder. “I just need you to sign here, so the school knows we met.” You slide the form and a pen across the table.

Aaron signs swiftly, a signature born from frequent piles of paperwork. You know he does something in the government, you’re just not sure what. Nearly every parent here works in the government, though, so that’s not a remarkable conclusion to have made.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the signed form and sliding it back into Jack’s folder. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“You too,” Aaron says, standing up to shake your hand again. He’s so formal, you almost forget. He clutches the packet in his free hand, and you wonder if it’ll end up in the recycling bin at the end of the hall.

After shaking your hand, Aaron apologizes again for his tardiness, and then leaves your classroom. The clock on the wall says it’s just past six. A record for one of the latest nights you’ve been here.

Gathering your things, you do some last minute checks around the classroom before heading out, locking the door behind you.

As you reach the exit doors at the end of the hall, you peer into the trash and recycling bins. Both are empty, no signs of your pediatric psychiatrists packet.

At least that’s a win.

+++

A month or so later, you’re waking up early to go to a soccer game. If it weren’t for your kids asking you (loudly and enthusiastically) to come to their game, then you wouldn’t be awake right now on a Saturday.

Julia, at least, is coming with you, and so is Kate, a fellow second grade teacher whose classroom is across from yours. Julia is coming to see Jack, and Kate also has a few students who asked her to come.

The three of you stop for coffee before going to the park where the soccer games are held. Walking across the field, you find an empty space on the bleachers and sit down, looking around for your kiddos.

To your complete and utter surprise, you spot Aaron Hotchner -- of all parents.

You quickly avert your eyes, looking around some more. You haven’t seen or spoken to Aaron since the parent-teacher conference as Jack is usually picked up and dropped off by his Aunt Jessica. Jack has seemed a little more present and happy, but you have no idea if that means that Aaron actually sought help for his son.

Even more embarrassing, you’ve worried about your job since that conference. It’s always a gamble, offering parents advice. You never know what will cross a line and equal an angry phone call to the principal followed by a swift withdrawal of their child from your class. Not every parent has always been so keen on your attention to your students’ emotional wellbeing.

“Don’t look, but one of the dads cannot keep his eyes off of you,” Julia whispers.

“Which one?” Kate asks, then she spots him. “Oh, him-- He’s tall. Wait, is he…?”

You glance over and sure enough, the one in question is Aaron. He can’t tell that you’ve looked at him, though, thanks to your sunglasses. “That’s Jack’s dad,” you say, looking away again.

“I knew he looked familiar,” Julia murmurs. “I’m not used to him out of the suit. His hair is longer too, isn’t it?”

“Why would I know?” you counter, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Is he the one you mouthed off to?” Kate asks, nudging your arm.

You scoff defensively, “I didn’t mouth off--”

“She told him to put his son in therapy,” Julia explains with a prideful smirk. “Rightfully so, too. I would’ve done the same if I ever saw him.”

“Damn,” Kate chuckles. “Let’s hope that he took your advice.”

“And that he isn’t pissed at me for it,” you mutter. “I haven’t heard anything since.”

Kate and Julia share a look before Julia says, “He’s definitely not mad.”

Finally, you give yourself the chance to look over at him, and to let him see you looking.

You’ll admit, it is weird seeing him out of the suit, let alone in short sleeves. You’ve never seen his arms. They’re…nice. Muscular, more than you expected. Not that you’ve wondered about his arms, though. Or any part of him. Because he’s Jack’s dad, so you should not be thinking about him this way.

Still, you indulge, just for this moment. He keeps your eyes only for a minute before his attention is drawn elsewhere to the screaming kids practicing their warmups (if that’s what those can be called). He’s smiling from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen. The tiny smiles you managed out of him during conferences hardly ever looked genuine. This, though, this one is.

“You should talk to him,” Julia whispers, nearly scaring you shitless. You completely forgot where you were for a minute.

“No,” you shake your head, tearing your eyes away. “That’s practically asking for him to yell at me.”

“He won’t do that,” Julia chides.

“Well, I don’t know,” Kate grimaces. “Parents are finicky. I got yelled at last year by one who I thought was the sweetest ever. Until her kid didn’t pass a science test.”

“See?” you say, gesturing to Kate. “We have no idea what he’ll be like.”

“Besides that he’s looking at you again,” Julia says. “So he’s clearly interested in talking to you.”

“Then he can walk over here himself.”

Julia raises her eyebrows, shrugging. “Be careful what you wish for.”

You roll your eyes. Aaron is too busy with the kids and their game is about to start, so there’s no way he’ll walk over. Even if you speak after, Jack will be with him, so nothing will be said. It’s fine.

+++

Aaron’s mouth is dry. He feels like he forgot how to breathe properly.

He didn’t know you’d be here, and here you are. Beautiful. Except he shouldn’t think that, because you’re his son’s teacher. It’s inappropriate. But the way the sun hits your skin…beautiful. You’re beautiful.

He needs to focus. He’s supposed to be coaching the kids, not gawking at a teacher like some idiot.

To make matters worse, Rossi notices, and only silently raises his eyebrows.

Aaron told Rossi about your parent-teacher conference, and how he should’ve put Jack in therapy sooner -- along with himself. Rossi asked him if he thanked you for your advice, but Aaron never found the right time. He half-heartedly thanked you at the conference, but it wasn’t as genuine as it should’ve been.

He meant to call you, or send an email, but he never did. Truthfully, he’s been terrified. He feels incredibly stupid to have not gotten Jack help sooner, and even more stupid that he finds you as attractive as he does. Can he be any worse of a person, seriously?

And now, you’re here. At Jack’s soccer game. Which, he guesses he should’ve realized sooner that a lot of Jack’s classmates are on this team, too. And others from different classes, but still in his grade. It was only a matter of time before one of the kids asked a teacher to come. It would only take one, and clearly it did, and he’s unprepared.

Wildly unprepared. And wishing he put on a better shirt.

+++

The soccer game is a disaster, but a wonderful one.

The kids are too young for points to be counted, so it’s just a game of fun chaos. Teams are blurred and never really followed. But they looked like they had a blast out there, so that’s all that mattered.

You, Julia, and Kate split up to see your kids and give out as many high-fives as you possibly can. You listen to their rambles and congratulate them on playing so well. The parents stand by with smiles, occasionally one piping up to thank you for coming.

Aaron is there, too, surprisingly. He’s still smiling bigger than ever.

There’s a man with him, too, who Jack calls Uncle Dave. Jack has mentioned him in class before, and he’s actually Aaron’s coworker. He’s smiling, too, just not as wide, and he keeps glancing between you and Aaron.

Just when you think you’re in the clear, Aaron tells Jack to go with Uncle Dave because he needs to talk to you about something.

You catch Julia and Kate’s eyes when Aaron is left alone with you, and your stomach turns. He doesn’t look angry, but then again, the parents never look angry at first.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Aaron begins, turning so the sun isn’t in his eyes as much. He’s still squinting, and it’s adorable. You wonder why he didn’t wear sunglasses. “I picked a therapist from the list you gave me for Jack, and it’s really been helping him. A lot, so, I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me.”

You blink, stunned. “You’re welcome,” you say slowly before you gain your composure. “I’m very glad that it’s been helping. And to see him playing soccer,” you gesture to the field with a smile. “He seems to really enjoy it.”

“Oh, he does,” Aaron chuckles. “He can’t get enough of it. He talks about it all the time.”

All the time. So maybe he’s spending more time with Jack, then. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.”

You pause, waiting for him to say something else. The awkward silence lingers for a little too long, and you know what’s coming next.

“I was wondering,” he starts, and lowers his voice a little. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime.”

As much as you’d love to say yes, you can’t let yourself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, that would just be inappropriate.”

“No, no, not as a date,” he backtracks, confusing you. “Just to thank you for-- For helping me get Jack in to see a therapist.”

You raise an eyebrow. “To thank me…for telling you what you should’ve done in the first place?”

He sputters for a moment, clearly losing his bearings. “No, I mean--”

“Listen, Mr. Hotchner,” you smile sweetly, trying to contain yourself. “What would you like? A gold star? For getting your son a therapist after he went through an incredibly traumatic event?”

He doesn’t say anything, and somehow that makes your anger and annoyance worse.

“Listen. The fact of the matter is that you should’ve kept your son in therapy since he lost his mother. And continue to keep him in therapy until he’s old enough to decide if he wants to continue seeing one or not. Because when my mom died, I didn’t get to have a therapist. We couldn’t afford it, and my dad was too out of his mind to even care. It nearly killed me, and my siblings. So don’t tell me that you want to thank me for something that I never should’ve had to do in the first place. You should’ve paid more attention to your son’s needs. Especially since you can afford services to genuinely help him.”

Your voice stayed quiet, thankfully, because you didn’t need everyone to hear you mouthing off to Aaron once again. You realize only halfway through that maybe you shouldn’t be saying these things in a setting such as this, but you’re too into it to stop.

Julia and Kate heard all of it, though. You can see their jaws open, eyes wide. Did you go too far? You don’t know and part of you doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and it hits far too close to home for you to say nothing at all.

Still, to cover your bases, you add one last thing. “I apologize if that was harsh, but it needed to be said. I want what’s best for my kids. And sometimes, that means getting their parents to see that they need to do better.”

You pause, and he nods, and says another quiet “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmur. And to keep things from stinging any more, you walk away.

Julia and Kate catch up with you on the way back to your car, both too stunned to say a word until you’re inside.

“Damn,” Julia whispers. “Damn.”

“Holy shit,” Kate says with a small laugh. “Tell ‘em.”

“Yeah,” you exhale loudly. “Let’s just hope I still have a job by Monday.”

+++

You do still have a job come Monday, with surprisingly no meeting with the principal, either. Or a phone call.

You’re suspicious, but trying not to be. Maybe it’s all fine.

You convince yourself that it’s completely fine until it really is. Until you start seeing Aaron occasionally, picking Jack up from school. You aren’t sure how often he’s been doing it, because the only reason you saw him is that you were forced into car rider duty. You’ve always been on the bus lane, but they needed another teacher out front, and that’s where you saw him first.

It caught you off guard the first time, honestly. It had been three weeks since the soccer game, since you told him off in front of everyone. And what did he do this time when he saw you?

He waved. He smiled. And then he scooped Jack up into his arms.

She won’t own up to it, but you’re positive Julia saw the interaction because you haven’t worked the bus lane since. Because Julia suddenly volunteered for it, taking your place.

Now, it’s a bit of a routine. Aaron picks Jack up almost every day, although sometimes there are a few stretches of three to four days where he isn’t present. Those days, you see Jessica, and she smiles at you as well, but it’s different. You got so used to seeing Aaron those days, that when you see Jessica, it feels strange. It begins to feel the way it used to feel when you saw Aaron picking Jack up.

It makes you smile. You’re glad to see Aaron taking the time to see Jack, to put in the time — finally — knowing he has the means to be able to do this.

+++

For the rest of the school year, this is how you see Aaron Hotchner.

Neither of you say a word to each other, except for the final parent-teacher conference — which he arrives early for. The conference is entirely professional, and he doesn’t mention the past. Neither do you.

The final week of school fast approaches, and you’re looking for decorations to put up in the classroom. You try to make the last week special because you know they’re just as ready for summer break as you are.

Part of your “decorations” consists of candy that you’ll put on their desk every morning, which means you’re in the grocery store, in desperate need of candy to entertain your kids. Five different kinds. Something extra special on the last day, though. They’ll get out two hours earlier, but they don’t know that yet (the parents do).

Right as you turn down the candy aisle, you stop dead in your tracks, your cart nearly smacking into someone else’s. When you look up, you realize who it is.

“Mr. Hotchner!” you blurt.

He smiles that soft smile. “Please, call me Aaron.”

You’re not used to calling parents by their first name. You know he’s tried to get you to call him Aaron a few times, but you can’t ever bring yourself to. Instead, you change subjects, peering into his cart.

“Grocery shopping? For…” You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t even have a good joke. Why do you have so many marshmallows?” He has like…six big bags. Of varying sizes, too.

“Long story,” he says, sheepish. “Jack wants to build something out of marshmallows.”

“Does he want to build a whole country?” you chuckle.

“Sort of, yeah,” Aaron laughs. “He said he wants to build a whole city, then eat it. His words.”

“Wonderful,” you grin. “Sounds like a blast.” And a good idea. You might steal that for next year.

“What are you here for?” Aaron asks, nodding toward your empty cart.

“Candy, for the kids,” you reply. “I want to give them a different kind every day for the last week, just to make it more fun.”

Aaron smiles wider this time. “They’ll love that.”

“Thanks,” you say, mirroring his smile.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Or him, quite frankly. Building marshmallow sculptures with Jack? Unheard of. But you leave it alone, just glad he’s spending more time with his son.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping,” Aaron says, gesturing down the aisle. “See you on Monday.”

Baffled, you blink, then nod. “Yeah. See you Monday.”

You see Aaron every day of next week to pick Jack up, and you get to see Jack’s smile grow every day.

On Friday, you head back inside to your classroom, ready to pack things up. Thankfully, you’re returning to this room next year, so you don’t need to pack everything up.

As a tradition, you, Julia, and Kate go out to celebrate the end of the year, so you have to go home and get ready for the night ahead.

+++

Aaron doesn’t know why he let Rossi convince him to come out tonight. Jack’s at a sleepover at a friend’s house, so Aaron has nothing to do — theoretically. Until Rossi decided to drag him out.

Now, he’s sitting in a booth at a bar with a jazz band playing, and he’s wondering how many people Rossi can possibly know. Four people have already stopped to say hi, and they’ve barely been here for half an hour.

As Rossi talks with another friend, Aaron lets his eyes wander around the place, spotting the door when it opens. And you walk in.

He quickly averts his eyes, shifting in his seat. It’s enough to catch Rossi’s attention, and he gives Aaron a strange look, until he sees you at the bar with your two friends from Jack’s soccer game.

Aaron keeps his eyes trained on his whiskey, nodding absently when Rossi says he’s heading to the restroom.

What Rossi is actually doing is heading to the bar to intercept you and your friends, putting all three of your drinks on his tab.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, never one to argue with a free drink.

“You look familiar,” Julia blurts out.

“Dave,” Rossi introduces himself. “I’m a friend of Aaron Hotchner’s. I went with him to a few of Jack’s soccer games last season.”

“That’s where I’ve seen you,” you say.

Dave smiles. His back is turned to Aaron, so he can’t see Aaron glaring at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing up there talking to you.

“Aaron’s here with me, actually,” Dave says casually. “He’s at the booth just behind us if you’d like to see him.”

Kate nudges your arm harshly. “She would.”

“Actually, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Go,” Julia urges. “Why not?”

You give them both a look. “Fine,” you cave. “I’ll be right back.”

Kicking yourself for caving so easily (because you really would like to see him), you walk over to the booth where Aaron sits. Thankfully, his back is toward you, so he doesn’t see you coming.

He beams a smile when he sees you though, standing up to greet you. “Hey, what are you doing in here?”

“Kate and Julia drug me out,” you confess, idling for a moment as you both try to decide if you should shake hands, hug, or just stand here. “You?”

“Dave,” Aaron nods, chuckling. Just standing here it is. “Did he send you?”

“They all did,” you nod toward the bar, where they’re all watching like hawks, no doubt. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” he gestures to the empty space. “How are you?”

“Good, we’re out celebrating the end of the year,” you reply, walking around the table and sitting down on the plush booth cushion. This place is fancier than you would’ve chosen, but Julia heard good things about it from a friend, so you ended up here anyway. “How are you doing?”

“Good, although Dave drug me out for drinks because apparently,” he lifts his drink, “I don’t get out enough.”

“Y’know, that’s funny, my friends tell me the exact same thing,” you laugh. “Dave bought our drinks.”

“I knew he was doing something suspicious,” Aaron jokes, glancing back toward the bar. Dave and your friends have taken over three stools, clearly set on giving you and Aaron some time alone. “Sorry again if he forced you over here.”

“No, he definitely didn’t. My friends did,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I have to ask, how did Jack’s marshmallow city building go?”

Immediately, Aaron digs his phone out of his pocket. “I have a lot of pictures, I’ll just show you.” He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll, already smiling at the thought of them. “He had a blast. We went through so many toothpicks. We both had stomachaches by the end of it from eating so many marshmallows.”

He turns his phone to show you the pictures, and without thinking, you scoot closer to him. To get a better look at the pictures, you tell yourself, but you know that isn’t the full truth.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “This so huge!”

“It covered our entire kitchen!” Aaron laughs with you, a sweet sound you wish you heard more often. “I didn’t tell Jessica about it, so she had a heart attack when she came over the next day.”

“I bet,” you nod seriously, swiping on his phone as he holds it toward you. “Goodness.” You look up at Aaron. “Did you guys eat all of them?”

“We’ve had a lot of hot chocolate.”

“It’s May.”

“I know,” he deadpans, feigning annoyance, but then he breaks into a smile. “I’ll admit, I’ve been snacking on them maybe a little more than I should every time I go into the kitchen.”

“I would do the same,” you chuckle. “No judgment here.”

He smiles at you and tucks his phone away back in his pocket, and neither of you move from how close you’ve gotten.

“How are you planning to spend your summer break?” he asks, taking a sip of his whiskey. You try not to stare at him too much.

“Lots of getting ready for next year,” you reply, rotating your glass in your hand, focusing on it instead. “Mostly reading for fun, I don’t get to do that a lot during the school year when I’m reading for my kids and grading and such. I plan to do a lot of nothing, basically,” you laugh. “What about you?”

“The same, hopefully,” he says, which surprises you. And he can tell, because he elaborates. “I took a lot of time off from work. I work from home now, essentially. If I absolutely need to go in, then I do, but so far, Dave’s been able to handle it.”

You knew a big change had been made, especially since he’s been picking Jack up from school everyday. But hearing the confirmation makes your heart warm. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“Me too,” he says. “I know we’ve been over this, but I wanted to thank you for what you said, at Jack’s game—”

Mortified, you interrupt him. “Oh god, I hoped you had forgotten about that.”

“I didn’t forget—”

“I was rude.”

“What you said needed to be said and I’m glad you did,” he protests sincerely. “You shouldn’t have had to say anything, but you did, and I appreciate that.”

His sincerity stuns you. You blink, no words able to come out.

“We can move on from it now,” he says, noticing your hesitation. “I just wanted to be clear that I’m not angry with you for what you said, I’ve actually been the complete opposite.”

“Well,” you chuckle, trying to make light of this. “You didn’t call the school demanding I be suspended, so I knew you couldn’t be that upset with me.”

He stares at you, eyes widening. “Do parents do that?”

“Some, yeah,” you nod. “They don’t exactly like being told by a single teacher with no kids of her own that their parenting skills are shit.”

He laughs, taking a sip of his whiskey. You watch him raise the glass to his lips, but look away before he can catch you. You smile down at your own drink. This is embarrassing.

You thought this little crush -- or whatever it is -- had gone away since you hadn’t spoken to him since the soccer game. Sure, you started to look specifically for him in the pickup area, but that was for Jack. That wasn’t for you. Or, at least, that’s the story you spun for yourself.

“What’s on your list to read this summer?” Aaron asks, bringing your eyes back to his. He’s smiling. “I’ve been meaning to read more -- outside of the books Jack and I read.”

You remember Jack telling you about The Magic Treehouse series that Uncle Dave got him for Christmas, and how his dad was reading them with him.

“What, The Magic Treehouse isn’t enough for you?” you tease Aaron, and he laughs, that sweet sound you can’t get enough of.

You tell him about the books on your shelf at home, the ones you got years ago and have yet to read, and the others that you got this year because you couldn’t resist. He listens to each one, never once taking his eyes off of you.

“I am not going to remember all of these names,” he chuckles.

“I can text them to you,” you offer, a grin creeping up your cheeks.

He mirrors your expression. “You stole my line.”

“Oh, that was your line?” you ask, laughing as you pull out your phone. “Fine, fine, you can have it back.”

“No, you said it first,” he says, still grinning. He hands you his phone as you give him yours. “I’m bad at this anyway.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, typing in your contact information before handing his phone back. “I’ve had a pretty good time.”

He waits a moment, just basking in your smile, the feel of your fingertips brushing against his when he returns your phone. “Me too.”

The night doesn’t end there, as the two of you continue talking. Another round of drinks is sent to your table by Dave and your friends who wave enthusiastically when you and Aaron look over at them.

“Free drinks, at least,” you shrug. “How much money does Dave have?”

“Don’t ask,” Aaron shakes his head. “He’ll never tell.”

As you both finish your first drink and head into the second, you scoot even closer. You bring your legs underneath you on the booth, getting comfortable as you and Aaron start to talk about your favorite movies. He tries to be sneaky and put his arm around you, but you notice and can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“I told you I’m bad at this.”

“No, it’s sweet!” you protest, leaning into his chest. “It’s very nice, I don’t mind.”

He moves his arm from the back of the booth to your shoulders then, his hand resting on your arm. “This okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you smile softly, turning your head to look up at him. “What movie were we on?”

He stares so intently, searching your face. You watch as his eyes gaze over every inch, dropping to your lips, then back to your pupils. “I have no idea.”

“Me either,” you murmur, silently hoping for a kiss. Silently hoping that he’s hoping, too.

And he is. “I know our friends are watching us,” he whispers. “But can I kiss you right now?”

“Yeah,” you grin. “I was about to ask.”

“Well now we’re even,” he says, leaning closer as he smiles. You tilt your head, meeting his lips halfway, not wanting to wait any longer. You’ve quieted these feelings for far too long.

He kisses you long and sweet, his free hand coming to cup your face as yours search for stability in his shoulders. He knocks the breath out of your lungs, literally, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Aaron pulls back for just a moment, just far enough to say, “Was that worth a gold star?”

You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. “Yeah, Aaron,” you say, looking up at him. “It was.”

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x teacher!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch angst #hotch fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot

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alicewonderao3 · 6 months

Text

Begin Again

Title: Begin Again

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, fem!reader,

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Summary: She's spent the last few months mourning her lost love. Can Aaron show her that love is never truly lost?

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word count: 986

Authors note: I was listening to Begin Again by Taylor Swift today and this made me think of Aaron. This is the third story this song has inspired, by the way. I plan to write a version of this, sort of different, with Spencer Reid, because it'll be so great. Writing this made me wish I could go on a coffee date of my own with Aaron Hotchner. I have no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine. I don't own the song, I just borrow it. Let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy!

This was my first date since things had ended. It was a regular Saturday morning. I slipped into my heels and fixed my hair, making sure I looked just right. I turned and locked the door, sliding my headphones in as I walked down the street, the warm sunshine falling on my shoulders. The song changes and I think about how my ex hated this song.

It's one of my favorites, a song that makes my feet feel lighter as I walk down the street, approaching the coffee shop. I almost expect to be waiting, but to my surprise, I see him, leaning against the wall of the shop, his head focused on a phone in front of him. He looks up, and his eyes meet mine and I smile, as he waves at me.

His hand rests on the small of my back as he guides me into the busy coffee shop, and to my surprise, he even pulls the chair out for me, helping me in as he takes his seat. Aaron Hotchner is gorgeous. His dark hair and dark eyes almost shine in the lights from the shop, making me smile at him as he sips his coffee and gives me his undivided attention.

Aaron's an FBI agent, working for an elite unit that helps track down and put away dangerous criminals. He's observant, and funny and charming, his laugh ringing out as his head tips back. He tells me I'm funny, and it strikes me as odd, remembering how my ex always said I couldn't land a joke ever. I'd spent the last 10 months watching love fall apart and burn.

We shared the same love of music, talking about our favorite artists and our favorite dishes and musicals, his face is animated, lit up from within as he talks about everything, including his son Jack. He shows me a picture, and the boy is adorable, with the same hair and eyes as Aaron. He tells me about his job, about his team and it's clear he cares for them.

He's so serious, but at the same time, the warmth that I feel as he talks to me, as he laughs at my jokes makes my heart skip a beat. I look up at him shyly as he keeps his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the busy crowds. He catches my gaze and as my cheeks flush a delicate shade of pink, he just grins down at me, his eyes twinkling with a hidden laugh.

It's enough to make me swoon, and I know I'm a goner, even as we walk in the park, as we find out we share favorite movies and favorite foods. But it's the way he's genuinely interested in me, the way he gives me his undivided attention, those gorgeous brown eyes of his staring into mine. He's so handsome, so graceful, so kind.

I've never had kind before. It's nice, as we walk back out of the park, and back to the coffee shop, where his car is parked. I meet his eyes. "I had so much fun today, Aaron," I said softly. I watch him smile, that twinkle in his eyes that makes my heart skip a beat again, as he looks down at me, the wind ruffling his dark hair, his leather jacket over his black polo shirt reminding me of how handsome he is.

"I did too." He says, looking down at me. I hold his gaze, my lips pulling up into a smile, as he goes from charming man to fumbling schoolboy, as he asks for my number. He tells me he's busy, that his job sometimes demands that he's gone for work more than he'd like, but he seems sincere in his desire to get to know me better, so I give him my number.

The smile that spreads across his face makes me melt. Aaron is gorgeous, and kind and funny, but his smile warms my heart, and when he directs it at me, it's like I'm the only person in the entire world and I never want to lose that feeling. It reminds me of standing in the warm sunshine on a cold winter morning, sipping hot tea and I want him to be a part of my life.

And then he hugs me, wrapping his strong arms around my body, pulling me in close. It's the best hug I've ever got in my life and the warm feeling that continues to spread through me as he holds me makes me hold onto him tighter. "I'll see you again, right?" I asked him, as I pulled back from the hug and watched him shoot me that charming smile again, the one he doesn't even realize is charming.

"Of course, honey." He says and I melt again, the affectionate word making me swoon again. I lean up on impulse, pressing my soft lips to his cheek, feeling the stubble there. "I can't wait to see you again, Aaron," I murmur, as we go our separate ways. I make it home, and as I close my front door, my phone buzzes with a text: Aaron.

"I had such a good time with you today. Dinner Friday?"

The text makes me grin, leaning against the door, as my heart beats faster, as I slide down the door and think about after watching my love fall apart, watching it burn and break and hurt, I'm right back where I started, watching love begin again. I send him a text back, a large grin on my face. "Yes. Dinner sounds wonderful, Aaron."

On a Saturday, in a coffee shop, Aaron Hotchner gave me hope for love anew, and I was going to hold onto this with both hands. Something told me not to let him go, that Aaron Hotchner, was special. I'd find out later just how right I was.

#aaron hotchner 💞#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #inspired by music again

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stilesssolo · 17 days

Note

Okay.. let’s hear it! Initial thoughts of the new album!

Ugh sorry for the delay on this. I listened to the (first) album when it dropped at midnight, finished it and saw her say “double album, 15 more songs!!” went “that’s nice. I’m going to bed” fully intending to spend most of today listening and relistening to fully take it in, but then there was a crisis at work and I suddenly had a shitton to do in a very little amount of time which was not a conducive environment to fully digest these *very* dense songs. I still haven’t sat down and done nothing but listen to half the songs on the anthology, so. I am never more jealous of west coast time zoners than during new music drops. 😂

I immediately logged off the internet when I heard it had leaked Wednesday so I truly went into this blind. My initial thoughts are… well… okay! I don’t dislike it. But I don’t love it, you know? The songs are very dense but I still don’t think it’s her best writing (and I’m a Bruce Springsteen girlie; I love a cryptic lyrically dense album). There are a whole bunch of songs that I really enjoy and some REALLY good lyrics. But I remember hearing Cardigan or YOYOK for the first time and how that felt and I just don’t get that on anything here. I also cannot acknowledge the implications of how many goddamn songs are about Matty Healy and how in love with him she was without risking a mental breakdown!!! The idea that CARDIGAN was written about him… I cannot do this… take me back to when we thought The 1 was for sure about Harry Styles. I was present for the Gillette rain show “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been” psychotic break and I STILL was not prepared for the amount of psycho behavior on this album regarding the rat man!!!!

I think I have two main problems with this album. 1: it is too goddamn long. I am not one to complain about getting more content but I feel like a lot of these songs are just saying the same thing and not doing it in a way unique enough to justify having both of them. Like I think we could have EASILY trimmed a lot of fat and gotten these both into one 20-ish track album that would have read better. I feel like a lot of this has to do with the social media culture now of more, more, more, always racing towards the next thing— like how a day after we got 1989 TV the swifties were clamoring for rep TV. Like we just got 5 new songs!!! Slow down!!! I would have preferred quality over quantity lol and this album very much felt like quantity, quantity, quantity.

And then 2: I miss when she used to really push herself to try different things and to get better at her craft. Not that I want her to be attacked and get backlash, but her insane levels of fame have made her so untouchable that no one can say anything remotely constructive without being crucified and I feel like it eliminates some of the drive she has to push herself to be better and write better (hello Speak Now and Red!!!). I saw Rolling Stone gave this album a perfect 100 score like???? Hello???? The album is not bad, but to grade it as perfection compared to others? Over Red? Over Folklore? Over 1989??? Let’s be real. And I feel like this album has a lot of “well it’s good enough” moments where I’m like… but is it good enough? Could we have worked to make this better? I feel like she needs new collaborators too. She does great work with Jack and Aaron but I feel like they know each other too well and it’s getting to the point where they’re not editing or pushing her as much as they should be. A lot of the songwriting here just felt complacent. Get Liz Rose back in the room I am begging!!!!!

Now that I’ve typed all that out I feel like I am being increasingly harsh, but idk. It’s a fine album. There are some songs I enjoy and I’m sure it’s gonna grow on me more as I listen and really digest, but it doesn’t really have any super stand out moments to me right now. I saw a tweet saying this album is not to top the charts, not to draw in new fans, this is for the swifties who know and care about Taylor’s lore and want to listen and know what was going on during this period of her life, and she just needed to get it out there and say it so she can move on. And I do enjoy the lore, don’t get me wrong, but I kinda hope that’s the case and the next album is a clean slate, because… other than the lore, there’s nothing really new or interesting here, sonically, lyrically, etc. I really hope her next album she takes a big risk and does something different. I also feel like she needs a BREAK. Like I don’t want any new music for the entire year of 2025. Go recharge and take a break and come back to us with your best work, queen. I feel like the rerecords and the constant churning out of new music and content is just watering down her undeniable talent.

I wanted to like this a lot more than I did, but you know. C’est la vie. I never was a big poetry girlie anyways, and I’ve seen some people say they love the album (and to them I say I’m happy for you I clap I cheer and i’m gonna let you rock!!) but for me… idk. We’ll see how I feel in a week. But throughout the day today I kept feeling the temptation to put Chappell Roan back on, so… I think that sort of sums up my initial feelings on the whole thing. 😂

#like idk girl did i really need to hear you sing about how much you love matty healy *that* many times??? i dont think i did #anyways i am curious to hear your (and anyone else’s) thought on the album 😂#my sister and my roommate agree with my opinion but we all share a brain so they dont count #also even though i dont love this album I STILL LOVE YOU TAYLOR!!!! Swiftie till the day I die!!!!!#we’re all allowed to flop a little bit sometimes… as a treat!!!!#taylor swift #asks #answered #ceebogs

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sophietv · 10 months

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Hey Sophie! I am personally a big lsk believer but I was wondering what you think of the argument that William Bowery is actually Dianna Agron? I’ve seen some theories floating around that it’s likely her as she’s super musical and apparently 1 (or perhaps more) of the WB tracks were recorded at Marcus Mumfords house who is in a band with her ex husband. I suppose it’s always entirely possible that Dianna could be WB and it not be indicative of something beyond a writing relationship/friendship. Especially if they are on good terms. Obviously I want to think WB is Karlie! But sometimes I just like to check my bias lol.

Hi!

Ok, so I did some digging just to be sure to answer all of it as best as I could, because I too need to sometimes check my bias.

I don't know if Taylor and Dianna are on good terms. They could totally be.

But beside the fact that I'm convinced William Bowery is Karlie (I'll give my reasons in a bit), I don't think the fact that Taylor recorded some songs at Marcus Mumfords' home studio means anything concerning William Bowery.

William Bowery has credits as Song Writter and not producer. Taylor wrote those songs at home and needed a studio to record so even if Dianna could have been there (High chances that she wasn't) the songs were already written, so she would have had credits as producer if anything.

Taylor said that she recorded Evermore at his studio. All of Folklore's vocals were recorded at her own home (Kitty Committee Studio) because of quarantine and she was still in quarantine in LA when she recorded Evermore. So how would Dianna have been able to help her write for Folklore too? Because William Bowery has credits on Folklore as well. Here's exactly what she said during LA N2 show about her recording at his studio: "I could not find a studio, essentially, and so Aaron was like, 'OK, let me call around and see if there's anyone who's cool and nice and generous and might be willing to offer up their home studio -- if you do the right amount of testing, you're totally locked down, you're fully quarantined," Swift shared. "So I was like 'Please, I really hope somebody comes through. And so he calls me up and he's like, 'I have really, really good news. Marcus Mumford said that you could record at his home studio." "First of all I'm so excited that he's saving us, because, without this trip, we couldn't have recorded -- five or six of the songs on evermore came from me getting in a car, driving six hours out into the country, past thousands of beautiful sheep, to Marcus Mumford's beautiful house where he has a studio. So, I got to do this." (X)

They were in the middle of the quarantine, hence why she was looking for a place to record since everything was closed. And as Jack said, she was fully quarantined at that point. Marcus Mumford's studio is in LA (X). Wich is a good thing, because Taylor was in LA during the Quarantine while writting Folklore and Evermore, she talks about it in her Musicians On Musicians interview with Rolling Stone. (X) Do you know who else was in LA during the quarantine?? Karlie! (X).

Dianna used to live in LA it's true, but she moved out and sold her house in 2016. Since then, she's been living in New York. So I don't see how it was possible for her to be in LA when Taylor was recording at her own house for Folklore or even for recording Evermore at Macus' studio when the reason Taylor could do it was because she was fully locked down.

And worth mentionning again, William Bowery is credited on Folklore too and has writting credits not Producer credits.

So for all those reasons, I don't think it makes sense to say that Dianna is William Bowery.

And now, there's so much that points at Karlie actually being William Bowery... more than just being exactly in the same city as Taylor during lockdown.

When Taylor wrote Folklore and recorded it directly from her home.

But this is already... a big Koincidences...

I did a thread on Twitter about why I think Karlie is William Bowery, it really needs to be updated though, so I might do a proper one on here.

Here (X)

And to add to all of it, there's all the very BIG Koincidences that Karlie did around the release of Folklore....

Posting herself dancing in a Cardigan 13 days before Folklore release.

Posting herself doing a re-do of Taylor's Lover Eye theory photoshoot with the daisy. 7 days before Folklore's release.

Posting herself in the forest the day before Folklore's release wich prompts a lot of medias to say that she was showing her support to Taylor with those posts.

Posting a video with a code saying "Easter Eggs" the same day

Posting hersels as Betty Crocker from a 2015 photoshoot, 7 days after Folklore's release and captionning "actually me all of quarantine".

Karlie liking a post by Martha Hunt in a Cardigan with the caption "Peter losing Wendy"

Kimby liking a Folklore meme

Exile being released as a single on Karlie's birthday (one of the track where William Bowery is credited)

Betty being also released as a single in August (the other song that William Bowery has co-written).

Derek doing a post about how he loves Cardigan...

And that's just the ones on the top of my head...

Will do a proper post soon-ish... needs to continue my Ultimate LSK Thread Of Koincidences before.

So yeah I definitly have bias... but with all of this. I can say with confidence that Dianna is not William Bowery and that there's a really really high probability of it being Karlie instead.

Hope this answer your question! Thank you for your ask!

#kaylor #lsk #lgbetty #gaylor #william bowery #dianna agron #karlie kloss #koincidences

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hiitsdifferent · 8 months

Text

I Love Taylor Swift....

But I feel like we can be fans of her without believing she is the epitome of perfection and pushing that mentality on other people. She is talented. She is hardworking. She is influential. But the stans have to learn to lay off. The behavior this summer is straight-up annoying, and honestly, we need to learn to acknowledge the mistakes she's made too.

Going to the Eras Tour Movie is not about us having or reliving the concert experience. We can't go in inconveniencing movie theatre employees and other theatres around us with noise complaints. It's great she made a movie. Let's dress up and given out friendship bracelets. But let's not cause a scene because we want to poorly scream shout songs. This reminds me of when newer or other artists release music around when she has a release, and they end up getting buried on social media or streaming. Like other people can prosper on the charts too. Like we don't have to keep proving to her how much we love her. She should know by now.

Taylor's dancers, back-up singers, and fans going to see Beyonce did not betray Taylor and deserve to be fired or aren't real fans. Stop trying to cancel everyone who varies outside of Taylor's circle. We can support more than one artist.

As a fandom we are more than aware that Taylor's had to repeatedly show her songwriting abilities so she isn't discredited. Why can't we show Olivia Rodrigo the same courtesy and understanding? Her whole career shouldn't be taken down because her team admitted that two songs were 'inspired' by Taylor (whether Deja Vu actually sounds like Cruel Summer is open to your ears interpretation). The appropriate credit was given as well as 50% royalties (which is just insane). That doesn't mean root through every album Olivia makes and try to tie to other songs. It's disappointing that Jack had to get out and explain what was going on, and Taylor hasn't said a peep yet.

Taylor has a weak history working with women in music. She's worked very little with female producers as consistently as Aaron and Jack, and female artists have been used as back-up vocals more compared to male artists who are featured on the actual track. And she has publicly supported younger rising artists very prominently during a promo tour of sorts and then goes completely silent - Olivia Rodrigo, IceSpice during the whole ratty situation, Hayley Kiyoko for reputation/allyship promo tour, etc. She is a force of nature in the music industry, but I do think she could publicly clean up her image supporting female artists and not when it's to her own benefit.

Miss Americana did not age well at all. Instead of letting reputation exist without an explanation, she was a part of an entire documentary of how she was cancelled (and wrongfully so), but then turned it into her becoming an activist that went nowhere. Sitting on your couch with your publicist in a huge mansion toasting the resistance with champagne over a social media post, and then never following up on it, is completely peak white feminism. Some celebs are not cut out for adding activism into the career. Okay. But she should've done the work before stepping into the arena using the LGBTQ+ community in a music video to prove that she's always been an ally because Todrick didn't know how she'd react to having a gay kid is not it.

GrammyGate. Joe was listed as William Bowery for two songs on Folklore. After it won Album of the Year, he was changed to a producer to six songs and that qualified him to win a Grammy. She did reveal that he was William in the long pond sessions but the proper paperwork wasn't submitted/finalized until eight months after the album came out - where he could've been properly credited as a collaborator. And now with the Eras Tour and Joe/Taylor has broken up, she switches back and forth to say she wrote Betty on her own, and everything came out of her imagination. Why all of the shenanigans for a bright shiny award??

I know all of this makes it sound like I hate Taylor, but I don't. I'm practically known as the resident Swiftie everywhere I hang out/work because I'm always bringing her up in one way or another. But she's not perfect, and I'm super freaking tired of being in a fandom that refuses to not acknowledge anything slightly questionable that's she done. We're canceling her or dragging her down - it just means we're able to see she's not infallible and love her despite of her mistakes.

#taylor swift #And please for the love of god stop calling her mother it's creepy as fuck #especially if you are the same age as her

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h0tchner · 3 years

Text

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

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readerstories · 3 years

Text

Tie Reveal - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

What is it with me and turning short and sweet ideas into long one shots? Yeah so anyway, enjoy (AO3)

Warnings/tags: relationship rreveal, fluff and humor, light angst

Wordcount: 2837

Summary: You come into work wearing the wrong tie

You hate rushing in the morning, preferring to start your day in a calm and relaxed manner. That’s not on the table for today however, as you and Aaron both rush to get dressed.

“You’re going to be late.” You say as you button your shirt, glad you had had the forethought to grab on from your to go bag, as not wake any suspicion or teasing from the team. Aaron glances at the clock as he puts his shoes on.

“It’s still before the time you usually get in.”

“Yeah, but not for you.” You pick up your ties from the floor, giving Aaron’s to him. You’re quick to put yours on, Aaron mirroring you.

“I’ll just say that I got a flat tire.” You nod, stealing a quick kiss from him as you grab your jacket on the way out.

“Okay, see you at work!” You’re out the door before he can respond, making your way quickly down, not even bothering with the elevator in your haste to get to your car.

—-

You make it to work on time, only a few minutes later than usual, but that can be blamed on the fresh coffee in your hand from the coffee shop down the street.

As the elevator plings to announce your arrival on the right floor, you’re met by Garcia, Reid, and Morgan standing right outside, groaning as they spot you.

“Well, good morning to you guys too.” You say with a confused look at them all as you step out.

“It’s not you, we’re just just waiting for Hotch.” Garcia explains and you raise a brow, faking confusion.

“Hotch? Isn’t he here already?”

“No, so I got worried, so I checked his phone and it was pinging on the road just outside his apartment building, which is weird cause he’s normally the first one here-”

“Are you even supposed or allowed to do that outside of a case or emergency?” Garcia hesitates, and you huff and shake your head at them.

“Well, I’m going to go and start work, like you all should.” You leave the team as they go back to watching the elevator doors, quickly shooting off a text to Hotch to let him know that the flat tire excuse won’t work.

A few minutes later you hear a happy Garcia shout Hotch’s name and seconds later he comes in through the glass doors, followed by Garcia, Reid, and Morgan.

“Guys, I’m fine, I just slept trough my alarm this morning.”

“But you never do that.” Garcia responds, hot on his heels.

“So what’s her name?” Morgan quips, Hotch stops in his tracks to give him a withering glare before resuming his path to his office.

“Ohhh, lover boy!” Morgan teases at Hotch’s back.

“Remember we got a briefing in ten minutes sir!” Garcia yells after him before the door to his office is closed behind him. You hide your smile behind your coffee, trying not to bring much attention to yourself. Garcia leaves to prepare a few last things for the briefing, but Reid and Morgan linger next to your desk, still standing.

“Do you really think that’s what made him late?” Reid asks.

“Come on, that man never misses anything and sleeps light, and Jack is away for a week, so what else could it be?” Morgan glances at you. “What do you think?” You take a sip of your coffee, pretending to think.

“Maybe, or maybe he is telling the truth. The man is only human, and with the amount of hours he spends in the office he might actually just have slept trough his alarm.” Morgan nods, but doesn’t seem convinced.

You all make your way into the meeting room. You sit down in the chair next to a standing Garcia as you often do, Reid, Morgan, JJ, and Rossi joining you around the table, Hotch striding in as usual a few minutes later.

“Garcia, please begin.” He stays on his feet, ready to go as soon as he can.

“Look to the screen my mighty crime fighters, because today you’re goi-”

“You’ve switched ties.” Reid cuts Garcia off mid-sentence, making everyone look at Reid, wondering what in the world he is talking about. He points at you.

“You and Hotch, you’ve switched.” Both of you look down, then at each other as the team looks between the two of you. Shit, he’s right.

“When you came in I saw your tie was the same as Hotch wore yesterday, a grey tie with a Gucci pattern. I just thought you had bought the same one, since you both have a similar taste in ties, but Hotch got the same as you wore yesterday, a grey tie with stripes, which still has the small coffee stain from when you spilled some yesterday.” Hotch frowns as lifts up the tie to inspect it, and yes, there’s indeed a small, barely noticeable speck of coffee about halfway up the tie he is wearing. No one says anything for a few seconds, you yourself have turned into a statue, neutral expression on your face. Hotch is much the same, everyone else looking between you two. Garcia is the first one to break the silence, squealing with glee.

“Omg, omg, guys!” She yells as she hugs you from behind, the angle a little awkward with how she leaning over your sitting form. You’re not stone anymore, but you don’t return the hug before she lets you go. Morgan and JJ are both grinning, Rossi is looking at Hotch with smile, Reid is trying not to do the same at you while you glare daggers at him. Hotch sighs.

“Garcia...” His tone is chastising, reminding everyone that there is something else to focus on, which seems to snap her back to work mode. Sort of.

“Right, right, case, lets just brush past that revelation about two of my best friends, so, uhhh, where were we? Or right! Today you’re going to-” She begins to explain the case, both you and Hotch get a few more glances before everyone turns their focus on the case.

----

On the jet you think you’re in the clear, until Rossie settles in the seat next to you. Which is odd, because you’re the only two on the jet so far, and he usually doesn’t sit next to you.

“So you and Hotch huh?” You pretend to read over the case files in front of you, and Rossi chuckles.

“You know, none of us expected a thing. Well done on hiding it from a group of profilers I must say.”

“Rossi, there’s nothing-”

“There’s nothing?” He’s grinning, clearly teasing as he looks down to your tie and taps it with a finger. “Something tells me otherwise.” You sigh, but are saved from answering by the rest of the team joining you on the jet. Everybody buckles down for take off, and not long after you’re in the air, and then all the attention is on the case.

For a little while at least.

You can tell they want to talk about it, but the case keeps everyone occupied, so there’s nothing else before JJ comes back from the hotel with the room cards. Everyone is spread around doing different tasks, so she finds you alone in the conference room the team had been given. You’re reading trough the victims files for some more specifics on victimology when she places a keycard on the table in front of you. You look up, startled as you hadn’t even noticed her entering the room.

“You’ve seen Hotch?” She asks and you furrow a brow.

“I think he’s talking to the police chief in his office, why?”

“His key card, but you can just give it to him when you see him, since you’re sharing a room.”

“I thought we were past the budget cuts-”

“Oh we are, but Garcia made some changes to the booking after this mornings briefing sooo....” JJ grins and you sigh, rubbing your forehead. There’s silence and no movement for a few seconds, then there’s a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, you know we will always support you guys right?” You sigh heavily, resting your own hand on top of JJ’s, looking up at her.

“I know, it’s just... It wasn’t revealed in the best way.” She grimaces.

“Yeah.” She looks uncertain how to respond, but seems to go for light, which you are grateful for. “But I’m surprised none of us caught on until then, it has been going on for at least a couple of months right?” You try to hide your grin as you pretend to go back to reading the files.

“Well, I’m not a ‘kiss and tell’ kinda guy, but it’s a bit more than a couple months.” JJ laughs and pats your shoulder before leaving the room.

You find Hotch not long after, and when you tell him the whole situation around the shared room, he sighs too, but mostly in a ‘oh what can you do’ kind of way, seemingly mostly resigned to everyone knowing now.

Even with sharing the same room and not needing to hide anything from the team, you go back to the hotel without him. The man is a workaholic, and you want a shower and some sleep, but he promises to join you soon. Instead you end up sharing a car with Reid and Morgan, neither of which say anything in the car, but while you’re waiting for the elevator, all bets seems to be off.

“So, you and the bossman huh?” Morgan teases with a grin as you do your best to ignore him, watching the numbers on the display tick down. The elevator door opens and you quickly step inside, hoping to leave them both behind. But alas, no such luck, as they step inside and Reid presses the button to the floor above yours.

“You know, work place relationships aren’t actually that uncommon. Did you know-” Here you tune him out, once again watching the numbers off the elevator. Normally you like when Reid goes on a tangent, but now, not so much.

“Reid, I will strangle you with my tie to shut you up if I have to.”

“Don’t you mean Hotch’s tie?” The grin on his face is shit-eating, which is rare from Spencer, and Morgan laughs loudly. The combination of it makes you curse under your breath as the doors finally open to your floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, just going straight down the hall towards the door with your room number on it. Sliding the keycard in, it opens with a click. You drop your bag on the floor as soon as the door shuts behind you, and you switch on the lights.

You can’t help it.

You laugh as you take in the big room in front of you.

Or rather, the suite.

The honeymoon suite by the looks of it. Red and white decor, candles, big bed, nicely decorated with towels shaped like a heart, and some champagne in an ice-bucket on the desk in the room. There’s a small white card right next to the champagne, which you quickly read. ‘Have fun ;) -G’. You snort at it, that woman is a menace. (But also very nice, but you do shoot her text to warn her that she should sleep with one eye open. The only response you get is a winking emoji).

A surprisingly short time later you hear the door to the suite unlock, alerting you to Aaron’s arrival where you just stepped out of the shower. He calls your name in a questioning tone, you’re quick to respond as you wrap a towel around your mostly dry form.

“In here, one sec.” You step out of the bathroom, Aaron’s attention going straight to you before pointedly looking around the room. You lean on the door frame of the bathroom.

“Garcia.” You offer as an explanation.

“Ah.” He accepts, looking around once more. “This is going to be a fun expense report.” You snort at that, pushing yourself of the door frame and walking over to him. Putting your arms around his neck, you pull him close for a kiss.

“Certainly, but let us enjoy it for now, I’m sure Garcia has an explanation locked and ready for the report when we need it.” Aaron tries not to smile at that, but is halfway to failing when you catch his lips in a kiss.

----

The next time your relationship is brought up is on the jet back when the case ends well a few days later. Everyone have found their way to pass the time as usual. Reid and Rossi are playing chess in the one of two seaters, Morgan is half asleep, JJ is typing away on her phone next to him, across from them in the aisle seat is Hotch who has started on more paper work already, and you’re laying down on the couch across from them reading a book.

Everybody is in their own little bubble, that’s until Rossi is standing in the aisle and clearing his throat. Everyone looks at him, even Derek who JJ jostles awake with an elbow. Rossi got a bottle of expensive looking whiskey in one hand, several glasses in the other.

“I believe a little celebration is in order.” He starts handing out glasses, you sit up and close your book as you accept yours, just as Garcia pops up on the screen over the couch.

“What for?” You ask, genuinely curious, giving Garcia a look trough the screen, a very grinning and happy looking Garcia.

“Well, the case went well, we saved several people, and ah yes, your not so secret relationship anymore.”

“Rossi-” You and Hotch try to say something at the same time, but Rossi doesn’t let either of you speak another word.

“Oh no no no, neither of you get to Rossi me. Just shut up and listen okay?” He pours a hefty helping of whiskey in everyone’s glass as he speaks, even Garcia got a glass back home somehow, no doubt filled with something similar.

“We just want you both to know that we are very happy for you, both of you. And though the way us knowing came about wasn’t ideal, we will always support and be there for you.” You and Hotch look around at your team, noting the happy faces watching you before making brief eye contact.

“I want you all to know that nothing in this team changes with this, we’re still going to work together and remain professional while on the clock. There will be no preferential treatment here.”

“What he said.” You incline your head towards Hotch as you look around the jet once more.

“Aaron, we know that. Like I said, we just want you both to be happy.” Rossi says, soft smile on his face. You raise your glass, trying to pretend that the slight sting you can feel in your eyes is just tiredness.

“Cheers to that.” Everyone joins in, clinking their glasses together in loud celebration and happy voices, Garcia cheering with her glass against the camera lens back home. Everyone takes a sip of the whiskey, several mentioning the smooth burn of it.

“So, how long have you two love birds been together?” Morgan eyes flicker between you and Aaron.

“See, that right there Morgan is the million dollar question.” Rossi points between you both. “Come on, out with it.” You grin, trying and failing to hide your grin behind taking another sip of the whiskey, Aaron doing the same.

“Do you want to tell them or should I?” You ask, getting up to lean on the chair Aaron is sitting in. He looks up at you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

“I think you should.”

“Okay.” You say with a shrug, looking at all of the team before settling your gaze on Spencer. “Remember the strangulation serial killer we caught in LA earlier this year?”

“We caught him and finished that case 6 months, 11 days, and 9 hours ago.” Spencer helpfully supplies.

Then it dawns on them all what that means.

Yells of surprise from everyone, and this time neither you or Aaron try to hide your matching grins. Rossi is laughing loudly while slapping his knee, Reid seems to have lost his composure, mumbling that he should have seen something sooner, Garcia is speechless for perhaps the first time since you have known her, Morgan looks frozen in shock, and JJ is trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“6 months? How even?!” Morgan exclaims. You shrug, your grin shit-eating by now.

“What can I say, we’re good profilers and now how to hide our tells.” You glance at Aaron and squeezes his shoulder, who in return brings your hand to his lips for a brief kiss on your knuckles. Garcia squeals from her screen, gushing over how cute the two of you are as you smile and laugh in response.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x male reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #reader #reader insert #readerinsert #written #2000 #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

spoiled.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: happy valentine’s day!

words: 2.1k warnings: language, over-the-top valentine’s day shenanigans

summary: “the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.” - nicholas sparks. au!february 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

Aaron leaves rather early in the morning, leaving you in bed complaining with only a kiss for your trouble.

When you eventually get up, on track to be about fifteen minutes late to the federal building, you find a pair of post-its on the fridge.

Always the romantic.

+++

The evening rolls around and finds you on the couch with Jess and Jack.

“You gonna start getting ready?” Jess asks. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

You look over at her. “Wait. He told you what we’re doing?”

She nods. “Yeah. You have no idea. He hasn’t done a big Valentine’s Day thing since he surprised Haley in her senior year of college. He’s been looking for an excuse.”

That’s terrifying.

“Guess I better get ready then.”

Jack’s got a funny little smile on his face, but you ignore it. You’re sure the Hotchner boys are in cahoots, but it’s not really worth it to try and wiggle anything out of him.

You head to the master bedroom to get dressed, throwing off your slouchy day-off clothes in favor of something that can take you to a fancy dinner and whatever else Aaron has planned for your evening.

+++

You walk out of the apartment, hearing Jess lock the door behind you. When you reach the front of the apartment complex, Aaron closes the car door as he hops out, meeting you halfway to the sidewalk.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He’s wearing a black button-up, black slacks, and his favorite pair of black oxfords. It’s a sharp look and one he knows you love.

“You’re looking quite dapper yourself, sir.”

The boyish grin on his face melts your heart and you take the arm he offers. Like a real gentleman, he opens the door for you and makes sure you’re inside before closing you in.

+++

The drive is quiet. You ask about the office once or twice, but it’s clear there’s nothing significant to report.

“So...what are we doing tonight?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Dinner. And a few other things.”

+++

When he says ‘dinner,’ he’s not joking. The restaurant is a high-end, no-prices-on-the-menu type of place. The lighting is low, the environment cozy and quiet.

He must have planned this months ago. Reservations are like gold on Valentine’s Day.

Aaron’s squinting at the menu across from you. It makes you laugh.

“Need a flashlight and your reading glasses?”

“Shut up.” It comes with his own laugh, but he’s still squinting.

You finally decide on something and order, trusting Aaron’s taste in wine. When the waiter leaves, Aaron reaches across the table for your hand.

“Okay,” he says. You recognize his tone - it’s professional, like he’s starting a press conference. “No work, no kids, no serial killers.”

You smile, waiting for him to give you a little more context.

“How are you?”

What a question.

How often does the answer to that question not include work, kids, or serial killers?

Not very.

“I’m good.” You mean it. “I’m really good.”

There’s a small smile on his face. “Why?”

Are you profiling me now, Hotch?

Deciding to give him shit, you ask, “Why am I good, or is that a more general existential question?”

He rolls his eyes and you relent.

“Alright. Well…” You take a breath. “There are a lot of things to be happy about. You, for one thing.”

“Me?” He asks. He looks genuinely surprised.

Fool.

“Yes, you.” You squeeze his hand. “You are my best friend and somehow - somehow - I’ve landed you as my partner. I am living out everything I dreamed of at twenty-five.”

That pulls another smile from him. “Really?” Again, he looks genuinely surprised.

Can’t believe I’ve never told this to him.

Ridiculous

“Oh yeah. I can’t believe you never noticed. I had a huge crush on you - instantly. Derek gave me nothing but hell once he figured it out.” You pause. “Do you remember that time on the plane, really early on, when I woke up and everyone thought I had a nightmare?”

Looking a little confused by your change in direction, and you don’t blame him.

“I think so? I remember we all felt so bad.” He shrugs. “We all get them, of course - still do - but we were worried about you.”

“Right. So -”

Aaron’s head tilts to the left as he interrupts you. “Did you say ‘everyone thought’ it was a nightmare?”

Your face gets hot and you suddenly regret bringing this up at all. “Yeah. I’m getting to that.”

With an embarrassed huff, you continue. “So, it wasn’t a nightmare.”

“No?” The question comes accompanied by a frown.

“No. It was a sex dream. About you.”

You can tell he’s doing his best to hide his smile for your benefit, but there’s a threatening dimple that gives him away and you’ve simply known him too long for him to get away with anything.

“Really?” His tone is neutral, polite, but you can hear the humor behind the apparently bland interest.

“Yep.”

“What - if I may ask - was it about? Specifically?”

You take a breath and adopt the same kind of ironic professionalism as Aaron. “Well, now it doesn’t seem so notable, because i’m more than familiar with your, um, technique.”

And it’s true. Though you hardly remember the details of the dream anymore - it's been years - you know that real life doesn’t even come close.

Aaron pulls his hand from yours and steeples his fingers under his chin. He’s the picture of interest, so you continue.

“The key points are as follows -”

He holds up a finger, and you stop. “On second thought,” he says. “I think this recollection would be better served by a demonstration.”

You nod. “You’re probably right.”

“I’ll pencil it in.”

You grin at each other for a moment, the back-and-forth of it so deeply on brand you can’t help but steep in it for a second.

“So,” he says, “as you were saying before…?”

“Right.”

Back to business.

“I had a huge crush on you and could swear you were the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

Never one to forgo an opportunity to compliment him when he’s not actively swatting at you, you continue.

“In the lecture you gave with Gideon and Derek, I knew you were in charge before you said anything. Even though Gideon had the years and experience on you, it was clear that everything came through you.” You attempt to explain the inarticulable. “There’s a kind of steadiness - one you still have - that radiates off of you.”

The two of you sit in that for a moment.

You continue. “And then, of course, when we met again I had to really focus on not making an ass of myself in front of Strauss.”

He laughs. His laughter makes you laugh, of course. It’s so much higher than his speaking register, so delightful in its unexpectedness.

“Okay, okay.” You stop, covering your face with your hands. “Okay this is cheesy. Promise not to laugh.”

His eyebrows rise and he forces his mouth into something that only threatens a dimple once more.

“When you shook my hand in Radner’s office, there was this crazy jolt of energy or something that just flew up my arm. It was wild. I’ve never been able to forget it, almost like a flashbulb memory.”

As promised, he doesn’t laugh. There is, however, a kind of wonder in his eyes when he replies, “You felt that, too?”

+++

After dinner (and dessert), Aaron takes your hand and ushers you into the car when you leave the lod. He doesn’t turn the way you expect.

“Where are we going?”

The dashboard casts a glow on his face. You can still spot a dimple in the dark. “You’ll see.”

+++

Your disbelief only grows when you go deeper into the city and pull up to the Hay-Adams. The valet opens the door for you, while Aaron hands over the keys to his SUV. Once all the details are covered, you take his arm again and let him guide you into the lobby.

It’s expansive. The Hay-Adams is, of course, one of the most historic buildings in the district and considered one of the best hotels on the East Coast by people who know of these things.

Aaron confirms the reservation and gets the room cards before promptly finding the elevator and swiping in for the seventh floor. You look down, remembering your attire at the last minute.

“Aaron, I don’t have my go bag.”

He shakes his head, still looking forward. “Don’t need it.”

You scoff.

He doubles down. “Do you trust me?”

Stupid question.

“Of course.”

“Go with it. I’m trying to spoil you.” He turns and presses his lips to yours, taking your face in his hand. Against your mouth, he says, “Let me.”

+++

The room is gorgeous - a one bedroom suite with a living room, balcony, and kitchenette, a huge couch dominates the center of the open living area, opposite an impressive television. Through the open door, you catch a glimpse of a king-sized bed.

This must have cost a small fortune.

As if reading your mind, Aaron takes your hand and tugs you forward. You land against his chest and he smiles at you. “Don’t think too hard. Come with me.”

You follow him out to the balcony and the view takes your breath away. The White House, well-lit in the D.C. nighttime, sits right across the street. From here, you can see Lafayette Square - beyond it, almost the whole city.

When you come back to yourself, you realize there’s an outdoor loveseat and a small table, holding champagne (on ice) and chocolate-covered fruit.

Champagne, chocolate, fancy dinner… The whole nine.

Spoiled indeed.

Aaron sits, pulling you down beside him. He pours two glasses of champagne - mostly for show, and moves the bucket to the ground. The fruit goes off to the side table and his feet go up on the small table, crossing at the ankles. You curl up against him, tucking under his arm.

“Do you like it? Too much?”

You can hear the genuine insecurity behind his cheeky question. You press a kiss to the back of his hand. “I love it. It is too much, but it’s very thoughtful. You twist to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.”

With that, the two of you settle in, quietly enjoying the company and the quiet. It’s cold, but with the outdoor heater, it’s comfortable enough that you don’t need your coat.

“Okay.”

Aaron sits up. “Yes?”

“You asked, so it’s only fair. No work, no kids, no serial killers. How are you?”

He pulls you over so you’re sitting across his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder, your hand smoothing over the soft fabric of his button-up before placing it over his heart.

“I’m good,” he says. “I’m really good.”

“Why?” You feel a little like a parrot, but you’re sure that’s what he’s going for.

“I can’t...quite articulate how lucky I feel.”

That’s relatable.

“I’m happy to be here with you.” He shakes his head - a pensive gesture. “I never thought I could make it here again.”

“Where?” You ask.

“In love, happy, facing a future that doesn’t scare me. My son is happy, safe...I wasn’t sure I'd ever have any of that again after losing Haley.”

He pauses and you can feel a little sardonic smile. You don’t have to see it to know it’s there. His next admission, though, surprises you.

“I accepted that I would be a bystander in your life a long time ago. I accepted that I would likely remain a widower, a single father. I knew you’d be around and that I would be your friend, but I made peace with the idea that I’d never have you right here.” He squeezes you twice, in time with his words. It makes you smile.

He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “I’m not sure it’ll ever sink in.”

You feel much the same, but it's kind of at once alarming and amusing to hear him so beautifully articulate feelings that so closely resemble your own.

You lean back to look at him. “I’m glad you were wrong.”

He places a gentle finger under your chin and kisses you, long and languid. It’s a promise. After a little while, he leans back, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek.

“Me too.”

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

Exhaustion

Part of the Full House series

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and non-graphic descriptions of a traumatic birth

Read on A03 or under the cut

Let me know what you think!

There was something wrong with her. That was the only thought that was circling around her brain on repeat. Emily was exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion that she had never experienced before, not during all her years working at the BAU, or those early days with Ian Doyle when she thought she would be caught out any second. Even when she’d had Ivy, those endless early days of motherhood with her first ever baby, she hadn’t felt like this.

Aaon kept telling her it was normal, that a new baby combined with just how traumatic Audrey’s birth had been would make her recovery drawn out. That on top of that Ivy, who had always typically been a Daddy’s Girl, was suddenly obsessed with Emily, the jealousy of having a new sibling who took so much of her mother’s attention making her cling to her. Tears and tantrums ran high whenever Emily was out of her sight, all but glued to her side at every waking hour.

She knew he was right. She had been there too when the doctor explained that it would take her weeks, potentially months, to completely recover from the birth. It had only been three weeks, still so recent that she sometimes caught Aaron looking at her like she might disappear, like he might lose her.

Emily knows he almost did.

Knowing all of that didn’t help. It didn’t stop the feeling of shame that would crawl up her spine at the frustration she would feel at never having a second alone, despite her own hesitance to ever let the girls or Jack out of her sight. She knew her own anxieties were born out of having her baby ripped off her chest only seconds after she had been placed there, things getting hazier by the second.

She felt over touched. Every nerve on edge whenever tiny hands reached out for her skin. And she was so angry at herself for it.

There was something wrong with her,

Aaron had been hesitant to go back to work, his understanding of how she felt despite her never putting it into words as clear as ever. Emily had encouraged him, knowing that they would have to go back to normal as soon as they could. When he immediately got sent away on a case, one he was now finally on the way back home from a week later, she almost regretted it.

It had been a long week. Audrey had barely been sleeping and was cluster feeding throughout the night, and Ivy wanted to be with her at every possible second. Jack was a saint, helping Emily where he could in distracting Ivy and playing with his sister. He’d even brought Emily a cup of tea at one point a couple days ago when she must have looked particularly drained. He hadn’t done it since, spooked by the way she had almost immediately burst into tears despite her assurances that it was a lovely thing to do.

Jessica had popped round the day before, sympathy on her face and a casserole in hand. Emily knew that Aaron had asked her to check in, and she was grateful for it. Jack was with Jessica today, the boy excited to spend an evening with his aunt. She had offered to take Ivy too, but the way the little girl had gripped Emily’s shirt at the suggestion had made her decline, knowing ultimately it would be worse for everyone if she had accepted.

“Mama.”

Emily turns to look at Ivy. The toddler was sitting next to her on the couch as Audrey slept in the bouncer chair just to the left of them. It was the only place she could get the baby to drift off for any period of time during the day.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She smiles at her daughter, discreetly checking the clock on the wall behind her. Aaron would be home soon, and she was almost more excited to have someone, anyone, else here with the girls than she was to see him.

“Snowman?”

Emily has to stop herself from sighing. Frozen was Ivy’s favourite movie and she had already lost track of how many times she had watched it in the last week.

“Are you sure? We could watch something else.” Emily tries to reason, her usual rule of limiting screen time very much out of the window. She knows it was fruitless when Ivy furrows her brow at her in a way Aaron always insisted was all her.

Ivy shakes her head, her dark brown and unruly curls moving as she did. “Snowman.”

“Ok. Snowman.” She grabs the remote and turns on the tv, not even remembering the last time they had a different DVD in the player.

They get part way through, Emily plotting the death of Olaf in her head as she watches, before Audrey starts to gristle. Emily reaches down to get her, wincing at the sudden movement, still healing from giving birth, as she unbuckles her and pulls her into her arms.

“You’re ok, baby.” She whispers, kissing the top of Audreys head, her dark hair matching her sisters. The newborn almost immediately starts rooting at Emily’s chest and she adjusts her shirt so she can start to feed her.

As soon as Audrey is in her arms Ivy is up against her, standing on the couch as she tries to get as close to Emily as possible.

“Ivy, Mommy just needs a bit of room ok?” She smiles at her eldest daughter, trying to maintain the gentle approach she had always taken with her. “I can cuddle you after I’ve fed her.”

“No.” Ivy says, leaning into her side. “My Mama.”

She has to stop herself from flinching as Ivy’s little hand tangles in her hair.

There was something wrong with her. _______________________

He doesn’t think he has ever been so excited to get home. He had spoken to Emily as often as possible, quick phone calls and texts exchanged to check in on his family. The moment Penelope had told him that they had a case on his first day back after Audrey’s birth his heart had dropped to his stomach.

Emily was more than capable of looking after the kids alone, he knew that, but he was worried about her. He had been worried about her since the second he was left alone in a room holding his minutes old little girl as his wife was rushed away, an emergency taking over what should have been a joyous moment. He could tell something was off, that some part of her was doubting her abilities, but she wouldn’t talk about it, smiling wryly at him whenever he told her how fantastic a mother she was.

As Aaron walks into the living room he sees his wife sitting on the couch. Their three week old in her arms as she feeds her, their 3 year old standing on the couch cushion pressed up against Emily’s side, her tiny hand wrapped in her mother’s hair as she watches her baby sister eat.

Frozen, Ivy’s favourite movie, is playing on the TV, and Aaron winces as the song about summer floats around the room, making him briefly wonder to himself if the murder of a animated snowman would be considered justifable homicide, given that their toddler demanded they watch it on repeat.

Then Emily looks up and catches his eye, exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and he pushes any other thoughts to the back of his head.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Her response is a trembling smile, and before she can speak Ivy turns, a wide smile on her face as she looks at him.

“Daddy!”

She doesn’t run to him like she would have only weeks ago, instead staying next to Emily. He scoops her up anyway, kissing the side of his daughter's head repeatedly as she giggles.

“Daddy, stop.”

He does, laughing as he leans down to kiss the top of Emily’s head. He frowns as she flinches, readjusting Audrey as she finishes eating.

“How are my girls?” He asks, settling Ivy on his hip. “I missed you.”

“Missed, Daddy.” Ivy says, eyes focused back on the tv.

‘Oh, Frozen. Mommy’s favourite.” Aaron says, any laugh from his own joke dying in his throat when he sees the very real glare Emily throws his way as she stands with Audrey against her chest, gently rubbing the little girl's back to burp her.

“I’m going to go change her.” She says, attempting to throw him a smile before she heads upstairs.

“Mommy seems grumpy.” Aaron says turning to Ivy, bouncing the little girl slightly to make her laugh, the concern on her own face too much for him to bear.

“Drey cry lots.” Ivy explains, her expression serious.

Aaron nods and kisses his daughter's forehead, settling her back down on the couch. “You stay here ok? I’ll be back in a minute.”

He heads upstairs, following the sound of his wife’s gentle words to their baby to their bedroom.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him briefly, tears shining in her eyes that set him on edge immediately, before she looks back at Audrey in her arms, the baby settling down. Emily flinches when he touches her shoulder, pulling herself away from him and the movement makes Audrey cry again, any progress Emily had made her to calm down gone in a second.

“Damn it.”

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m ok.” She says, sounding anything but. “I just need five minutes where someone isn’t touching me.” Emily says, desperation laced through her voice. He stops himself from walking towards her, from pulling her into his arms and providing the comfort he is itching to give her. “I’m either feeding Audrey, or Ivy is clinging to me like she’ll never see me again. I love them more than I can possibly explain but...” A sob escapes her and she wipes her cheeks. “I am so tired, Aaron. I just need five minutes.”

For a second Aaron isn’t sure what to do. His fingers twitch at his sides, his natural instinct to reach out for her almost overwhelming. Emily and Audrey both crying the only sound in the room.

“Pass her over.” He says eventually, hands reaching out towards her.

“Aaron-”

He smiles at her in an attempt to reassure her. “Come on, sweetheart. You need a break.”

“I can look after my own children.” She says, accusation in her voice.

“I know you can, love.” He steps towards her, careful not to reach out for her like he so desperately wanted to. “But you need some time to yourself, you need to get some rest.”

She nods, albeit reluctantly, passing the baby over as she does, kissing the top of her head as she lets go.

“You only just got home.” She says, wiping tears from her face now that her hands were free. “I didn’t even say hi.”

Aaron holds Audrey to his chest, smiling at his wife. “That’s ok. We’ll be downstairs.” He walks out the room, gently closing the door behind him. He looks at his youngest curled up on his chest and kisses the side of her head. “Let's go see what your sister is up to.” _______________________

When Ivy suggests putting Frozen back on almost as soon as it is finished he manages to distract her. He asks her what they could do instead with only a limited amount of time left before bedtime. Her eyes light up immediately, running off to the room that used to be their den but was now a playroom. The sound of her dragging her dress up box, almost entirely stocked by Penelope, into the living room wakes up Audrey. He picks her up from her bouncer before she can cry loudly enough to disturb Emily, hoping he could give her as much time as possible.

Ivy already has her Elsa wig on, and Aaron already knows where this is going when she pulls out the Anna wig.

“Daddy Anna.”

“I think my head is a bit big.”

Ivy, not put off by her father’s logic, places the wig on top of his head anyway before grabbing some reindeer antlers he had never seen before from the box. She goes to place them on Audrey’s head. He stops her, unable to suppress a smile when she frowns. Emily’s frown.

“Sweetie, no. Audrey can’t be Sven.”

“Drey play.”

“She’s too little.” He says, putting the antlers back down. “But we can play. Just you and me.”

She has Emily’s smile too. _________________

Emily wakes up, rubbing her eyes as she looks at the clock on the nightstand, seeing she’d had about an hour's sleep. That, combined with the time to herself and the quick shower she had managed to fit in had calmed her nerves somewhat. Nowhere near all the way repaired, but enough to settle her back down.

As she sits up in bed she feels an all too familiar ache in her breasts, a sign that Audrey would need feeding again soon, and she runs her hands over her face before she gets up in search of her family.

She can hear laughter floating up the stairs, her husbands mixed in with Ivy’s, her precious giggle warming Emily’s heart as much as it did the very first time she heard it. She pads down the stairs quietly, the socks she had stolen from Aaron dulling the sound of her footsteps. Love blooms in her chest, spreading through her body at the sight that greets her.

Aaron is sitting with a childs wig on his head, one she knows Penelope bought Ivy when she offhandedly mentioned one day how much her daughter loved Frozen. It looks absurd. Tiny in comparison to his size. His sleeves are rolled up and his tie is off, the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone and she can see his jacket folded over the armchair.

She observes him for a moment as he sits patiently listening to Ivy mostly babble to herself, interest in whatever she was saying all over his face. He had Audrey against his chest, the baby looking impossibly tiny up against him, only one hand securing her to him. He was a little thicker now than he was when they first got together, something Derek gently teased him for and called his ‘dad bod’.

Emily loved it and told him frequently. She loved that his embrace engulfed her. That it made her feel safe and secure whenever she was in his arms. She knows he does the same for their children. Has watched as he has soothed nightmares and scraped knees with the calming presence only their family are truly privy to.

She smiles as Ivy passes him a stuffed animal, a dog that she was obsessed with, that had reindeer antlers secured to its head. It’s almost bigger than Audrey, and as Emily watches him with a baby and a stuffed dog in his arms, their toddler excitedly talking at him, she doesn’t think she has ever loved him more. _______________________

They settle Ivy into her bed, both knowing she will likely make it into theirs at some point in the night, and eat dinner together.

Aaron has a quick shower as Emily feeds and rocks Audrey to sleep. She had just laid her into the bassinet on her side of the bed when the door to their ensuite opened, her husband making his way out already dressed in his pajamas. Emily yawns as she climbs into bed, him quickly following. He keeps his distance from her, space between them that they don’t usually allow and she smiles tiredly at him, her words from earlier clearly still on his mind.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, his concern for her clear.

“I’m ok, I promise.” She reaches out for his hand, linking their fingers between them. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

He squeezes her hand. “Em, you have nothing to apologise for.”

“I just…” She trails off, shaking her head at herself as tears fill her eyes. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t love them. That I don’t want this.”

“Baby, of course I don’t think that.” He says, his other hand cupping her cheek, thumbing away the tears that have escaped. “I know you love them. I’ve never doubted that for a single second.”

“I’m just so tired, Aaron.”

He finally pulls her into his arms, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she relaxes into his embrace, her face tucked into his neck.

“You’re being hard on yourself, my love.” He kisses the side of her head. “You had a baby 3 weeks ago. You almost died having her, remember?”

“I know.” She says, sniffing. “I know that. I was there.”

“Then give yourself a break.” He pulls back to tuck some hair behind her ear. He wants to say so much more, to assure her how good a mother she is, how much all of their kids love her, but he knows now isn’t the time. Knows her well enough to know she will assume he is simply just saying it. “We should get some sleep.” He kisses her softly. “She’ll be awake soon enough demanding your attention.” He says, tilting his head towards the bassinet.

They settle down, her facing the bassinet with her back to him. Aaron wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer so her back is pressed against his chest.

“You make a good Anna.” She quips as the image of him earlier with Ivy making her smile and it makes him laugh.

“Ivy gets more and more like you every day.” He says, pressing his lips to her temple. “I just hope she uses her attitude to run a company or something, and not a gang in prison.”

Emily reaches behind her to smack his shoulder in mock offence. “That’s rude.” She sniffs. “She’d run an excellent gang.”

She can feel herself falling asleep, the ever present exhaustion taking over.

“Em?”

She hums her response, turning her head just enough for his lips to land on her cheek.

“If you could kill Olaf how would you do it?”

She laughs. “I love you so much.”

The last thing she hears before she drifts off is him how much he loves her, how much he loves their family. _______________________

When she wakes the bed is empty, as is the bassinet and she immediately panics, fear lancing through her as she sits up quickly. She shakes off the lightheadedness caused by her sudden movement and takes a deep breath, logic taking over as she calms herself.

Emily pulls a robe on and walks downstairs, the light from the living room illuminating the hallway. She smiles when she sees Aaron sitting and holding Audrey in the crook of his arm, a bottle she had pumped earlier in the day in his hand as he fed her.

“Did I not get an invite to this party?” She asks quietly, not wanting to wake up Ivy upstairs.

Aaron turns to her and grins before looking back down at the baby. “Is Mommy allowed to join us?”

Audrey makes a small noise that makes them laugh and Emily walks over to join them on the couch.

“You could have woken me up.” She says, leaning forward to stroke a finger over Audrey’s dark hair.

“I know.” He leans forward to kiss her head. “You needed the sleep.” She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a door opening upstairs, and the sound of little feet down the hallway and stairs.

Emily groans slightly. “It’s like she has a radar for where I am.”

Aaron only has time to laugh in reply for Ivy is downstairs, climbing onto the couch with them and into Emily’s lap.

“What are you doing up, little miss?” Emily says, tapping the toddler on the nose, making her giggle. “You should be sleeping.”

“Snowman?”

Emily shakes her head. “No, Ivy. It’s too late to watch it now.” She pauses, and bites her lip as she suppresses a smirk. “Daddy said he’d watch it with you tomorrow though.”

The look Aaron throws at her over their daughter's head makes her laugh, and for the first time in over a week, probably since Audrey was born if she was honest with herself, she knows everything is going to be just fine.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #Girl Dad Aaron #family fluff #CM Fanfic #pregnancy #birth #momily #Aaron being a great husband #i spent my day writing this #and watching Silent Witness with my cat #No regrets

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,�� you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

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whosscruffylooking · 3 years

Text

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part. I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Get-Along-Shirt

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and is based on this post. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it :)

Summary: The Hotchner-Siblings get their own ‘get-along-shirt’. What kind of chaos is going to happen?

Wordcount: 1.4k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

Some days Hotch asks himself why he and Haley thought it would be a good idea to have two children this close in age.

Just a few weeks prior (Y/N) turned 13 and it seems to the single father like it was the beginning to endless teasing, arguing and fighting between her and her one year older brother. Without a fail they constantly clash against each other and drive the other one up the wall. Hotch swears he grew more grey hairs in the past two weeks than in the years prior.

“I tell you one more time, Jack Hotchner, and if you once again choose to ignore my advice I’ll get up tomorrow morning and choose violence. Do. Not. Touch. My. LABELLED. Food. OR I’LL CUT OFF ALL YOUR FINGERS AFTER PULLING OUT ONE NAIL AFTER ANOTHER. DO YOU UNDERSTAN-” “(Y/N) Hotchner”, Aaron cuts her off, “If you continue screaming like that your eaten meal is the least of your problems.”

Huffing the teenagers drops the sentence and sits down on the couch in the living room with her arms crossed over her chest. Jack looks at her and sticks out his tongue. “Wow Big Brother, didn’t pick you out to be that mature.”

“At least I’m not the one, who gets bitchy about food”, he responds. “Well, because you had food that was not yours an you aren’t bitchy, because you are not hungry”, she retorts. “I’m not the one, who gets craz-”

Suddenly Hotch groans. “You know what. I am done. You two stress me more than a hostage situation with a psychotic alpha male.” Then he gets up and leaves the room. Confused the siblings look at each other until their father comes back.

“This is your ‘get-along-shirt’ and I want you two to wear it together till it’s time for you to go to bed. No cheating, no fighting. You learn to get along in it.” With that the father tosses them a monstrous big white shirt with the words written in black Sharpie across the chest area. Unwillingly they slip it on, knowing better than to argue with him in his pissed state.

The rest of the evening goes relatively well considering Jack and (Y/N) were pressed to each other and only have one arm they can use. This is until they go up the stairs to their rooms.

“Jack, when you use your left leg I have to step on my right. It is that easy!” “No”, he declines, “It’s the opposite. When I go left, you go left. Think (Y/N), think!” It is a trial and error for straight five minutes, which Hotch watches amused. This is better than the evening program on the tv.

But the fun doesn’t last long. After the two teenagers get halfway up the stairs, they suddenly lose their balance and roll the whole way down. Immediately the father is right by their side, but they both swim in the fabric.

Due to the closeness and sudden darkness (Y/N) begins to panic. In her frenzied state she thrashes and scratches around her to get out. When Hotch finally gets them out of the shirt he is able to calm her down. Then he assesses the damage that is done.

Jack has several scratches and bite marks, left by his younger sister in her panic. She on the other side cradles her left arm and looks like she is close to crying. “What is it, Honey?” Aaron asks as he sees the state she is in.

The boy looks worried over to her, giving her a run down with his eyes. “My arm, I heard it snap I think. It really hurts.”

And so the Hotchner family find themselves in the ER at 12 in the night. A nurse gives (Y/N) painkillers at first, but they have to wait for their turn due to it being very busy on a Wednesday.

The whole time the older brother hovers over his sister, asking her if she needs something to drink or eat every ten minutes. As they are nearing 2 am on the clock he lets her curl up on his lap to get some sleep (the painkillers make her a bit drowsy) while watching her like a hawk. Or mother hen, choose your own take.

A doctor looks over her fracture at 3 am. Then she gets sent to get her x-rays at 4. At 5.30 am the teenager gets a cast in her favorite color. Jack, Aaron and (Y/N) are finally able to leave the ER at precisely 6 in the morning.

Now one can assume that the father has the mercy to take the day off and let his kids stay at home from school. But one assumes wrong.

“Ok, we are going to drive home, you are gonna change and get your backpacks and I bring you to school. After work I’m gonna pick both of you up, alright?” Both teenagers groan, but still know better than to argue with him, especially since they brought this upon themselves.

A quick change and wash later the three are back on track and right in front of the school. “(Y/N) if the pain gets too much go to the nurse and get her to call me at work, you understand me?” “Yes, sir”, she mockingly salutes and gives him a kiss on the cheek before stepping outside. Hotch holds Jack back.

“Watch after her. We both know that with that cast she is more likely to get herself hurt now than ever.” Jack nods confirmingly, remembering all the times his younger sister injured herself due to her clumsiness.

Not long after this he sits at his own desk at Quantico, rubbing his eyes and sighing constantly. The lack of sleep and the adrenalin crash from last night's event suddenly catch up to him. The team worriedly looks at him from the bullpen.

“He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks”, JJ remarks. Spencer glances at the Unit Chief. “Maybe he hasn’t slept. I mean he has two teenagers at home and a huge workload on his desk. I don’t wanna live with his sleep schedule, but I’m also a blinker.”

“Why don’t we ask him if he needs some help? I mean we can divide his paperwork between all of us and he can go home early”, Emily suggests. But Morgan laughs at this. “Prentiss, we know Hotch. He wouldn’t give us any more work voluntarily. You have to claw it out of his hands or get it over his dead body.”

Penelope sighs. “I’m so sorry for him. He doesn’t deserve any of this. Did you hear the rumor that Strauss is again up his back? Can’t he get a breather?”

“You all are profilers for god’s sake.” Rossi mutters and climbs the stairs up to Hotch’s office.

“Hey, are you alright? I think you groaned more the last half hour than in your first two years here. What is it?” Dave takes a seat across from him. To his and the team’s surprise Aaron lets out a hearty laugh.

“You know how I told you that Jack and (Y/N) are arguing non stop? I took your idea and made them wear a ‘get-along-shirt’. This ended in a night at the ER, because (Y/N) broke her arm while falling off the stairs with Jack. But they both are fine and the shirt did its trick. Though I’m counting on getting a phone call in the next hour, so I’ll go get her and bring her here with a few heavy painkillers. She’ll be knocked out on my couch, so there won’t be any disturbances.”

Aaron continues to laugh every few minutes, whenever he thinks back to the angelic fall of his children, making the team worry even more. But they guess that a sleep deprived Aaron Hotchner is a less strict Aaron Hotchner and they aren’t going to complain. And like predicted, they get to see their favorite teenage girl less than an hour later, sporting a cast with many signatures.

It’s needless to say that they all fight each other off to be the first of them to sign it.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #x reader #reader insert #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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h0tch-r0cket · 3 years

Text

Infatuation (18+) {a.h.} : chapter 8

summary: you needed a job. aaron hotchner needed a babysitter. the rest was inevitable.

word count: 4.9K

warnings: explicit language, building tension, drinking alcohol

table of contents

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

"Hey Esmé? Are you up? I really need you right now," you called out through her bedroom door. You shifted your weight on the balls of your feet, knocking on her door.

Aaron had just dropped you off at your apartment, leaving you stunned at the fact that the two of you almost kissed in his car. You had to talk to someone about it otherwise you were certain you would have spontaneously combusted on the spot. You threw your head in your hands in frustration and let out a frustrated groan as you knocked on her door, this time a little bit harder than the first.

"Esmé, please." Artemis was at your heels and she barked at the door, as if she was trying to help you out and get Esmé's attention.

Aggravated mumbling from behind the door grabbed your attention as you heard Esmé shuffling her feet on the floor. When it opened, she was rubbing her eye with one hand and waving her finger around at you with the other.

"I swear to God, Y/N, this better be life or death because I am exhausted. I had some guy puke on me at the ER on my shift and I'm not in the mood to deal with-"

"He tried to kiss me in his car after his lecture," you blurted out to interrupt her rambling.

She stopped rubbing her eyes, looking at you with the one uncovered eye extremely wide. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?" She took a step closer to you, still keeping her one hand on top of her eye.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. "Aaron. He tried to kiss me today after the lecture."

Esmé quickly grabbed onto your hand and dragged you into her room, making you sit down on her bed. She stood in front of you and was pacing back and forth, her face contorted in disbelief and confusion.

"Aaron...tried...to...kiss...you," she said slowly as if she was taking a moment to process what you just told her.

"Yes, Esmé. It was after his lecture before he dropped me off here." Esmé continued to pace in front of you, holding her chin in her hand.

"Aaron tried to kiss you," she said faster.

"Esmé. I know. Focus here, please. I literally don't know what the fuck to do with myself right now," you said, a hint of annoyance in your voice. You knew that it was a lot to take in and quite frankly, you were still reeling from the moment yourself.

"How the fuck did that even happen?" Esmé asked as she finally gave you her undivided attention.

"It just sort of came out of the blue," you told her. "Well, maybe not that out of the blue the more that I think about it."

"Why's that?"

"He said some things during the lecture and I am pretty positive that they were supposed to be directed at me. Or I guess how he feels about me," you explained. Esmé squatted down in front of you, resting her hands on your thighs.

"What the hell did he say in the lecture?"

You briefly told Esmé about how he kept looking at you during that one specific part of the lecture, how Zeus didn't care about what people thought and that he just wanted to be with the woman he loved.

"He said that in front of everybody?" she asked, her eyes widening in shock.

"Yeah, E. That's why I'm trying not to read too much into it because it was a lecture after all. But it just felt so real."

Esmé let out a small laugh and stood up. "Y/N, I told you this man was smitten. Look at him! He almost kissed you in his car. Jesus fucking Christ. It's like he got smacked upside the head and is finally growing a set to not just tell you how he feels but to show you how he feels."

"I'm trying not to get my hopes up," you said quietly, the lingering uncertainty rattling around in your head.

Esmé looked down at you and furrowed her brows. "Wait. You said tried to kiss you? How do you try to kiss someone and not actually kiss them? I mean it's not that hard. You just have to-"

"Esmé," you said, cutting her off from her impending rant again as you heard the excited yet confused tone in her voice. "He got a call from Jack's school so he had to take it."

Esmé flopped down on the bed next to you on her back and stared up at the ceiling. "So you're telling me that it literally was like a scene out of a fucking movie? Oh my god, Y/N," she said excitedly as she held her face in her hands.

You shrugged your shoulders, twiddling your fingers in your lap. "I guess it was kind of cliché. But, God, E, when I tell you I felt like the world was completely stopped around us when he was moving his head closer to me," you said, exhaling deeply.

Esmé propped herself up on her elbows and a smirk grew on her face. "How about next time you see him, you just go for the gusto. Fucking grab him by the collar or something and just go for it."

You laughed at Esmé's so-called advice, rolling your eyes.

"I mean come on. He clearly has a thing for you already and you sure as hell do too, so might as well reassure his thoughts and feelings by sealing the deal and finish what you started in his car," she continued. She sat up on the edge of her bed next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "And you know just for your sanity, and mine," she muttered as she spoke. Esmé grabbed onto your chin and turned your head to look at her. "Turn your fucking phone off," she said, sending you a death glare as she still held on to your face.

"Noted," you said, laughing lightly as she poked you on your nose, letting go of your face. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you grabbed it quickly, hoping it was the person you needed to hear from the most.

Aaron Hotchner

-Hey, Y/N. Just wanted to let you know that I am keeping Jack home from school tomorrow. Don't worry about coming here to watch him. I took off for the day to make sure he's doing alright.

-And thanks again for coming to my lecture. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

-Tell Jack I hope that he feels better soon!

"Oh my god, did he ask you out yet? Was that what that message was?" Esmé asked excitedly.

You shook your head no and put your phone away. "Jack is sick so I'm not going over there tomorrow."

"Well that's not the worst thing in the world. Now you have an extra day to figure things out." She paused, giving your leg a reassuring squeeze. "And now I have the next day to help you come up with a plan to seduce Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

"I don't think that will be necessary," you laughed lightly, not wanting Esmé to meddle in whatever was going on with Aaron.

"Me making the plan? Yeah, probably not. But you definitely have to get into his pants," she encouraged. "Don't let this one get away from you."

"I'm not planning on it."

-----

Your days off flew by and before you knew it, you were back to your daily routine of watching the young Hotchner.

"How are you feeling, buddy?" you asked Jack as he wrapped his arms around your legs when you picked him up from the bus stop.

"A lot better. I slept a lot yesterday and the day before. I missed school though," he said as he looked up at you from around your waist. "But it's okay. Ms. Kingston told me not to worry about my work or anything." He let go of you and you began to walk towards the Hotchner home.

Your usual game of pebble kicking commenced as Jack told you about his school day.

"Hey Y/N?" he asked as he hopped up the stairs to the porch.

"Yeah, Jack?"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you as you grabbed the key to the house from your pocket. "I missed you while I was sick."

You smiled, ruffling his hair. "I missed you, too." You unlocked the door and headed inside, being greeted by the German Shepherd who was eagerly anticipating someone coming home to be with him.

Jack gave Buster his usual scratches behind the ear before going to do his homework at the kitchen table.

You settled down on the couch, still trying to figure out how exactly you were going to bring up the whole almost kiss incident later on with Aaron later on when he got home from work.

It was all you thought about the past two days, keeping you up at night. With Esmé practically interrogating you every time she saw you, you were growing more anxious to talk to him. You worried that there was a lapse of judgement. That he was just caught up in the moment.

But you hoped that wasn't the case.

You hoped that that was his overall intention. That he did want to kiss you. That the words he spoke during his lecture, although they were about the myth, that they applied to the situation that the two of you currently found yourselves in. The words seemed too real, too thought out to only be about the way that the story went. And the fact that his mannerisms in the lecture changed when he was talking about the desire to be with someone and that he didn't care what others thought. He went from glancing around the room and pacing in front of all of his students to stopping dead in his tracks and looking at you.

You could vividly remember how his eyes were searching yours in the lecture hall, as if he was hinting that it all was about you. That it always had been about you.

As you sat on the couch and tried to process everything and think of what you were going to say to Aaron, you were interrupted by the young Hotchner plopping down on the couch next to you.

"Y/N, I'm hungry," he said as he twiddled with his fingers.

"What are you in the mood for?" You turned your attention towards the boy as you propped up your elbow on the back of the couch.

"Can we make pizza together?" he asked softly.

"Make pizza?" You were shocked at his request, not expecting him to want to make his own dinner.

"Yeah. It would be fun and delicious." He smiled softly at you, and you knew he was going to win. That kid was slowly leaving a lasting impression on you, one that you never expected. You truly cared about him the more you spent time with him and you wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

You glanced at your watch quickly to get a gauge on the time. "We probably won't have enough time to make our own sauce but we can buy it from your favorite pizza place and still make everything else like the dough. Does that sound good to you, buddy?"

"Yeah!" he hollered in excitement. You gave him a quick high five, an agreement on the plan for the night.

"Give me a few minutes to check to see what Dad has in the kitchen for the dough and toppings and then we'll head out to the store for everything else," you told Jack as you got up from the couch.

"Thanks, Y/N!"

"Of course, Jack."

————

After your successful shopping trip to the grocery store and the pizza place, you and Jack were back home prepping the kitchen for your pizza making night.

"Alright, Jack. Ready to start?" you asked, looking at the ingredients scattered on the counter.

Jack nodded in excitement from across the counter and eagerly awaited your instructions.

You helped him measure out everything for the dough and had him start to mix it together while you grated the fresh block of mozzarella cheese to use for your pizzas. And of course, according to Jack, no pizza night would have been complete without pepperoni for the topping so you were going to cut that up as well.

"Okay, Y/N. The dough is all done," Jack said as he wiped his hands off above the counter. He looked adorable as ever, his shirt lightly coated in a bit of flour and a couple little white spots of flour on his face.

"Nice work, Jack," you said as you put down the cheese, figuring you grated enough. You passed Jack a sliver of the pepperoni, taking one for yourself. "Always fun to snack while you're cooking."

He nodded, leaning across the counter awaiting your next instruction. You cleared the countertop of everything besides the bowl of dough by Jack.

"Step one," you said dramatically, trying to get Jack even more excited, "is to put some flour on the counter." You took a pinch of the flour in between your fingers and sprinkled it onto the counter where the two of you were going to work. Jack followed your lead and sprinkled some flour on the counter too.

"Why are we doing this?" he asked curiously.

"It's so the dough doesn't get too sticky on the counter." He let out a small oh as you grabbed the bowl of dough in front of him. "Are we doing little pizzas for everyone or one big one to share?"

Jack tapped his finger on his chin, taking an ample amount of time to think about his decision as if the world depended upon it. "Little ones," he decided.

"Alright, well in that case we have to split the dough evenly." You grabbed the nearby knife and cut the dough into 3 equal parts, one for you, Jack, and Aaron.

"Now what?" Jack asked.

"We have to knead the dough," you explained as you placed one of the sections of dough on the counter where you had sprinkled the flour. You rolled the dough around for a second to coat it in the flour and watched as Jack stared at you, mesmerized at what you were doing.

You rolled the dough on the counter, working to get the air bubbles out of the dough. You kneaded it for a few minutes until you heard the familiar car alarm chirp in the driveway.

"Dad's home?" Jack asked, clearly not expecting his father to be home so soon.

You glanced at the time to see that Aaron was home about two hours earlier than you had anticipated. "I guess so," you said as you heard the front door open.

You continued to work the dough as Aaron came into the kitchen.

"Wow, what's going on here?" he asked as he leaned against the entrance of the kitchen.

"Making pizza," Jack said simply.

"Mhm," Aaron hummed. "Who's idea was that?"

"It was mine," the young Hotchner admitted happily. "I'll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom."

"Make sure you wash your hands good if you're going to be making this pizza," Aaron called out as Jack ran down the hallway.

You chuckled lightly at Jack's unnecessary announcement as you continued to roll the dough around on the counter. You glanced over to see Aaron watching you work the dough. He furrowed his brows as you worked, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

"Can I help you?" you teased, clearly catching him watching you.

Aaron let out a light laugh, coming over to where you and Jack had been cooking. "Nothing, I just—" He paused and clicked his tongue. "It's nothing."

You brushed a strand of hair off your forehead with the back of your hand and looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. "No, what was it?" you asked.

"You're doing too much to the dough," he told you, raising his eyebrows as his way of pointing towards it.

You scoffed playfully, feigning a hurt expression at his comment. "Well, Mr. Chef Boyardee, how should we be kneading the dough then?"

Aaron rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt and you watched as he came around the counter.

You definitely weren't expecting what was coming next.

Aaron stood behind you, pressing his front against your back as he wrapped his arms around your body, his forearms boxing yours in. He placed his hands on top of yours, starting to guide your hands in rolling the dough. His hands covered yours completely, manipulating their movements to continue to knead the dough. He moved his head next to yours, keeping a watchful eye on the workspace in front of you. You felt the warmth radiating off his body as he continued to stand behind you.

"You don't have to work it so much," he whispered into your ear. You shivered at the closeness, trying not to lose your composure as Aaron continued to move your hands, now in a more circular motion to work on getting the dough to be the right shape and to have a bit of a crust.

"The less you keep kneading it, the better," he continued. You leaned back against him, falling into a state of intoxication because of the whole incident that was unraveling.

You couldn't form any coherent words. Or any other thought than the fact that you wanted Aaron to take you right then and there on the countertop. It took all your willpower not to moan in the moment, even though you felt at any moment one would slip past your lips.

Aaron could feel the way your body tensed when he first came up behind you. He thought that maybe you felt uncomfortable in the situation. But then as your body relaxed underneath his touch, he figured you were enjoying the moment just as much as he was.

He didn't want to ever let you go. The feeling of your body pressed against his was permanently engraved in his mind.

He wanted more.

He was tired of running around his feelings. He was determined to talk to you about everything.

"Aaron," you muttered out, practically breathless as he stayed behind you even though the pizza dough had long been stagnant on the counter. Now, it was only the two of you pressed against each other, both of your hands locked together on top of one another on the counter.

"Hm?" he hummed as he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

"We need to talk later," you said, feeling overwhelmed by the closeness of him. You knew that you had to talk to him about the events of the past few days and if you didn't stop him now, you wouldn't have been able to help yourself.

"Whatever you want," he muttered as he pressed another kiss underneath your earlobe.

As much as you didn't want him to, Aaron let go of you and you could still feel the way he was pressed up against you. You could subtly make out the mildly toned muscles that were hidden underneath his dress shirt and you imagined what they looked like, how they would have felt underneath your fingertips.

You tried to shake the thoughts from your head but to no avail.

You stood there practically frozen as Jack skipped back into the kitchen. "Okay! I think I can make my pizza now. I think I'm going to be an expert," he asserted.

"I'm sure you are, buddy," Aaron said as he washed his hands in the sink.

"Alright Jack. Let's get going," you told him, feeling your cheeks blush thinking about what just happened.

You were truly in deep shit and there was no going back.

————

"Can we play a game now?" Jack pleaded as the three of you just got done eating the pizzas.

"Go pick one out," Aaron said as he wiped his mouth off with his napkin.

Jack ran up to his room, leaving you and Aaron alone. Again.

He cleared his throat as he took a sip of his wine. He placed the glass down in front of you and clasped his hands together, his honey eyes glancing at you. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked.

You took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the impending conversation. "Well to start, I guess, I want to ask you something."

"Anything."

"Now this may be my brain just over analyzing but in, uh, light of recent events we'll say," you started, trying to phrase everything the best you could, "the day at your lecture. I know you were talking about the myth of Zeus and Io. But I just... the words seemed to be saying more than just that. Am I overthinking or was there actually something behind all of that?"

"You'd be right about that," he said bluntly as he took another sip of his wine. "It wasn't just about the myth."

You felt your cheeks blush again as he looked at you. "So you actually meant it?"

"You're a smart girl, Y/N. I figured you'd pick up on it," he said with a smirk.

"And in the car when we were about to kiss—"

"Interruptions are never fun," he interjected. "Like I said that day, Y/N, you're such an amazing person. And if my actions haven't been clear about that and the way I feel about everything, then what can I do to make it clearer?"

Your eyes widened, realizing what he just told you. You figured that some part of him had some sort of feelings for you but to hear it from him was a whole different sense of euphoria.

"I don't want to force you into anything that you don't want," he added. "I know that there are a lot of things about all of this that could be a bit taboo to some people."

You nodded your head, taking a sip of your own wine. "What makes you think that this isn't something that I want?" you asked curiously.

The footsteps of Jack returned and Aaron raised his brow as a way to tell you to stop the conversation for the time being. Later, he mouthed to you as he got up from the dinner table and grabbed your empty plate from in front of you.

"I haven't played this game in forever," Jack said dramatically as he rattled the box in his hands.

"What is it?" you asked as you got up from the table to see what he had.

He held the box out in front of you and you felt your heart race. Of course, it was just the thing that you needed right now to add to the tension that was clearly building between you and Aaron all night.

"Twister!" he hollered.

Jesus fucking Christ, you thought to yourself.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to figure out a way out of playing. You couldn't see it actually helping the current situation in which you found yourself. If anything, you knew that it would make you want to have Aaron absolutely destroy you into oblivion.

"Jack, buddy. I, uh, don't think that this is such a good idea after eating such a big dinner," you told him, trying to think of anything to get out of playing the game. "You don't want to get sick."

"I'll be fine! Come on, Y/N," Jack practically whined.

"Yeah, come on Y/N," Aaron said smugly as he came up from behind you. "It'll be fun to say the least." He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the living room. Jack ran around in front of the two of you, quickly laying out the mat for the game on the floor.

You whipped your head around towards Aaron, your eyes wide. "What kind of sick joke is this?" you whispered at him.

He shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets as he smirked. "I had nothing to do with this. But," he whispered as he moved his lips closer to your ear so that Jack wouldn't hear what he was about to say. "I'm sure it won't be the last time the two of us get tangled up together."

"Cheeky bastard," you said back to him, feeling his words go straight to your core.

"Come on guys! I'll go first," Jack said as he spun the dial. "Left hand green." He smacked his hand onto the green dot closest to him and was waiting for you or Aaron to make the next move.

"Let the games begin," Aaron said loudly, making sure to steal a glance at you as the smirk grew on his face.

It wasn't long before the three of you were all twisted and tangled on the game mat. You were positive that you were mere moments away from falling over but you were determined to hold on, if only for a bit longer.

Aaron was thankful for his son for being his unintentional wingman. The game allowed him to be close to you with absolutely no remorse in his body. Especially the few times your ass had rubbed against his groin area. He clenched his jaw each time it happened, trying to not let it affect him. Or at least not that much.

He couldn't even remember how you got tangled up with him on the mat, your limbs crossing here and there with your fronts facing each other.

He was surprised to see how you were twisting and bending your body and could only think about how you would be in bed when he was relentlessly fuc—

"Right hand green," you announced as the spinner for the game came to a halt. "Oh no," you groaned as you soon realized how far away you were from the green spot.

"Don't think you can do it?" Jack teased as he peeked over at you and looked at your current situation.

"No, no. I got this," you told him. You stretched out your arm, reaching over Aaron's crossed legs as you planted your hand firmly on the green dot. "See? Told you."

"Dad, your turn!"

Aaron muttered under his breath, something about being too old for this game as he reached over and spun the spinner. "Left foot yellow?" Aaron peered down at his feet to see that his foot was already there. "Well would you look at that."

"You have to move it," Jack told his father.

"What? No, I don't," Aaron said, determined to keep his foot in place.

"Jack is right. Your foot was already there but you have to try to move it to a different yellow spot," you told him as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

Aaron rolled his eyes and begrudgingly moved his foot to the nearest yellow spot, which looped his body underneath yours.

"Right foot red for me," Jack said as he stretched out his leg to reach it. His foot just made it as it looked like he was in the position that runners were in when they were starting the race.

You flicked the spinner and watched it go until it slowed down, landing on a spot. "Right foot blue," you said. You stretched out your leg, going over Aaron's waist to get to the blue spot. "And that is how it's done," you said cockily.

A mere moment later, your knee buckled underneath you, as it gave out from tiredness underneath you. You quickly fell to the ground, taking Aaron down with you. You landed on his lap, a small huff of air leaving him from the impact.

"Are you okay?" you asked him as you tried to hold in your laughter.

He nodded, trying not to wince from the sudden weight that was dropped onto his groin area.

Aaron was, in fact, more than okay. Sure, the initial fall from you hurt like a bitch but as the two of you sat there for a moment, taking in what just happened, he really didn't mind.

"I win!" Jack yelled in victory.

"That you did," you agreed. You shuddered quickly as Aaron's hands found your waist, splaying them across it. It became all too noticeable to you now that you were practically straddling Aaron's lap right there on the Twister mat.

"You okay?" he asked you as his face softened in concern. You felt his thumbs run gentle circles on your hips as he awaited your answer.

"I'm fine," you assured, brushing the loose strands of hair off of his forehead with your fingers. "I fell on you. Are you okay?"

Aaron nodded his head, a small smile turning up on his lips.

"I think I'm more okay than I have been in a while."

-----

author's note:

i have literally had this chapter planned out and the idea in my head before i even any idea as to where this story was going and i am so excited that it's finally out there!

i hope you all enjoyed it! as always, thank you for your continued support <3

see you next chapter!

-jordyn

#aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n

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moonlightlullaby · 3 years

Text

just like magic

summary: Reader has a card up their sleeve, leaving Spencer intrigued, flustered and impressed.

pairing: Spencer x gn! non-BAU! Rossi’s offspring!Reader

category: fluff

A/N: this is one of the first gn!reader pieces that I’ve written, so please let me know if I’ve slipped up somewhere!

word count: 2.5k

No sooner had I opened the glass door leading to my dad’s “humble” backyard than Henry’s and Jack’s fresh and joyous laughter filled my ears and warmed my heart. The sight that accompanied it only adding to my gleeful state, making my heart soar and melt instantly.

Spencer Walter Reid, the bright young Doc who I’ve known - and had a patent crush on - for nearly six years now, is entertaining the kids with a magic trick. I can’t help the smile that splatters on my face as I watch the scene unfold.

“Here, angelo mio.” my dad caresses my back as his other hand offers me a glass of wine. I take it and we clink our glasses together before making our way to the cozy wooden picnic table where his other colleagues are chatting. On our way, I go off-track and get closer to the sweet magician and adorable kids. “Hello, boys!” I extend my free hand, high-fiving both of them as they harmonize a “Hi” back to me. At Spencer, I flash a smile and wink and, without waiting for his reaction, I turn around and soothe Jack’s hair as I begin distancing myself.

“Oh what a sight for sore eyes! Y/N, you look fantastic! As always I mean…” in her very own manner that never gets old, Pen is the first to greet me, clapping in excitement and giving me a home-like hug. “Oh please! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” she waves her hand and rolls her eyes in a way that tells me both to stop tooting her horn and to keep the compliments going, making me giggle. “And I’ve said this before, but I’ll do it again. You need to show me where you’ve bought these rings, P.”

“Oh! I have an idea,” JJ chimes in. “we should go shopping tomorrow!” by the time she finishes her sentence, I - along with Penelope, Prentiss and Tara - am nodding my head fervorously. “I’ll take you up on that one.” Em voices what all of us are thinking.

“I mean, unless a case pops up…” JJ drags it out, contorting her lips. “We won’t,” Hotch reassures everyone. “these past two weeks have been hectic and we all have overworked ourselves. You deserve the weekend off.” to which Derek, Tara and my dad, in sync, raise their glasses.

“So, ladies,” Derek hugs me, grinning. “where are we going tomorrow?”

“We? Oh my chocolate thunder! Much as this pains me,” Pen places a hand over her chest to fuel the scene with more drama. “you’re not invited.”, which earns gasps and scoffs from him.

I lean my head on his shoulder, giving his hand two taps. “Yeah, Derek. Sorry,” I turn my face to him. “but, how are we supposed to have boy talk with you there?” the girls nod along in agreement and he smirks.

“Boy talk, hun?”

The thing is, Derek - much like every other person in the team... well, almost everyone - is well aware of my not-so-subtle crush on his oblivious friend and he never spares me some teasing. Thankfully, before he can take his teasing any further, I’m saved by the bell - and by the bell, I mean Henry and Jack.

“Y/N/N, Y/N/N!” knowing how much I love magic, Henry starts pulling me towards Spencer, giving me only a second to hand my glass to Derek. “Look at this! Spencer, do it again, do it again!”

“Yes, show Y/N the cool trick!” Jack says energetically after waving me over.

Spencer smiles at me, giving us a small nod, and turns his back to us to prepare himself for the show. I sit crisscross next to the giddy boys, feeling thrilled myself. “Alright,” Spencer turns around, observing his audience and clasping his hands together. “are you ready?”

“Yes!” we eagerly respond in unison.

“Y/N, I know you’re very fond of magic yourself.” I hum in agreement. “So, are you familiar with th- oh! Wait,” he furrows his brows and narrows his eyes, scanning my face for a millisecond. “what is this?” he steps closer to me, kneeling slightly and reaching for my face. The boys get more agitated and giggle. “This what?” I look back and forth between the magician and them, who immediately cover their mouths trying to conceil their giggles and to keep any secrets from escaping. “Excuse me.” Spencer mumbles before placing his hand on the side of my neck.

This simple gesture - a shy touch, a brief moment of intimacy - is enough to make my heart skip a bit, and I’m sure Spencer notices the sudden change in my pulse because his gaze momentarily leaves the side of my face to my eyes before travelling back to its original spot.

“This.” suddenly, I feel a ghost-like touch on the back and side of my neck, and, ahead of me, all I see is Spencer pulling an endless thin colorful - scarf-looking - cloth. I can’t contain the laugh and loud snort that escape my lips, inciting the boys, Spencer and even the grown-ups over there to burst into laughter as well.

By the time the entire cloth is out, my belly and cheeks ache and a tear is found in the corner of my eye. “Impressive, Doc! Very impressive as always.” he grins in return.

“Your turn, Y/N! Do a trick too, please” Jack suggests - well, orders basically since he knows I wouldn’t ever turn it down - and is backed up by an eager “yes!” from Henry.

“Oh you also do tricks?” Spencer sounds less surprised that I do than that this fact was unknown to him.

During some of my nights as Henry and Michael’s and/or Jack’s last-minute babysitter, I had to, in spite of how sweet and obedient they are, resort to desperate measures, such as magic tricks - some of which I’ve learned with the sole purpose of entertaining them. To Spencer, however, I’ve never had such opportunity. Not until now.

“Well, not as entertaining as yours, I’m sure, but yes.” I stand up, wiping bits of grass from my bottom.

“Umm, ok, I have a new one to show you, guys. I just… You wouldn’t have a deck of cards and a pen to lend me for a minute, would you?”

“The pen, I don’t. The deck of cards, though,” he searches his pockets, pulling a standard - and well cared for - deck. “here.” he hands it to me.

“Thank you very much.” I cursty theatrically.

Jack runs back from God-knows-where with a black pen in hands. “Here, the pen. My dad said you could borrow it.”

“Oh great! Thank you, Jack, and thank you, Aaron!” I raise my voice slightly at the end, nodding my head at Aaron and giving him a tight-lipped smile, which he mirrors.

“Okie, okie! Let’s start, shall we?” the boys exchange expectant glances and Spencer tilts his head, studying me and probably trying to predict my next moves. Hopefully, this will work. It’d be a shame failing in front not only of the boys - who, I’m sure, would never let me hear the end of it -, but also of Pretty Boy himself.

I shuffle the cards a little bit and open it, making a sort of fan with it and letting the faces and numbers face the ground. “Alright, boys, pick one card but don’t show it to me.” they both put their index fingers on the same card. “You can take it and let Spencer see.” the man standing to my left follows along and takes a peep at it. “Now, I want both of to draw whatever you feel like on it, ok? On the front.”

As they take turns putting their art on the card, I turn to Spencer, who’s already got his curious eyes on me. “Be patient” mine tell him and he takes a sip of his wine.

“Done!” Henry looks up at me.

“Great, you can put it back on the stack then,” he does so. “Ok, now, to prove you I’m not cheating, Spencer’s going to shuffle the cards.” I hand them to him. “However you want and as many times as you wish.”

Once he’s done, I take them back. “So, now, I guarantee you the first card I show you is the exact one you’ve picked. Ready?” They nod along and I double-tap on the top of the stack. “Alright. This,” I lift the first card. “is your card.”

They immediately shake their heads negatively and my eyes go wide. “Wait, really?” Feeling Spencer smirking behind me, I turn the card to take a look at it. It really isn’t the one. “Shoot!” I exclaim disappointedly, sighing.

“No, no, it’s ok... It’s ok.” I quickly recompose myself. “The next will definitely be the right one.” with my eyes closed and my nose scrunched, I circle my free hand above the deck as if drawing in energy and conjuring magic. Double-tapping once more, I pull the card up, still not looking.

When I open my eyes, I’m met with the boys’ scrunched noses and mischievous eyes as they, yet again, shake their heads no. “Oh no…”

This time, Spencer doesn’t even try conceiling his chuckle and has the audacity to comment “Oh, Y/N, you were too harsh on yourself earlier. This is much more entertaining than that little trick of mine.”, eliciting giggles from the kids.

“No…” I pout. “Guys, have a little faith in me, please.”

I close my eyes and bring the cards, sandwiched between my palms, closer to my ear in an attempt to hear the magic somehow. “Oh!” I open my eyes. “Guys, come check this out!” with that, I pike their curiosity and they scoot closer to me. I turn the deck over, so all fronts are facing upwards, and open it completely. “The card is not here!” Henry gasps, noticing that their five of diamonds is missing. The boys take the cards from my hands and I fumble my fingers in the air as if trying to sense where their card is, humming in the process.

“Ummm Jack, is there anything behind Henry’s ear?” The boy looks at me inquisitively and reaches for said spot.

“Oh here!” he nearly shouts, pulling the missing five of diamonds and showing everyone. However, before anyone has the chance to celebrate my small victory, the absence of drawings on the card is brought up, shocking our spectators. “Where are our dinosaurs?”

“Hey, Y/N, I hate being the party pooper,” ‘party pooper’? Coming from Dr. Spencer Walter Reid? Oh, this is news! “but it seems like you’ve just mixed two tricks and neither of them has worked.” Again, both boys laugh at it - at me -, siding with him.

“No, no, no! See, the thing about magic,” I narrow my eyes and tilt my head, gesticulating like the good Italian descendant my dad’s brought me up to be. “is that it requires a lot of concentration to work, and when you don’t focus enough on it, like I might have, it gets lost… Not completely lost, though! Uh, if we put our hearts to it, we can still find your dinosaurs, ok?” I crouch. “Can you help me out on this one?” I plead and extend my hands to them. They nod their heads and take my hands, we form something close to a circle, closing our eyes and letting magic speak.

“Uh-oh! Oh, guys, I feel something!”

“What is it?” and “Where are the dinosaurs?” are immediate and simultaneous reactions.

“Ummm, Spencer.” I turn to the man trying to contain his laughter at the scene that unfolds before his eyes. “Hm?” he tilts his head and raises his brows slightly, still smirking.

“Is there anything in your pockets right now?”

“Aside from the silks, no.”

“Are you sure?” I tilt my head, contorting my lips a bit and squinting my eyes with curiosity, which he mirrors. He’s intrigued. Mission accomplished - I mean, not completely accomplished yet, but a success nonetheless.

“Well, you can check for yourself.” he opens his arms a little so I can inspect the inner pockets of his blazer. The right one is empty as expected. In the left one, my fingertips meet the colorful cloth and nothing else.

“You’re right, Spencer.” I sigh “Only,” I start pulling the cloth out “the,” it’s now in the kids’ view “silks.” gasps and wows come from our audience. I turn to the two wide-eyed boys who are now rushing over to grab it from my hands.

“How did you-?”

“It worked, Y/N! It worked!”

“This is so cool!”

I giggle, feeling Spencer’s baffled gaze switch between me and the dinousaur-printed cloth. I also hear applause coming from the rest of the team and a “they’ve beat Spencie at his own game! You go, love!” from the one and only Penelope Garcia. Glacing at the man in question, I catch him mouth agape, dazed eyes, and a smile threatening to take over his lips.

“Y/N/N, Y/N/N, can I keep it? It looks so pretty.” at this, I smile softly, shrugging a bit as I respond. “Well, it’s Spencer’s…” the three of us turn to the Good Doctor, who, pulled from his trance, nods vigorously and wets his bottom lip in the typical Spencer Reid style. “Yes. Definitely, Henry.”

As the boys cheer, my dad, from the doorstep, catches everyone’s attention. “Dinner is ready, family.”

Strolling back to the house and quickly side-hugging JJ on the way, I sense a quite desperate, puzzled tall individual hot on my trail. In a breath, he catches up and starts walking side by side with me, causing me to smirk.

“How did you-”

I don’t let him finish the much predictable question. “Oh, you don’t actually want to know the answer, Spencer.” while we cross the doorstep, I look at him from the corner of my eye, catching - once again - him already eyeing me. He opens his mouth before closing it and raises his hand before dropping it. In sympathy, I continue. “But, in case you do find yourself desperate for it, there’s something in your right pocket that might be helpful.” I can’t help smiling as the last words come out. And, without giving him the chance to question or ramble like he always does, I walk over to the dinner table, settling myself between Hotch and Tara.

As I sit down, I catch Spencer on the same spot I’ve left him, blushing as his brain processes - or at least tries to - what’s written on the little note. He quickly - yet carefully - folds it, puts it back in its original place, licks his lips once more - I wonder if he’s aware of how often he does that - and walks to the table. Our eyes lock and he smiles, in a slightly nervous - or is it excited? - way, taking his seat right across from mine.

Truth be told, Spencer’s known my number by heart for years now for I am my dad’s emergency contact. However, I was never the one to give it to him, just like he’s never been the one to call me. Hopefully, now that I’ve changed the former, the latter will also change.

#criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n

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