Undercover
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader
Summary: You've gotta go undercover for a case...with the last person on earth you'd ever wanna go with.
Warnings: Angst. Cursing. Use of pet names. SMUT, dom/sub vibes, praise kink, sir kink, light choking kink. Mentions of murder. Little bit of fluffy fluff at the end.
A/N: Haley doesn't exist in this story, just FYI.
"So we need two people to go undercover," Rossi said.
"Count me out," Emily said, throwing her hands in the air. "This unsub creeps me out too much. I have no interest in playing his game."
Rossi looked at you and you groaned. "Oh come on."
"You're the only other option, (Y/N)," he insisted.
You looked over at JJ and she shrugged uncomfortably. "Don't look at me, I'm just the media liaison."
"Fine, I'll do it, but only if I can take Morgan with me."
Morgan grinned. "Hell, yeah. I'm in."
Garcia cut in, "Sorry, hot stuff--as much as I'd love to see you go undercover in a tux, you don't exactly fit the required profile."
You looked at Spence hopefully, but he shook his head. "Sorry, (Y/N/N), I'm too young for this one."
You groaned. "Well what's wrong with Morgan?"
"The group the unsub belongs to is very exclusive--if you're not white, you're not getting in," Hotch answered.
You bristled slightly at your boss's interjection. He wasn't wrong and you knew it, but every time he spoke you couldn't help but feel annoyed.
"Fine," you conceded. "Looks like I'm taking Rossi."
Rossi laughed. "Come on, (Y/N). You know I'm too old for this one."
The room fell silent as the realization dawned on every single person in the room, yourself included. Shit, shit, shit.
"It has to be Hotch," Rossi stated.
Even Hotch looked slightly surprised. "I haven't gone undercover in quite a while."
"Better figure it out because you're the only option," you grumbled.
Hotch sent you a glare, but didn't bother to reply to your statement. "When's this party happening?"
"Saturday night," Garcia answered.
"That's two days to prepare," Emily stated. "Should be plenty."
You sighed loudly, but nodded your agreement.
"Good. Let's get started," Hotch said.
The room immediately began to clear out, the rest of the team going back to their desks to work. You stayed behind, which didn't go unnoticed by Rossi.
"I know it's not ideal, but it's the best way to draw out the unsub," Rossi said gently as he sat down beside you.
You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "He hates me, Rossi, and to be honest, I'm not his biggest fan either. But you want us to pretend to love each other in front of a bunch of strangers? For hours on end?"
Rossi patted your arm. "I know, kiddo, but he's not that bad. It'll be okay."
You stared at him in silence for a moment. "The man never looks at me unless it's a glare. He looks annoyed every time I dare to speak in his presence, especially if it's directed at him. There's no way we're going to be able to pretend to even like each other, Rossi."
"I'll talk to him, okay? But you both need to be the professionals I know you are. It's not about either of you...it's about all the girls this man has murdered."
You sighed lightly. "You're right, you're right--as always. I'll behave, I promise."
Rossi smiled. "That'a girl. I'll talk to Hotch."
You nodded. "Be mean if you have to."
"(Y/N)," Rossi warned with a chuckle as he left the conference room.
It's not that you hated Hotch or anything like that. Hell, you actually found him incredibly attractive--it was his attitude you couldn't stand. He wasn't always rude to you, he was almost friendly when you'd joined the team a couple years prior. A couple months in and he started to act differently. You had no idea what you'd done to him to make him hate you, but it pissed you off to no end.
Hotch wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy with anyone, but he was downright hostile with you. He went out of his way to avoid you when he could, and acted like a sullen child when he couldn't. He always paired you up with someone else on cases, to the point where you'd actually never worked with him alone one-on-one.
You grabbed your notebook and headed back to your desk.
"Hey, you okay?" Emily asked you softly when you sat down in front of her.
"Yeah, it's fine. Just gotta figure out how to make sure we don't kill each other in public."
She chuckled. "You're not going to kill each other."
You raised your eyebrow. "Sure--it'll be great."
"You'll be fine," she insisted. "So you wanna go shopping later?"
You nodded. "I've gotta find something to wear to this damn thing. Invite JJ and Garcia too. I need opinions. If I've gotta dress up, I wanna at least look hot."
Emily laughed. "Girl please--you always look hot."
"Thank you, thank you," you said with a mock bow.
"(Y/L/N)," Hotch yelled from his office. "My office. Now."
You closed your eyes and sighed before getting up and heading to the office. You made eye contact with Rossi as he walked back to his own office. He gave you a soft smile and a subtle thumbs up...but you couldn't help but feel nervous as hell.
"Sir?" you asked as you entered his office.
"Close the door," he said without looking at you.
You closed the door and waited silently for him to speak.
"Are you going to sit or just stand there awkwardly?"
"Standing closer to the door gives me a better escape route," you said stubbornly.
Hotch huffed in annoyance. "You're being childish. Sit down."
"Is that an order, sir?"
His body tensed and he clenched his jaw as he gestured to the seat in front of him.
You sat down and crossed your arms, silence stretching out between you.
After an entire minute of silence, you couldn't take it anymore. "I'm assuming you called me in here for a reason?"
"I did." Hotch's gaze finally landed on you. "We need to discuss this op."
"What about it?"
Hotch raised his eyebrows. "How about your reaction when Rossi said we'd be going undercover together?"
"Can you blame me, Hotch? We have to pretend to be romantically involved--but we can barely be in each other's presence without animosity."
"We're professionals, (Y/L/N)."
"May I speak freely, sir?"
"As if you don't already."
"I'm going to take that as a yes," you began. "You don't act like a professional, Hotch. You act like I'm an actual burden to you--like you despise me so much that merely being in my presence makes you angry. You can't even look at me without glaring and you almost never speak to me unless you have to. Can you see why I wouldn't exactly be thrilled about going undercover with you?"
To your surprise, Hotch looked almost hurt by your words. But that quickly turned back to annoyance--maybe even anger. "Can you really blame me? You're not exactly pleasant to be around," he said harshly.
It was your turn to be hurt--and unlike him, you couldn't hide it. You stood up and walked to the door.
"I didn't dismiss you."
You didn't even bother to look back at him. "This conversation is definitely over." You walked out the office door and straight out to the bank of elevators in the hall. You ignored the voices of your teammates calling your name. You just needed to get out of there--you needed air.
Instead of going down, you went up, making your way out to the roof. It was your go-to place to think, and lord knew you needed to think in peace.
You were angry and you needed a moment away from everyone else to calm down--otherwise, you might say something you'll regret. This was one of those moments where you questioned your life choices...and how much you really wanted to keep working at the BAU.
It was your dream job and you loved your team more than anything, but working with Hotch was slowly killing you. You hated the way he made you feel, but more importantly you hated the side of you he brought out. You just didn't like yourself when you were around him.
It hadn't always been that way. When you'd first started, Hotch had actually been nice to you--you might even say he was sweet. You felt accepted by the entire team, your boss included. You just didn't know what had changed. Somehow he was getting even worse and that attitude was pushing you to your limits.
You knew you had to get through this case and deal with the undercover part--the lives of an untold number of girls relied on it. But after that, you really needed to think about what your future was going to look like.
**********
Somehow, you made it through the rest of the day without losing your mind. You and the girls were now out shopping for the perfect dress for this op.
"Okay so I grabbed 15 different dresses in your size," Garcia said with a massive grin when you, Emily, and JJ walked into the store.
"You only got here 10 minutes before us!" you exclaimed.
Garcia just kept smiling. "I excel at speed shopping."
You laughed as she dragged you to the back of the store, the other two following behind you. You went into the dressing room to try on the dresses. Garcia had pulled various styles and colors, some of which were absolutely not your style at all, so you avoided trying those on.
The first dress you put on was just a basic little black dress. You stepped out of the dressing room to let the girls see it.
"Ohh an LBD. Okay," Emily said. "Spin please."
You spun with a chuckle. "What do we think?"
"Hmm. We can do better," Garcia said. "Next!"
You switched into a different black dress, longer this time, but perhaps a little more revealing in the bodice than you'd prefer.
"Ow-ow!" JJ cat called you as you stepped out.
Emily clapped and Garcia let out a little gasp.
"I think it might be a little...much," you said lightly.
Emily laughed. "The girls are coming out to say hi."
"Yeah, I'm gonna try another one."
The next couple dresses you tried on just didn't really speak to you, despite the reactions of your friends. You finally reached a dress that you thought looked nice on the hanger, but you weren't quite sure how it would look on you.
It was a deep emerald green dress in a silky fabric. It was very simply designed, v-necked with thin straps, floor length, with a thigh-high split up one side.
When you put it on, you let out a little gasp as you looked in the mirror. Even with minimal makeup, messy hair, and no shoes, you thought you looked incredible.
"Was that a gasp I just heard?" Garcia asked.
"Maybe," you said with a chuckle as you stepped out of the dressing room.
"Holy shit," Emily mumbled.
"That's the one," JJ said, eyes wide.
"I second that," Garcia agreed.
"You think so?" you asked, timidly.
"Girl, please. You look hot as hell," Emily insisted. "Hotch is probably going to pass out when he sees you."
You laughed. "He won't even notice, Em. You know he doesn't look at me."
"He's a man, (Y/N). He'd have to be blind not to."
"She's right, ya know," JJ said.
"Well I can't say that I wouldn't love to see Hotch fall flat on his face," you said lightly.
"I don't know why you're always so mean to each other," Garcia said with a frown.
"Oh please--he started it," you insisted.
"Hmm," she hummed. "I suppose."
"Enough talk about Hotch. Go change so we can buy that sexy dress and get dinner," Emily cut in.
"Tacos?" you asked.
"Obviously," she agreed.
**********
The next day was spent in the office, preparing for the op the next night. As always, Hotch was moody and distant, but he did try not to snap at you very much.
He wouldn't admit it, but Rossi's words from the day before, as well as your rightful anger, had been weighing on him all night. He didn't mean to be an asshole--well, yes he did. But he didn't want to be. It was self-preservation. He knew what would happen if he was nice to you...the first few weeks of your time in the BAU had given insight into that.
"Hotch," your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"What?" he asked.
You sighed. "You weren't listening, were you?"
He winced. "Sorry."
A look of surprise ghosted across your face. You were certain that was the first and only time he'd ever apologized to you. You shook your head to clear it and repeated your earlier statement. "Somehow these guys are rich enough to actually rent out an entire hotel for a weekend. The event itself is in the hotel ballroom and each of the 'couples' in attendance will have their own rooms, us included. Garcia managed to secure us a room."
"What do we need a hotel room for?" Hotch asked.
You sighed. "I'm not going to explain that one, Hotchner."
Before Hotch could snap at you, Rossi cut in. "The hotel rooms are used for the various interactions between the couples. Each couple is required to have a room in order to participate in the event."
"Besides," Reid continued, "we need the two of you to convince the unsub to come up to your room for (Y/N)."
You winced, a look of disgust covering your face.
"Sorry, (Y/N/N)," Reid said sheepishly.
"It's not your fault the unsub is so sick," you reassured him.
This particular unsub was part of an exclusive group of people who 'traded' women amongst each other for various fees dependent upon what the purchaser wanted the woman for. The unsub would purchase a girl to keep, and eventually murder in a horrifically sadistic and brutal manner.
Essentially, Hotch would be operating as your current 'owner', but once you'd identified the unsub, he'd offer you to him for a sordid fee. You didn't like the concept of any of this, but you wanted to catch this guy so badly.
After a few more hours of planning, it was time to wrap things up and get ready for tomorrow. You were meeting the team at a nearby hotel to get ready and it's where they would be setting up. You and Hotch would depart from there and go directly to the hotel with the event.
**********
At 4:30 the next day, you arrived at the hotel the team was setting up at. Most of the team was already there, the only one missing was Hotch.
"How you feeling, (Y/N)?" Emily asked softly. "You ready?"
"As I'll ever be, Em."
"Thanks for showing up," Morgan teased as Hotch walked into the hotel room.
"Shut it, Morgan. I couldn't find my tux."
'Tux?' you mouthed at Emily.
She shrugged. "Guess he wanted to match your level of class," she whispered.
"Actually, tuxes are required," Reid interjected.
"Ahh," you said with a nod.
Emily chuckled lightly and grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the bathroom. She gestured to JJ and Garcia to come along. She shut the door behind you all and you jumped up on the bathroom counter.
"Make me pretty," you joked.
"Girl please. You're already gorgeous. We're just accentuating it," Garcia stated with a smile.
"I love you," you said warmly as you pulled her into a hug. "But seriously, who's gonna fix my hair? I look crazy."
JJ laughed. "I'll take the hair. Garcia's gonna handle your makeup and Emily is here for comic relief/emotional support."
The girls got to work on styling your hair and doing your makeup, chatting and laughing together as if you weren't about to go undercover in a freaking lion's den.
While you and the girls were getting ready in the bathroom, the guys were talking over things in the bedroom.
Hotch needed maybe 10 minutes to get changed, so he had some time to kill before he needed to get ready. That time wasn't really a beneficial thing. It allowed him time to think about all kinds of things he really shouldn't be thinking about.
The event was starting at 7, so you needed to be at the other hotel by 6:30 to check into your room. At 6, the girls popped out of the bathroom, leaving you on the other side of the door.
Garcia cleared her throat to get the rest of the team's attention. Everyone turned to face her and she dramatically gestured to the bathroom door. "Presenting the beautiful, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."
Emily swung the door open and you stepped out into the main room. Everyone was silent as they took in your look. You felt slightly uncomfortable under their gazes, despite being a very confident woman.
"Damn, girl," Morgan breathed out, the first one to recover.
"She looks great, doesn't she?" Garcia said excitedly.
"She really does," Hotch said softly without realizing it.
Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, but none were as surprised as you. Your eyes met his and you inhaled sharply, breath catching in your chest.
Hotch realized he'd spoken out loud, only because of the look on your face. A dark blush crept into his cheeks and he averted his gaze.
"Thanks, guys," you said softly, taking the attention away from Hotch.
He lifted his gaze back up to you, completely unable to keep his eyes off of you. You looked even more beautiful than usual and you absolutely took his breath away.
You looked back over at Hotch while ignoring the chatter of the rest of the team as they gushed over your look. Your heart was racing so quickly, you were slightly worried someone would be able to hear the pounding.
You'd never seen Hotch look at you the way he was looking at you in this moment. You felt almost small under his gaze and if you didn't think it sounded insane, you would say he almost looked hungry as he gazed at you.
"I guess I should change too," Hotch said lightly, eyes not quite meeting yours.
"Oh, right." You stepped out of the way so he could go into the bathroom to change into his tux. You walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, suddenly feeling a bit faint.
JJ noticed immediately and came over to sit beside you. "You okay?" she murmured.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little nervous," you lied smoothly.
It was obvious she didn't believe you, but she didn't say anything. She simply wrapped her arm around you and pulled you into a side hug. It was just what you needed to feel grounded.
After several minutes, Hotch came out of the bathroom wearing a very well-fitted black tux. Much in the same way he looked at you in shock when you came out, your eyes widened as you took him in.
"You clean up nice," Rossi teased.
"Yeah, yeah," Hotch muttered. He looked up at you, eyes not quite meeting yours. "Should we head out?"
You nodded and stood up, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for the night ahead.
"We'll be close by if you need us," Rossi assured you both as you started out the door. "Garcia will be monitoring the cameras in the ballroom."
You nodded again as Hotch opened the door and gestured for you to go first. "We've got this," he said firmly.
The ride to the other hotel was silent...and not the comfortable kind. You hated it, but you couldn't think of a single thing to say, and apparently neither could he.
When you arrived at the hotel, Hotch handed the keys to the valet, took your arm as you got out of the car, and guided you into the hotel lobby.
"Good evening, sir," the front desk lady said. "May I have your last name please?"
"Carter," Hotch said smoothly.
The woman checked the computer and offered the two of you a smile. "Your room is on the 7th floor," she handed Hotch the room keys before continuing, "elevators are to your left. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant."
"Thank you very much," Hotch responded.
Once the two of you made it to the room, you separated from each other as if your skin burned. You made quick work of searching the room for cameras and/or listening devices. Finding none, you finally relaxed a little and spoke to each other.
"Call Rossi," you said. "We're a go."
Hotch glared at you, clearly annoyed at your commands, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he simply called Rossi, told him the room number, and said he'd be in touch.
"We have 20 minutes until we need to be downstairs for the party," he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
You sat down in an arm chair on the opposite side of the room. "Shall we sit in silence until then?"
Hotch shot you another glare. "Perhaps we should discuss our plan?"
"What's to discuss? You know the plan as well as I do. Just pretend to actually like each other for long enough to find the unsub. Sound manageable?"
He winced as if you'd hit him, but quickly recovered. It did not, however, go unnoticed by you. "If you're silent, I think I can handle it," he snapped back.
You narrowed your eyes. "Don't worry, I'm excellent at faking sweetness."
10 minutes passed in complete silence. You felt bad for being so nasty to him, but it was all you ever did. You didn't banter...you fought, and neither of you knew how to pull a punch.
Much to your surprise, Hotch broke the silence first. "Have you always hated me so much?"
You turned to look at him. He actually looked wounded and it made your expression soften. "I don't hate you, Hotch."
"Coulda fooled me."
"Do you hate me?" you asked softly.
He looked surprised. "Of course not."
"Coulda fooled me," you said, echoing his response.
He looked down at the floor. "I know I'm an asshole, (Y/N), but I don't hate you."
You were silent for a moment. "That's the first time you've called me by my first name since I first joined the BAU."
His gaze met yours. "It is?"
You simply nodded.
He returned the nod thoughtfully. "I don't mean to be like this, you know."
"Well you're not like this with anyone else on the team, so I can only assume you have something against me specifically."
He shook his head. "I don't, but it's just--it's hard to explain." He fell silent, refusing to allow himself to elaborate further.
You sighed and stood up. "Come on. We might as well head downstairs."
He nodded again and joined you at the door.
"Remember," you said softly. "Pretend to like each other."
You opened the door and the op began.
**********
Hotch's hand rested firmly on your lower back as you walked into the hotel ballroom. You closed your eyes briefly, silently willing your body to not react to the feeling of his hand on you or the proximity of his body to yours.
Unfortunately, he felt the tension in your back against his palm. "Relax," he murmured in your ear, causing you to shiver.
You hated your body for reacting so intensely to him, and you cursed quietly under your breath, earning a deep chuckle from Hotch.
You wanted to glare at him for laughing at you, but you knew there were eyes on you both. You decided to lean into the role you were supposed to be playing, while also getting back at him.
You placed your hand on his chest and leaned your body into him, giving him a whiff of your perfume. You felt him tense against you and you grinned. "You okay there, handsome?" you teased.
He gave you a tight-lipped smile, but you noticed the slight flush in his cheeks. He knew what you were doing, but he was quite sure you weren't aware of what you were really doing to him.
He guided you farther into the large ballroom, eyes scanning the room for men that fit the profile. Unfortunately, almost every man in the room fit the profile almost perfectly.
"Are you paying attention?" he asked softly.
"Yes, Sir," you hissed in annoyance.
He bit back a groan, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "Don't," he mumbled.
"Don't what?" you asked teasingly, knowing exactly what got to him.
He shot you a look that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. Your eyes must have betrayed you, because his expression changed to an almost wolfish look that had your pulse racing.
"Behave," he snapped. The harshness in his voice surprised you, until you saw the couple watching you from the corner of your eye. Hotch had slid seamlessly into his role, so you slipped back into yours.
Your eyes looked down and your body language screamed 'submissive', which was what you knew the unsub would want to see. The man nodded at Hotch, clearly appreciating his dominant control over you. Hotch inclined his head at the man, signaling his respect.
Once the couple was out of earshot, you whispered, "One down."
Hotch nodded. "500 to go." It was an exaggeration, but it felt like he was right.
For the next hour, the two of you made it through the room several times, eliminating almost every man there. You were starting to lose hope that you were going to find the unsub, but Hotch was refusing to give up.
Your eyes were dancing around the room when they landed on a man several feet away from you. You hadn't noticed him before, but he was watching you, eyes taking in your appearance with a dangerous hunger.
You turned your head into Hotch's shoulder, so the man could no longer see your face. "Your 2 o'clock," you whispered.
Hotch glanced in that direction and his grip on your waist tightened almost possessively. You instantly knew he agreed with your instincts and his protective nature kicked into high gear.
You felt Hotch move his head, gesturing for the man to come over to you. He leaned down to murmur against your hair, "He's coming this way."
"Hello there," the man said as he reached you. "Who do we have here?"
He was clearly talking about you, so Hotch turned your body towards him, allowing the man to have a clearer view of you. "This is Anna," he lied smoothly. "My favorite girl."
You kept your head inclined to express a very submissive nature, but you allowed yourself to gaze up at the man through your lashes. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your skin crawl, but you didn't show it.
"Anna," he said softly. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
"Thank you, sir," you murmured.
"And so well-behaved." The man looked up at Hotch. "You've trained her well."
Hotch smiled. "She's a very quick learner." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "A little violence goes a long way with this one."
The man hummed lightly, clearly pleased with that information. "Is she available?"
"What did you have in mind?" Hotch asked.
"I was thinking something permanent."
Hotch pretended to think about it, looking slightly disinterested.
"I can pay very well," the man insisted. "I pay extra for complete discretion."
"Discretion is obviously included," Hotch said simply.
The man shook his head slightly. "Complete discretion. After I make the purchase, I expect utter silence on your part, regardless of what may happen."
"Should I be concerned about 'what may happen'?" he asked lightly.
"I'll make it worth your while to not be concerned."
Hotch looked down at you. "How much?"
"$500,000."
Hotch laughed. "She's worth more than that."
"My apologies. I'll give you the 500,000 for discretion and 1 million for the girl."
Every single fiber of your being was telling you this man was the unsub you were looking for and you had a feeling Hotch felt the same way.
Hotch nodded. "You've got yourself a deal."
The man smiled. "I'll transfer the money to whatever account you wish."
Hotch gave him a government-controlled bank account to wire the money to.
Back at the other hotel, Garcia received a notification that the account had received 1.5 million dollars. "Alright, guys. It's go-time. I just got 1.5 million dollars for something...I'm assuming it's for (Y/N). Hotch is talking with a man now."
Rossi and Morgan leaned over her shoulder to look at the camera feed. "Let's roll," Morgan said.
Morgan, Rossi, Reid, and Emily headed out to the other hotel. The plan was to pick up the unsub once you were transferred to his possession.
Hotch's phone dinged with a notification from Garcia informing him the money had been transferred. He looked up at the other man with a smile. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. She's all yours."
"Excellent. Come along, Anna. We have much to do," the man said firmly as he grabbed your arm to guide you away from Hotch.
You felt Hotch's tension as you were pulled away from him, but you didn't look back. You knew if you did, it would give you away.
The moment the man was out of earshot, Hotch called Garcia. "Don't lose her," he said firmly.
"On it, sir."
Garcia watched the man guide you through the ballroom towards the bank of elevators. The cameras in the elevator showed how clearly uncomfortable you were and it made Garcia upset to watch. The unsub's hands were all over you, but you didn't pull away--you couldn't.
The elevator doors opened and the cameras in the hallway showed the unsub leading you into room 456.
"They're in room 456," Garcia said over the phone.
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Hotch was running across the ballroom towards the elevators. As he waited for the elevator, the rest of the team came into the building.
Hotch held the elevator doors opened and the other four jumped inside and headed up to the 4th floor. When they reached room 456, Emily knocked on the door. "Housekeeping," she called.
A few moments later, the unsub opened the door, looking annoyed. His expression quickly turned to surprise as 5 FBI agents busted into his room.
Hotch looked around the room for you, ignoring what was happening with the unsub behind him. His gaze landed on you and he relaxed immediately. You shot him a small smile and waved your fingers at him from the bed.
He rushed over to you. "Are you okay?" he asked gently as he pulled out a knife and quickly cut the rope that bound your arms to the headboard.
"I am now," you said softly, rubbing your wrists slightly.
"You did good," he commented.
"So did you."
He helped you off the bed and you straightened your dress before making your way over to the unsub. "Gotcha," you said with a smile as you patted his cheek.
Hotch nodded to Rossi and Morgan and they escorted him out of the room. Emily and Reid followed, but Hotch grabbed your arm to keep you from following them. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly.
You smiled. "He didn't do anything other than tie me to the bed and awkwardly fondle me, Hotch. I promise I'm okay."
He looked angry for a moment. "I hate that he touched you."
You shrugged. "It wasn't great, but I'll live." You grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's go."
He followed you out of the room and downstairs. The team loaded up in their vehicles and headed back to the other hotel for Garcia and JJ, while Rossi and Morgan took the unsub back to the BAU for questioning.
Garcia and JJ were packing everything up when you walked into the room.
"You're okay!" Garcia squealed as she ran across the room to hug you.
You laughed. "I'm perfectly fine, Pen. I promise."
JJ gave you a hug too before helping Garcia carry stuff out to the car. Everyone else cleared out, but you and Hotch stayed behind to change.
"We'll meet you guys back at the office. Tell Rossi to get started without us," Hotch said firmly as he ushered Emily and Reid out of the room, shutting the door behind them.
"I was kind of looking forward to interrogating him," you complained.
"I'm not letting him anywhere near you again," Hotch growled.
"Little possessive aren't we?"
His eyes met yours and your breath caught in your chest. His pupils were blown wide and his gaze was incredibly intense. Your heart began to beat rapidly and your breathing became more shallow.
You'd never wanted him more badly than you wanted him in this moment, but you found you couldn't move. It was as if your feet had grown roots.
Hotch, on the other hand, began to slowly walk towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. He stopped mere inches from you, so close you could feel his breath against your lips.
He leaned forward, pinning you against the wall, his arms caging you in. "Tell me to stop," he whispered.
"No," you breathed out.
He groaned softly and you watched as the last remnants of his self-control faded away. Without warning, he slammed his lips against yours, taking your breath away.
You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. His body collapsed against yours, pressing into you deliciously.
His lips began to move to your jaw and down to your neck, sucking your skin and leaving little bite marks as he went.
"Aaron," you whimpered softly.
He moaned against your skin, nipping at your pulse point. "Say my name again."
You gave the hair at the nape of his neck a tug and whispered his name again.
He looked up at you, eyes black with lust. "I wanna take my time with you," he murmured.
"We don't have time," you said softly. "The team's gonna wonder what's taking so long."
"I don't care," he growled. "I've been wanting to do this for years."
You groaned, the mere idea that he'd wanted you for so long was a massive turn on. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots gently. "Then you can wait a little longer, baby."
"Fuck," he mumbled, hands tightening on your hips. "I'll take my time with you later. Lift that dress up, baby. Wanna touch you."
You didn't need to be told twice. You lifted up the skirt of the dress so it was around your waist, revealing your black lace thong.
He raised his eyebrows when he saw your underwear and you grinned. "Didn't want panty lines."
He grabbed the edge of the lace and ripped it with ease.
"Aaron!"
"What? You won't need them." He slipped a finger between your folds, effectively silencing your response. "So wet for me," he groaned.
Your head leaned back against the wall and you let out a soft moan. Your fingers reached for his belt, quickly removing it before fiddling with the button and zipper on his pants.
He grabbed your hand and pushed it away. You were about to protest, but he made much faster work of removing his pants than you would have. He pulled his boxers down just enough to release his hard cock, stroking it as he leaned his forehead against yours.
"Please," you whimpered.
"Please what, baby?"
"Fuck me, please," you begged.
"I can't say no when you beg so sweetly," he said softly.
You clutched at his shoulders and lifted your hips up to meet his hands. He chuckled lightly at your neediness, but he couldn't deny his own need any longer. In one swift movement, he sheathed himself inside of you completely.
You gasped as you dug your nails into him, trying to adjust to his size. His length and girth stretched you out almost painfully. You wrapped your right leg around his waist and begged him to move.
He started to thrust up into you, your moans mixing with the salacious sounds of your bodies meeting.
"You feel so good, (Y/N)," he moaned into your ear. "Could stay between these pretty legs forever."
"Faster," you begged.
He chuckled darkly and sped up his thrusts. You gasped loudly, pleasure overwhelming you.
"Squeezing me so tight, baby."
"So close," you gasped.
"Yeah? You wanna cum, pretty girl?"
"Please," you whimpered.
"Not yet," he growled.
You let out a soft whimper as he continued to thrust into you. He was struggling to keep his own orgasm at bay, but he wanted to make sure yours was as intense as he could make it before he came.
"Fuck, baby, you're so beautiful."
"Wanna cum," you cried softly.
He thrust into you as hard and fast as he could. "Cum for me, baby."
You cried out as your release hit you with overwhelming force. You clenched tightly around him as you came, drawing deep moans from his chest.
"Squeezing me so good...gonna cum, baby," he groaned out.
You felt him slow slightly and you worried he was going to pull out. "Inside me, please--Aaron, wanna feel you fill me up," you begged quickly.
"Baby, you sure?"
You nodded rapidly. "Please--need it."
He leaned into you, lips against your throat as he thrust into you a couple more times before he came inside of you, filling you with his seed. He groaned your name against your skin as he came down from his high.
You were both breathless as he slowly slid out of you. His hands didn't leave your hips, which you were thankful for. You were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to stand up without his support.
"You alright, (Y/N)?" he asked softly as he kissed your temple.
"More than alright."
He smiled. "Me too."
You chuckled as you looked up at him. "We--uh...we should probably clean up and get back to the office."
He nodded and pulled away from you a little. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry--"
"Nothing to be sorry for, Aaron. I wanted that as badly as you did."
He looked back up at you, eyes scanning your face for any hint of deception. The fact that you'd used his first name and the look of affection on your face solidified his belief that you were serious.
"For the record, I'd like to do this again later," you said softly as you took in his gentle expression.
He smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?"
You bit your lip and nodded.
He groaned softly. "Don't play coy now, (Y/N)."
You grinned and pulled him in for a deep kiss, one he returned happily. When you separated, you pulled yourself off the wall and went to adjust your dress. As soon as you stood up straight, his cum began to seep out onto your thighs.
"Shit," you mumbled.
"What?"
"Well, you ruined my underwear and now I'm going to get cum all over my dress."
He grinned. "Good thing you brought clothes to change into."
"I didn't bring another pair of underwear!"
"Sorry, gorgeous. Guess you'll have to just sit with your thighs clenched together."
You smacked him affectionately as he started to take off the rest of his tux so he could change.
"You're terrible," you grumbled lightly. You grabbed your clothes and went into the bathroom to change. When you came back out, he was dressed and ready to go.
He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if the realization of everything that had happened just dawned on him. "We, uh--we should probably talk about this..."
Your expression hardened slightly, unsure of what he was trying to say. Did he regret it? "We can talk about it later. Let's just get back to Quantico."
Hotch nodded, noticing the way you'd closed up when he'd mentioned talking. He couldn't deny that he was worried--and perhaps slightly ashamed that he'd given in to his primal desires. He just had to hope you didn't hate him.
You stayed quiet for the whole ride back to Quantico, leaving Hotch to wonder silently if he'd really and truly messed things up for good.
**********
After the interviews were completed and the unsub had confessed to all of the murders, it was almost 2am. You were beyond ready to go home, as was the rest of the team.
Everyone was leaving except for Hotch. He watched as you started to make your way towards the elevators. He knew he needed to make a decision...
The elevator doors closed with you inside and his decision was made for him. He figured he could talk to you on Monday...or maybe just never bring it up ever again. Maybe that's what you'd prefer.
You'd never admit it to anyone, but you went home that night and cried yourself to sleep. You should have known better--hell you did know better. Giving yourself over that easily was embarrassing...especially when you did it with your boss.
Hotch didn't call that night, nor the next day, and when you came to work on Monday, he tried to catch your eye, but you ignored him more harshly than you ever had before.
Two weeks went by in much the same way. You wouldn't even look in his direction and he desperately tried to think of something to say. The longer this went on, the harder it was for him to say something.
Friday night came and the team wanted to go out for drinks. You declined, opting instead to go home and curl up on your couch.
Hotch overheard your explanation to JJ, telling her you were too tired. He decided tonight would be the night when he would man up and actually talk to you.
A little before 6pm, there was a knock at your door. You were already in your pjs and you'd ordered Chinese food for dinner, so you assumed it was your delivery.
When you opened the door, you were shocked to see a soaking wet Aaron Hotchner standing at your door.
"Well you're not the Chinese delivery guy," you grumbled.
He held up the bag of Chinese food in his hand. "Caught him on the way in. He was more than happy to hand it to me so he could get out of the rain."
You sighed. "Come in then, before you get pneumonia."
He followed you into your townhouse, shutting the door behind him. He stopped in the entryway, clothes dripping all over the floor.
"I'll get you a couple towels."
"Thanks," he said sheepishly.
Even after toweling himself off, he was still soaking wet. He removed his coat and his suit jacket, leaving him in his white button down, which in its current state, did nothing to hide the body beneath it.
You swallowed thickly and averted your gaze. "So what brings you to my house in the pouring rain on a Friday night?"
"I...I thought we could talk," he mumbled.
You gestured to your dining table. "Pull up a seat. I got enough Chinese food for 4 people."
He sat down at the table across from you and you silently pulled out the different containers.
"Just don't touch the potstickers," you said lightly, the ghost of a smile playing across your lips.
He chuckled. "I learned my lesson on that one."
A couple years ago, the team had gotten Chinese food to sustain them on a late night of work. Hotch made the mistake of taking the last potsticker mere seconds before you came back for it. Every other person on the team knew better than to take the last one without asking you first and Hotch learned first-hand that night how aggressive you got about potstickers.
The two of you ate in silence for a little while. Since he'd come here without warning, you decided to simply wait him out. If he had something he wanted to say, he'd need to just come out and say it.
You were half-tempted to start humming the Jeopardy tune when Hotch finally spoke up.
"Sorry for stopping by unannounced."
"It's alright. I didn't have any exciting plans anyway," you said, gesturing to the containers on the table.
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. You could tell he was uncomfortable, but you weren't about to ease his pain. You were still annoyed with him.
"So I--I think I owe you an apology," he began.
You raised your eyebrows.
"I do owe you an apology," he corrected.
"Go on."
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "I shouldn't have done what I did that night at the hotel."
"In what sense?"
"I shouldn't have slept with you," he said softly.
You winced, but he wasn't looking at your face, so he missed your expression. "Right," you snapped, standing up. "Well if that's all--"
He finally looked up at you and you saw the pain in his eyes. It softened your heart and your expression. "Please," he whispered. "Just let me finish."
You sighed and sat back down.
"Can I start over?" he asked.
You nodded. "Please do."
"Do you remember when you first joined the team?"
"Of course."
"So do I. Better than I should, actually," he mumbled. "When you first started, I thought you were amazing. You were so incredibly smart, but so humble. You made me laugh, you brightened my day every single day...you made me feel something I wasn't sure I'd ever feel."
You inhaled softly, his words stirring something inside of you that you weren't sure you wanted to feel.
"Those first few weeks were incredible and I was so glad that you'd joined the team--not just because I enjoyed your company, but because of how good of a profiler you are. I realized there was a problem pretty early on and it changed everything for me." He sighed. "I started to treat you differently from the rest of the team and I'll admit I took it a little too far. I thought if I pushed you as far away as I could, then I wouldn't want you anymore."
He ran his fingers through his hair and stood up. He started pacing the length of the dinning room, eyes trained on the floor. "The thing is, you'd already managed to wedge yourself in my heart and nothing I did changed that. I kept telling myself that I'm your boss and I can't feel what I feel for you--that I can't have you. I was so angry at the whole situation that I started taking it out on you--and you didn't deserve that." He finally looked up at you. "You don't deserve that."
There were tears in your eyes, but you didn't say a word--you couldn't.
"The night of the op...I struggled to keep my composure from the moment you walked out in that dress. You looked so incredibly beautiful--you took my breath away. But when we walked into that ballroom and those men looked at you so hungrily...it disgusted me. The mere thought of any one of them touching you made me sick to my stomach, especially knowing what kind of people they were."
He looked angry even in that moment, as if talking about it was unbearable.
"My natural protective instincts kicked in and I almost forgot what we were there to do. I know I teased you a little and I'm sorry about that--it was unprofessional."
"You weren't the only one doing the teasing," you reminded him gently.
He smiled slowly. "True. But still. I shouldn't have done that." He clenched his jaw. "But when Andrew Connors looked at you, I saw red. I knew he was the unsub before he even came over to us. The way he looked at you...it terrified me. Then I had to watch him walk away with you and I couldn't breathe, (Y/N). The thought of something happening to you was overwhelming."
"I didn't know," you whispered.
"I've gotten very good at hiding what I'm feeling," he conceded. "When we busted into his hotel room and I didn't see you right away...my brain jumped to the worst conclusions. But then I saw you and you looked uncomfortable, but alive. I've never felt relief like that in my life."
You offered him a small smile and he continued.
"When you told me that he'd touched you, I almost lost it, but you were so calm. It didn't bother you the way it bothered me, and I realized that part of the reason I was so upset was because of how I thought of you--the possessiveness I felt--like you were mine. I couldn't stand the thought of him touching what belonged to me."
He paused. "I'm not saying you belong to me--that's just how it felt to me in that moment," he clarified. "By the time we got back to the hotel, I was so worked up I could hardly control myself. That sassy little attitude of yours was the last straw and I broke."
"You didn't actually break--I invited you in," you said softly.
"I literally caged you against a wall."
"And you asked me to tell you to stop. I didn't want you to."
His expression shifted slightly. "You didn't? Like even now looking back?"
You laughed mirthlessly. "Hotch, did you really think you forced yourself on me?"
He nodded slowly.
"You know me better than that. If I didn't want to do it, it wouldn't have happened."
"I just thought that maybe you were feeling confused and pent-up like I was and you just gave in because I was there."
"Do you know how terrible that sounds?"
"You're so out of my league it's not even funny--and I'm your boss! Are you really so surprised that's what I was thinking?!"
You inhaled sharply. "I'm not out of your league, Aaron Hotchner."
"Of course you are!" he insisted.
You groaned in annoyance. "How many men have I dated since I joined the BAU?"
"What?" he asked in confusion.
"How many?" you asked again.
"I...I don't know. You've never mentioned anyone."
You nodded. "That's because there hasn't been a single man. Not one."
"Not one? How is that possible?"
"Not a single one. Do you know why?"
He shook his head.
"You," you said simply.
"Me?"
"I wanted you from the moment we met and for some damn reason that's never changed, even with the way we treated each other."
His face was filled with complete and utter shock, which surprised you.
"You're a profiler, Aaron," you teased. "Did you really not know?"
He shook his head. "Maybe I just didn't want to believe it."
"Why not?"
"Because then I wouldn't have an excuse to keep us apart."
"And now?" you whispered.
He crossed the space between you and grabbed your hand, pulling you up out of your chair. "I can't take any of this back, (Y/N), and to be honest, I don't want to."
You gently caressed his face. "Something real?" you asked softly.
He turned his face into your hand and kissed your palm. "Something real," he confirmed.
You stood on your tiptoes and pulled him down to kiss you, his lips softly caressing yours. You moaned softly as you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. His arms snaked around your lower body, pulling you flush against him.
When you finally separated to breathe, Hotch leaned his forehead against yours. "I don't want to be presumptuous--" he began.
"Bedroom is the first room on the left," you murmured.
He chuckled. "You read my mind."
He slid his hands under your thighs and pulled you up with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist with a giggle as he carried you to your bedroom.
"So strong, Agent Hotchner," you teased warmly.
"Hmm," he hummed. "I like these titles you use."
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed."
He tossed you down onto the bed and you laughed lightly.
"What are you gonna do to me, sir?"
He groaned softly. "You're going to be the death of me, beautiful."
You smiled and leaned back on your elbows. "I certainly hope not. I have plans for you."
"Sounds ominous," he teased.
You grinned. "You're going to love it, I promise. Now, why don't you lose those wet clothes?"
He smiled. "Only because you asked so sweetly." He started to unbutton his shirt tantalizingly slowly, eyes never leaving yours.
You bit your lip as you watched him, silently begging him to speed it up.
After what felt like an eternity he slid the shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor, but of course he was still wearing his undershirt. He started to very slowly lift it up, eliciting a groan from you.
"Aaron."
He chuckled. "Alright, alright." He pulled the shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the floor.
You let out a little hum of approval, which made him blush. He was a confident man, but he felt very exposed under your gaze.
He shed his pants quickly, leaving nothing on but his boxers. You eyed the bulge appreciatively, the memories of his size on the forefront of your mind.
"I think you're a little overdressed, baby," he teased lightly.
You looked down at your t-shirt and pj pants. "Hmm...you might be right." You yanked your shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it to the side before looking back at him.
He practically pounced onto the bed, eyes glued to your torso. "No bra?" he whispered.
"I wasn't expecting company."
"I'm not complaining," he said almost reverently as he hovered over you, hands touching your sides.
He licked his lips before kissing you softly, moving down the column of your throat down towards your breasts. He swirled his tongue around your nipple before giving it a light nip as he took it into his mouth.
Your back arched towards him and a soft moan left your lips. Your hands immediately went to his broad shoulders, holding onto him as he toyed with you.
His hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he went. He didn't want to let go of you, but he needed to remove your pants. He was dying to bury himself between your legs.
You wiggled your hips to help him as he tugged off your pjs. "Baby," he groaned, as you laid before him completely bare. "Never wear underwear ever again."
You laughed lightly. "If you promise to keep looking at me like that, I'll burn every pair I own."
He grinned wolfishly. "I'll make it worth your while."
He gripped your thighs and tugged your legs apart with gentle force. You gasped softly and his eyes flicked up to you to make sure you were okay. What he saw had him moaning with need of his own.
Your eyes were hooded and filled with lust, lips parted, a warm blush heating your face. You bit your lip when you caught him staring and shifted your hips slightly to get his attention back where you wanted it.
He gave you a little smirk before lowering himself comfortably between your legs. He nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, hands massaging your hips gently.
"Aaron," you whined.
"Patience, sweetheart," he mumbled.
You whimpered softly, but you had a feeling he would make it worth the wait.
His lips slowly made their way towards your core, warming your body from the outside in. After what felt like an eternity, his tongue finally darted out sliding between your folds with ease.
You gasped in pleasure as he settled in, mouth moving against your core with expert precision. Every swipe of his tongue, movement of his lips, and vibration from his moans had you shivering with pleasure.
It didn't take him very long to work you into a heated frenzy. Within minutes, you were coming apart on his tongue, cries of his name reverberating through the bedroom. Your fingers clutched his dark hair, giving it a light tug when the pleasure became too much.
He lifted himself up, licking his lips as he eyed you with a dark look. His ministrations had only served to fuel his hunger and you could tell he was struggling to maintain his control.
"Can I taste you?" you asked sweetly.
Surprise lit up his features. "You--you don't have to."
You furrowed your brows. "I want to--badly."
He nodded hesitantly, rolling over to allow you access. He helped you remove his boxers and you inhaled sharply when his cock sprang free. You hadn't gotten a very good look at it the last time, but you'd known it was large. Now seeing it, all you wanted to do was feel the weight against your tongue.
You gripped the shaft firmly, pulling a soft moan from his throat. You licked your lips before pressing kisses to the head, the shaft, and his balls. You traced the large vein on the shaft with your tongue before slipping his large member into your mouth.
"Fuck," he groaned, hands immediately wrapping themselves in your hair.
Your mouth was so warm and wet, and the way you moved had him breathing heavily and making the sexiest sounds you'd ever heard. Each one spurred you on and your motions quickened.
"Just like that baby," he moaned. "Feels amazing."
You hummed appreciatively around his cock, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his body. His hips jerked up to meet your mouth and you gagged slightly.
A look of panic crossed his face at the sound, but when he looked down at you, it was clear you didn't mind. You pushed yourself a little lower onto his cock, gagging again as you took him into your throat. You wanted to make sure he knew you were into it.
He was surprised by how much it turned him on, his moans becoming almost embarrassingly loud. "Gonna cum if you keep doing that," he said lowly.
You sped up slightly, the only signal you gave him that you wanted exactly that--his cum pouring down your throat.
Moments later, he gasped your name as he came, and you swallowed every drop he gave you. You paid special attention to the head of his cock as he came down from his high, making sure to prolong his pleasure as much as possible.
He tugged your hair gently, pulling you off of him and up to his face so he could kiss you. When you separated, he was completely breathless.
"Where--" he breathed deeply, trying to steady his heart rate. "Where did you learn...to do...that?"
You grinned. "A magician never reveals her secrets," you teased with a wink.
He chuckled. "Best I've ever had, hands down."
You blushed. "Thank you."
"Thank you," he countered. He flipped you onto your back and climbed on top of you again.
"Oh!" you gasped in surprise as your back hit the mattress. "We're not done?"
He looked surprised. "Do you wanna be?"
You shook your head rapidly, causing him to laugh. "It's just--in my experience, most men are one and done."
"Oh baby, you've been hanging out with all the wrong men," he teased. "Besides, you only came once."
Your brows knit together in confusion. "So...?"
"I need at least two more from you."
"Two more? I've never cum more than once during sex."
"Oh now that sounds like a challenge," he said devilishly. "And I love a good challenge."
You blushed a little and wiggled slightly under him.
"Hey," he said softly. "We don't have to do anything you don't wanna do. Tell me to stop and I will, no matter what."
You smiled warmly and touched his cheek. "I appreciate that. I want you...I'm just not used to the whole 'multiple orgasms' thing."
He kissed your palm. "May I try?"
You nodded slowly. "Please..."
"I'll go slow, baby."
In a split second, you decided you didn't want him to go slow. You wanted him to ruin you and you had a pretty good idea how to rile him up.
"I want you to fuck me until I can't walk, sir." You put a lot of emphasis on the title, hoping it would have the desired effect.
You weren't disappointed. His eyes darkened instantly and his grip on your hips tightened. "Is that what you want, huh? You want me to use this sweet little pussy for my own pleasure?"
You inhaled sharply, desire evident in your expression. "Make me scream," you begged.
Hotch shifted his body and thrust into you without any warning, earning a cry of pained pleasure from your lips. "I can't deny such a pretty little request," he growled before he began to pound into you, setting a brutal pace.
You cried out again as the pain faded away, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. Your nails clawed at his back, finding purchase anywhere they could.
"Shit, baby--this pussy was made for me," he mumbled against the shell of your ear.
"Oh god," you moaned loudly.
"Keep making those pretty little sounds for me, baby."
His thrusts were measured and precise, each one hitting your sweet spot and sending waves of pleasure through you. Every inch of your body was on fire, from the tips of your toes up to the roots of your hair. You had never in your life felt this incredible and you never wanted it to end.
"Aaron," you gasped. "I'm so--so close."
"Fuck--" he growled. "Say my name again."
"Aaron."
Somehow his pace increased and it sent you tumbling right over the edge. You came with surprising force, pussy pulsating around his cock. As badly as he would have liked to keep his pace, he had to slow down to avoid cumming too.
"That's it, baby," he murmured against your neck. "Doing so well for me. Gonna give me one more?"
You hadn't been sure it was possible for you to have two orgasms, let alone three, but you were 100% willing to try. You nodded, but it wasn't enough for him.
"Can you use those words for me, pretty girl?"
"Yes, sir," you murmured.
He groaned and began to pick up his pace again. "That's my good girl."
Your eyes widened and your nails dug into his flesh slightly. The burning sensation caught his attention and he smiled. "You like that don't you? You wanna be my good girl?"
You nodded hastily. "Yes, sir. Please. I'll be so good for you."
He grinned. "Of course you will, baby."
He shifted his weight and pulled your legs up to his chest, allowing him to thrust even more deeply inside of you. His thrusts never faltered, his pace remained steady.
You whimpered below him, the pleasure almost too much. Your body was so sensitive, but you didn't want him to stop. "Please," you whispered.
"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you need."
"More," you begged.
He kissed your leg softly before sliding a hand down between your thighs. He began to gently circle your clit as he continued pounding into you. Your moans grew in volume and your legs began to shake as the pleasure built.
"I know you're close, baby," he groaned. "I need you to cum for me."
You moaned as he increased the pressure on your clit. The feeling of his hands on you, his cock filling you up so thoroughly, and the gentle skill of his fingers combined to send you to the very edge.
You knew you needed something more--but you weren't sure if he would be comfortable with it. Neither of you had exactly had time to discuss what you were into in the bedroom.
You reached up and grabbed his hand from your leg, pulling it towards your face. He watched you, a look of confusion marring his handsome features. You placed his hand on the base of your neck, giving it a light squeeze to ensure he knew what you wanted.
His eyes widened, but he didn't move his hand. "Are you sure?" he whispered.
You nodded quickly. "Please, Aaron--I need it."
He groaned lowly and added a small amount of pressure to your throat, not enough to choke you, but enough for you to know he was there and he was in control.
You gasped in pleasure, the mixture of the various sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Within moments, you were crying out as you came, body shaking beneath his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.
"Shit--" he moaned loudly. "I'm gonna--gonna cum."
"Fill me up," you begged.
It was all he needed to hear to cum, a cry of your name falling from his lips. His cock filled with you with what felt like an endless amount of his seed, his orgasm lasting for several seconds.
Finally, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. He kissed whatever skin he could reach as he tried to catch his breath.
"That was pretty decent," you said breathily, a teasing tone lacing your voice.
"Just decent?" he asked, head lifting to glare at you affectionately.
"Sooooo decent."
He laughed and you shot him a grin.
"Seriously, Aaron. It was fucking amazing."
"I couldn't agree more. I can stay here forever." He kissed your jaw. "Unless I'm hurting you?"
You shook your head. "I kinda like your body weight on top of me. Feels nice."
"Good because I don't think I can move yet."
You laughed warmly and wrapped your arms around him to hold him tightly against you. "You're pretty cute like this."
"Did you just call me cute?" he mumbled against your skin.
"Mhmm."
"Thanks, baby," he said with a little chuckle. "You're pretty damn cute too."
"Just cute?" you teased.
He lifted his head to look at you and smiled warmly. "You are absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. And right now? God...literal perfection."
You blushed, your entire face turning red. "Aaron..."
"I'm serious, (Y/N)."
"Thank you," you said softly.
He lifted himself up so he could look down at you better. "I'm going to tell you every second of every day so you don't forget."
You laughed lightly. "You're a dork."
"And you're sexy."
You laughed harder. "I kinda like this game."
He kissed you gently before sitting up entirely. "How 'bout I run a bath for you, hmm?"
"That sounds nice."
You watched him as he walked to your adjoining bathroom and began to fill up the tub. You smiled as you watched him, feeling incredibly happy. He was so handsome and sweet...just like you'd thought he was when you first met him.
You had never been thankful for an unsub or a case before...but you were thankful for this one. This case changed everything for you and you had a strong feeling the change was going to be permanent.
Hotch turned around to look at you with a warm smile and you felt it in your bones, this deep adoration for the man in front of you. You felt happy for the first time in years, really and truly happy--and you knew it was going to last forever.
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Hello, @a-mag-a-day. Apologies for the deception but I rather wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself. I'm assuming you're alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn't try too hard to stop reading; there's every likelihood you'll just hurt yourself. So just listen. Now, shall we turn the page and try again?
Statement of landscaping-your-mind regarding episode 160 of The Magnus Archives.
Statement begins.
So, from all the stuff I scheduled for today you can probably tell I really like episode 160 of The Magnus Archives, right? Like, good lord, it is... it is a time. (Also, the words were really good (and also there's poetry) so :D incentive!)
Firstly, though, I have to say something. It's not the Watcher's Crown. The Watcher's Crown is the ritual Jonah Magnus attempted years ago. This is unnamed in canon, but Jonny said it could've been called The Magnus Archives.
Secondly... I would like to draw your attention towards the description of the youtube version of this episode. (to paraphrase)
The Magnus Archive discovers that some escapes are a lot easier than others.
Ahahahahaha AHAHAHAAHAHAH WHAT-
I hate this so much. Like, with a burning passion. "The Magnus Archives discovers that some escapes are a lot easier than others" COME TO MY HOME AND KILL ME YOU COWARD! It just hurts, it just... hurts.
He can escape London, but he can't escape his ✨ purpose ✨
You ever think about how The Magnus Archives follows the story of Magnus' Archive? I do. A lot. I haven't even started listening yet, god, this episode am I right?
MARTIN
(Joking) Or, (huffed laugh) or it is, and she just cleaned it up really well.
(They both make uncomfortable chuckles)
ARCHIVIST
…Yes.
(The Archivist makes an uneasy noise)
THEYRE BOTH SO AWKWARD THEY HAVEN'T TALKED TO A NORMAL HUMAN IN OVER A YEAR
Just their really awkward laughter, oh my godd they're so endearing your honour, I'm so glad this episode and TMA ends at the 5 minute mark (< in denial)
ARCHIVIST
Hopefully a long way out there. (soft) But I think we’re okay
THEY ARE IN LOVE YOUR HONOUR
I just love how soft Jon's voice gets around Martin, like, like, eeeee i just love them i love them they're the reason im aro bc i know i will never love someone romantically as much as jmart loves each other /j
MARTIN
Oh, n-no, not yet. I was actually gonna head down into the village to go pick something up?
Ooooh yay I get to share my "where are they in scotland" headcanons! I think they're near Dunnet, because it's pretty far north and in the Highland area, and it's also got allegedly the only full time gunshop north of Inverness, and... yknow, it is Daisy's safehouse.
ARCHIVIST
Anyway, don’t tell me the phonebox down there doesn’t appeal to your retro aesthetic.
your honour they're lightheartedly teasing each other <3
ARCHIVIST
I’ll be fine.
SOFT!
(update im wrtinging with a cat on my lap now hes big. im balancing my computer on my leg.)
MARTIN
I assume it’s her attempt at a- a, a varied diet? Eating your greens, you know?
ARCHIVIST
(Amused) Probably. (reassured) I’m sure it’ll work fine
hhh them <3 it's just like they're so... they're happy. they're so happy, and it's like nothing gold will stay or whatever
they had such a short amount of time
i wish they were ok
MARTIN
…I will give you some privacy. Go for a walk.
ARCHIVIST
(Warmly) Let me know if you see any good cows.
MARTIN
Obviously I’m going to tell you if I see any good cows.
I'm...
them being happy is almost worse, right. because what once was a surprise we now know will happen, we have to deal with the dread, and it's all bitter now, the happiness is rotten because of what lurks after.
some people can listen to the first five minutes and feel okay, but me?
for me it just hurts.
ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)
(Pleasantly) Statement of Hazel Rutter regarding a fire in her childhood home. Original statement given August 9th, 1992. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.
Statement begins.
He sounded so happy... he sounded so happy.
This is the first time he's happy before he reads a statement. He was happy, he was hiding from the police and the hunters and Daisy and Not!Sasha with his boyfriend in Scotland. And then, and then Jonah Magnus comes in and decides to end the world like a bastard.
I don't want to hit play. I don't want to know what comes next. I want to stop listening. I want Jon and Martin to be okay. I want it to be the real statement of Hazel Rutter.
I just want it to be the real statement of Hazel Rutter.
I get it, right, horror tragedy! This was the desired effect. I am supposed to be feeling these emotions. These emotions being very sad. Well done to Jonny, lovely writing. Fantastic! I love TMA with my whole heart. I think that it's fantastic. I don't want to hit play though. I'm here for the characters suffering, I got in through The Hermit Archives, I wanted more of the horror! I am here for suffering! I'm here for the suffering. I'm hitting play.
Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins.
He could have just ended the world. Like, the whole... forcing Jon to monologue about all the times he was manipulated into furthering Jonah's plan? That's fucked. That is fucked. Just put the ritual there you slimy piece of shit!
It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through the voice of another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.
*me to my dog, in the "talking to a dog" voice* You wanna kill him too! Hey! You wanna kill him too!
Like, okay, so you're Jon and you're reading this statement and you can't stop, and this bastard says "you can't tell me you're not curious." Tell me that's not going to make him think that if he tried a little harder then he would've been able to stop reading. Tell me that's not going to make him think that a part of him wanted to end the world, and that's why he's still reading. Tell me that's not going to make him blame himself even more.
The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself.
He's so bloody arrogant. He puts himself above the entire world. It makes sense, he's from Regency era England, but like, it's still... really awful. Awful person.
Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to
weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we
fear death, the last and greatest terror?
When I fear death I distract myself, not try to end the world. Like, this guy is just so evil. His only redeeming quality is being funny sometimes.
Everyone dies, Jack Magnet, you just chose to be a bastard about it.
Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it, was born.
Right, so The Magnus Protocol's Magnus Institute was located in Manchester, and I'm not an expert on the geography of the United Kingdom, and basically know nothing about Manchester, bar that it has the... football, I want to say, team Manchester United? I don't know how I know that. But it seems as though Jonah Magnus didn't attempt his ritual, or attempted it some other way in that universe.
You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain through lines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.
I wonder what the others are. The Dancer could be one - The Dancer in The Unknowing. I think Jonny said in a QnA, but you know, the author is dead, he's speaking to us posthumously, that The Architect could have been one. Not sure what others. If y'all have any ideas... 👀
More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt; but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.
Ok, Mr. Jonah "orchestrates twelve traumatising events for this one guy and gets him to end the world" Magnus. He cannot talk, he cannot talk at all. Sure, she sacrificed people, but she wasn't malicious. She did it for a cause. Did she believe she was good? I'm not sure she cared.
Jonah Magnus is just awful for his own self gain.
You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the panic of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral? Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down. To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.
Gerry's colour explanation makes a lot of sense if you don't conceive of it as a traditional colour wheel. They're growing out in every direction, they all overlap with each other.
Sure, the fear of The Eye may seem in direct opposition to the fear of The Stranger, but let's take Jon, for instance. Is it not sort of Stranger to have some guy in a coffee shop staring at you with his autistic eyes, a person you don't know, but who definitely knows you?
What about the fear of The Buried and the fear of The Vast. Episode 195 covers that pretty handily. They're all interconnected with all of the others. Separating them makes them easier to understand (and invertedly makes them actually separated), but it isn't them, not truly. They are connected intrinsically.
Even the coffin! The fear of being alone in the dark is a part of the coffin.
Because the thing about the Archivist is that, well, it’s a bit of a misnomer. It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.
Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering dread of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you. You are a living chronicle of terror.
I've been doing a lot of thinking about this. The Archivist is something... defined by how they feed their patron, but The Archive is defined by how they've been hurt to bring it into the world. He's not defined by even a person-like role, he's something molded by Jonah Magnus' desires to end the world.
I wrote a little poem about it, which I shall share here, because I am cringe but I am free, unlike Jon. RIP
He's not a person with a name,
He's a vessel of destruction,
He's not a person who feels pain,
It's necessary for production,
That he's scarred and marked,
By things that lurk in the dark,
Believe himself useless,
Or it'll be fruitless,
And at the end of the day,
He's no person, no name,
He's a plan that has come to fruition.
Also, he calls himself The Archivist, perhaps viewing himself as... something that hurts others, rather than something that is hurt for a purpose.
I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but my god, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as a sort of implicit blessing on my whole project and, do you know what, I think it was.
"I chose you" "I'll admit, my options were somewhat limited" Mr. Magnet, he was chosen by the web. Jonah's just not afraid to be puppeted.
So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.
This line fucked me up. "One hand on the gas release from the start." Just... like it just sticks in my mind. How he held all their lives in the palm of his hand, how he let Sasha die, and Tim get eaten by worms, because he wanted his bloody perfect Archive.
One hand on the gas release from the start, while all of them almost - or did - die(d).
Like, what gets me is how fucked up Jon was afterwards, how he was asking everyone for their statements, shutting them up before they got to the part where they'd mention Jon and Tim getting eaten with worms. What gets me is how Elias was there and Jon was what, looked like a bloody mummy! He didn't have second thoughts when he saw...
He knew everything. He saw everything. He saw how fucked up Jon was over e v e r y t h i n g. (everything)
That's what gets me.
Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its door, you’re marked very deep by the Spiral.
And, you know, the manipulation, the gaslighting, the betrayal. I saw an interesting post on this, but I can't seem to find it. I'll look in the posts I've rbed tagged TMA meta, I'll link it in a reblog if I find it.
Honestly, I had nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so whenever her rage bubbled over you were right there, a ready target.
You know after Jon's second kidnapping that could have totally been resolved how Jonah made Jon stand in front of Melanie while she wanted to kill Jonah with a knife, and how it's like oh, right, yeah, use Jon as a bloody meat shield to get her angry at him, make him the scapegoat, that was intentional. It was intentional to destroy everyone in the Archives' interpersonal relationships, and then have Jon. A ready target for hatred and vitriol.
How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.
I think that Jonah Magnus should eat shit and die.
The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.
If you replace the Ceaseless Watcher with Determination then it reads like an Undertale save.
* The power of Determination flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.
Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.
This also ties in with the above, I hate that he says "our victory" "the world that we have made." Jon didn't consent to this, Jon didn't want this, Jon was made to be an unwilling conduit of the apocolypse and Jonah Magnus is insinuating that he chose it, the victim blaming little prick!
You who watch and know and understand none.
You who listen and hear and will not comprehend.
You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.
Come to us in your wholeness.
Come to us in your perfection.
Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!
Come to us.
I
OPEN
THE
DOOR!
GREAT INCANTATION! 10/10! And it's actually recitable, unlike the TBI one.
ARCHIVIST
Look at the sky, Martin. Look at the sky.
It’s looking back.
That is a fucking fantastic final line of the episode. All of it, four seasons leading up to this moment. Look at the sky. It's looking back.
Fuck dude!
(The Archivist begins a fractured, delirious, humourless, laugh that does not end)
That laugh.
That laugh is just... haunting. I love it so much. It makes me want to cry. I used to have it saved on my phone and I'd just listen to it over and over and over again and get more and more disturbed and heartbroken.
That laugh. That broken, horrific laugh.
I can't get over it.
And thus ends season 4 of The Magnus Archives. With a broken laugh in front of a window, leading out to the doomed world.
Episode 160 is quite possibly my favourite metaplot episode of The Magnus Archives, the way the whole plan was revealed, the awful manipulations that were exposed... that laugh.
I leave you all to think on this. To think on the Archive née the Archivist née Jonathan Sims, laughing at the world he has unwillingly and unwittingly doomed.
Goodnight, a-mag-a-day, goodnight. /ref
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