#y/n x hotch

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Lighthouse [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@happyheidi) Center (@agentdilfhotchner) Right (@theindividualchef)

Prompt: Hotch notices some distressing signs from the reader when he bumps into them at the grocery store. He doesn’t say anything, but something tells him that the reader isn’t well. He goes to their job and finds them just in time. Aka, when Aaron and the Non-BAU!reader get a chance to heal together. 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Non-BAU!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: hurt/angst/comfort

Word Count: 8.9K

Content Warnings: Grief and loss, single fatherhood [Aaron],  depression [Hotch and Reader], brief mention of kidnappings [unsub], domestic violence (fights, implied beating, yelling, chocking, kicking hitting, degrading comments (reader)], hospitals, broken bones. If I missed any please let me know. 

A/N: Good evening, loves! He’s the first Aaron fic of 2024! It’s a bit dark but I tried to handle the subject matter with care. This idea came from @imagining-in-the-margins's amazing January/February Challenge Prompt list: “Character escapes an abusive relationship and the recovery is harder than they thought.” Given that Aaron went through abuse himself and has healed from many things, I wanted to think about how he would try and help someone else going through it too. I just love it when Hotch gets protective and puts someone in their place. I really enjoyed writing this story and I hope you enjoy reading it. If you do, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re all having a good week! Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence or any kind of abuse, there are resources out there. Please speak to a loved one or trusted individual. If you need help you can contact The National Dometic Hotline at: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or you can visit their website for resources. Please be safe. 

List wil all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

_y/p_ = your partners 

_y/p/n_ = your partner’s name (as the partner is a real jerk, put some terrible person’s name here) 

_y/s/hw_ = your style of handwriting (cursive, loopy, blocky, etc.) 

_y/d/a_ = your dominant arm

_y/e/p_ = your ex-partner 

Hotch was walking down the pharmacy aisle of the grocery store. He was looking for the children’s nausea medicine. He’d been looking for twenty minutes. Aaron wondered if they kept it in some other part of the store. Jack’s tummy ache still hadn’t gone away since the night before, and he considered if he should take Jack to his pediatrician. The issue was, that it was Saturday and the doctor's office was closed. Aaron knew he could be paranoid and that Jack probably just had a stomach bug, but he worried. He always worried about his son. Since Haley’s passing, Jack took up a majority of his free time and all of his thoughts when he wasn’t on a case. Adjusting to the grief and loneliness had been hard. Harder than he’d ever imagined, but time, as the saying went, heals all wounds. Even those unseen. Emotional wounds that needed sutures and tender care long after they’d healed. It wasn’t perfect or easy juggling being a single dad and work. It had taken a long time to figure out. But he’d leaned on people, and after a while, he started to feel like a version of himself again. One that still mourned the loss, and regretted his choices, but he was getting better.  Jack was too. Except, this Friday Jack went to a party at a friend's house and caught some illness that was going around. Aaron was so busy trying to find the medicine that he didn’t see that he was about to bump into someone. When the two collided, _y/n_ flinched, but composed herself quickly. So quickly that the familiar man didn’t notice it. They both said in unison, “Sorry.” Aaron straightened and _y/n_ got off of her toes. The pair looked at each other and after a beat, realized they knew each other, at least a little bit. It took a moment for _y/n_ to say, “Oh, cold brew with a shot of espresso on the side. Aaron, right?” For _y/n_, most people she interacted with were associated with some sort of coffee or tea order. _y/n_ was surprised with herself that she’d remembered the tall man’s name. She’d never seen him dressed so casually before. He was just wearing jeans and a dark green t-shirt that accentuated the muscles of his toned torso. In the mornings at six a.m., that man that she thought was called Aaron, only wore a suit and tie. The kind that was tailored just for his tall frame. The expensive material didn’t reveal as much as this outfit did. Even so, he was very attractive. Often, seeing him at the counter was the highlight of _y/n_’s morning. _y/n_ knew that sounded pathetic, but hell the guy actually smiled at her before the sun was up, and he always tipped. Being a barista wasn’t the most exciting job, but at least _y/n_ got to see him on and off during the work week. 

Aaron was desperately wracking his brains for the name of the woman who had memorized not only his coffee order but his name as well. Why couldn’t he remember it? Aaron could picture her name tag with the gold lettering embossed on the enamel pin, but the name was out of focus. Admitting defeat, he replied, “That’s me. And you are?” _y/n_ looked at Aaron and replied, “_y/n_, _l/n_.” She wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t remember her name. No one remembered her name. _y/p_ wouldn’t let her get close enough to anyone to need to remember her at all. _y/n_ told herself internally, “I’m used to it. It doesn’t hurt if you don’t care.” As much as _y/n_ wanted to believe that lie, she was hurting. Her body ached under her dark long-sleeved shirt. She hadn’t meant to make a snarky quip back at _y/p_ last night, but the remark had come unbridled, and she’d paid for it dearly. _y/n_ snapped back to the present as her most irregular, regular customer asked, “Were you trying to reach something on that top shelf? Can I grab it for you, _y/n_?” Something about the way he said her name, had _y/n_ look at him like she’d never seen Aaron before. Like she’d never seen a man before. Not one that oozed confidence even when he was just standing in a grocery store aisle. _y/n_ knew that _y/p_ would never live up to that standard, as hard as they tried, and as long as they lived. _y/n_ flinched at the very idea of the thought. The things _y/p_ would do to her if she ever thought or dared speak something like that in their partner’s presence. Aaron noticed the reflexive jerk of _y/n_’s body like she’d been hit by an invisible hand. He furrowed his brow and took a small step back. “_y/n_, are you alright?” Aaron knew that look and understood the flinching away from things. He’d done enough of it in his childhood. Suddenly, he was concerned about the woman that he saw when he was on his early morning caffeine runs. Hotch felt ashamed that he’d never paid _y/n_  much attention. However, he was paying attention now, as _y/n_ fixed her face back to normal. Back to a friendly smile that hid any physical or mental pain she might be in. _y/n_ didn’t notice Aaron profile her. Instead, she cleared her throat and said, “Yeah, um, could you grab three of those instant ice packs? The cheapest brand on the left?” Hotch nodded and didn’t even need to reach very high to grab the aforementioned items _y/n_ had requested. _y/n_ held out her basket, and he dropped them into the container. Aaron noticed but didn’t comment on the odd assortment of painkillers, gauze packs, and a single pregnancy test on the far right side of the basket. Aaron moved his eyes up quickly to not look like he was prying into her personal life. Sometimes being a profiler had its downsides, and situations where he could see things that didn’t look good were one of them. It’s not like he could just say, “Hey, _y/n_, why do you need those ice packs,” or “Hey. _y/n_ if you lifted your shirt sleeves what would I see?” He wasn’t a mandatory reporter. He wasn’t a professor, or a nurse, or a school counselor. He just had a brain that let him see things that others didn’t. Things that people like _y/n_ probably didn’t want him to see. Then again, he could be reading into the woman’s grocery choices a bit too much. He didn’t know her, at least not more than her name, and she worked at his favorite coffee shop that was closest to the Quanitco Field Office. He liked it because, on a good morning, it took him less than ten minutes to get from the coffee shop to work. 

_y/n_ looked at cold-brew-and-a-shot-of-espresso. He seemed to have gone somewhere else in his brain. She didn’t plan on standing there forever, and had to say, “Well thanks, Aaron. I’ll see you…” she hesitated and finished the sentence with, “...when I see you.” _y/n_ gave the man a little wave and walked toward the self-checkout. Hotch replied, “See you Monday, _y/n_.” It was an odd interaction, to say the least. Aaron realized he’d said, “See you Monday” like a man who worked in a bank, or finance, or some mundane job that let him keep a regular schedule, when he had the opposite of that job. He could be called into the office that moment, and he’d go because that’s what he’d signed up for. Aaron’s phone buzzing made him fish it out of his back pocket and lose his current train of thought. The text was from Jess asking if he was headed back yet. He quickly replied, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just picking up the medicine now.” Hotch put his phone away and scanned the kid's medicine section once more. At the end of the row, he found what he was looking for. The child-friendly gummies, he hoped, would allow Jack to relax. Aaron and his son had stayed up most of the night as Jack threw up once an hour or so. Hotch felt the tiredness of the night, and his concern for Jack deep down. Those thoughts had him forget, at the moment, the worry he had for _y/n_. As Aaron was texting and recounting last night, _y/n_ was quickly scanning her items and placing them in a _y/f/c_ reusable bag. Once the receipt was spat out of the machine, she took it, crumpled it, and tossed it in the trash by the front door. If there was one thing _y/n_ was grateful for, it was the self-checkout. There wasn’t anyone there to judge you on what you bought, unless it was alcohol, and it was quiet and quick. She saw no one, and no one saw her. Except, today had been different because she had been seen. That was a rarity. Even if it had only been a minute-long conversation with Aaron. He was a customer who was gone for days in a row with no apparent rhyme or reason, yet always came back. Always at six, and always in a suit. He was part of the group that she called, before the morning rush. That’s probably why she remembered him so well. He was distinct and unique and by far the hottest guy who graced the crowd from six a.m. to seven a.m. After seven the people came like a mob and names, orders, and faces all blurred together until the mid-afternoon lull. As _y/n_ sat in her car thinking, she realized that she didn’t have time to daydream. Especially not about a guy. She looked at the clock in her car and realized that she’d spent more time in her thoughts than she’d anticipated. “Shit” _y/n_ muttered to herself, realizing that if she drove fast, she’d have just enough time to ice the worst of her bruises and discard the ice packs in the dumpster outside her apartment before _y/p_ came home from work to notice them. Given the time crunch, _y/n_ started the engine and whisked her car out of the parking lot as safely, and quickly as she could manage. Any thoughts of Aaron were temporarily replaced with thoughts of getting to ease the aches in her body for a few minutes before another fight inevitably broke out when _y/p_ got home from work. 

As it turned out, Hotch didn’t show up to the coffee shop on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, and on Thursday it was another no show, _y/n_ really started wondering what the man did for work. She first thought was a lawyer. He looked the part with his clothes and his stern expression. There were plenty of law offices around the coffee shop, but she never saw him go into any of those buildings after he’d picked up his order from the counter. After he’d told her, “Have a good day,” and then walked out the door with long confidant strides while the bell rang. She considered the possibility of banking or finance, but from what _y/n_ knew, both of those jobs must require consistent hours in an office somewhere. But cold-brew-and-a-shot-of-espresso didn’t seem to keep any type of schedule, and he didn’t seem to be the type that worked in an office. Plus, all the bankers and finance bros she served every morning seemed glum and depressed. Aaron was intense, but he didn’t seem depressed. At least not anymore. The first time he’d come into the coffee shop she’d noticed him because he was new and it was early. He was the first customer of the day, and _y/n_ hadn’t even pulled the cold brew mix out of the fridge when he ordered one to go. As she’d explained that It would be a few minutes,  and the tall man just nodded and said, “It’s fine. I can wait.” The man’s low voice sounded deeply sad. Like he was already dead and buried. It made _y/n_ look at him fully. He had a handsome face, all jaw, and dark hooded eyes. He looked like he sounded, far away. Internally _y/n_ wondered, “Is he going through something? Has this dude slept in the last month?” Both looked true from his slightly disheveled appearance and deep bags under his eyes. At this point, _y/n_ was happily in love with a person that she’d never guessed would lay a finger on her. A person who didn’t raise their voice, threaten them, cheat, or humiliate her in public. No. she was newly in love and everything was perfect. In fact, her partner had just agreed to move in with her last night. But the man in front of her, who’d said his name was Aaron, didn’t look any like she felt. _y/n_ wanted to ask him if he was okay, but it didn’t feel right. He was just a new customer and by now a small queue was forming behind him. So instead, she’d pulled a shot of espresso for him while he waited for his cold brew.  

When Aaron heard his name, he walked over to the counter. Unless he was very behind on the coffee scene he didn’t think the small cup he was being handed was his. _y/n_ saw the look of confusion on his face, and she quickly explained, “Pulled you a shot on the house for making you wait. Hope it will tide you over.” Hotch left something in him that could be gratitude, and he murmured, “Thanks,” as he stepped back with the cup in his hands. It was the kindest thing _y/n_ could think to do for him while she took the next few orders and then started getting out the drinks including Aaron’s. Hotch had found the coffee spot because he had driven past it countless times since living in D.C. and commuting to Virginia. It had caught his eye early on because it seemed to be the only coffee place open that early. It had finally drawn him in when he wasn’t sure if he could live past the grief of losing Haley. Jack kept him going and that was enough, but he could admit he was struggling. He’d decided that doing something different, anything different, might do something for him. He wasn’t sure he could keep doing what he had been doing for the last two months. Even though he wasn’t much of an espresso person, he drank the free shot because it was nice of the barista to give it to him. Shortly after, he was given his cold brew, and he drove toward the office like he normally did. Not much changed for him in the day, except the addition of a lot of caffeine made his body feel like he was buzzing until noon. The sensation wasn’t unwelcome, at least it gave him something else to think about apart from loss. Aaron came back the next day and, just because, _y/n_ gave him another free shot of espresso. After a while, he started paying for the espresso, and as the months passed, he seemed to get better and _y/n_’s life got worse and worse and worse. _y/p_ had shown his full colors, and Aaron had worked on healing while  _y/n_ began hurting. Their paths seemed to be like those of ships in the night. Their lights were never bright enough for the other to fully notice. That was until Friday. 

Aaron had come back from a case in Arizona. It wasn’t the worst, It had been a stalker who kidnapped women who looked like the unsub’s mother due to abandonment issues. When the victims didn’t agree to play the part, the unsub wanted, they were replaced. Aaron moved into Dusk til Dawn like he always did. The bell rang as the door opened and he stood in the short line to get to the counter. He had almost forgotten about his interaction with _y/n_ at the store a little over a week ago. Jack had quickly recovered and then the case came, and time just went on like it always did,  but as he caught _y/n_’s eye, he remembered. Not only did he remember her name now, but he remembered what he’d suspected she might be going through. When he got to the counter, she asked, “The usual?” Aaron nodded as he pulled out his card. He looked over at _y/n’s hands as she wrote his name on the two cups in _y/s/hw_. He noticed the slight bruising and scratches on her knuckles. The signs that something might have happened to her were minimal, but he caught them. Aaron was about to comment something, but as he put his card back in his wallet, _y/n_’s demeanor changed in an instant. The small smile and wide eyes she gave him whenever he came in disappeared. Hotch could almost feel the person behind him shuffle on heavy feet. Hotch stopped himself from looking behind him where _y/n_’s eyes were trained. _y/n_ barely murmured, “You’re order will be out in a second.” Aaron stepped a few feet back and listened from a spot far enough away that it didn’t seem like he was snooping, but also close enough to be able to listen in on the conversation happening at the counter. He crossed his hands over his chest. He could feel the slick material of his grey suit under his arms. He heard the person in front of the register say, “Hey. Good morning, sweetheart.” Hotch looked at _y/n_’s face. It was half reverence, half fear as she replied, “Morning. What are you doing here, _y/p/n_?” In a voice laced with love but a hint of bile _y/p_ said, “Can’t a person see their girlfriend in the morning? Plus I’m in desperate need of a coffee. Make it half soy, half oat milk latte with frothed milk, vanilla, and two pumps of sugar-free syrup. And a shot on the side.” _y/n_’s partner sounded more like an order than a command. Like shouting at a caged dog. _y/n_ knew why he needed coffee. He’d broken her carafe last night throwing it at her head. He’d accused her of cheating again because a friend from high school had checked in on her. 

_y/n_ temporarily forgot all the other orders before _y/p_’s, and with a hurried, jerky movements. tried to make _y/p_’s order. If _y/p_ ever showed up to work, it meant she’d fucked up big time. Done something so big or bad that they had to come and see her before their work started, just to let her know that she was going to get it later. It was a promise. What she’d gone wrong since last night’s accusation and makeup session, _y/n_ wasn’t sure, but there was always something. y/n_ wasn’t paying attention to anything, and as she tried to steam the milk, she accidentally burned herself on the steamer. After a second, the pain circuits in her brain fired and she felt the burn, dropping the metal container holding the hot milk. The metal made a clanking sound on the floor, and a few patrons looked over at her. _y/n_ dipped behind the counter before anyone could notice the soft sob that left her. It was a cry of pain and fear. _y/n_ took the towel from her apron and wiped the floor first. She then fixed her face, got up, placed the dirty metal container in the sink, and remade the drink and espresso shot. It took her about twice as long as normal, but her hand was letting out red hot pulses every second or so. She wasn’t in the right head space to be making drinks at the moment. When the coffees were done, she moved back to the checkout where _y/p_ had firmly planted themself. In a sickeningly patronizing tone, they said, “Now that wasn’t that hard, was it _y/n_? God you always were a clutz. Anyhow, see you tonight, love.” _y/n_ raised a hand and said, “Tonight,” with a forced smile. Aaron watched as _y/p_ took one tiny swipe of her hand to rub under her eyes. The tears were too faint for him to see. _y/n_ then moved back to the cups that had piled up behind who Aaron assumed was her partner. A person who had just spoken to her in such a condescending and humiliating manner. _y/n_’s odd assortment of things at the store, the marks on her hands, and now this interaction only highlighted what Hotch assumptioned about _y/n_. When she eventually called his name for pick up, he approached the counter with care. Aaron grabbed his two cups and after _y/n_ said her normal, “Have a good day,” in a tight tone, he couldn’t help himself but say, “_y/n_ can I see your hand?” _y/n_ froze. She looked over at Aaron and pulled her injured hand to her chest with the other. Softly she replied, “It really doesn’t hurt.” Hotch could still see some of the red skin that looked painful. In the kindest tone he had, Aaron said, “It doesn’t look good, _y/n_. Do you have a first aid kit around here somewhere?” Hotch scanned behind the counter to see if there was a red box holding medical supplies nearby. _y/n_ hadn’t expected anyone to notice her hand. She especially didn’t expect it from Aaron. Without really thinking, she said, “There’s one in the staff room.” “Would you grab it for me?” Aaron asked. Much like the first time _y/n_ met Aaron, the tone of his voice had her look at him. The dark-eyed man looked concerned. It didn’t make sense. Neither did his tone. It came off as a caring suggestion. Something she hadn’t heard in a long time. _y/n_ was used to apathetic orders from her boss, Lisa, and _y/p_ disappointment in her everything. But care? She hadn’t heard or felt it in years. Aaron’s comment alone had her disoriented. To catch a moment to get back into balance, _y/n_ moved to the back room and took the first aid kit out of the cabinet. _y/n_ swallowed back whatever emotions were trying to force their way out before she stepped back into the main room. 

_y/n_ set the red box on the counter. Aaron held out his hand for her hurt one, and to his surprise, she placed it in his large palm. After a moment of looking at the burn. It didn’t seem too bad, maybe a grade-two burn at worst. After his assessment, Hotch said, “You should run that under a cool tap for a minute. I’ll see if there’s some gauze in here to cover it up. As Hotch heard the water run and rifled through the first aid kit. He pulled out a large bandband-aid a generic antiseptic cream. _y/n_ returned in a moment, drying her hands. _y/n_ didn’t know how to react to this kindness and said, “Sorry I don’t mean to hold you up. You’re always so punctual. You’ve got to be late to wherever you go at this point.” She was giving him a way out. She was giving herself a way out because _y/n_ wasn’t sure how to be in this situation. How she would feel about Aaron if he helped her. Aaron looked at her. He saw the hesitation on her face and replied, “I won’t be late, and I’ll be quick here, I promise.” Aaron sensed that _y/n_ wanted this over with as soon as possible. It didn’t give him much time to think of something to check in with her. Hotch couldn’t delay and he didn’t want to make _y/n_ more uncomfortable, so he took _y/n_’s hand back into his. He squeezed a small dot of the cream on his finger and dabbed it onto her burn. _y/n_ flinched as he touched her more deliberately. Hotch finished that part swiftly and tore open the band-aid gently pressing it over the burn, securing it on her hand. He softly dropped her hand and closed the medical kit saying, “Good as new.” Aaron recognized that he was using the tone that he did with Jack when he came home from a play date with a scrape or bruise. _y/n_ took the kit off the counter and said, “Thanks for the help.” She sounded reserved and Hotch nodded, saying, “It was nothing. Have a good day, _y/n_.” With that, Hotch took his drinks again and moved out of the shop with a weight on his shoulders. _y/n_ watched him go and wished she could have a good day, but the threat of _y/p_ hung over her. _y/n_ also wished and tried to get Aaron’s concerned face and kind words out of her head, but she wasn’t very successful at that either. 

Rossi noticed how perplexed Aaron seemed as he entered the building and moved up toward his office. The older profiler also clocked the two cups of coffee Hotch was precariously holding in one hand. Dave, who was at the railing at the top of the stairs asked Hotch as he got to the top, “You turning into Reid or something?” Aaron scoffed and replied, “I hope not. I’m too old from that kind of energy.” Rossi gave a half-smile before saying, “Well today it looks like you picked up more than a caffeine addiction.” Hotch didn’t understand and asked, “What do you mean?” Dave followed his friend to his office and said, “You look like you’re worried about something. Is Jack alright?” Hotch’s deep sigh told Rossi that he was correct. Something had happened. Aaron looked over at him with knowing eyes. Eyes that had seen too much pain and loss for one man. Hotch swallowed his sip of coffee before saying, “I just saw someone getting torn down. Put in a place I don’t think they deserve, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I’m the Chief of the BAU, one of the most revered branches in the FBI, and I see someone get hurt and I don’t know what to do about it.” Rossi leaned his arms on the desk chair opposite Aaron’s and slowly replied, “Aaron, you can’t save everyone from a bad situation.” Hotch bit the inside of his lip and replied, “But I want to. Am I losing my humanity?” Aaron often wondered after the death of Haley what he was becoming. He hoped it wasn’t something bad. Someone who didn’t care. Rossi watched this struggle and uncertainty play out on Hotch’s face and said, “I think this job can warp the way people working it see things. Pardon this reductionist analysis, but we go out and see countless victims and there’s a big bad to get and hold accountable. The scope of the evil we see is like a tsunami, and when we see a wave we don’t always know what to do. But a wave can still drown someone. That person’s no less deserving of a life jacket.” Rossi knew that he was making it sound like Aaron didn’t want to help whoever he was talking about, and knowing Aaron that was never the case. But Rossi wanted to provide some perspective before delving further into the conversation.  Dave then said, “But Aaron, Not everyone knows they're drowning either. Maybe they don’t know to ask for a life jacket.” Dave was taking a guess here. He knew Hotch well enough that if this was a person Aaron knew well or personally, he would have done something already. So most likely this was a stranger or acquaintance that he’d encountered struggling, and Hotch, being the man he was, couldn't bear to see it happen. Rossi didn’t want to press Aaron. He wasn’t the type to go into detail, so Dave just stepped forward, patted him on the shoulder, and, said, “You’re a good man, Aaron, no matter what you believe, you’re a good man.” With that Rossi stood and walked to the door to let his friend decide what to do after that. And just to lighten the mood, Dave said at the door, “Don’t drink all that coffee at once. You’ll put yourself into cardiac arrest.” 

Once Rossi was gone, Aaron moved behind his desk and sat down. He pulled out his briefcase and set to work on a floor-wide memo about a new policy on overtime. As he worked, he let Dave’s words churn in his head. By lunch, he’d decided that he’d go back to the coffee shop after work. No one had been a lifeline for him in his childhood and he wasn’t going to let it happen to someone else. Yes, he was aware that abuse happened all the time, all over the place and he couldn’t stop all of it. But he could let _y/n_ know that there were places she could go, and resources to her to get out. Something like that would have changed his life, and as it would turn out, Aaron’s willingness to step into a sensitive situation would save _y/n_’s. 

Hotch moved back to Dawn til Dusk after work. Thankfully a case hadn’t pulled the team away. It was just after five thirty and the shop would close in a half hour. He’d never been there in the afternoon. The place took on a more subdued quality. There wasn’t the anxiety, the day was all ahead of me energy that the early morning held. As Aaron stepped inside, there was no one to greet him. Not _y/n_ with her smile that he’d grown used to when he stepped in the door or any customers either. For a second Aaron realized that he might be very silly because maybe _y/n_ didn’t work the afternoon shift and when someone came to out of the backroom or storage room, it would be a total stranger. Aaron assumed that whoever was still in the shop would come out of the staff room because the door stood ajar. He couldn’t see into the room, from where he was standing, but a loud thump had him snap his head to the side quickly. The sound hadn’t come from inside the room, but somewhere just beyond it. The same sound came again, and whatever it was, Aaron didn’t like it. Hotch moved to the side enough to see through the open door which led to another door with a window that looked out onto the alley behind the coffee shop. At first, it just looked like a small corridor that ran out to the street beyond the far side of the building. It seemed quiet until a body was pushed harshly to the ground and into Aaron’s view. Hotch realized that it was _y/n_ from her outfit from that morning. In a split second, Hotch was running through the backroom and out the door as the person who had stood behind him this morning came into view and began viciously kicking _y/n_ in the side. 

_y/n_ curled into a ball on the pavement, choking for air. When _y/p_ came back again on the same day and said they needed to talk, she tried to swallow any fear she had. _y/n_ said they could talk in the back room, but _y/p_ insisted they go outside. That had been her fatal flaw. She didn’t know how to say no to them anymore and even though she was still on the clock, she’d let him into the small space behind the shop. Once the door was closed, _y/p_ had pounced. They pinned _y/n_ against the wall, choking her with such force that she couldn’t get a word out. When _y/n_ was sure she’d pass out from the lack of oxygen, _y/p_ threw her to the ground so hard she felt stunned. When _y/n_ had come to her senses, she tried to crawl away from the pain in her body and the threat of passing out. She still hadn’t fully regained her breath and the sides of her vision blurred at the edges. _y/p_ didn’t let _y/n_ crawl more than a few paces before grabbing her shirt and dragging her toward the dumpster on the opposite wall of the alley. _y/n_ groaned as the pain tore up her body. _y/n_ could feel her shirt riding up due to the rough surface of the concrete. _y/p_ tried for the first time to fight back. To get away, but _y/p_ pushed _y/n_ up to the edge of the dumpster and kicked her in the groin. They crouched down while _y/n_ covered her face and neck. _y/n_ said, “Did you think you could get on birth control and I wouldn’t know. Did you think I wouldn’t know?” _y/n_ shook her head and attempted to explain, but _y/n_ stopped trying when she gasped in pain. _y/n_ had pinner _y/d/a_ under a thick steel boot. The sickening crack that came shortly after had _y/n_ turn to the side and vomit in pain. When she looked up at _y/p_’s face, she knew this was how it was going to end. For some fucking pills. _y/p_ moved in again, pressing their hands to _y/n_ neck, cutting off the air she needed; _y/n_ spluttered fighting for life.However, the pressure was suddenly gone from her arm, neck, and everywhere else. Nothing was making much sense in _y/n_’s pounding head. She could only focus on trying to breathe. 

It took Aaron five long strides to get outside and reach _y/n_ and her assailant. Hotch grabbed _y/p_ around the middle and pulled them off _y/n_. Hotch rolled with the person who trashed and screamed, “Let GO OF ME. Get off me.” Hotch grunted and tried to hold the person still. He found it ironic that _y/n_ was so against being manhandled with what he’d just done to _y/n_. From the anger, the person beneath Hotch showed, Aaron assumed it wasn’t the first time it had been this bad. Rage like that just didn’t start from nowhere, It grew and grew until it became uncontrollable. Aaron knew monsters were bred not born. Hotch caught his breath and said, “Stay still for your own sake. Move and I’ll knock your light out.” _y/p_ spat and said, It’s none of your business.” Aaron tightened his hold and said, “As a federal agent when I see someone get assaulted it suddenly is my business.” _y/n_ stilled for a second but then tried to use all their strength to shove Aaron away. Hotch rocked back on his hip and _y/p_  swung at him. Aaron took the brunt of the blow in his sternum. As big as _y/n_’s partner was, the hit wasn’t strong. It hardly hurt. Hotch was done. He had no place of remorse for abusers and he, unlike the person struggling below him, aimed one solid punch at the dude’s face. Maybe _y/n_ wasn’t fully out, but they were stunned enough to slump back on the ground with a groan. Hotch let them go and moved over to _y/n_ who was coming back to herself. Aaron dropped down on his knees next to _y/n_. The lower half of her body was in a murky puddle at the foot of the dumpster and their upper body leaned against the refuse bin. Aaron didn’t notice as his favorite trousers got soaked in the same murky puddle. He pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1. The operator answered asking, “9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?” Aaron cleared his throat and replied, “There’s been an attack on Maddison and Smith. Fourth block down from the stop sign. At the back of Dawn til Dusk. I need medical and police services.” Hotch heard the operator typing in the information before asking, “Are you or anyone in immediate danger? Are you the one that was attacked?” Hotch replied quickly, “No, it was someone else.” He took a second to see that _y/n_’s partner was still out of it and added, “There’s no immediate danger.” The woman on the other end of the line said, “Thank you for the information. Can you provide your name and phone number?” At this stage, Hotch was multitasking. He was carefully looking over _y/n_ who was starting to stir. He held a hand up to still her movements and turned his head toward the phone on the ground saying, “Agent Aaron Hotchner, the number’s 982-289-7765.” After a second, the woman on the phone said, “Thank you, Agent Hotchner, please stay on the line, medical and police services are on their way.” Hotch nodded minutely and when he looked back at _y/n_, she was staring at him with wide eyes. She had registered who he was now and heard his conversation in the back part of her head that wasn't screaming in pain. _y/n_ whispered, “Where’s _y/n_?” The weak attempt at speaking had her cough harshly into her chest, and Aaron leaned closer saying, “Don’t worry about them, _y/n_. Just stay still and try and relax. If you can take small breaths, it might help.” _y/n_ nodded and tried to do as he said. 

_y/n_ watched as Aaron pulled out another phone and called someone else. She thought she heard the name, Morgan somewhere and the name of the shop, but for a man of Aaron’s stature and power, he spoke with surprising softness. As she had seen Hotch take down _y/p_ there seemed to be an anger she hadn’t imagined she’d ever see from him. But now he just looked worried for her. Like he had looked worried at the store. His emotions had turned on a dime. She was used to that with _y/p_. But that was from a constant disappointment to a visceral rage. Aaron’s were different. His seemed to shift from anger to firm protection. _y/n_ didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t know what to make of her life anymore. She hadn’t expected to live a few minutes ago and now time stretched out before her like nothing she’d ever seen before. It was beautiful and horrifying at the same time. _y/n_ couldn’t think about that though. Not now. Instead, she just did as the man beside her suggested, relax and breathe. That was managable at least. Hotch stayed by her, checking every minute or so to make sure _y/p_ stayed put. Aaron hadn’t even put fifty percent of his strength into his punch, but the slumped body on the ground didn’t move. At least until the police showed up five minutes later and hauled them into a cruiser. _y/n_ suddenly got their energy back and bellowed that they had been attacked by Aaron. _y/n_’s bloody face and broken arm plus Hotch’s badge and account of the story had the officers removed _y/p_ from the scene shortly after. The paramedics showed up at the same time as the officers and started to treat _y/n_. Hotch gave his side of things and tried to listen in on _y/n_’s conversation at the same time. The EMT finished his assessment and asked, “Is your vision blurred? How’s your breathing?” _y/n_ softly replied, “I can see okay. My neck hurts, but I can breathe okay. But my arm, it really, really hurts.” The EMT nodded and said, “It looks like it’s broken. My colleague is going to bring the stretcher around the building now. Once you’re in the ambulance we can get you some pain medication, okay?” _y/n_ nodded and the paramedic asked one last question, “Is there someone we can call for you? A family member or friend?” Hotch watched as _y/n_ shook her head no. She looked incredibly sad and lonely in the moment and it pulled at his insides so much they ached because he knew exactly what that felt like. To feel alone in the world. Hotch stepped forward and said, “I’ll stay with her. Which hospital are you taking her to?” The EMT stood and made room for the gurney along with Aaron. The man replied, “Grand Gen on 45th.” Hotch nodded and watched as _y/n_ got loaded onto the stretcher. As she was taken toward the ambulance Aaron walked beside her and said, “I’ll be at the hospital okay. If you need anything just ask for me, alright?” _y/n_ gave a small nod, thankful that anyone was going to be there for her. 

Aaron spent the next few hours talking to the police and waiting in the hospital for an update. _y/n_ called him in before the doctor came to tell her what was wrong with her. _y/n_ even though she didn’t know the man who had saved her well, was the closest thing she had to a friend in town, and she didn’t want to be alone when she found out the extent of all what was wrong with her. Doctor James was compassionate as he detailed her minor concussion, broken arm, and deep bruises on her body. He detailed a care plan and her need for at least a week of rest. _y/n_ looked at the medical professional and asked, “Can I work after that?” James pursed his lips and replied, “I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ll need to come in for a check-up next week and we can talk about that then. But for now, I need you to rest.” _y/n_ mouthed okay, trying to think about how to tell Lisa that she wasn’t going to be at work for probably over a week. Lisa had fired much of the staff last year and was a chronic, didn’t show up to work even though she owned the coffee shop. _y/n_ had ended up picking up the slack. The doctor looked over _y/n_’s chart and wrote down the pain medications he was going to prescribe her. He looked up from the clipboard and said, “I’ll schedule your release for an hour. I just want to ensure you’re not confused or don’t have any reactions to the medications we gave you. There are some pretty strong ones and not everyone’s body takes to them well. It’s not safe for you to drive, so you’ll need to call someone to get you. Does anyone come to mind?” No one came to mind. If anything came up, she always called _y/p_, but she wouldn’t be doing that anymore. The realization seemed overwhelming. Everything in her life felt overwhelming right now. Hotch stepped forward and said gently, “I can take you home, _y/n_. If you’re comfortable with that. Or I can get you a cab?” _y/n_ looked over to him and said, “You’d do that?” Hotch nodded and reassuringly replied, “Yes. Of course.” Hearing someone so vulnerable sound so desperate only made Aaron want to look out for _y/n_ more. The doctor derailed that train of thought and said, “Well good. Can you go and speak to the charge nurse at the counter, just so we have your information?” Aaron nodded and moved out of the room. After he’d provided the details the hospital needed, he got a call from Morgan. Hotch answered, “Derek, what do you have?” Morgan replied, “I asked Garcia to look up the dude, they have a record as long as my arm. Assault and battery, resisting arrest, DUI’s. After this, I don’t think they’ll be bothering anyone for a while. It was still a bad situation. The cops told me about the details. How’d you know it was going to happen.” Aaron sighed and replied, “I didn’t really. I had my assumptions but it was just a gut feeling I guess.” Derek hummed and said, “Well it’s good you were there. Things could have gone differently.” That was true, but it didn’t stop Aaron from wishing he’d noticed earlier. After asking Morgan to have Rossi pick Jack up from school and watch after his son for a few hours, Aaron ended the call. Around fifty minutes later, _y/n_ was released and Aaron pulled his car up to the front of the hospital. A nurse helped her into the driver’s side of his car. It was an awkward ride as he asked her for her address and he plugged it into his phone. As Aaron drove there was a silence that neither knew how to fill. 

_y/n_ didn’t know how to thank Aaron for saving her life when, up until that afternoon, he’d only been someone to make her mornings a little brighter. And Aaron didn’t know how to comfort a woman who had helped him heal in a small way many months ago. Finally, Aaron just said, “I’m sorry, _y/n_” while keeping his eyes on the road. _y/n_ looked over at him not understanding. She replied, “Why are you sorry, Aaron? You saved my life today, spent four hours in a hospital, and are using your car to take me home. You don’t even know me and you’re doing all of this” Hotch shifted his eyes to _y/n_ and back to the road as he said, “But I saw you. What was happening a few weeks back and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask if you needed help. It’s my job to help people. To keep them safe, and I didn’t do that.” _y/n_ pulled her bottom lip into her mouth for a second before responding. When she found out that Aaron was in the FBI while he was speaking to the police, things seemed to make more sense about him. But _y/n_ didn’t understand why he felt bad. She said, “Aaron, lots of people saw. You’re the first person to have ever done anything about it, and it saved my life. I won’t ever be able to pay you back for that, or the kindness you showed me every morning you come in.” _y/n_ stopped herself from saying that he’d given her something to live for. But seeing him slowly get happier had kept her going over the long months when things had gone from bad to worse. She knew that at least one person wasn’t suffering anymore. Hotch’s soft response of, “You don’t have to thank me, ever.” The conversation stopped there as they reached _y/n_’s apartment. Hotch pulled out his card and scribbled his number on the back saying, “Call or text me if you need anything.” _y/n_ nodded, took the card, and slowly walked to her door to enter an empty home. 

_y/n_ hadn’t expected to need to call Aaron Hotchner. But she also hadn’t expected it to be so hard to be alone, to wake in cold sweats every morning. She didn’t think showering alone would be as hard even though showering with _y/e/p_ always ended in fights. _y/n_ knew she had to talk to someone, and the only someone she could think of had been Aaron. So she called him on a Thursday night and he’d picked up on the first ring with, “This is Hotchner.” _y/n_ wasn’t even sure what she was going to say, but finally choked out, “Umm, this is _y/n_, _l/n_, from last week.” There was a pause as Aaron’s synapses fired and he said, “Yes, _y/n_. Is something the matter? Do you need something?” The was a soft shuffling sound on _y/n_ side before she replied, “Kind of. Can we, talk sometime? If you have time?” Hotch blinked a few times before saying, “Sure. Do you want to talk now or later?” _y/n_ who half hadn’t expected Aaron to pick up and fully wasn’t sure what she even wanted to say, said, “Later. Maybe Saturday?” Hotch agreed and said, “Saturday works. I’ll have to bring my son. Would meeting at a park be okay? Jack, my boy could play and we’d have an hour to talk?” _y/n_ hadn’t known Hotch was a father. “Of course, you don’t idiot. You formally met him last week. Can you read minds now or something?” _y/n_ pinched the bridge of her nose and stifled a sigh at her thoughts. Instead, she said, “That works for me. Is there a time and a park that works for you?” They made their meeting plan, and when _y/n_ hung up, she felt oddly comforted that Aaron was a father. The role fit him in some way that she couldn’t fully understand yet. 

That Saturday at Lincoln Grove Park, _y/n_ and Hotch leaned against the rail. _y/n_ looked at the flock of kids on the playground and asked, “Which one is your son?” Hotch smiled and pointed out Jack saying, “The one in the grey beanie and Power Rangers shirt.” _y/n_ spotted the little boy going down the slide and smiled saying, “He’s cute.” Aaron smiled and said, “As his father, I have to agree.” He took a breath and moved his gaze from his son to _y/n_. She looked at him as he asked, “What’s the matter, _y/n_? Are you okay?” Hotch realized that he could have, should have said those words to her when he’d helped her at the store, but it was too late for that now. All he could do was ask them in the present, and be there for whatever answer _y/n_ gave. _y/n_ had considered this question beforehand and replied, “After the first day I thought it was going to be easy. I thought I was going to be happy and want to do things and live life again.” _y/n_ hesitated and Aaron’s eyes softened. He’d seen and experienced enough trauma to know how hard that sudden kind of change was. You didn’t just go from sad to happy overnight, or scared to empowered either. He gave _y/n_ space to finish he thought, and after a moment she did, saying, “But when I wake up and the other side of the bed is empty, I panic. I wonder where _y/e/p_ is and how the fight is to be once it comes. And when I go to the store, I get the things they liked because I liked them too. _ye//p_’s still everywhere even though they’re sitting in a jail cell right now.” It all sounded pathetic to _y/n_ and she continued, “Am I an idiot for falling for someone like that? I really thought they loved me until they hurt me. And at that point, I loved them too much to see past it.” Feeling ashamed, _y/n_ put her head in her hands, not even sure why she was saying this stuff to Aaron. Hotch took a step forward and said her name, soft and melodically. _y/n_ raised her head and he could see the tears forming in her eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder and replied, “You’re not stupid, _y/n_. Some people are just good fakes. They let you see what you want until you think you know them. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. Good people don’t have to hide what they are.” Aaron took a pause and felt _y/n_ lean into his touch a bit. He wondered when the last time was that _y/n_ had been offered comfort without it coming at a price. Hotch chose his next words carefully, as he said, “I can’t speak for you _y/n_. But I’ve felt a lot of pain before. Some I didn’t think I was going to make it through. But in time, things got better for me. Small things changed first, and then bigger and bigger things. And finally, I felt like I could breathe again. Like I was a human deserving of love. I had to work for it, but it was worth it. I hope you can find that too, _y/n_. I’d be happy to be there for you if you want to try.” _y/n_’s tears were falling now, and she nodded her head yes. For the first time since she’d been free of _y/e/p_, she wanted to try. 

As _y/n_ and Aaron stood at the edge of the playground, talking and finally getting to know each other after months of almost being friends, it seemed that perhaps they weren't destined to move past each other without ever knowing the other existed. Perhaps they had both been lighthouses on opposite shores trying to save strangers, but now their warm beams were fully on each other. Shining the way to safe passage. And when Aaron saw the hint of a real smile, not one masked by pain or fear on _y/n_’s face, he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

______________________________________________________________

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#aaron hotcher #ssa aaron hotchner #reader insert #criminal minds #fanfiction #cm #aaron x y/n #aaron x reader #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #protective hotch #protective aaron #jack hotchner #y/n x hotch #read the warnings #hotch comfort #criminal minds x reader #david rossi #derek morgan #i hope this ending was okay #aaron angst #hotch angst #comfort #this one is not a novel at least #non bau reader #reader gets comfort from aaron #aaron is a good dad #not well edited #sort of editied

[headkiss]

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

༄

Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

-

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

-

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

-

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

-

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

-

+1

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

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[patrickispinky]

Derek: are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Emily: i'm the knife

Jj: *from across the room* she's the little spoon

#criminal minds #cm incorrect quotes #inccorect quotes #yn #pov #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fluff #derek morgan fanfiction

[chr0llossexygf]

IN RUINS

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

“ what happened?” hotch says standing infront of the big white board that had some very gruesome pictures of 5 victims splayed out on a park bench. he’s standing tall and strong with his hands crossed in his dark grey suit. he’s looking at you and spencer, who’s walking in right behind you slamming the door close.

“ It’s her fault.” spencer says quickly moving to the other side of the room opposite you, trying to get as far away from you as possible.

you take a deep breath in trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes and cross your hands in annoyance and disappointment. “ it’s not my fault reid-”

“ woah woah what the heck happened?” morgan says pushing himself back in the precinct chair watching you and spencer. he looks at spencer, he sees the strong look of disgust and annoyance spencer is shooting at you. he looks at you, he notices you looking at spencer with a disappointed look.

“ she told the unsubs family we are after the unsub-” spencer spits out looking over at hotch, waiting for him to yell at you or lecture you.

“ wait spence we don’t even know who the unsub is. what do you mean?” jj says turning her head to look at spencer confusion written on her face. “ exactly! thank you jj!” you reply throwing your hands up.

“ michael miller is our unsub hotch.” spencer says completely ignoring your attempt to reason with him, his eyes stay on hotch waiting for him to snap at you or just lecture you. “ wait a minute i thought michael miller had a solid alibi.” morgan says laying back in his chair resting his arms on the arm rests. “ he does have a solid alibi it checks out-” spencer cuts you off. “ it does not check out!” spencer says.

“ yes it does! hotch we asked his dad who confirmed his son came home at 8:30 pm from football practice.” you say growing impatient looking at hotch, hotch’s eyebrows are furrowed tightly. his arms are still crossed listening to you and spencer bicker back and fourth.

“ just because his dad showed the tiniest bit of concern about his son when the fbi showed up to his doorstep does not make him a reliable source, just because you never had a dad who showed any bit of concern and now when you finally see a dad care about their kid does not mean you should not fall into their trap just because you never had a trap to fall into.” spencer spits out finally looking at you.

he watches as your expression hardens. he watches as humiliation and embarrassment fill your once determined eyes, the determined eyes who tried to reason with spencer at-least 4 minutes ago. 4 minutes, that’s how long it takes for your perspective of someone to change. he watches as your eyebrows tremble, a habit you have when your trying to fight back tears. he watches as your throat trembles too, probably trying to fight back that agonising choke you get when your about to cry.

the entire room goes quiet. spencers gaze remains on you, slowly watching your soul shatter because of his words. your gaze remains on spencer, slowly feeling your soul shatter because of his words.

the door that spencer slammed close 4 minutes ago opens, rossi and emily walking in. “ michael millers alibi checks out. we’ve got pictures of him at football practice from 5pm to 8:25pm. he wouldn’t have had the time to commit the murders.” rossi says opening the door for emily. “ also his teammates described him as an extrovert and outgoing which is not what we profiled the unsub to be.” emily says with her hands inside her pockets nodding looking at everyone surrounding the table.

“ i feel as though we interrupted something.” rossi says eyeing everyone in the room raising an eyebrow in confusion. he could feel the tension. emily could too. which is why she immediately looks over at morgan for answers. morgan looks at her for a split second before returning his gaze on you.

“ y/n-” spencer attempts. he tries to bring himself to take a step towards you, but it’s like his words somehow built a barrier between you and him that he now can’t even physically cross. or maybe he’s just scared that if he takes a step towards you, you’ll take a step back. away from him.

you swallow the gut wrenching feeling of tears crawling up your throat. you look down to your converse. “ i’m gonna go…uhm get coffee.” you say turning around immediately walking towards the door. “ excuse me.” you whisper pushing past rossi and emily.

“ oh wonder boy..” garcia says through the tv screen, her bright purple tinted lips which usually wear a bright smile on her face now wearing a frown. her tone disappointed as she presses her heart eye fuzzy emoji pen into her cheek. “ i uhm did my usual background checking on the uhm..list of potential unsubs and a uhm…scott anderson has a sketchy background. i’ve just sent his file to you my pretties.” garcia says stuttering quite a few times finding it hard to sneak her usually bubbly nicknames into the conversation after what had just happened. “ thank you garcia. jj take y/n and check out scott anderson.” hotch says looking at jj his arms finally by his side.

jj nods standing up walking towards the door “ i-i can go” spencer says turning his body towards jj. “ stay.” hotch replies his voice stern and bold. he looks at spencer his eyebrows furrowed.

jj closes the door. “ sit.” hotch says to spencer pointing to the empty seat at the table, spencer slowly walks towards the seat sitting down. “ you shouldn’t have said that spencer.” hotch says crossing his hands. “ hotch-” spencer attempts but is quickly cut off, “ i’m not finished. I get it. your worried spencer. your scared-”

“ hotch-” spencer is cut off once again. “ you may think your hiding it well spencer but your not. we know the unsub is targeting female victims which have similar features to l/n. if your too close to the case spencer-” it’s spencer’s turn to now cut hotch off. “ but i’m not too close to the case hotch!” spencer replies. he wanted the similarities between you and the victims to only be in his head because he wanted only him, himself to notice the similarities between you and the victims. you both have the same hair color, hair length, both considered to be attractive, both have similar personalities, and similar taste in clothing. he didn’t want it to be true. but now he knows that they are, and they’re not just in his head he’s even more worried.

“ your stuttering spencer. you do that when your worried or nervous.” emily says pulling a chair from the table. spencer shoots his eyes away from hotch to emily’s. his gaze softens a bit, emily’s tone wasn’t like hotchs. it wasn’t as stern or bold. it was rather understanding and gentle. “ i just cant control myself around her.” spencer says looking down at the picture of the fourth victim who had been wearing the exact same pair of converse your wearing now. “ well your going to have to learn how to control yourself pretty boy. you shouldn’t have said that.” morgan says looking at spencer. spencer sighs hiding his face in his hands. “ i just..god i’m so stupid.” spencer groans rubbing his tired eyes.

“ stupidity is what ended my third marriage.” rossi says crossing his hands leaning against the bulletin board with a small chuckle, morgan looks at rossi and laughs. “ well thank god pretty boy isn’t married. he’d be the new rossi.” morgan says tilting his head to the side looking at spencer trying to lighten the mood, spencer who still has his head in his hands. there’s a million thoughts going through his head, all of them are about you. all of them are about how he should apologize. is he even allowed to apologize? will you let him apologize to you? would you accept his apology? what if you didn’t? did he just ruin his friendship with you? no screw friendship, he doesn’t just want to be friends. he wouldn’t be as sensitive as he is to this case if he just wanted to remain friends. he’s in love with you. spencer reid is in love with you. and he just potentially ruined any slight chance of ever having you know that he loves you. just because he’s stupid and didn’t think before he spoke.

“ are you okay?” jj says both hands on the steering wheel turning around to look at you next to her, in the passenger seat. your heads turnt towards the window, your picking at your nails. a habit of yours. you turn to look at jj and nod. “ yeah i’m fine why wouldn’t i be?” you ask tilting your head to the side with a confusing smile. you know exactly why your not okay. but for some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to actually be upset over it. what’s there to be upset about? what spencer said is true. he’s not wrong. why are you making excuses for him? what he said was not okay. totally not okay. why do you have to make excuses for every male figure in your life for when they’ve done something wrong? why do you always make them the victim and you the villain. you just don’t wanna lose them right? because you know that if your the victim and their the villain they’ll never apologise and the entire relationship will disappear, it always does.

“ what spencer said-” jj is talking in that tone, that tone that she would speak in whenever something was wrong. in a motherly kind of tone. you immediately shake your head, “ it’s- it’s fine jj really, i don’t care. can we just please forget it ever happened? lets just work on the case.” you say running a hand through your hair biting your lower lip trying to stop your voice from trembling, you know when your about to cry and you have that heavy feeling in your throat? you swallow it hard. you turn your head to look at the window not waiting for a response from jj. jj clears her throat, “ no yeah of course.” she nods smiling turning her head back around.

“ this should be it…” jj mumbles stopping the car, parked infront of a 2 story cabin. you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. “ it looks like no one’s home, there’s no car. we profiled that the unsub would have a van or a truck..” jj says closing the car door looking at the house. “ maybe he wouldn’t leave something so valuable to him outside, to the eye of the public. he’s possessive he thinks the entire world revolves around him he probably thinks someone would try to steal it.” you reply reaching in your pocket for your id. jj doing the same thing. you two walk to the front door, you in the front,

you knock on the door. you put your hand against your hip waiting for the door to open. “ we should ask the neighbours. maybe they’ll know-” you knock on the door again. “ scott anderson. fbi.” you say knocking on the door again. jj puts both of her hands on her waist. “ looks like he’s not home-” your cut off by the door swinging open.

you immediately turn your head around. “ scott anderson?” you ask looking at the man infront of you. you know it’s scott anderson, penelope had already sent his id picture on the drive over. he looks at you, then looks at jj. “ who are you..” he says looking directly at jj. “ i’m agent l/n with the fbi and this is agent jareau. do you mind if we come inside?” you ask smiling holding up your id.

he doesn’t even bother looking at your id. “ yeah whatever.” he moves to the side, making room for you and jj. you nod turning around to look at jj. she nods. you step inside jj following you.

“ do you live alone?” you ask analysing the house, its organised. weird for someone that’s his age. “ uhm yeah i do. what’s wrong with that?” he asks crossing his hands. you chuckle, “ no no nothings wrong with that, i also lived alone when i was 17.” you reply smiling. “ i’m 19.” he says looking at you, eyeing you up and down smiling. “ your pretty organised for a 19 year old.” jj says raising an eyebrow also crossing her hands smiling. “ guess i was just raised that way.” he replies rubbing his lips together. you nod. “ how were you raised scott..if you don’t mind me asking.” you say looking around the house. “ yeah scott how did you manage to score such a house at your age. do you work?” jj asks grabbing a picture frame. “ no i don’t work-” he turns to look at jj. “ put that down.” he snaps speed walking to jj. you immediately reach for your gun.

“ right..sorry. you don’t like people touching your stuff.” jj replies throwing her hands up in defeat. he snatches the picture frame. he grabs it caressing it gently, jj looks at you with wide eyes. you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “ scott. why do you have a picture of my colleague framed?” jj asks looking at the frame scott’s holding. your eyes widen.

“ oh god oh god. where’s y/n and jj?” penelope says aggressively tapping on her keyboard. “ what? what’s wrong?” spencer is the first to respond shooting up from the office chair just at the mention of your name. “ they’re at scott anderson’s why?” hotch says turning around, away from the white board to the tv. garcia starts tearing up, “ i-i did some deep digging and scott anderson has a blog about y/n..” garcia says in a shaky tone. no. no. no. no. no not again please.

his heart stopped for a split second. his hand start sweating. the air has been sucked out of his lungs. why is it so hard to breathe? why is there no air to breathe? there’s a million thoughts running through his head, they’re still about you. but now they’re worse. your in danger. your with the unsub. the unsub who has already killed five people. your in the same house with the unsub. the unsub who has a blog dedicated to you. and the last time you saw spencer you were teary eyed. no it can’t be the last time. no. please be safe.

his sweaty shaky hands reach for his phone. he clicks on your contact. hotch grabs his phone and immediately calls jj. spencer immediately puts the phone up against his ear. it rings. rossi and emily immediately stand up, “ penelope send us the address to scott’s house now.” emily says walking to the door. it’s still ringing. spencer starts biting his nails. his hearts pounding. the ringing of the phone case is haunting him. what is happening on the other side of the phone. why aren’t you answering. you always answer the phone. why is it still ringing? y/n why aren’t you answering.

“ god damn it!” spencer shouts into the phone as it keeps ringing. morgan stands up, “ hotch we gotta go.” he says standing up shoving his phone into his pocket.

the ringing stops. spencer’s heart stops. his breathing stops. everyone in the room looks at spencer waiting for any kind of confirmation. “ y/n you’ve gotta get out of there with jj!” spencer says stuttering with a shaky voice. hes scared. hes so so scared. hes never been more scared in his life. it’s quiet. why is it quiet? why aren’t you answering? what’s wrong. god y/n.

“ hey mom.” you reply. spencer takes a deep breath in. he stops biting his nails. he wipes his wet fingers on his pants. his hearts racing. your in danger. why are you calling him mom if your not in danger. oh god. he feels like he can’t breathe again. he can’t focus. he can’t do this. he can’t do this. he can’t do this without you. breathe spencer. she’s in danger spencer. she’s all that matters.

“ y/n. god i…” he chokes. “ you already figured it out didn’t you.” he says his throat feeling scratchy. he hears you giggle on the other side of the phone, your laugh erupts the butterflies in his stomach. under any other circumstances he would absolutely hate the butterflies in his stomach and would be mad at you for making him feel such way. but now they bring a sense of comfort, they make him feel normal for a split second. that this is not that big of a deal, he’s just calling the girl he really likes and he got butterflies from hearing her beautiful laughs.

“ yeah of course. i called aunt lizzie for her birthday mom i’m not stupid.” you respond. god your voice is so beautiful, but he can hear it. he can fear the slight fear in your voice. maybe other people wouldn’t hear it, but he can. spencer can. and it’s killing him. it’s tearing his heart apart. it’s making his legs shake. “ d-did he hurt you- is he gonna hurt you?” spencer says gripping his jeans tightly. he hears you laugh again, “ yeah mom.” you say.

he feels his legs going weak.

#fanfiction #imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #angst #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fic #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

[luveline]

grumpy hotch x pregnant reader where he is just having an off day and the team calls reader in to deal with him and as soon she arrives in his office he just holds her and her belly as she scratches his scalp omg 🥹😭🫶🏻

You’re lounging in your husband's favourite chair with a book and an ice cold soda in your hand when your phone rings. You almost knock your tooth out pulling it up to your face without looking, wanting it to be Aaron, knowing it probably won’t be. Maternity leave can be excruciatingly boring. 

“Hello?” you ask. Your book slides down your bump. You pull it back up. 

“Hi, mom.”  

You grin to yourself. “Hi, Emily. Please tell me you’re calling because you miss me and you know I have cabin fever.” 

“I’m calling because someone misses you.” Her ire tone is unmissable and ever endearing. “I do miss you, I can’t wait for you to have your stinking baby and come back to work.” 

“That would be fun, right? We’ll get Hotch on paternity leave.” 

“It’s him I’m calling about.” 

“Is he okay?” you ask. You know if he were injured she would’ve mentioned that first. You’re not so scared of his being grumpy. 

“Moody as ever. I can’t believe I’m asking you to, but would you consider coming in for lunch? I’ll send a car, no walking, but he could really use it. He’s been biting off heads all morning.” Emily laughs down the line. “You’re the only one who can cheer him up.” 

It’s not true, but you are usually the quickest. You bid Emily goodbye with a promise to be there soon and get dressed, with no choice but to wear some maternity pants and a peplum blouse. Any excuse to see your haggard husband is one you’ll take. 

You look at your bump and you love the baby in there, but it feels weird sometimes to see yourself differently. If Aaron weren’t as nice about it as he is, you would’ve broken down by now; he’s sussed many breakdowns before they could begin, kissed fingertips and collars promising you’re just as pretty as always. And it’s reassuring, but it isn’t pretty that worries you. You’re a genuine walking beach ball right now. 

The car Emily promises is none other than Anderson himself. “He’s bullying you?” you ask him. 

He doesn’t say yes or no, but his smile is enough of a clue. You can’t get to the BAU quick enough (though you’re slower these days), pushing open the glass door with a tired sign. 

Spencer comes across you first by coincidence. “Hey!” he says, ushering you in for a hug, his cup of coffee hot behind your shoulder. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.” 

“He’s in a mood,” you say. Not without fondness. 

Spencer grimaces. “Sort of.” 

Emily attacks you from the side. “Thank god you’re here! I think he just told Morgan to go fuck himself,” she says under her breath. 

She’s just saying it to make you laugh, and it works. It’s vaguely out of character, but if you know Emily, you know she has a crass, often dirty-minded side, and it’s been a while since you’ve heard her swear. You’re still giggling when the door you’d been making your way to opens. 

Aaron emerges with an expression half bemusement and half confusion. “Honey?” 

“My love,” you say, too quiet for him to properly hear, but he can read lips just fine. 

He rushes in a very gentlemanly display down the steps to help you up them, but you’d only been going up them to see him, and you stop at the foot of them with your hand raised to his elbow. “Hey, handsome.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing. Just missed you, wanted to have dinner, and I figured you couldn’t say no. You know.” You touch your tummy. “Considering.” 

He peers suspiciously past your head. “Yeah?” 

You look where he’s looking, find Emily and Spencer not so subtly turned away. You laugh again, pleased when the sound makes him smile. “Come on. Take me to your office.” 

He puts a hand behind your shoulders and leads you upstairs to his office. There are papers strewn haphazard across the front of the desk, his briefcase open and muddled, his pen lost within the mess. You’re smug knowing he’d been knee deep in paperwork but abandoned it all when he heard you laughing, like he just couldn’t miss it. 

“Let me sit you down,” he says. 

“Woah, slow your roll. Why are you stressed?” 

He blinks at you. “There’s a lot to do?” 

“Sure, but why are you stressed about me? I can sit down by myself.” 

He must look at you for five whole seconds without saying a word, and the door’s not closed, there’s no answer to your question, and then he takes you into his arms for a hug. “I know you can,” he says. 

It’s admittedly hard to hug him with the bump between you. You worry you’re hurting him as your cheeks press together, crushing his shoulders under your hands. 

He usually asks first, but he knows by now that you’re two halves of the same heart, two sides of the same coin, his hand slipping between you both to nudge aside your shirt and feel your stomach. 

You close your eyes. 

“Rough day?” you ask. 

“A lot to do…” His face moves down into your neck. 

You know what he wants, moving your hand to the back of his head to thread your fingers into his hair. “I can fix it,” you say sympathetically, beginning a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp. 

“How’s that?” 

“If I go into labour right now, you get a reprieve.” 

“Honey, in the most loving sense possible, you going into labour now would not be ideal.” 

“It’s gonna happen one day, babe. And you’re gonna be just as busy then. You need to take less on or–”

“No, I know.” 

His hand slides still under your shirt to your hip, encouraging you away from him, his eyes flitting up and down your figure, checking you over. You let your hand fall to his shoulder, fingertips interested in the starchy fabric of a new suit. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, dipping down to give you a kiss. His eyes are dark, so close. “That helped. What can I get you for dinner?” 

You give a fond, pitying smile. You’re not gonna get him out of this office today, that’s for sure. “Half your sandwich, probably.” 

He kisses you again. You take it for a thank you. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[thewulf]

Bulletproof Bonds || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Maybe a husband!Aaron x Long Time BAU!wife and how there’s a new member to the BAU and she keeps trying to flirt with Aaron but he keeps turning her down🥲 but the new member doesn’t know that Aaron and reader are married, and new member just thinks of reader as competition to get with Aaron, eventually leading to reader getting really mad cause new member does something really stupid on a case that leads to reader almost getting seriously injured??... Read Rest Here

A/N: Really loved writing this one. Hope you all enjoy! Thank you for the request @viscade !

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: Yelling, gunshot (non wounded)

In the bustling chaos of the BAU bullpen, Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sifted through the multitude of case files scattered before him. A usual sight for the unit chief. The harsh fluorescent lights cast stark shadows across his features, accentuating the lines of exhaustion etched into his face by years of chasing monsters in the dark.

You sat by his side, a silent sentinel amidst the whirlwind of activity. Your own workspace dedicated beside him cluttered with documents and crime scene photos. The faint aroma of stale coffee hung in the air as you both delved into the intricate web of clues left behind by the latest serial killer to plague the streets. It was always so easy with him, your husband. The way the two of you were able to bounce ideas off each other was like none seen before.

The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on everyone present as they grappled with the enormity of the task at hand. Each unsolved case seemed to loom over them like a specter, a constant reminder of the lives lost and the justice yet to be served. Amidst all the usual chaos, Agent Sarah Miller made her presence known. Her arrival heralded by the soft click of her heels against the linoleum floor. She moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, her youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the world-weary countenances of her colleagues. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Sarah's eyes lingered on Aaron as she sauntered past his open aired desk, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She was young, ambitious, and hungry for success. Her gaze fixed on the formidable figure of the BAU's leader like a moth drawn to a flame.

Despite Aaron's cold indifference, she persisted in her attempts at flirtation, undeterred by his lack of response. Her tactics were shamelessly transparent, her words dripping with false sweetness as she sought to capture his attention. Agent Sarah Miller yet again walked past Aaron's desk, her gaze lingering on him for a moment too long before she turned her attention to you. There was a subtle flicker of annoyance in her eyes as she took in your presence, her lips curling into a barely concealed sneer.

"Hey, Hotch," she purred, leaning against the edge of his desk with practiced ease. "You must be tired of staring at all those files. Why don't you take a break and grab a coffee with me?" Her eyes kept looking back to you in brief flashes to gauge your reaction. You decided early on after her brazen attempts that you would give her none. A layer of disgust masked on top of the doe eyes she was attempting to give your husband was meant for you. She was very forward, you had to give her that one.

Aaron's response was polite but firm, his tone devoid of any warmth. "I'm sorry, Agent Miller, but I have work to do," he replied, his eyes never leaving the papers in front of him.

Undeterred, Sarah flashed him a flirtatious smile, her gaze lingering on him expectantly. "Maybe some other time, then," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness before she finally strolled away.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her blatant display of interest, the subtle scoff escaping your lips as you returned your focus to the files sprawled across your desk. "Some profiler she is," you muttered under your breath, the sarcasm dripping from your words like venom. It was a small act of defiance, a way to vent the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as you watched Sarah's failed attempts at seduction.

Your comment earned a small smirk from Aaron, his lips quirking up in amusement as he glanced up from his work. His eyes met yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you, a shared understanding of the absurdity of the situation. In that fleeting moment, you found solace in the unspoken reassurance that he was not blind to Sarah's antics, nor was he unaffected by them.

As the tension in the room continued to get heavier, you exchanged a knowing glance with Aaron, the unspoken bond between you speaking volumes. It was a silent reminder of the unbreakable connection that bound you together, a tether grounding you amidst the disarray swirling around you. In that moment, you drew strength from the knowledge that no amount of flirtation from the new agent could ever hope to rival the deep-seated love and loyalty that defined your marriage.

But beneath the surface, resentment simmered, fueled by the blatant disrespect for the boundaries of your marriage. Each lingering glance, each flirtatious comment served as a reminder of the fragile line Sarah was treading, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the calm facade. Yet, as frustrating as her antics were, you knew that the true test of your marriage lay not in her misguided advances but in the unwavering trust and devotion you shared with Aaron. A bond that would withstand any challenge thrown your way.

You had to give the girl credit. She certainly didn’t stop. It was not even an hour later that the girl came crawling right back to him. In the dimly lit bullpen of the BAU, the seasoned agents huddled together, their eyes darting furtively around the room as they exchanged knowing glances. Reid, Garcia, Morgan, and Prentiss stood in a tight circle. Their voices hushed as they leaned in conspiratorially.

"So, who's going to crack first?" Garcia whispered, her eyes sparkling mischievously behind her glasses.

Prentiss smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "My money's on Y/N. She's got that poker face down pat."

Reid nodded in agreement, adjusting his glasses. "And she's got a wicked sense of humor. I don't think she's sweating it."

Just then, Morgan, ever the observant one, interjected with a grin. "You know what, I'm with both of you on this one. Y/N's handling this like a pro. She's probably just waiting for the perfect moment to drop a witty comeback."

The others turned to look at you, noticing your bemused expression as you observed the scene unfolding with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. The new agent, eager to impress, leaned in a little too close to Hotch, her voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. "So, Hotch, any plans for dinner tonight?"

Hotch glanced up from his paperwork, his expression remaining impassive. "Just finishing up some reports, Agent. Nothing planned."

Undeterred, the new agent persisted, fluttering her eyelashes coyly. "Well, if you change your mind, I know this great Italian place down the street."

Hotch merely nodded, returning his attention to the file in front of him. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Agent."

Behind his back, the BAU members couldn't contain their laughter, stifling their giggles as they watched the new agent's attempts fall flat. It was clear that Hotch was immune to her charms, his focus unwavering even in the face of relentless flirting.

As Sarah retreated, finally somewhat defeated, the BAU members exchanged triumphant looks, their silent bet settled. Hotch may have been unflappable in the field, but when it came to dodging unwanted advances, he was truly a master of his craft. And you, well, you were just enjoying the show, your amused smile barely masking your annoyance as you watched the scene unfold.

The breaking point came during a particularly intense case, where the unsub's erratic behavior had everyone on edge. You felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors of an abandoned warehouse, every nerve on high alert.

In the heat of the pursuit, Sarah's impulsive decision shattered the fragile equilibrium you had struggled to maintain with your team. Ignoring protocol and disregarding the safety of the team, she charged ahead recklessly, her actions sending shockwaves rippling through your ranks. Bullets flew past you like angry hornets, the deafening roar of gunfire echoing off the walls as chaos descended upon you.

It happened in the blink of an eye, a split-second decision with far-reaching consequences. A bullet sliced through the air like a deadly whisper, its trajectory aimed straight for your chest. But thanks to the protective barrier of your bulletproof vest, the impact was nothing more than a forceful shove, the fabric absorbing the blow with a sickening thud. The impact knocked the wind out of you, pain searing through your body as you stumbled backward, clutching your chest.

As the adrenaline faded and the reality of what could have been sunk in, fury ignited like a wildfire within you. You rounded on Sarah, your voice a crescendo of anger as you unleashed the pent-up frustration that had been building for weeks. Each word was a dagger aimed straight at her heart. Your tone laced with a venomous ferocity that mirrored the intensity of the emotions raging within you.

Coughing up blood, your vision blurred as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Anger surged through you like a tidal wave, drowning out the pain as you staggered to your feet. With a primal roar, you lunged at Sarah, grabbing her by the collar with a strength born of desperation.

"What the fuck was that?" you yelled, louder than you ever had before. And certainly not in front of the team. Your voice raw with fury. Each word was a thunderclap, reverberating through the warehouse like a warning shot. "You could have killed me! Or them! Do you even realize what you've done?"

But Sarah's response was a defiant sneer, her gaze unwavering in the face of your righteous indignation. "I did what needed to be done," she spat, her voice laced with arrogance. "I'm not afraid to take risks to get the job done."

The words were like a slap to the face, a cruel reminder of the recklessness that had nearly cost you everything. With all your rage, you shoved her away, your hands trembling with anger as you struggled to contain the tempest raging within you.

"You're a liability," you growled, your voice a low, dangerous whisper. "And if you ever put my life, their lives,” You pointed to Spencer and Emily behind you, “in danger again, I won't hesitate to take you down myself."

As you stood there, trembling with fury and pain, the rest of the team made their way over. You still hasn’t seen Aaron yet but the rest of them looked on in shock and disbelief. Derek surged forward, his strong arms wrapping around you as he pulled you back from the confrontation. "Easy there Y/N," he said, his voice low and soothing as he tried to calm the storm raging within you. "Cool off."

Emily and JJ exchanged worried glances. Finally, Aaron found you after too many moments of losing it in front of everyone. His eyes widened in alarm as he took in the sight of blood staining your lips, his heart clenching with fear at the sight. "What happened?" he demanded. His usually calm voice was laced with urgency as he reached out to gently touch your arm. His fingers trembled against your skin, his touch a comforting anchor in the swirling chaos of the moment.

Still reeling from the confrontation and the shock of narrowly escaping serious injury, Spencer stepped forward, his voice calm but tinged with urgency. "Aaron, Sarah made a nearly fatal mistake," he said, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "Her impulsive actions endangered everyone on the team, especially Y/N." You were thankful he was willing to step in because you weren’t quite sure if you had the right words.

Aaron's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury as he turned his gaze on Sarah. The air around him crackled with palpable anger, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Is this true?" he demanded, his voice cold and steely as he pinned her with a hard stare.

Sarah shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny, her bravado faltering in the face of his unwavering gaze. "I...I was just trying to apprehend the unsub," she stammered, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

But Aaron's patience had worn thin, his temper flaring like a raging inferno. "You made a reckless decision that put the entire team at risk," he snapped, his voice echoing off the walls of the warehouse. "Until you can prove that you're capable of following protocol and putting the safety of your teammates above all else, you will not be back in the field."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of her actions. Sarah's expression fell, her defiance crumbling under the weight of his judgment. It was a harsh lesson, but one that she would need to learn if she ever hoped to earn back the trust of her colleagues and prove herself worthy of wearing the badge.

As Aaron turned away, his attention returning to you with a renewed sense of protectiveness, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the unwavering support of your team leader and husband. But as you tried to catch your breath, a sudden coughing fit wracked your body, drawing Aaron's attention back to you. Concern flashed across his features, his eyes narrowing with worry as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to steady you.

"Hey sweetheart," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear as he brushed a strand of hair away from your forehead. "Let's get you checked out, alright?"

You attempted to speak, but the coughing fit continued, leaving you gasping for air. So, you shook your head in protest. You were fine and you knew it, but the damn bullet hit you right in the lung leaving you gasping for air. Aaron's worry deepened, his brow furrowing with concern as he knelt down beside you, his hands hovering anxiously over your shoulders.

"Honey, just breathe," he urged, his voice filled with tenderness as he placed a comforting hand on your back. "We'll get you to the hospital, and they'll take care of you. I promise." It wasn’t usual that he dropped those sweet terms of endearment to you in front of the team, but he couldn’t really care. Not when he could’ve lost you.

Despite your protests, Aaron's determination remained steadfast. With gentle insistence, he scooped you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest with a strength born of love and concern. "You're going to the hospital," he declared, his voice unwavering as he carried you towards his SUV. “I’m not taking no for an answer sweetheart."

As Aaron settled into the driver's seat beside you, his eyes flickered with concern as he stole glances, his hand reaching out to brush against yours in a silent gesture of reassurance. But despite his unwavering determination to get you to the hospital, you couldn't help but feel a stubborn sense of resistance bubbling within you.

"I'm fine, Aaron," you insisted, your tone tinged with frustration as you crossed your arms over your chest. "This is incredibly dramatic. You’ve been hit in your gear too."

Aaron's expression softened at your words, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Maybe I am," he admitted with a chuckle. "I also know what it feels like honey. I’d rather be safe than sorry."

You shot him a playful glare, unable to suppress the teasing smile that danced on your lips. He cared for you, truly. Every inch of himself loved you more deeply than even you could have fathomed. You also knew that love bore stubbornness and there was no talking him out of what he knew he had to do. You were just along for the ride now. "You just can't resist playing the hero, can you?" You spoke up after a moment of silence between the two of you.

Aaron chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he glanced over at you. "Guilty as charged," he replied. "Always remind me never to get on your bad side," Aaron quipped, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips as he attempted to alleviate the tension that hung heavy in the air.

You managed a weak laugh trying your hardest to hide the pain radiating from your chest. However, so grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were about to take matters into your own hands back there," he teased gently, his voice laced with affection.

The image of you, ready to throw down with the new agent, brought a genuine laugh bubbling up from deep within you this time. "Well, she did have it coming," you admitted with a mischievous grin. "But I guess I'll let you handle the heroics this time."

As the laughter subsided, Aaron's expression turned more serious, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry things got so heated," he said softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I should have stepped in sooner. I thought she was harmless. Dealt with her type so many times before." He sighed, running a hand through his hair before finding your hand and lacing his fingers within yours.

You squeezed his hand, a warm smile spreading across your face. "It’s not your fault you’re such a silver fox," Tossing him a wink you couldn’t help but to tease him right on back. It’s how you knew everything was going to be just fine. The two of you had dealt with so much worse and come out even stronger, this would be nothing but a minor blip on your journey together.

Aaron laughed at your playful comment, a warmth spreading in his chest at your familiar banter. "Ah, so you're saying my charm is both a blessing and a curse," he retorted with a grin, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You nodded, a fond smile playing on your lips. "Something like that," you agreed, feeling a surge of gratitude for the ease with which you could navigate even the toughest moments with Aaron by your side.

As the car glided through the streets towards the hospital, a comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the engine. Despite the events that had unfolded, you found solace in the quiet intimacy of the moment, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. With each passing mile, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of reassurance that only Aaron could provide. His unwavering love and support was everything you needed. He guided you through the darkness, illuminating the path forward with hope and determination.

As you arrived at the hospital and Aaron helped you out of the car, you knew that this was just another chapter in your life together. You couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the man beside you, your literal partner in crime, your rock, your everything. Together, you were truly unstoppable.

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[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

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[ynscrazylife]

i need to be excused (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)

summary: yknow that scene where hotch says “excuse me” and then faints? imagine that but his wife does it to him.

Having a profiler for a husband gets annoying with how observent he is. Unfortunately, you’re also a profiler, so it’d be hypocritical to complain.

Still, when Hotch notices the slightest thing wrong, he latches onto it. He’s had his eye on you ever since you took a hard hit from a fight in the field. You barely had time to recover before the team had to board the jet again to respond to some emergency Strauss needed them for.

Apparently, a man who claims to be linked to other murders and who was a former BAU agent had made a threat against Strauss’s family. Finally back at the BAU, the team’s stuck calling people, making arrangements, going through endless paperwork to try and get more information and figure out what was going on.

You’re not doing so hot. Still reeling from the pain, but also exhausted and definitely moody. Hotch keeps it professional since they’re at work, but is still watching out for you.

Hours later, after correctly identifying the man and making the arrest (which included lots of running around), the team again returns to their base. They’re going through everything and debriefing next steps, when you abruptly stand.

“I need to be excused for a moment,” you say, already sounding breathless, before promptly keeling over and collapsing onto the floor.

For a second, everyone freezes in shock. Hotch is the first to react. He all but screams your name, dropping to his knees and trying to assess what’s going on.

“Honey, honey? C’mon, wake up. What’s going on? Sweetheart, please,” Hotch says as he shakes you, moving you so that your head is in his lap.

Spencer kneels on your other side, gently taking your pulse and reporting that it’s stable. “Could be exhaustion, dehydration . . .” He trails off, listing all the reasons he can think of.

Hotch uses one hand to run his fingers through your hair and the other to cup your face, lightly tapping your cheek. After nearly a minute of the team standing around, wondering what to do, your eyes start to flutter open.

“Aaron?” You mutter, seeing your husband’s eyes first.

“Hi, hon. You passed out. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling,” he says, keeping his voice soft but letting out a breath of relief now that you’re awake. He continues threading his fingers through your hair and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

You blink a couple times and then say, “Tired.”

Exhaustion, then. “You’re sure that’s it? Is anything else wrong?” Hotch asks, anxious to role out some underlying cause.

You nod, then grimace at the lightheaded feeling it gives you, turning and smushing the side of your face in Hotch’s lap. He looks up at the team and gestures his head towards the door.

They get the hint, though Emily and Spencer do offer to stay behind and help. Hotch thanks them but assures them that you’ll be alright and the team takes off.

“Do you feel alright to sit up?” Hotch asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” you murmur and, with his help, sit up. You immediately lean into his arms. “Ooh, wow. Dizzy.”

“I think you pushed yourself a bit too hard, sweetheart. We gotta make sure you rest properly. Wouldn’t hurt to get some food and water in you, too,” Hotch says, cradling you.

You hum in agreement. The two of you sit there for a bit, Hotch being in no rush to move you. He can’t help but reflect a bit and he sighs, shaking his head.

“What?” You ask grumpily.

“Just a little in shock that you actually excused yourself before fainting,” he says. He recognizes the funniness of it, though he lacks any amusement, still too worried.

You chuckle. “Was tryin’ to be polite,” you explain.

“I’m sure you were,” Hotch says, smearing a kiss against your head.

You continue on sitting, Hotch rubbing your back. Finally, he gets the both of you on your feet, and leads you out to the car. He sits you in the passenger’s seat and buckles you in, driving you home. Once there Hotch immediately gets you in bed, helping you change into pajamas before doing the same. He gets you a glass of water and a snack, making sure that you eat and drink it all.

“Wanna sleep now,” you mumble once you’re done, curling into his chest.

“Of course, dear. Just relax,” he coos, already planning to call you both out of work tomorrow. He does not take his wife fainting lightly and is going to do everything he can to make sure you’re okay.

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[archermind]

I Can See You

Spencer Reid x F!Reader - Smut (18+)

Description: “and we kept everything professional but something changed, it's something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best if we move fast and keep quiet.”. You and Spencer are each other's dirty little secret, no one in the BAU knows what is going on between you both.

Word count: 1,800 approx.

Content Warning: Mentions of f!masturbation, kissing, PinV, Receiving Oral F, swearing, Fingering, dom!spencer, good girl, dirty talk

author note: okay.. so i tried writing a smut. idk how i feel about it. i read smut and think the things people write are really good but when i write it i always think it’s so bad. i hope it isn’t too bad. feel free to give me feedback! hope you enjoy <3

Stolen glances and longing stares, that was how this all started. You and Spencer found yourselves sneaking between each other's hotel rooms while on cases, searching for comfort in a form of lust. The first time was supposed to be a one time thing… never to happen again. Yet, you couldn’t help yourself… you longed for his touch and he longed for yours. Your mind is forever replaying the first moment he made, the way he-

“Earth to Y/N!” Derek announced, waving his hands in front of my face.

“Oh, sorry” you mumbled, realizing your zoning out and complete oblivious state to the world around you.

“What has gotten into you girl” Derek scoffed

“More like who!” emily remarked, causing JJ to snicker “we have seen that extra pep in your step lately Y/N”

You shifted in your seat becoming anxious that people were going to crack onto what was going on between you and Reid. Everyday you were nervous to even look in Reid’s direction… It didn't help that everyone that surrounded you both were some of the best profilers you know. You rolled your eyes putting on a confident facade and prepared your fighting argument against Emily’s wrong, but so right, speculation. 

“Right everyone let’s just focus on the case” Hotch ordered, “Agent Y/N’s love life will just have to remain a mystery for you all until you solve this one”

“Oh c'mon Hotch, you are supposed to be on my side!” you called out desperately as everyone laughed, “i am reporting you all to HR for bullying on the job!”

“Boohoo babygirl!” Morgan said, pouting.

Throughout the rest of the flight you all spoke about the case, trying to build a profile upon the characteristics of the murder. Words like sadist and sociopath were thrown around while you yet again zoned out, this time focused on Reid and his soft snores. You had woken up, naked, to the sound of his snores a couple times now. Each time was just as good as the last. You found yourself counting down the time until you landed, wishing the minutes would go by fast. 

-

Landing came by painfully and slowly. Some time before the flight landed, Spencer had woken up. He seemed shifty and irritated. Not to mention, he could not take his eyes off of you. You felt yourself become more and more needy for him with every passing second. Clock watching made it worse. 

By the time you all arrived at the hotel that you were staying at, it was midnight. Everyone had no energy. The goodbyes and goodnights were a mix of mumbles and grumbles. Your room was right down the hall from Spencer. Emily and JJ across the hall, Morgan next door to Reid, and Hotch was one floor above us all. A dim pale yellow light tried to light the room as you walked through to the bathroom, a hot soak was well needed. Today had seemed to be so long and exhausting.

As you plunged yourself into the bubbles and warmth, you leant back allowing yourself to relax in the tub. Soap suds covered your body as you massaged your aching muscles. You moaned at the release you felt, free from tension that ached your body. As you were massaging your sore body, you felt your mind racing back to Dr. Spencer Reid and your hand inching further to the place you wanted him right now. As your hand grazed your core, you heard a ping to your phone. 

You sighed as the moment had been rudely interrupted and ruined. You grabbed your robe, exiting the tub and putting it over your body. Grasping your phone, your stomach fluttered. ‘Spence’. ‘I need you Y/N’. you bit back a smirk, knowing what was about to happen. ‘Don’t let them see you..’ you responded back. 

Quickly, you ran to the door ready to let the man you wanted most into your hotel room. It was scandalous and thrilling sneaking around with him. It was what you both needed while dealing with stressful cases. A source of release.. Mentally and physically. 

As you opened the door, the slender built boy slipped past quickly into the room to avoid being seen and perhaps questioned as to why he was entering his co-workers' hotel room at 1am. You closed the door silently and instantly you were pressed against it. Spencer’s lips fit yours perfectly. You felt his wet tongue swipe along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. It was heated and vulgar. The desperation for each other was filthy. Your tongues played war with each other until like always Spencer won dominance. You were like a putty in his hands, allowing him to take control of your every movement. 

“You don't understand how beautiful you looked all day” spencer rambled, “i've been wanting to get you alone and worship your body since i first laid eyes on you this morning” 

You moaned at his sweet nothings, moving your lips to trail down his neck as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. You were eager to rid him of his clothes, eager for him. As your hand went down each button, you slowly freed him out of his shirt. You gasped, running your hands along his chest and to his lower abdomen. 

“I have missed you spence” you stated, breathlessly. 

He slowly walked you backwards towards the bed, peppering kisses around your face. You giggled at the childish move but felt adored. Slowly, he lowered you to lie on the bed and hooked his arms around your legs giving you a strong tug to the edge of the bed. 

“Trust me, Y/N not as much as i missed you doll” he smirked, undoing the tie on your robe. 

Your chest rose and fell fast. You lay there in front of him naked and for the taking. Allowing him to see the most vulnerable and insecure side of yourself. He slowly lowered himself allowing his mouth to come in contact with your soft skin. Spencer kissed and nipped with his teeth, your most sensitive areas. Your neck. Your collarbone. Your breasts. You couldn't help but let the moans fall from your lips. He chuckled at your reaction, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted.

Spencer caressed your left breast pinching your nipple. all while he licked, sucked and bit the right one. You felt wetness pool at your core. All. For. Him. slowly, you felt his nose brush down your abdomen as the pit of your stomach flipped. No matter how many late nights you spent together and how much you prepared yourself, you still got nervous when giving yourself to spencer. Even if he was cautious and gentle.

You squirmed and wriggled as you felt his hot breath on your clit. You were dripping with anticipation at this point. Spencer began to kiss each thigh, slowly working his way closer to the place you wanted him most. Soon enough, Spencer pressed his lips against your clit licking and biting. Slowly, he circled his tongue against your clit as you became more and more sensitive with each lap. Your hand tangled in his brown curls, causing him to moan in response. You cried out in pleasure as he inserted two fingers into you and began pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck spencer” you breathed out.

“Does that feel good Y/N?” he questioned you, already knowing the answer from the way you were a mess below him. 

“Mhm” you mumbled. 

Spencer pulled away from your clit and took his fingers out from with you, gripping your thighs and turning you on your stomach. You heard his zipper become undone. You looked back and bit your bottom lip suppressing a moan as you saw him in nothing but his underwear. You could see his hard bulge and it made you even more desperate for him.

“Look at you so needy!” Spencer whispered, grabbing a condom from his jean pocket. 

You eyed him up and down as his teeth ripped the small packet open. 

“Hurry… im so fucking desperate” you were a wreck as you tried to speak your wants, “i do need you spencer” 

“Good girls wait” he remarked

You watched him slowly slide the rubber on his hard length, he held a strong eye contact with yours. Enjoying the way you watched him, eagerly waiting for him. You bit your lip hard trying to suppress your moans - considering your co-workers were just down the hall and above you. You hissed in pleasure and pain when Spencer unexpectedly forced his entire length into you without warning. 

It was raw and animalistic the way you both wanted eachother, needed eachother and fucked eachother. Spencer Reid was a quiet boy. Yet, who you now grew to know and spend time with, you saw him in a much different light. He was a gentle, passionate man who adored and cared for you. Reid didnt just use you for sex… he worshipped your body while he fucked you. 

The room was filled with the sound of your breathless moans and the sound of your skin meeting each other. Spencer was deep inside you and with every stroke he made in and out of you, you grew closer to your release. 

“You feel so fucking good Y/N” spencer moaned as he flipped you onto your back, allowing him to watch your face as he fucked you senseless. 

You tried responding but you were a moaning mess. No words could be formed. You were drunk on Spencer’s cock. With every thrust, your tits bounced, sending Spencer's mind on a spiral. 

“You look so fucking good taking my cock, doll” spencer exclaimed, as his hand connected with your clit rubbing small quick circles. 

You felt your stomach ball as you grew closer to your orgasm. You cried in pleasure as he thrusted deeper and slower, hitting your g-spot each time. 

“I- fuck- please spence” you begged him growing more sensitive to his touch and nearing your finish. 

“I know Y/N” he grunted as he entered in and out of you, feeling closer to his orgasm each time, “cum for me” 

You cried out at your release, digging your nails down Spencer's back for some stability on the edge of your pleasure. Your ears rang out from the overwhelming stimulation, while Spencer rode out to his orgasm. It came quickly as he collapsed tired and breathless onto your chest. Time passed as you two lay tangled within each other's arms, trying to calm down from your high.

“Y/N?” he questioned

“Yea” you huffed out

“I’m glad you joined the Quantico BAU team” he stated letting out a breathy laugh

“Yeah me too” you smirked, “the benefits are pretty good too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #mgg fanfiction #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

[bucker3911]

*sighs*

#this could also apply to hotch tbh #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #mgg x reader smut #mgg x y/n #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg #criminal minds #cm memes #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch smut

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be. 

#me ignoring all my wips for a hot man?? it's more likely than you think #also ive listened to too sweet on repeat for like 3 hours i dont want to take my whiskey neat anymore #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

[emberfrostlovesloki]

A for Effort [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (Google) (Center (@hotch-girl) Right (@archaic-stranger)

Prompt: A meet-cute of how Aaron met the non-BAU reader at Penelope’s theater improv group show. And how Aaron accompanies the reader to host her Halloween extra-credit horror movie watch and discussion for her students. 

Pairing: Hotch x fem presenting reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: Angst/fluff/comfort 

Word Count: 8.2K 

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence (unsub drugs and beats teenagers, Hotch takes a beating, awkwardness, mention of being cheated on (reader’s boyfriend cheats on her with a best friend), mention of separation, light drinking, unwanted touch (a guy is handsy with the reader), vomit is mentioned (in the context of the film The Exorcist), religious themes, mention of intimacy (sexual touch over the clothes) If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: This one is just me having fun. I did give my students extra credit where we watched a horror movie and discussed the elements of the film. I couldn’t help but picture Aaron there with me, so I wrote this. I teach English but I’ve made this story that there could be a plethora of subjects. I really like the meet-cute element of this story. It was fun to write. If you like this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Below I have included some cultural definitions for my international readers. If you’re from the States, especially the South and you know what dance halls and cotilion are, then feel free to skip this. I just want to make sure my readers feel included. Please know I am not good at line dancing or swing dancing - I do ballet to this is not my personal dance style. Lastly, before I sign off, you can vote for the next Aaron story you want from me at this post (linked). I hope you have a great night - Love Levi

Definitions

Dance Hall: An enclosed space with a dance floor, a stage for live music, and a bar (normally). The space is pretty age-inclusive and most music is country. Couples and singles come and often mix and match partners. Some people go to show off their skills here. The dances are normally line dances or swing dancing which relies a lot on improv. The lighting is normally dimmed, though not as much as at a nightclub. 

Cotillion: Essentially manners class. These can be after school or on the weekends. It’s associated with the debutant circle and court. 

List with all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/l/g/s_ = your local grocery store 

_y/e/c_ = your eye color. 

_y/f/a(s)/s_ = your favorite art (or science) subject - aka English, film, art, psychology, etc. 

_y/u_ = your university 

_y/s’s/d’s/b_ = your subject’s department’s building 

Aaron sat down in the second to last folding chair with a very small grunt. The sound was so quiet that Spencer, who was on his right side, didn’t even notice that he had made it. The last case had seen Hotch tracking down a stalker who was preying on teenage girls, drugging and beating them severely before dumping their bodies on the steps of their parent's houses to be found the next morning. Aaron had experienced the strength of the forty-seven-year-old unsub as they had sprinted down an alleyway. The team had gotten to the fifth victim just in time. With Rossi, Spencer, and Emily taking care of the teen, Aaron and Morgan gave chase on foot. When both met a crossroads, each took a path. Aaron took the sidewalk to the left. Using all of his strength, Hotch had been able to catch up to the unsub. When they reached a dead end, the power balance changed. The unsub, Kevin Leery, realized his only means of escape was fighting his way out. The man quickly turned before Aaron, who was now pretty winded from all the running, could pull his sidearm. Hotch had been victorious, though, by the state of his aching body, he might not say so. Rossi had called the paramedics for him. The medics assured Rossi and the team, more than himself, that he would be fine in a few days. That there were no broken bones, just some bruised ribs, and a pretty battered left hand. Aaron’s attention shifted as there seemed to be movement behind the small curtain that was waiting to be raised. Hotch was glad for this distraction. He needed his mind on other things than his body. When Garcia had taken up improv as a hobby, the whole team was on board. Especially Morgan. Derek, at least twice a week would say, “Now Babygirl, when do we get to see a performance?” Penelope would blush and say, “When we’re ready. You can’t rush talent, and the whole troupe is still getting everyone else's vibe.” Aaron would give a small smile that he tried to hide when he overheard these conversations. Improv felt like the perfect art for his technical analyst. When the first performance was announced, Garcia printed fliers and invited the whole team to come and watch the show and then grab dinner afterward. Everyone had joyfully agreed. Aaron had marked the date on his personal calendar over a month out. He ensured that Jack could be at Hailey’s that day. The anticipation grew as the one-night performance loomed. Garcia had said a few things about breaking the fourth wall and audience participation. Hotch was sure that whoever was picked wouldn’t be him. Garcia knew him too well to let that happen. Part of him wanted whoever was making that choice pick to Derek. He thought it would be fun to see his friend on stage attempting to play an act. And Aaron knew that Morgan was easy-going enough to play along with whatever the group had him do. 

Aaron’s thoughts were pulled from the curtain and any movement that may or may not be going on behind it as someone tapped his shoulder and asked, “Sorry is this seat taken?” Hotch’s eyes snapped to the woman who was standing in the small aisle of the tiny theater the improv group had rented out for the evening. Aaron’s gaze looked into the inquisitive face of the stranger, and he said, “Yes, I mean no, No it’s not. Feel free to sit here. Sorry.” Hotch wasn’t sure why he was being stuttery all of a sudden. Most of it was probably because the woman who was now settling into the chair very close to his was incredibly beautiful. However, what Hotch told himself was that this mystery woman was holding flowers and he wasn’t. Hotch stopped himself from face-palming. He had forgotten to bring flowers for Penelope. He would profusely apologize after and then pay whatever amount he needed to get a florist to drop off an arraignment when he got back home. The woman next to him with some trepidation given his recent slip. She made one final shift, as she set her purse and the flowers on the ground in front of her and pulled out the program for the two-act play. While doing this, she inadvertently brushed her thigh up against his. Aaron felt a rush through his body at the contact. Very quietly the woman said, “Sorry.” Hotch looked over, and she was looking at him as if she was making sure he was alright for the unintended contact. Hotch gave a small nod and said, “Don’t worry about it.” After the contact, the person sitting next to him seemed to be the only thing he could focus on. She had pulled her legs and body tight into the chair, to not touch him again. The light scent of her perfume washed over him with her body heat. They were just an inch or two apart, and Hotch couldn’t help but observe her as she flipped through the program with an interest. To not seem weird or be caught staring, Aaron looked to his right at the team. If Spencer had noticed his odd behavior, the boy-wonder wasn’t letting on. But when Hotch’s eyes moved one chair over, Rossi looked at him with eyebrows raised. This time Aaron couldn't stifle the sigh that he let out at seeing Dave’s expression. His best friend on the team was always on to him about lighting up. About living a little. Aaron always rebuffed these comments. He thought he lived plenty -- and nearly died in the field more than that. All of these conversations, stated or unstated, had started a respectful time after Hailey had left him. Hotch was sure Rossi, and the whole team had seen that his marriage had been crumbling as much as he did. Maybe they saw it before he did. If they had, they didn’t say anything about it apart from Dave, and one very kind comment from Emily. Prentiss had asked him one day late in the office, “Are you alright, Aaron?” It was a hypothetical question, and he replied, “I think I am. Thank you for asking, Em.” They had left it at that. Aaron still thought about that comment sometimes. There was a small movement from the companion to his left like they had heard his sigh and stilled their movements because of it. Aaron willed himself to not look back at the woman. Thankfully the lights dimmed and the curtain raised. 

The play was about a man who worked at an office and was slowly losing his mind. The program said the idea was loosely based on the short story, “Bartleby the Scrivener” by Melville. Garcia played the perky secretary who was always badgering the lead about this private life. The play was funny. The dynamic between the actors was natural as they riffed off each other and the confines of the small narrative being built between them. As the first act ramped to conflict with the lead, a youthful-looking man with a mustache broke the fourth wall and said, “But Maddison," which was Penelope’s character’s name, "there’s something I haven’t told you. I have a fiance! And they’re in the room with us” The small crowd in the room all took an intake of breath at the revelation. Suddenly everyone in the small assembled crowd looked at each other. Penelope said, “Well get her up here this instant! I’ve got to meet her. She must be mental if she’s in love with you.” There was a second that with bated horror, that Aaron thought the lead was going to point at him. But the man’s pointer finger pointed at the woman sitting next to him. All eyes turned to her. Aaron could see her deflate a tiny bit. As the man on stage said, “Come up here, beloved. Come and meet the source of my madness.” The woman got up and as she moved toward the stage, he guessed that the protagonist hadn’t informed her beforehand that this would be happening. In the back of his mind, Aaron thought, “What a dick move.” The man helped the woman up onto the stage. She was wearing a skirt, and she was more careful that she didn’t flash anyone as she was hoisted up on the stage than the man helping her upward. At seeing this, something small in Aaron twitched up comfortably. When the woman was on stage, Penelope rushed forward and hugged the woman. Aaron could see that Pen had also seen what he had. Hotch could see in Garcia’s embrace both an act and a real gesture of comfort. Garcia pulled back and asked, “So, you’re cooped up with this old bat all hours of the day and night? How are you coping with that?” There was a tense silence while the audience waited for the woman to respond. The lead moved toward the woman, and his right hand found purchase on her lower back. The woman seemed to lean into the touch. Aaron immediately assumed that the two were a couple. It would make sense if the mustache man had picked her. The silence persisted. It lay heavy over the crowd. It became awkward as the woman looked at the man and the audience. Her eyes shone with anxiety. Finally, the man said, “Have nothing to say about me, darling?” At this, finally, the woman said, looking directly, intently at the man, “Oh sweetness, I could go on and on, and on about you. I just don’t think your friend would like what I have to say.” As soon as that line was uttered, the curtain fell, signaling the short intermission. 

The crowd cheered and applauded as the cast and the woman were veiled. Aaron could hear Emily and JJ, and Derek and Rossi’s conversations about the show so far. They sounded so happy. As Hotch offered a comment to Spencer about the intricacies of Melville’s writing and how it related to the performance, he couldn’t help but think how the woman, when giving her one line had been acting as well. But some small part of her tone had indicated that it wasn’t all an act. That fact gnawed at Aaron like a dog on a bone. The intermission was short, only about fifteen minutes long. As the minutes ticked by, Hotch waited for the woman to return to her seat. After what felt like an eternally long ten minutes, she reappeared and moved down the row to her seat. Hotch offered her a hand as she steeped with high heels around her purse, program, and flowers to take her seat. Aaron looked at her closely as she sat. It was clear to Aaron that she was less joyful than she had been before the show had started. The woman’s makeup was smudged a bit, and he wondered if she had been crying during the brief break. When she was seated, Hotch removed his hand and the woman, very quietly said, ‘Thank you.” Aaron nodded and replied, “Of course.” The man had mentioned engagement on stage, and he couldn’t help himself from looking for a ring on her left hand. He found none. His wedding ring sat heavy in a box on his bedside table, reminding him of his personal shortcomings. For one tiny moment, his heart ached for his woman. Whatever it was she was going through. Aaron rarely allowed himself to have these extraneous emotions, but in the here and now, he couldn’t seem to stop them. The repetition of the lights dimming and the curtain raising once more stopped any further thoughts on the matter. The second half of the play was as funny as the first as the lead slowly lost his sanity and refused to leave the office, even under the direct order of his boss. Subliminally, Aaron felt called out at that element of the storyline. When the play ended there was thunderous applause and a standing ovation was given to the cast. Everyone slowly filtered out of the room and Hotch noticed as the woman moved to the front of the stage and kissed the lead on the mouth, handing her flowers over to him. Aaron turned his head away at the moment of intimacy between the couple. Something about what had happened during the play didn’t sit right with him, but who was he to comment on relationships? 

At the dinner after the show, Pen was showered with the praise she deserved. When things had quieted down, Aaron had over-apologized about not bringing flowers, and Garcia had wholly forgiven him. He asked in a more subdued voice, “So the lead, Richard, he chose who in the audience got called up on stage?” Hotch tried to sound nonchalant but wasn’t sure if he was being convincing. Garcia didn’t seem to notice, and replied, “Yeah. He called his girlfriend, obviously. I’ve had a few conversations with _y/n_ before and after rehearsals. She’s really sweet, and too good for Rich if I’m being honest. I don’t think she appreciated being called out like that.” Aaron nodded as a few more pieces seemed to click into place in his mind. The night wound down, and Hotch managed to get some flowers to Penelope around midnight. It might have cost him $83.75, but it was worth it to get Pen’s text, with a picture attached of the bouquet thanking him profusely. Pen included every flower emoji available in the message. As Aaron got ready to sleep, his thoughts shifted to the woman. He thought back to Garcia’s comments and remembered her name: _y/n_. As he drifted into sleep, he hoped that she was alright. She was happy. 

Neither _y/n_or Aaron expected to see the other ever again. But they did a month later. Hotch was doing his weekly grocery shopping at _y/l/g/s_. The person in front of him in line for the check-out had a scant four items on the conveyor belt. The items were a bottle of wine, some strawberries, a bar of 75% dark chocolate, and a dozen pink roses. Hotch sighed softly and thought, ‘At least someone’s having a good time tonight.’ As the woman who looked oddly familiar to him got to the cashier, they rifled through her purse to find their credit card. She softly said, “Shit.” The cashier told her her total of $25.47. The woman said, “I’m sorry I forgot my wallet in my office. Please just put everything back. Sorry for the inconvenience.” At hearing the woman speak, Aaron recognized the voice of the woman who had sat next to him at Penelope’s performance. The woman seemed to be ready to leave, but Aaron stopped her and said, “I’ve got it.” The woman looked over at him and recognized him immediately. _y/n_, “Oh, No. You don’t have to do that.” Hotch gave her a reassuring smile and replied, “Really, it’s no problem.” He added, “You did very good while onstage by the way. You handled it with grace.” The woman flushed. She said a soft, “Thanks.” After a second, she extended her hand and said, “y/n_, _l/n_.” Aaron took her hand and replied, “Aaron, Hotchner.” _y/n_’s palm was warm in his hand. Lost in the moment, and the woman’s eyes. Hotch asked, “Date night?” At hearing this, _y/n_ seemed to cringe a little bit, and he wondered what he had said wrong. From the small assortment of things _y/n_ was attempting to buy, date night seemed to check out. Date night with Rich, as Pen had said last month. Hotch stopped from sighing at the idea. The woman replied a beat later, “It’s a pity party, actually.” Hearing this, Aaron’s eyes furrowed. _y/n_ quickly clarified, “Let me reframe that in a more positive light. I am taking myself on a date.” There was an awkward silence after that statement and a more awkward cough from the cashier. Aaron stepped up and pulled his card from his wallet in the back left pocket of his jeans. Once he had paid for _y/n_’s groceries, the cashier started scanning his items. The young employee had started to put his groceries in the same bag as _y/n_’s items. Aaron thought about saying something, but he stopped himself. The young man working the till seemed flustered, and he didn’t want to add to the man’s distress. It would be okay if he paid for both groceries and their groceries, and then he could separate _y/n_’s items from his own. _y/n_ stood nearby, tentatively. Once Aaron had paid for his things he grabbed another plastic bag. He shifted through his own items to find _y/n_’s. As he put the four products into the new bag, he had to ask, “‘Pity party?’” Hotch missed the large flush and look of shame on _y/n_’s face as she said candidly, “My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend.. Rich. He kinda cheated on me with my best friend. It’s a whole thing.” Hotch couldn’t help himself from cringing at her honesty. At how painful that must have been for _y/n_. All that Aaron’s brain could supply was a soft, “I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.” _y/n_ shrugged her shoulders and said, “I mean, all of my friends and colleagues know. I don’t know why it would be much worse with you in the loop too. Plus you bought me my stuff and I appreciate that.” Aaron flushed again saying, “It’s really nothing given the circumstances.” He held his tongue after that. He had already said too much. Hotch couldn’t figure out where his brain went when he was near _y/n_, but it wasn’t his normal calm and composed self, that’s for sure.

Aaron let _y/n_ go to her car to not hold her up from her ‘date night.’ The recesses of Hotch’s brain wished he could get in the car with _y/n_ and join her in whatever activities she had planned for herself that evening. Hotch reprimanded himself for the thought. _y/n_ had just experienced a real pain, a hurt to the soul, and here he was longing after her like a puppy looking for some attention. For a pat on the back. Using more effort than he wished he had to, Aaron let the moment, the feelings for _y/n_ go. He had to for his well-being. He was certain that it was just fate that he and _y/n_ had bumped into each other twice. As Aaron drove back to his place and unloaded his groceries into his fridge, he found the receipt from the store. The four items from _y/n_ stood out at the top of the waxy paper. Again, he let all of those emotions, which he refused to address, go. Aaron fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and then took off his pants, as he moved into his bedroom. He decided to take a shower to clear his thoughts. Maybe to get another kind of relief that he had been missing since Hailey’s departure. Under the cascade of warm water, Aaron let go with his body and, as he began to dry his form with a warm towel, he cleansed his mind of impure thoughts. He wanted to sleep with an empty mind. One that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As he drifted off, Hotch hoped _y/n_ had also found some kind of release that night. 

Another month and a half passed before they had their third meeting. It had been the worst team bonding training of all time. The presenter had cheery slides and made high-school-level references to trust and honesty between team members and cohorts. JJ, Rossi, and Morgan had all looked at him with clear disbelief at what they were being subjected to in the hour-long training. When the presenter mentioned something about a trust fall, Aaron almost lost his cool. He could deal with many things, the long hours, the gore he saw weekly, the stress of leading the team, and his eyestrain, but he drew the line at being forced to endure this. He looked over his team with eyebrows drawn taught. When he looked at Garcia she was laughing unabashedly. The presenter was looking at Penelope unsure of himself. Aaron shot Garcia a look that said, “Please, stop now,” even though he wanted to join in on the hilarity of the situation. Once the team had been released from the presenter’s lecture, Hotch gathered the team and said, “Well I promise you all, that…” He gesticulated with his hands, demonstrating, that training, “will never happen again. If you want some real team bonding let's go to that dance hall Emily keeps trying to get us to go to tonight.” Hearing this Prentiss flushed, but she had been saying that it was a really good time and it was. Emily had had a few great evenings at the new dance hall. After a moment of silence, Rossi said, “Here, here. I for one need a stiff drink after whatever that was.” The whole team seemed to relax after this. At eight-thirty, the team arrived at the venue. The space was large and the lot was full for a Tuesday evening. Everyone had changed except Aaron, who had come straight from the office. He had ditched his jacket in the trunk of his car. His suggestion had been an attempt to take Rossi’s advice to lighten up. As soon as he entered the crowded space, he realized that he had miscalculated. Everyone on the floor, those seated at the benches and tables on the sidelines, and those getting drinks at the bar were dressed very casually. His slacks and loafers didn’t belong here. As a way to deflect from making him the odd man out, Aaron offered to get the first round of drinks. As he got the orders from the team, he moved to the bar, and some of the BAU members, Emily, JJ, and Morgan, found partners and moved to the wooden dance floor. With a slew of drinks in tow. Hotch moved back to his friends and colleagues. Rossi, Penelope, and Spencer took a few sips, as they watched the dancers move to the country music. Aaron knew that this was mostly a Southern culture thing, but he understood that dancing was a universal pleasure, even if he wasn’t particularly good at it. His mother had signed him up for cotillion classes in high school and he reluctantly went every week for a month. His mom had wanted him to grow up the perfect gentleman, and even though he maybe hadn’t picked up all the dance moves, he thought he succeeded pretty well at the rest of it. 

As the songs changed there seemed to be some excitement at the center of the floor. A couple was dancing with skill and the other dancers gave them room to improvise their steps and tricks. It was showing off for showing off’s sake. As Aaron looked over the pair on the floor he recognized the woman as _y/n_ from the play and the store. His eyes widened and Hotch looked at Penelope who was also watching _y/n_ with rapt wonder. Aaron turned his eyes back to the floor and the woman was pushed, pulled, dipped, and raised in a multitude of ways and speeds. As _y/n_ was raised in the air, supported by strong arms on her hips, a few cheers came from the crowd and fellow dancers. The woman even waved her hand in acknowledgment of the praise. Uplifted and in the spinning lights, she looked so happy, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Unlike her time on stage, she looked like she belonged up there, floating on air. Hotch felt himself flush all over and he looked away for a second. Rossi watched Aaron’s reaction with more than a little interest. After the song was over there was a small bit of applause at the skill put on display for the crowd. The talented man that had been dancing with _y/n_ kissed her on the cheek chastely. From what Aaron could see, the two were just friends or maybe dance partners, but not much more. Of course, he couldn’t hear what _y/n_ said to him, but as she turned toward Hotch’s group, there were no signs of arousal in her face or body, just unabated joy. Aaron hadn’t seen her this happy before, and he flushed again. Aaron internally told himself to ‘get a grip.' _y/n_ walked toward their table, not noticing them yet.

As she got closer Penelope called out for her saying, “Hey _y/n_, what a surprise to see you here!” The woman looked up and spotted Garcia and beamed. _y/n_ quickly moved over to the huddle of FBI agents and said, “Heya, Pen. What are you doing here?” _y/n_ looked over Rossi, Spencer, and then at Hotch. Her eyes grew a bit wider at seeing him and she said, “And you…” It took her a moment to remember Aaron’s name. When it came to her, she continued, “Aaron.” _y/n_ looked between Garcia and Hotch and asked, “Y’all know each other?” Penelope, ever the enthusiastic conversationalist said, “We all work together. This is my team.” Garica pointed to each of them saying their names. Spencer smiled at _y/n_ when his name was mentioned and Rossi shook her hand warmly. As Aaron’s name came up, _y/n_ gave a soft smile and she said, “It’s nice to see you again, Aaron.” He swallowed and said, “It’s nice to see you too.” And it was nice. To see her so radiant made him feel good. _y/n_, Garcia, and Rossi talked a bit about her dancing abilities and she seemed to shy away from her talent. Garcia couldn’t help herself and asked, “Did you ever take Richard here?” Hotch froze for a moment, unsure if Garcia was aware of the breakup. _y/n_’s soft snort made him feel better as she said, “Are you kidding me? He refused to come because I was better than him at dancing and other people wanted to interact with me. All four pairs of eyes were on her as _y/n_ shared some of her personal life with them. For a team of highly skilled profilers, having someone be so open was a bit strange. Penelope helped cut the feeling and said, “Of course he wouldn’t. The man really needs to get over his own ego. He complained about you and whined for a mouth at least during practice. He still talks about it. Honestly, he’s pathetic.” Garcia saying this had _y/n_ laughing and replied, “Tell me about it. I wished I’d seen it sooner, but c’est la vie I guess.” Penelope nodded along, and after a moment _y/n_ said, “Well I’m going to grab a drink at the bar, but I’ll swing by later if you’re still around. It was nice to see some of you again, and to meet you, Dr. Reid and Dave.” The team all said some form of “see you later,” as she moved away from them. As she passed Hotch, he gave her one of his rare smiles, or more like she had drawn the smile from him. Again Rossi noticed. 

Three songs later _y/n_ was back on the dance floor with a much less skilled dancer. The man had his hands all over _y/n_ after the first minute of music and _y/n_ was constantly moving his hands up, or stopping them from moving lower. She had said twice and to “cut it out” but the man was not listening to her. Hotch and Rossi watched as it happened. Both men felt uncomfortable with what was happening. After another minute, _y/n_ pulled back and away from the man, telling him off. Her face was set in a more sour look as she moved to the sidelines and away from her temporary partner. The man sought to follow her, but Hotch was out of his seat as he watched the situation unfold before him. Rossi breathed a sigh of relief as his friend did this because he was about to do the same and he felt that _y/n_ might be a bit more comfortable with Aaron than himself. Hotch cut the man off from moving any closer to _y/n_ and said with a clear, firm, and determined voice, “Out. Now.” The man didn’t argue and Aaron wasn’t sure if it was his fancy dress or the look on his face, but either way, the man left. Hotch followed him with a searing glare until he left the establishment. Once the guy was gone, he turned to _y/n_ she looked at him with half awe half admiration. He couldn’t pinpoint the second emotion, but it wasn’t negative and that’s what mattered to him. He took two steps closer, getting close to her. He leaned down a bit and asked, “_y/n_, are you alright?” When he looked at her this closely he could see a warmth in her _y/e/c_ eyes. She nodded and said, “I’ll be fine. Unfortunately, that kind of behavior can be par for the course here. Asking total strangers for a dance means not all of them are fantastic people.” Hotch nodded, saying, “Well it still doesn’t make it right.” _y/n_ felt her breath hitch a bit as he said this. He said it with sincerity like he really meant it. _y/n_ had seen plenty of guys try to defend her honor or other cliches like that just to go and disrespect her themselves. She didn’t sense that at all in the tall man standing in front of her. _y/n_ was also impressed with his commanding presence. It had only taken two words to make the man flee the scene. Two. Words. She wondered what else he could do with his voice alone. _y/n_ flushed and looked to the floor for a second. The fact didn’t pass Aaron by. After a second, _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “Can I pay you back for your help with a drink or a dance? I haven’t seen you out on the floor yet. I’d be happy to partner with you if you like?” Hotch shifted a little, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He didn’t feel like another drink. He normally stuck to one or two, and he’d already had a second beer. He wanted to dance with _y/n_ but his two left feet didn’t seem too convinced that he could cut it with someone as skilled as _y/n_. _y/n_ could see his hesitation and said, “I can lead if you like. We can do just real easy steps.” Aaron looked at her and saw that she wouldn’t be embarrassed with him. She genuinely wanted to be with him like that. Hotch flushed again, more lightly this time, and he said, “Alright, I’ll do my best to not trip over my own feet.” _y/n_ chuckled as they took his hand and led him to a quieter part of the floor. A bit away from the team, which Hotch was grateful for; though he was sure the team was probably watching him. He didn’t blame them, he’d watch too if he could. 

The dance went well. _y/n_ turned out to be a skilled instructor for him. He did try very hard to follow the steps and let _y/n_ improv off his lacking moves. At one point _y/n_ even let him do a little spin, which was very awkward given how much taller he was than her. He had to let go of her hand to make the 360-degree rotation. They had both laughed good-naturedly at how silly it was. When he was being treated like this, Aaron didn’t mind not having control. After another song, the music took a sudden change from country and swing to slow sensual music. _y/n_ let his hands go and took a step back. Aaron looked around, not sure why there had been such a dramatic change. People were slow dancing now and he looked to _y/n_ for clarity. _y/n_ gave him a gentle smile and said, “The last hour is always slow music so those who don’t like swing dancing or line dancing get a turn. I think it’s nice. Inclusive in a way. Aaron nodded and said, “Oh.” He stood still for a moment. He looked to the ground for an instant wondering how he was going to ask if she wanted to continue to dance. Because he did want to keep dancing with her. When he looked up, she was looking at him. _y/n_ was biting down lightly on the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t see that her pupils were blown wide with desire. Her fingers were tapping against her leg lightly. _y/n_ wanted Aaron’s hands back in hers. Or behind her back while her arms rested on his shoulders. She wanted to be inexplicably close to him at that moment. Hotch didn’t say anything, didn’t need to say anything as he bridged the gap between them. His hands found purchase on her hips and _y/n_’s hand moved up to his shoulders. His hands glided over his chest softly. Aaron closed his eyes, and they both moved on instinct. With what was comfortable for them. _y/n_ melted into his touch, and his large hands gently landed on her body. They were warm and held her firmly like he was afraid that she might slip away if he let go. _y/n_ would be happy to reassure him that she would likely follow him to the ends of the earth even though she had only met him three times before. Aaron’s cologne smelled of rye and spruce, but it wasn’t the overpowering stuff teens and insecure men used with a heavy hand. This was refined. Elevated. It took a lot of what she had in her to not rest her head on his chest and take a deep breath. After two more songs, Aaron looked down at her and she seemed so at peace with him holding her close. And for the first time in a very long time, he leaped before he looked, as he leaned down further. He was slow, giving _y/n_ time to stop him, but she didn’t. Instead, she tipped her head up to meet his lips. The kiss was soft, respectful of how new and potentially strange this was, but neither could deny that the feeling was blissful. Hotch didn’t even care that JJ, Garcia, and Emily all had their mouths open in pure shock at his actions. 

_y/n_ and Aaron’s relationship moved at a normal pace. As much as they had both been drawn to each other the night they had first kissed, both parties wanted to give the other space. To make sure things were comfortable and natural. _y/n_ wasn’t the type to commit to anything without fulling thinking and feeling it out. Aaron was the same for obvious reasons. But they had found a love and care between them, along with a passion that _y/n_ and Hotch had pretty much expected given the events the night at the dance hall. They both learned about each other, their jobs, and the intricacies of their lives. And after all that _y/n_ still wanted him, and Aaron was amazed at how nice it was to have someone steady to lean on. To care for while he wasn’t working. Someone had loved him back as intensely. As it turned out _y/n_ lectured _y/f/a(s)/s_ at _y/u_. And because of this, he was driving toward the university campus in _y/n_’s car with her in the passenger seat. They were chatting about his day in the office. Aaron was recounting some stories of Reid’s and _y/n_ listened with rapt attention. Hotch was being careful with his driving as it was near the college, which meant freshman with cars they hardly needed, and those partying a little too hard on Halloween night. They got onto campus proper and _y/n_ directed him to the parking lot. He had asked her if she wanted to take his car and she had reminded him that she had the faculty sticker on her windshield and he didn’t. She teased, “I don’t even think your FBI ID would persuade parking services. They are relentless in their mission.” Hotch had laughed at this and she warmed at hearing it. Aaron’s laugh sounded like a river running over smooth stones to her. It was gentle and mellow. Once they had parked, the pair moved to the _y/s’s/d’s/b_. The doors were still open given that some grad classes were still being held. 

Three weeks ago Aaron had asked her if she was doing anything on Halloween and if she wanted to spend the evening with him. As _y/n_ listened to his question, she sighed and said, “I’m holding an extra credit opportunity for my students. We’re watching The Exorcist and then discussing it, but being with you sounds so nice. You could sit with me while we watch it and then hang out at my place after? That is if you don’t have Jack of course. Let’s not terrorize him so early on.” Hotch let out a breathy laugh and said, “Jack’s going to be with Hailey at some school trunk or treat event and he’s staying at her place to sleep off the sugar high. You’d let me sit in with you? In front of your students?” _y/n_ let out a little breath. She hadn’t expected him to say yes. She replied quickly, happily, “Of course I would! I mean most of my students know I have a partner, they might as well see you. And you can tell off students trying to canoodle while Regan gets possessed as have my eyes tightly shut.” Hotch chuckled and said, “Well I’ll leave the disciplining up to you, but I’m happy to be moral support and to calm your fear.” So they made the plans now they were walking the mostly empty hallways and up to the third floor. _y/n_ beeped into the faculty work room to print out the sign-in sheet and a guide for the most scary parts of the film for those who were like her; a scardey cat. As she moved into the small space and logged in to the computer, Aaron leaned against the door frame, filling the space. As the copies printed, she looked up at him and said, “I wish you’d follow me around all the time when I work. You could be a ghost haunting me.” Aaron smiled and said, “If I followed you around you’d soon learn that I’d fail your class. And we can’t have that, now can we?” The copies finished and _y/n_ grabbed them saying, “I’ve seen your writing, Aaron you are more than competent.” Hotch moved out of the way and his hand found hers as they moved to the lecture hall. _y/n_ had reserved the space because she expected a good turnout, the screen was large, and the audio system was reliable. _y/n_ asked Hotch to prop open the door with a chair. While he did this, she moved to the technology at the front of the room to the left of the lectern. _y/n_ signed into her Amazon and pulled up the film, checking the audio levels and turning on the closed captions for those who might need them. Aaron moved to _y/n_ and offered to take her purse for her. She smiled and nodded and he moved to the back of the room. He sat down near the center of the row. He called out across the space, “This good?” _y/n_ nodded and said back in a clear voice that carried in the space, “Perfect sweetheart.” 

_y/n_ continued to stand at the front of the room and after another minute or so some students started to ramble in. _y/n_ instructed them to sign in on the sheet near the door. Many of the students had brought friends, roommates, boyfriends, or girlfriends along for moral support, or to laugh at the scary bits. _y/n_ had some casual conversations with some of the students and Aaron watched on with admiration. It was clear to him that _y/n_ had a connection with these young adults trying to figure life out for the first time. A few of the students noticed Aaron sitting at the back of the room, but none of them said anything to him or sat near him. It finally hit 7:30 p.m., and _y/n_ said, “Alright everyone, thanks for coming out. Let’s get going with the movie so you can all go out to the square or you’re older friends’s parties I’m not going to hear about on Thursday. Remember we’re paying attention so we can answer questions after.” Hearing this, the kids let out some laughs and chuckles. _y/n_ nearly forgot about the guides and said quickly, “Does anyone want a sheet with timestamps for the scares? Any other wimps out there like me?” There was silence and _y/n_ laughed at herself and said, “Alright guys, but don’t blame me when you have bad dreams tonight.” With that, _y/n_ started the film and moved to the door. She removed the chair and switched off the lights so the only light remaining was the two glowing exit signs on either side of the room. _y/n_ moved back to him and took a seat on his left side. It was dark and they were in the back, so she slipped her hand into his He gave it a gentle squeeze. True to her word, _y/n_ did close her eyes during some of the more difficult points of the movie. Now and then there would be some quiet chatter from the students. Some got up and opened the door to use the restroom. One student made it back to them to say they wanted to leave early to “go to their dorm.” _y/n_ smiled at the girl and said, “Okay, just make sure you’re signed in.” The teen nodded and said, “Thanks. See you Thursday.” At the end of the film, as Father Karras passes away, Hotch looks over _y/n_’s face. Her eyes were a bit misty. She had warned him that she got emotional at the end. She had looped him in because she didn’t want him to worry that she was so scared that she was crying, or crying for some other unknown reasons. As the credit started rolling, _y/n_ wiped her eyes and she moved to the front of the room.

She paused the movie and said, “Alright everyone, shield your eyes, the lights are coming back on.” Once the lights were on and everyone could see again, _y/n_ moved to the side of the lectern and leaned against it. She started by saying, “I’m going to make this quick because I’m sure there are places you want to be that aren’t here, and because I’m tired.” Hotch half knew that she wanted to be with him too, and it made him smile. _y/n_ asked, “So, what’s the tone of the film?” There was a brief silence, but then a young man said, “It’s camp.” That got a laugh from everyone and then opened the door for the class to bounce some ideas off each other. They spoke about theme and religion, and whether Regan or Chris acted as the final girl. They talked about Father Karra’s characterization and story arc. _y/n_ helped lead the conversation,  but let her students talk and express their views. She asked, “So we’ve read the novel and seen the film and talked about the religious symbolism and overtones. So tell me what in the film is transubstantiated?” At this, there was a lingering silence. One girl offered, “Regan’s vomit?” _y/n_ chuckled and said, “Close, anyone else?” Aaron couldn’t help himself, because he also wanted to know the answer, so he said, “Is it Regan herself?” His comment reverberated to the front and twenty-one pairs of eyes turned to him. Hotch felt called out, but _y/n_ pulled the the student’s attention back to her by saying, “Yes very good. Now I can’t claim anything about authorial intent, but in my opinion, Regan is transubstantiation a literal transformation of her body and blood.” 

_y/n_ quickly wrapped up the extra credit after that. A few minutes later Hotch and _y/n_ were back outside and headed to her car. They had stopped her her office for her to pick up a stack of papers that needed to be graded. Aaron smiled when he saw a picture of him and Jack pinned to the wall next to her degree. He leaned down and kissed her gently. As they pulled back, he said, “I love you, _y/n_.” _y/n_ hummed happily back at him. In the cold night, they moved across the campus grounds. It was dark and Aaron wrapped an arm around _y/n_’s waist, pulling her close to him. They passed by one of the emergency stations which looked to be broken. He looked down to _y/n_ and asked, “You keep a taser on you when you’re here at night, right?” _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “I carry pepper spray. I haven’t gotten a taser yet, but I will.” Hotch nodded as they walked into the parking garage. Aaron had done loads of research about the safety of the university once _y/n_ had told him where they worked. He had seen too many cases on college campuses to not be concerned for _y/n_’s safety. When they got back to the car, Aaron opened the door for _y/n_. She settled in and he moved to his seat. He turned on the heater and they cruised out onto the street. They talked a bit about the film, and Aaron asked why she cried at the end. What it meant to her. _y/n_ did her best to explain the real love and sacrifice Karras made to save Regan. How seeing Pazuzu restored his faith. _y/n_ made sure to clarify, “Even if a person doesn’t have faith, or that type of faith, I think pretty much anyone can see that he was finally at peace at the end.” Aaron nodded along, listening to her intently. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Hotch asked, “So, how did I do Prof? Was my answer to your question actually right?” _y/n_ chuckled and said “I think you were right. Regan’s transformation was literal and it was the answer I was hoping for.” She looked over Aaron, his face lit by the streetlamps and dashboard. He was so beautiful to her and she added, “I give you an A for effort.” Hotch smiled at her comments, saying, “I’m happy to help. And hey, an A. You’ll make a good student of me yet.” 

When they got to her place, they moved to the front door and _y/n_ pulled her keys from her purse and let them in. The bowl she had left out that had been filled with candy was now running low, and even though it was late, there weren’t going to be many more kids. _y/n_ moved to the counter and dumped more candy into the container. With that done, she locked the door behind her. Aaron and _y/n_ moved to her room and kicked off their shoes and socks. They changed into comfy clothes before crawling into bed. Three months into their relationship, they both kept a few pairs of clothes in the other’s space. In the bed, they were next to each other, the back of _y/n_’s head resting on his chest, her body positioned between his opened legs. Hotch’s hands moved over her chest and torso before moving lower slowly. He watched _y/n_ in the soft light of her lamps. Seeing her like this, seeing her care for her students, and for him made him nuzzle his face in her hair. It smelled of vanilla. As Aaron’s hand moved to a more intimate place, _y/n_’s intake of breath told him that she enjoyed what he was doing. She had told him many, many times that he was skilled in that area. The thought of her praise had him excited in his pants. Hotch asked in a low voice, full of desire, “Do you think I can get something more for my insightful comments than a hypothetic A?” _y/n_ squirmed a bit with pleasure before moving out between his legs. She moved to face him and kneeled in front of him. As her hand started moving over him and he let out a groan, she said, “For you Aaron, I’d do anything.”

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @criminalskies @tgskitten @geminitapestry @sadgirlzluvdilfs

Want to join the taglist? See this post, CM Taglist (linked)

#criminal minds #fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #reader insert #aaron hotcher #cm #aaron x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron x y/n #y/n x hotch #hotch meet cute #fluff #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #Garcia does improv #halloween #it's halloween #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #dark acadamia aesthetic

[headkiss]

I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner request #aaron hotchner requests #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds hotch #criminal minds imagine #hotch criminal minds #agent hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you

[patrickispinky]

Emily: i can't find my pen. are you sitting on it again?

Y/n: no.

Emily: stand up.

Y/n: i don't want to.

Emily: why?

Y/n: *mumbling* because i'm probably sitting on your pen 😔

#criminal minds #inccorect quotes #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #cm incorrect quotes #fanfiction #idk #fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut #criminal minds x reader #cat adams #spencer reid scenario

[chr0llossexygf]

IN RUINS 2

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

IMPORTANT COMMENT!!!!: hi my pumpkin cupcake stinky wonky pookie bears. IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN A FRAUD! 💔💔 jokes but I’m rlly sorry I haven’t been writing for the past months ive been to the hospital multiple times and also had someone close to me pull a ‘I’m dead’ card on me and then I was oh! BUT I think I’m okay I think I’m better and I’ll start posting more I have a lot of ideas but tbh this one was a draft before allat happened so it’s shit but and I wanted to get rid of it cus it js reminded me of everything that happened before 😭 BUT I’m rlly rlly sorry ITS SO LATE

" why is your mom calling you she hasn't called you in 7 months " scott anderson says rubbing his face repeatedly his fingers shaking, his other hand is in a fist digging his nails in the palm of his hand. he walks away from jj who's tied up on the floor with her feet and hands wrapped in rope. the grip on your phone tightens.

" she's calling me because it was my aunts birthday scott." you say looking at scott in the eyes. he stands up biting his nails. " your lying to me." he says walking to you, his eyes dark. you wish his eyes at-least looked like they had nothing behind them, but his eyes definitely have something behind them.

his eyes look determined. they looked commited. and he’s looking at you. your eyes widen. your hands become sweaty. you take a step back. “ i’m not lying to you scott.” you respond back gently shaking your head. you raise your eyebrows softly smiling at him. “ i wouldn’t lie to you scott.” you say the grip on your hand tightening to the point where your hand is shaking.

his gaze softens for a second, his eyes aren't so dark now. his eyebrows soften. " you wouldn't lie to me y/ n?" he whispers gently walking up to you. you nod gulping, " ¡ wouldn't lie to you scotty" you whisper smiling. he smiles. taking another step towards you. you take a deep breath in.

"y-your doing a great job y/n" spencer's shaky voice speaks into the phone. it's the only thing keeping you sane right now. he sounds nervous. you can hear him gulp repeatedly. he's stuttering a lot right now. he's probably blinking a lot. a habit he has when he's nervous. a habit you've absorbed from afar. " your doing a really really great job y/n. i'm so proud of you." no he shouldn't have said that. he should not have said that. he shouldn't have said that. you tear up. why are you tearing up? you can't tear up right now. not right now. please not right now.

your throat feels heavy. your heart feels heavy. a part of you feels funny. your ears feel funny, never having heard those words before. your brain is trying to process the words. it can't process them. it's funny though. no matter how much insane messed up stuff you've heard on the job none of it really ever seemed to take a toll on you. but hearing those 5 words. it's taking a toll on you. and it's not the right time. why are they so triggering. what are they triggering? the inner child inside of you who never got to hear those words? the teen inside of you who never got to hear those words? or is it adult you who still hadn't heard those words up until now? it's too much. why are you tearing up?

“ why are you crying.” scott says. something in his eyes has changed. oh god. his eyes darken. his eyebrows tighten. he’s shaking his head smiling. “ what is your mom saying? why is she making you cry? do you want me to kill her?” he says with pleading eyes smiling. he’s taking a step towards you. “ or are you not talking to your mom right now…” he mumbles. your eyes widen. you shake your head. “ or…your not calling your mom you bitch!” he shouts taking another step towards you. you don’t have time to react. he grabs you by the neck slamming you against the wall. his hand tightens around your neck.

you choke on your words. the tears that gathered up finally start to fall. your free hand wraps around scott's arm thats choking you. you repeatedly hit his arm. " please stop." you plead shaking your head. his grip tightens on your neck. " your a liar. your just like him." he spits his gaze darkening. he grabs your phone throwing it across the room. it knocks over a glass vase.

"¡'m not like him." you choke out shaking your head. " shut up! yes you are!" he shouts in your voice, spit getting on your face.

" let her go!" ji shouts from the floor. her voice cracks mid sentence. probably due to fear. watching you struggle is affecting her. just watching you struggle makes her feel as though she is the one struggling.

scott turns his head around. " what did you just say?" he says slowly releasing you. you take a deep breath in. you look at scott. another wave of fear hits you. what's he gonna say to jj? what's he gonna do to jj? she shouldn't have said anything. she should've kept quiet. he can't hurt her. you have to do something.

" i said let her go. you can't hurt her. she's what you want right? you can't hurt her. why would you hurt someone you love?" jj says her eyes darting between you and scott. to scott she looks desperate, to you. you know what jj's trying to say with her eyes.' we will be fine. seeing ji look at you like that. a rush of adrenaline hit you. you have got to do something. why are your hands so weak. why do you feel as though you don't have control of your body. why do you feel as though you can't control anything. damn it.

" you show love by hurting the ones you love." he whispers. you slowly reach for the gun in your pocket, trying not to alert him. and god is it hard " y/ n would know." he says chuckling. your so close to the gun. " isn't that right y/n?" he turns around to look at you. he sees your hand. he sees the hand thats reaching for the gun. he grabs your gun. your hand immediately forms into a fist, you punch him in the jaw. he falls back. holding his jaw. " you bitch!" he shouts.

you run to jj. you drop down to your knees. your shaky hands immediately start to undo the knots of the rope. "jj you need to get out." you say out of breathe. your trembling hands making it harder to undo the rope quickly. " no- what. y/n dont. i'm not leaving without you. the team is coming t-they're on their way y/n. ji says shaking her head in denial. her hands are untied. " god jj! i always follow your orders! just follow mine! just this once." you snap back moving onto her legs. you untie her. " get out of here now jj! he wont hurt me jj. hes obsessed with me he wont. trust me." you say nodding.

jj hasn't been a profiler for a long time. anyone else on the team would've called you out for your bullshit right now. if he wanted to hurt you. he definitely would. he would do anything to get you to be obedient. he could probably kill you if he wanted to. but jj doesn't know that. she thinks he's just a stalker who's obsessed with you and probably wouldn't seriously harm you. but you know unsubs like him all too well.

ji stands up running to the door. she opens the door. she turns to look at you again. you look at her and smile. " just go." you mouth. she quickly nods running out and closing the door. a wave of relief washes over you. jj is fine. jj is okay. jj is safe. he can't hurt jj anymore.

your not fine. your not okay. your not safe. he can keep hurting you. you turn around. he's standing right behind you. he's looking down at you. he's standing tall. his eyes are on you. his expression is dark. his eyes are empty. not a single thought behind his eyes. you were wrong. his eyes without a single thought behind them is scarier. because now you know, there's nothing really stopping him. there's no determination. there's no commitment. there's absolutely nothing behind those eyes. those eyes that are just about to do you harm.

“ me looking down on you…does this remind you of anything?” he says tilting his head to the side smiling. you shake your head. but oh boy do you know exactly what he’s talking about. your dad. “ oh right sorry. let me do something that will surely make you remember.” he says chuckling. he crouches down. he punches you right in the eye, your left eye. the one with the healed over stitches. you stiffen at his touch. not just because your scared of him. yeah of course your scared of him. but also because you’ve never had someone touch you in such an intimate place. you’ve never had someone grab your cheek and gently caress your scars.

he starts laughing. " oh my god let me see that" he gently grabs your cheek. tilting your head up towards him. he runs his finger on the scar. " he did that didnt he?" he whispers gently rubbing the scar. " he gave you this scar didnt he? i read it.. in one of your hospital records. he gave you this 2 weeks before he left right?" he whispers gently caressing the scar. your shaky hands reaches for his cheek.

he stiffens at your touch. he's just like you. " he gave this to you..right?" you whisper, gently caressing the cut on his lips. scott nods. " you and me.we are the same y/n. we both grew up in the same households. we both put up the same abuse. we..we are meant for each other y/n. your meant for me. and i'm meant for you." he whispers caressing your cheek gently. you nod.

" yeah.yeah we belong together." you mumble nodding gently.

i thought so too..until i saw a picture of you and your co worker spencer reid together." he whispers softly still smiling. your eyes widen. " w-what." you mumble. he chuckles, " yeah.i saw a picture of you two together. it was when you and your team were working that case in chicago." he whispers tightening his grip on your cheek. you shake your head.

" s-spencer? spencer reid? he-he means absolutely nothing to me." you say gently reaching for his hand. " don't lie to me." he whispers tearing up. " i'm not lying to you scott." you whisper rubbing your thumb gently against his arm. " your lying to

me. all you do is lie. your just like him." he whispers tears rolling down his cheeks. " i'm not like him scott." you whisper shaking your head, trying to calm him.

" your just like him.you lying bitch." he shakes his head standing up, forcefully pulling you up with him. his fingers dig deeply into your cheeks, surely 100% going to leave a mark. but who cares at this point.

" scott just listen to me-' he cuts your desperate cries with a punch to the mouth. you fall down to the floor, on purpose however. you want him to think your weak. your worn out. he can easily control you. he can easily throw you around like a rag doll. so he can feel some sense of confidence and have a sense of control. something he probably never experienced.

"i'm not listening to you. now you listen to me. you... you listen to me y/n. we are both the same person. we deserve absolutely nothing. we deserve everything our fathers did to us-"

" you know that's not true scott." someone speaks up from behind scott. their voice is strong and stern. it brings you comfort. never would you have thought, laying on the floor with blood dripping down your chin that the sound of someone's voice would bring you comfort. your heart feels warm. you can feel the familiarity of having control over your body come back. you smile. how could you be smiling at a time like this? your smiling. really hard while looking down at the floor. you refused to look up at scott. you refuse to do so.

because deep down you know you would be staring at the version of yourself that's buried deep inside you. that part inside you that keeps you wondering everyday, if you didn't take the path you took would you be like that. would you have done the same thing he had done? what makes him so different from you. just because you carry an id that gives you power over any normal civilian and a gun that's supposed to protect you and others. that doesn't make you any different though. because even though you have those things, you still think like scott. what if you truly don't deserve anyone in this world that would treat you with respect? what if you truly deserve someone as messed up as fucked up ad you are? because then they wouldn't understand right? they wouldn't understand how your mind works. but..like scott said. you probably deserve someone like scott, someone so sick and twisted-

why are you like this. why are you taking his words to heart. are you really that desperate and pathetic that you start taking an unsubs words to heart just because he shared an intimate moment with you. why? is it because you never in your life had experienced something like that and now you yearn for it? you start to believe every word he's said. your so naive. and your so vain. how can you be so gullible. why are you the way that you are. none of what scott said is true. none of it, absolutely none of it.

your too preoccupied with your brain breaking you down too notice two people coming over to you. your zoning out. your thinking hard. really hard. something like this requires a lot of thinking. but it shouldn't though. your supposed to just shrug off his words. not pay any mind to them. he's a mentally ill unsub who's murdered 5 women. nothing he says should make you reason with his thinking. there's nothing to reason with. he's insane. your not insane. your not insane. your just a girl who's seen some insane things.

" hey. your okay. i got you." morgan says gently grabbing you by the arms. "i got you y/n." he whispers picking you up gently. you stand up looking at the wall infront of you still zoned out. " hey y/n." emily pats your shoulder gently tilting her head to the side looking at you with such pain. you shake your head and look at both of them. " hi emily." you respond looking at emily blinking repeatedly. " hey you." she says smiling. " we've gotta get you to the ambulance come on y/n." morgan says wrapping his arms around you, pushing you into him.

" j-i don't need medical care morgan." you say trying to push your heavy head away but finding it way too hard. he feels too comfortable. too comforting. he feels too nice. his cologne smells masculine. really masculine. why is it comforting? why does it bring you comfort? you close your tired eyes for a second. " hey hey don't close your eyes on me I/n." morgan says tilting his head around to take a look at you, you shake your head softly. " i'm not dying morgan." you groan.

emily chuckles. " morgan's probably enjoying this." emily says wrapping up arm around her shoulder helping you walk, " cant have derek enjoying himself too much we all know how cocky he'll get and how high his ego will sky rocket." emily adds on looking at you smiling. her words make you chuckle. a painful chuckle. when your lips curve to let out a laugh a wave of pain washes over your face. "ow ow." you chuckle closing your eyes. morgan shakes his head,

"yeah you wish you can have a bit of this ego." morgan replies.

rossi opens the house door. his eyes immediately look to you. " it's alright i've got her." he says running to you. " derek go take care of reid he's in the ambulance." rossi says putting his gun away. morgan slowly and gently lets you go. rossi quickly replaces morgan. your head immediately shoots up. that hurt. you didn't even know you could do that. why did your head shoot up so quickly? just a second ago you were leaning into morgan for support because you couldn't bare to hold your head up and now suddenly you have all the energy in the world to shoot your head up.

"w-wait whys reid in the ambulance?" you ask your eyes wide, your pretty sure your eyes are half closed though. you can't bare to hold them open. you can already feel your left eye bruising. you can taste blood in your mouth. and you know there's blood dripping down from your eyebrows, from the healed over stitch. rossi and emily push you forward helping you walk. why aren't they answering you? what happened to reid? whys he in an ambulance? is he injured? what's wrong with spencer? what happened to spence? " i think that's a question he should answer." rossi says. what does that mean?

your quickly brought out of the house, thank god. you feel like if you spent another second in there you would go ballistic and break down crying. your heads down, your too tired. you see a pair of shoes infront of you. who's shoes are those? who is that? and why did they stop right infront of you? it's not spencer. spence would never wear those shoes. he was wearing converse earlier. dark blue converse. why do you remember all of this? don't you have some sort of concussion? how do you remember what pair of shoes spencer wore? god...

you feel emily and rossi's grip weaken around you. the unfamiliar person infront of you reaches forward and takes you. they lead you away from rossi and emily. your too tired to even care. they lean you against them. " where's...what's wrong with dr spencer reid?" you mumble stumbling in their hood barely having the energy to hold yourself up. " it's alright i°ve got you. here." they sit you down on something. there's bright red lights flashing around you. an ambulance.

" ma'am i'm gonna get an IV bag started is that alright with you?" the medic asks opening a cabinet. you nod your head hazily. you lean your head against the walls of the ambulance. he takes your arm rolling your sleeve up. you feel the soft pinch. your thankful for it though. it's stopping you from dissociating and falling asleep. you don't wanna fall asleep until someone tells you why spencer is in an ambulance. why do you care for him? why do you care for him after everything's he said- oh right. after what he's said. why do you care for him after he just publicly embarrassed you? that's so stupid. why are you so pathetic and desperate. did he publicly embarrass you? half of the team probably already knew. it's not that hard to figure out. it’s probably why you are the way that you are. they’re profilers. of course they would figure that out. what he said was true. they all probably agree. oh god..

" let me go! let me go! i don't need medical attention she needs it more than me! let me see her!" you hear a voice shout from the distance, you recognise it. your heartbeat quickens. not like earlier though. not in the way your heartbeat quickened earlier. that was in fear. no. this. this is in relief. your stomach starts to stir. in nervousness. your still leaning your head against the wall, but your looking down. your hair covering your face. you stop hearing his voice.

" ma'am i need you to lift your head up." the medic says gently placing a tray next to you, a tray your guessing is full of medical supplies and alcohol. you softly nod your head sitting up. the medic grabs one of the medical instrument opening the wrapping. he moves to the side to quickly put on gloves.

“ oh my god y/n..” you hear him say your name, in so so much pain. he sounds so upset. is he in pain? why does he sound so upset. what happened to him. is he okay. you look up. you see him. you look into his eyes. and suddenly all the words he’s said earlier rush buck into your clouded messy mind. but they don’t hurt as much. your so used to men blurting out hurtful words to you and you having to get over them, what else do you do? ask them to apologise? expect them to apologise?

no. they don’t do that. they’ve never done that. best thing to do is just get over it, because you probably deserve it right? that’s what you were taught.

he looks tired. his eye bags look darker than what they usually would look like. his hair is messier then usual. the two buttons on his dark blue vest are unbuttoned. he’s wearing his fbi vest. his dark blue pants have wet stains on the side of them. your guessing because he would repeatedly wipe his sweaty hands on them. a habit he has when he’s nervous.

he looks into your eyes. he sees the bruise that's already forming in your eye. the trail of blood rolling down your eyebrow from what he can see, that scar you have. you have blood rolling down the side of your face. your neck is red. an imprint of a hand already appearing. his heart hurts. it hurts so much. seeing you like this. but how dare he right?

how dare he feel pain in his heart? the pain your feeling physically and mentally is probably 10x worse than what he’s feeling. he wishes he was feeling it though, he wishes that right in this second all your pain would be transferred to him. add it on to his pain. he feels so guilty. you don’t deserve this. this is his fault. this is his fault. this is all his fault. your never gonna look him in the eye again. whenever you do your gonna remember this day. and how much pain he put you through. he hates it. he hates it so much. he hates himself so much.

"y-y/n." he's out of breath. he doesn't know where to start. he didn't have time to think of an apology, spending the entire car ride panicking nervous about you and wether you were safe or not. but now he can't think of anything.

he can't think of anything when looking into your eyes, the only thing he's thinking of is how badly he wishes he can go back in time and prevent all of this from happening. or make all of this happen but only put himself in your shoes. make him go through all this pain instead of you. You don't deserve this. you don't deserve him. you don't deserve his stupid apology that's about to come, that is if he can even muster up an apology right now. you deserve so much better than him.

"y/n i'm so sorry." spencer starts shaking his head his eyes wide. he can't think of anything. his iq of 187 has suddenly dropped down to 20. spencer who seemed to never stop his rambling suddenly can't think of a single thing to ramble on. you just made him stupid. and not in the way it's supposed to be. you make him stupid when you smile at him. not like this. he can't think of anything. he doesn't know where to start. he shakes his head.

" god can't you do your job!" spencer snaps grabbing a medical wipe and pouring saline solution on it. he stands infront of you. his angry demeanour quickly vanishes once his infront of you. something just hit him. he freezes infront of you. it's like all the color, the little color he already had in his face has drained.

you look at him in confusion. all though your upset at him it doesn't stop you from caring and growing concerned. " w-what?" you say blinking repeatedly looking at him. hes still looking at you. his lips part. he blinks repeatedly. he shakes his head.

"i-i'm just..i got scared." he stutters his voice cracking. " why?" you ask tilting your head to the side. " i'm scared your gonna flinch once i touch you." he replies quickly. really quickly. any normal person wouldn't catch it. but you did. vou've learnt to keep up with spencer's quick rambling. oh. oh. whys he so considerate? y/n stop. you can think that. you look down at your thighs. unable to think of anything to say. if he did touch you. would you have flinched? would you have reacted? you don't know. but spencer's not him. right?

" i'm not gonna flinch spencer." you say looking up at him. he nods his head gulping, "a-alright." he says. he lifts his shaky hand up. he gently dabs the medical wipe on your cut. disinfecting it. ouch it burns. your nails dig into the palm of your hand. his eyes are stuck on the cut. the scar. he knows where it's from. he might've been with garcia when she did her usual background snooping on new members of the team 2 years ago. he remembers how guilty he felt after it. finding out about such a dark part of your life without your knowledge or permission.

but that guilt doesn't compare to the guilt he's feeling right now. he feels tremendously guilty, he caused the scar to re open. all because of his foolishness. if he just shut his mouth earlier and wasn't such a smart ass. if he maybe was the one to go with you to scott anderson's house and not jj he would've been able to protect you. he probably would've shot scott anderson the second he would've laid his hands on vou.

he doesn't trust himself aorund vou. atleast not from the harm of unsubs and has the need to shoot any of them if they ever did you harm. he would probably lose his job. if he was there he probably would've lost his job. but he doesn't care. for your safety. he doesn't care.

" i'm so sorry y/n-" you can feel the medical wipe shake on your eyebrow, from spencer's shaky hands.

" it's fine spencer." you mumble looking into his eyes. is it fine though? is it really fine? whys he apologising? he's not supposed to be apologising right? this is new. this is so very new. they never apologise after hurting you. this is so unfamiliar? how are you supposed to react? do you tell them how you really feel? do you immediately accept their apology? they never apologised to you when they hurt you. whys spencers apologising? what do you say?

" it's not fine y/n. i-i hurt you. i c-caused this." he says spitting his words out in a shaky manner. what do you say or do? you've never made it this far whenever something similar to this happened in the past.

" spencer it's fine. i shouldn't have egged you on earlier anyways-" why are you taking the blame. y/ n stop. it's not your fault. it never is your fault when something like this happens. y/n please. it's not your fault. stop taking the blame. his heart aches even more. his throat feels heavy. who hurt you like this? who broke your heart like this? who messed up your image of love like this? who hurt you this bad. he hates them. he hates them for making you like this.

" y/n i know you have the personal need to justify everything i've said but y/n stop, just stop. i hurt you okay. and even though saying that out loud and accepting the fact that i said that it thr worst thing i've ever done in my entire life it's nothing compared to what you felt when i said that. i don't wanna be like him y/n. i don't wanna be him. i don't want you to think i can be him. i don't want you to see him everytime you see me y/n. because that would kill me even more. y-you don't have to talk to me anymore y/n i just don't want you to flinch or have this horrible feeling of rememberence whenever you see me. please just.. just don't take the blame for this because it's my fault. this entire thing was my fault and i put you through this y/n. you don't deserve this. i'm really sorry.”

spencer rambles. trying to push the heavy feeling in his throat away. he can't cry. he doesn't deserve to cry right now. he's nervous though. he's nervous about what your gonna say. he doesn’t have the right to feel nervous though. he should accept whatever it is. he did this to himself. whatever the outcome is. he just hopes you don’t have a sense of fear wash over you whenever you look at him and get memories of this day. that is if you ever look at him after this day.

no one's ever said that to you. you feel your tired eyes tear up. your about to cry. oh no. spencer panics. does he comfort you? do you even want his comfort? he doesn't deserve to touch you, he thinks. he drops the medical wipe.

" n-no please don't cry. ill go call

over emily or jj or morgan or hotch just p-please dont cry. i'll go-" it physically aches him to leave you like this. but he has to. he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable. he just made you cry. you must really hate him. he understands though. he just wishes you understand how sorry he is. but you probably will never know. because you probably don't expect him to feel sorry, you probably think he's faking it. he just needs you to understand that he's not him. he's not your dad. spencer actually feels sorry. he feels so so sorry for everything he's done and said. but you had to put up with years of your dad taking apologises you probably don't believe his. he hates himself.

you stand up. you barely have room to think clearly before a tear rolls down your cheek. spencer immediately removes his fbi vest, you bury your head against spencer's chest. you wrap your hands against his chest. he doesn't wrap his hands around you though. he's scared to touch you. your not sobbing. your too tired to sob. you just let tears slowly roll down your cheeks. " your not him spencer." you say out loud. spencer's heart skips a beat. he slowly wraps his hands around you. " i'm still mad at you. you shouldn't have said that earlier. b-but i forgive you spence." you mumble against his chest. he shakes his head, " you shouldn't forgive me y/n. your supposed to be mad at me. your supposed to be yelling at me. or-or hitting me." he says.

" i am mad at you spencer." you say pulling your head away wiping the tears.

"alright. good." he says

looking down at you. " oh god- im sorry that was stupid i shouldn't have hugged you-" you immediately start apologising shaking your head. you immediately sit back down. oh god your so stupid. why did you just hug him? your so embarrasing oh god. did you feel the need to hug spencer because you just needed to make sure that spencer wasn't him.

not that you would know what your dads embrace would feel like. but you just needed to make sure.

" no please don't apologise. d-do you mind if i sit next to you?" spencer asks pointing at the space next to you. you look at him and slowly nod your heart. he sits next to you. " once ive healed i'm yelling at you spencer." you say looking down at your legs, your tired eyes aching. " alright." spencer says nodding. you should yell at him. and you will. he had no right. but your too tired right now. you just hope. you really really hope that spencer doesn't spiral once your back in quantico and probably will forcefully be taken into the hospital by emily and jj. you really hope he doesn't drown himself in guilt and spiral. why are you so caring? does spencer care about you the way you care about him? that's foolish right? he wouldn't right? does he feel his heart quicken when he sees you? does he care the way you care? that's stupid god y/n you probably have a concussion just shut up.

yeah how stupid y/n. because if you knew the way spencer cared about you or the way his heart quickens when he sees you. you wouldn't believe it. it will take time though. it will take time for you to believe it. he's willing to work hard during that time. he just hopes you know even the slightest bit. but he wont say anything right now. you've already been through enough. he wont say anything for a while. though when the time is right. maybe you'll finally know how much he cares about you. for now, he'll settle for this just for now. until he can gain your trust back and make his feelings known. he'll settle for this. because just being next to you makes him happy.

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[luveline]

hi, i have a request for hotch if that's okay with you :)

when they're on the jet, yn is smiling a lot at her phone so the team starts to tease her because the think that she has a mysterious boyfriend. and she does, but he's sitting right next to her and he's also wondering who's making her smile like that since it's clearly not him

tysm!

Hotch is trying hard to award you your privacy, but your smile makes it difficult. You're actually squared away from him despite sitting in the seat beside him of your own free will, your phone to your chest, a huge smile curved across your cute mouth. 'Cute mouth', Hotch thinks to himself with derision. He's thoroughly whipped for you. It might not work out. 

You've been secretive and strange on your phone for an hour now. With nothing left to do but wait for the jet to touch down, you can watch whatever or text whenever you want. Hotch just wishes it wasn't so distracting. Who are you texting? He feels ill. 

"Who's that?" 

The dam finally breaks. As soon as Morgan asks, Emily pipes up, "Yeah, who is it?" as Rossi laughs and declares, "I know that look. Young Y/N's in love." 

You side eye Hotch. "Workplace harassment," you say. 

"Who is it?" Hotch asks. 

You gawp but laugh at his unprofessional questioning, pressing your phone screen tight to your chest. "Hotch, it's–" 

"Your not-so-secret boyfriend? Come on, we all know you have one," Morgan says. 

"I know you know, you're like sharks," you say, giving them all a great long look. 

For weeks now, you've glowed. This overzealous smiling and laughing is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Your nosy coworkers can't hold back their curiosity any longer. Hotch was stupid enough to think that your secretive dates and nights spent curled in on one another might be the reason behind your new hopped up sprightliness, but apparently not. 

"So you admit it!" Emily cheers. 

"Maybe. But it's not what's happening on my phone." 

"Well, what is it?" Spencer asks. 

They've leaned in on you, a circle of eager faces. Your sudden decision to admit you —maybe— have a boyfriend is as much as anyone's gotten out of you in weeks. If anyone could tease the truth from you, of course it's Hotch, and so the team looks to their leader pleadingly. 

He's not sure he wants to know. "They won't leave you alone otherwise," he says, hoping that his expression shows his leniency. Your secrets are your own if you want to keep them. 

You smile at him. Again, he thinks you have a cute mouth, and that he's biassed but you definitely smile sweeter at him than anyone else. You and Hotch know something the others don't, amusement like light behind your irises. "I'll show you," you say smugly, "and only you, Hotch." 

"Typical," Morgan murmurs, sitting back on the couch. 

Hotch clenches his sweaty palms beneath the table. "Alright." 

You lean in against his shoulder. Your phone turns on, and he's taking deep breaths as you click to your photo app, and then an album labelled with a simple, '<3'. 

It's photos of him. Most he knows you took, sitting across from you in dark restaurants or kneeling in your apartment putting together a new set of drawers. Your giggles begin in earnest as you swipe through them to a more recent photograph. You couldn't have taken it more than a week ago, when he'd stayed the night with you by accident, too tired to leave. His face is slack in sleep. He realises it's a video when you click a button and the sound of crinkling fabric plays from your speaker. In the video, you unbutton the tight collar of his shirt, stroking his neck briefly with a loving knuckle. The video moves down to frame his arm, his hand clinging to your other one like a sucker. 

Hotch looks up from the video and blinks at you. Your hand on his sleeping neck, the sound of your tired laughter —he can't not smile. "Oh. That's…"

"What did you show him?" Morgan asks, his voice coloured with both amusement and frustration. The team echo his question.

"I can't kiss and tell," you say, still tucked up by his side. 

"I think it's best if you don't, L/N," Hotch agrees. 

He'd lose all credibility. 

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